“We believe we found the French spies, but we are still trying to determine their mission,” Caleb revealed. “They want us to secure invitations for them to Lord Pendley’s ball.”
“Did they give a reason why?” Fredrick asked.
“No, but they did threaten us if we didn’t obtain invitations,” Caleb replied. “We pretended to be disturbed about it, but the threat fell a little flat.”
“Have you spoken to Kendrick?” Roswell inquired.
Caleb shook his head. “No, but Simone and I intend to meet with him in a few hours. We are going to meet at headquarters.”
“You aren’t going to take her on a carriage ride?” Fredrick asked with a smirk.
Caleb worked to keep the displeasure off his features. “Simone and I are just partners, nothing more.”
Fredrick put his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to assume otherwise, but you two appear to have gotten rather close.”
“That is what happens when you work so closely together,” Caleb defended.
Roswell interjected, “We were never that close.”
“That is because you are an idiot,” Caleb quipped. “Simone is a proficient agent and we do work well together.”
“Simone, is it?” Roswell asked.
Caleb frowned. “She gave me leave to call her by her given name. You are just reading into something that isn’t there.”
“I don’t think I am,” Roswell remarked. “I saw the way you two interacted over dinner, and you seem to have a cozy relationship.”
A server approached the table and placed three glasses onto the table. Caleb reached for one and took a sip. Why was he having to justify his behavior with Simone?
Fredrick pushed his glass towards Roswell and turned towards the server. “Can I get a cup of tea?”
The server tipped his head before he departed to do his bidding.
Roswell retrieved the glass and said, “It is an odd choice to drink tea in a gentlemen’s club.”
“Whenever I drink alcohol, it gives me a terrible headache,” Fredrick shared. “Besides, why would I care what others think of my drink of choice?”
“Good point,” Roswell said, holding his glass up.
Fredrick brought his gaze back to Caleb’s. “Back to your French spy problem,” he said.
“I don’t have a problem,” Caleb contested.
“You do, and you don’t even realize it,” Fredrick remarked. “Why would French spies want to attend Lord Pendley’s ball? The man is a staunch Tory.”
Roswell lowered his glass to the table. “What if they want to gain access to Lord Pendley’s townhouse to root around?”
“They wouldn’t need an invite for that,” Fredrick said. “They could just sneak in at night under the cloak of darkness. I wonder…” He stopped. “General Merrell will be at Lord Pendley’s ball, and many consider him to be Wellington’s right-hand man.”
Roswell shifted in his seat to face Fredrick. “Surely that can’t be a coincidence,” he remarked. “But what would the French spies hope to obtain by being in the same ballroom as General Merrell?”
“I doubt they wish to plead their case,” Fredrick said.
Caleb lowered his voice. “What if their intention is to assassinate General Merrell?” he asked. “That would be a major blow to Wellington and his troops.”
“Why did General Merrell return home?” Roswell asked. “After all, I assume he is needed on the Continent.”
“Wellington sent him to secure additional funding for the war since the House of Lords balked at his initial request,” Fredrick said.
