Chapter One
England, 1813
The sun was low in the sky as Miss Simone Delacourt stood in the gardens. She brought her wrist back, and with expert precision, aiming for a mark at least twenty yards away, released the dagger towards the target. It embedded in the center, just as she had intended.
Simone had been gifted her first dagger by her mother when she was eight years old. They had spent countless hours together as she perfected her aim and it was a time that she cherished, especially since her mother died nearly two years ago.
Throwing daggers was an odd skill for a genteel lady to be proficient in, but her mother had been anything but conventional. She loved learning new skills, just for the sake of learning. And that had been something Simone had admired about her mother. It was something she wished to emulate.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention and Simone watched the butler come to a stop a shortdistance away. “Your father wishes to see you, Miss,” Clarke informed her.
Simone hesitated. Her father had hardly uttered a word to her in weeks, and when he had, it had been in passing. It had been this way since her mother had drowned. She felt as if she had lost both parents that fateful day. Her father seemed lost in his grief, unable to move on.
“Are you sure?” Simone asked.
Clarke’s face softened, and she knew that he understood why she had asked such a thing. “I am,” he replied. “And it is best if you don’t keep him waiting.” His words were spoken with kindness that was all too familiar.
Simone smiled at the white-haired butler. He had been working for their family since before she was born. As of late, he felt like more of a father figure than her own. “Let me collect my dagger,” she said before she approached the target.
After she retrieved the dagger, she slipped it into an opening in her gown that her lady’s maid had created for her.
They started walking back towards the townhouse and Simone found herself curious as to why her father had summoned her. An uneasy feeling came to her stomach, and she had learned long ago not to discount her emotions so easily.
Once they arrived at the study, Clarke stopped at the open door and offered her an encouraging look. “You will be just fine.”
Simone was grateful for the butler’s comforting presence. She was not one to get nervous, but standing outside of her father’s study, a wave of nervousness washed over her.
“Thank you,” Simone responded before she stepped into the study.
Her father was sitting at his desk, his head hunched over his ledgers. She took a moment to study him. He was tall, dark-haired, but the wrinkles on his face were starting to deepen, marking his advancing age. He had a commandingpresence about him, one that had terrified her when she had been a child. But she was not so young anymore and he had never treated her harshly. He just treated her with indifference now.
Simone thought it was best to make her presence known and not keep him waiting. “Father, you wished to see me,” she said, walking further into the room.
Her father rose from his seat and gestured towards a chair that faced the desk. “Yes, please sit down.”
Her father sounded cordial enough, she thought, as she lowered herself down onto the proffered chair.
Returning to his seat, he dispensed with pleasantries. “You are on your third Season, and it is time that you wed.”
Simone felt her back grow rigid. His declaration surprised her, at least the timing of it, but she thought it was best if she was honest with her father. “I do not wish to marry.”
“You wish to be a spinster then, an utter drain on my finances?” her father asked. There was a harshness to his voice that she couldn’t help but notice.
“I did not mean to imply such,” Simone responded. “I have an inheritance from my grandmother that I can live on.”
“That much is true, but not in the style you have been accustomed to living.”
“I can live on much less,” Simone insisted.
Her father leaned back in his seat. “I don’t doubt that but I can’t keep providing Seasons for you, only to be disappointed, time and time again,” he said.
“It has only been three Seasons, Father,” she argued.
“Three is far too many for someone of your beauty and connections,” he stated. “Your mother was married during her first Season.”
“True, but I have not found a suitor that has piqued my interest yet,” Simone said. Which was the truth. But, then again, she hadn’t truly been looking for a suitor.
Her father let out a frustrated sigh. “I have been watchingyou, Simone,” he remarked. “You sit with the other wallflowers, along the back wall, and you don’t make yourself available to dance with the unattached gentlemen.”
