Chapter 9
Grace hadn’t heard everything Pennington had said. And what she had heard came in pieces, but it was clear from the amount of time Blake stood outside the room that the two men were saying something important.
She led Blake out toward the garden, sunset hues bringing on the cooler breeze of evening. Taking him into the morning room meant they’d likely sit, and she needed to be in motion.
Her agitation called for nothing less.
And perhaps if she wasn’t sitting across from him in some quiet space, she could confront him sensibly. Looking at someone peripherally seemed to help a little with confrontations at first. Then, once she found her courage, she could go full-on face-to-face.
She turned away from the main garden used by the patients and into a smaller, walled private garden just off the family rooms of the east wing of the house. As they stepped into the space, her carefully crafted opening line fled her mind entirely.
“I needed the air,” she said and grimaced.
Her train of thought was likely derailed even more by the way Blake watched her. More intensely than before. Warily, even.
If he was a good spy—and she wagered he likely was—then he may very well know that she suspected something already. In fact, his mind-reading abilities may supersede even Frederick’s, depending on his level of experience in espionage.
That almost brought out a smile.
The word espionage truly was an exhilarating word.
“I would think you may prefer resting.” He offered his arm as they walked deeper into the garden. “I’ve seen how much you’ve been assisting with the patients today.”
She smiled, continuing their walk farther from the house, her gaze traveling over the garden to ensure they were alone. “You must know how horrible I am at resting when there are so many things to do.”
His grin crooked, the familiar charm rising to the front. “A trait I recognized quite early in our acquaintance, my lady. Your activity matches that of your mind.”
“For good or ill, I’m afraid.” She sighed, her nervousness softening beneath his camaraderie, so she decided to get on with it.
“And speaking of activity, I have several things to tell you that Brandon and I have discovered, but I want to know what you heard from Pennington first.” She glanced at him.
“I only caught small bits of the conversation at the end.”
“Hmm …” He narrowed his eyes. “Why won’t you be forthright and tell me first?”
She looked away, increasing her pace the slightest. “Because if I tell you first, you’re less inclined to tell me what you know, probably to protect me or temper my imagination.
” She stopped and turned fully toward him.
“But, Blake, as I’ve told Frederick, my imagination is much wilder when I know fewer things.
The more I know, the better I am at keeping my head. ”
His smile spread wide, and he nodded, tucking her arm back in his. “Why does that sound confusing but make perfect sense?” He resumed their walk, keeping a slow pace. “But, Grace, do keep in mind, this isn’t a game. Not some novel. It’s a very serious business.”
Serious? She rolled her eyes—which she rarely did because it felt so rude—and pinned him with a look.
“Mr. Blake, lest you forget, I have been on quite a few serious mysteries in my young marriage, most of which were life-threatening, and the last, in which you were involved, had me swinging from the window of a burning castle.”
“I beg your pardon, my lady.” His lips tipped again. “You are right. I’m afraid it is quite easy to forget your experience when paired with your youth and overall cheerful disposition, so I will attempt to readjust my expectations accordingly.”
She tugged him into a brisker walk but smiled over at him. “You say that like you want to tease, but I do believe you mean it.”
“Almost sincerely,” he shot back, and a little more of her nervousness abated.
Blake did care for her. And Frederick.
If he was a spy, he had to be a good-hearted one.
Certainly.
“Would you happen to know of any former servant by the name of Crawford?”
Grace’s brow creased at the unexpected question. “No, but I am still fairly new to the workings of Havensbrooke. If Crawford came on over two years ago, I wouldn’t know him.”
And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he shared what he’d heard between Pennington and Edwards a few days before with the addition of their recent conversation.
Could this situation at Havensbrooke become any more exciting?
“Tunnels?” Her eyes widened. Oh, how delightful!
The last tunnels she’d been in—the ones in Venice—had given all sorts of adventure …
including a treasure. “Oh Blake, you know Frederick mentioned there are tunnels beneath the chapel. Once dug to help rescue Mary, Queen of Scots, from her confinement at a nearby manor house during Elizabeth’s reign.
” She paused their walk entirely and turned back to him.
