“What a terrible burden you have, my lord,” Caleb teased.
Fredrick gave him a pointed look. “Wait until you have fallen madly in love and you have to maintain a proper distance.”
“I don’t intend to fall in love,” Caleb responded. “Falling in love is a liability in our profession.”
Roswell spoke up. “I disagree. It has been rather nice to confide in Anette about our assignments. It has helped me see things in a different way.”
“That is good for you, but I have made it no small secret that I have no designs to marry,” Caleb said. “I can’t risk bringing a wife into my complex life.”
“Your life is no more complex than ours and we have found happiness,” Roswell stated.
Caleb mustered a smile onto his lips. “I am happy.”
“Are you?” Fredrick asked. “You don’t seem happy.”
“What does a happy person look like?” Caleb asked. “Because I can assure you that I am perfectly content with my life.”
Fredrick leaned back in his seat and studied Caleb. “You aren’t happy,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Caleb huffed. “Do not analyze me.”
“I’m not. I am just merely stating the obvious,” Fredrick responded. “Happy people don’t have to convince others that they are happy. They just are.”
Caleb took a sip of his drink before saying, “You are being utterly ridiculous.”
“Perhaps I just want everyone to find the joy that I have found with Emilia,” Fredrick said. “My fiancée speaks rather highly of Miss Delacourt. She has been teaching Emilia how to throw daggers in her gardens.”
“You allow such a thing?” Caleb inquired.
Fredrick gave him a blank look. “Why would I not?” he asked. “Besides, Anette is teaching her how to shoot a pistol. It is no more dangerous than that, and it might come in handy.”
“Anette was heading over to Miss Delacourt’s townhouse for a lesson as well,” Roswell shared. “She was rather excited to learn how to throw daggers.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Caleb muttered.
Roswell smirked. “Anette thought Miss Delacourt was a delight when we dined with you. Is she a delight?”
Caleb pushed his drink away from him. “Miss Delacourt is…” His voice trailed off as he tried to think of the right word.
“She is…” Fredrick prodded.
Stubborn. Maddening. Irritatingly beautiful. No, that last one would not do. If he said such a thing, then his friends would think he had fallen for his partner. Which he hadn’t. That mere thought was ridiculous.
Knowing they were still waiting for a response, Caleb said, “I suppose Miss Delacourt is tolerable.”
“Tolerable?” Fredrick repeated. “I find her to be many things, but tolerable is not one of those things.”
“Fine. She is stubborn, almost to a fault,” Caleb corrected.
Fredrick grinned. “I concur, but you seem to work wellwith her,” he remarked. “I read about your carriage rides in the Society page.”
Caleb held his hand up at a servant passing by to indicate he needed another drink. He didn’t think he could have this conversation sober. But he couldn’t drink too much since he needed to keep his wits about him.
Why were his friends being so blasted annoying about Simone? Perhaps it might be best if he just departed and ended this line of questioning.
“I should go,” Caleb said, pushing back his seat. “I have work I need to see to.”
Roswell grew serious and leaned over the table. “Before you go, have you made any progress in your case?” he asked, his voice hushed.