“You don’t think Pennington means to find Queen Mary’s jewels, do you? ”
He raised a brow and stared down at her, his expression turning mischievous. “I doubt Private Pennington would have much information about a treasure as grand as that, though it does make for a good novel, should you wish to turn from avid reader to authoress.”
She sent him a powerless glare and resumed their walk. Though the idea did hold merit. What an excellent adventure it could be! “Even so, it makes me wish to look over Private Pennington’s uniforms in search of a missing button.”
“And I believe you’d find it.”
It was only a little disappointing that Pennington was their man. A much too easy end to a mystery than what she’d become accustomed to. No chases in the dark. No near-death escapades. She hadn’t even needed to use a rope.
“Do you feel up to the task of visiting Lady Moriah to ask about any former servant by the name of Crawford who left under … less than ideal circumstances?” Blake asked. “I know her dower house is in town, and I don’t believe I’m at liberty to leave the grounds of Havensbrooke in my current state.”
She wasn’t certain what her face showed at Blake’s reference to his fake wound, but it was enough to sharpen the man’s gaze upon her.
Or, perhaps, any mention of Grace’s mother-in-law changed the tone of any conversation. Lady Moriah wasn’t the most likeable of people.
She looked away.
“I could go tomorrow morning, if you think it will help.”
“Indeed.” Blake’s response came slowly. “If Pennington is in search of some treasure of his grandfather’s and his grandfather was a former employee of Havensbrooke, particularly during my uncle’s time, then it may give more understanding of whatever treasure Pennington may be seeking.”
Her smile tipped the slightest bit. At least there was something else she could do in this mystery besides wait around for Blake to tell her the truth about himself and Miss Gale. “Very well, I’ll see what I can uncover.”
“Excellent.” He guided her to a bench at the far end of the garden, where she sat and he lowered beside her. “Now, Lady Astley, I have been quite patient and forthcoming.”
She raised a brow at him, which he appeared to ignore.
Sneaky man.
“What news have you for me?”
Since he’d even given her a bit of an assignment, she divulged the full account without further hesitation—Jane’s confession and Brandon’s observation of Smith.
The former brought no response.
But at the latter, Blake’s gaze sharpened. Ah, so whatever Smith was up to somehow connected to Blake’s own secrets, perhaps?
“Brandon is remarkably perceptive,” Blake murmured. “And not prone to exaggeration. What else has Brandon noticed about Smith?”
“That he seems particularly interested in the west wing. And that he moves with a kind of … military efficiency, Brandon said. As if he’s had training.”
“Military efficiency.” Blake repeated the words thoughtfully. “And Nurse Wilson is his primary caregiver?”
“She and Nurse Rivers, from what I understand. They are his exclusive carers. Won’t let anyone else near him.” Grace tilted her head. “Why? Do you think they’re connected somehow outside of the hospital?”
“I’m not certain, but it is a curious thing.”
“Exactly.” Grace nodded, studying Blake’s face.
“And it’s also very curious”—she fidgeted with her sleeve, forcing the statement from her lungs—”that we’ve had rather a lot of suspicious behavior at Havensbrooke lately, you know.
People pretending to be things they’re not.
People moving about where they shouldn’t with secrets they won’t share. ”
She let that hang in the air between them.
Blake’s attention pulled back to her. “Yes, very curious.”
“Isn’t it?” She looked out over the garden, attempting to be nonchalant, before returning her attention to him.
“What would possibly cause a man to pretend to be injured when he’s not?
” Her throat tightened, but she pressed on.
“I mean, it seems a rather elaborate deception, doesn’t it?
To fake an injury so convincingly that so many believe it’s real? ”
Blake’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes.
“It would depend,” he said carefully, “on what the man was trying to accomplish. And who he was trying to deceive.” His voice dropped. “Or protect.”
Her heartbeat began a stronger pulse in her ears. Protect? That would be Blake, wouldn’t it? Whatever he was doing.
“In Smith’s case?” Her words came slowly as she tried to find the right tone. “I … I don’t think he’s in league with Pennington.”
“No,” Blake agreed. “I don’t think he is either.”
Then somehow Smith had to be part of Blake’s mission, didn’t he? There was no other mystery to match it in the mental inventory.
“Then … Blake, if there’s something dangerous happening in my home—something that could hurt the patients or the staff … or Zahra—I need to know. I need to be able to protect them.”