Chapter 13 #2
“I understand completely.” Rivers nodded earnestly. “My own brother—well, he had to court his sweetheart in secret because her father disapproved. They’re married now, happily so.”
She smiled—bright, guileless, perfectly innocent.
But her eyes flickered to the shadows they’d been standing in. To the recessed window that would have hidden them from casual observation. To the side table where Evie had set down her linens—too far away to be convenient if she’d actually been delivering them.
Rivers was cataloguing their surveillance position.
Filing through possibilities of their behavior before she’d interrupted.
And hopefully she’d come to the same conclusion as he’d hoped.
Clandestine meeting between the classes.
“You won’t mention this to Lady Astley, will you?
” Blake pushed concern into his words, to help guide Rivers’ conclusions all the more.
“I’m quite certain she’d take a dim view of my behavior.
She’s rather protective of her staff, and rightly so.
” He paused, then added with calculated honesty, “Miss Gale and I … well, we’ve been corresponding since before I arrived at Havensbrooke.
My wounds provided an opportunity to finally meet properly, but we hadn’t intended for anyone to discover—”
“A romance?” Rivers’ expression softened. “How very difficult, with you here as a patient and Miss Gale working for the household.”
“Precisely.” Blake squeezed Evie gently. “We’re trying to be discreet, but these stolen moments are all we have.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Blake,” she continued, her voice warm with sympathy.
“I think it’s wonderful that you’ve found each other despite the circumstances.
” Another smile. “Though you might want to choose a more private location for future meetings. This corridor connects to some of the other servants’ rooms and then the west wing, you see, and some of the night staff use it regularly.
The small sitting room near the conservatory is much more secluded. Hardly anyone goes there after dark.”
Clever. She was redirecting them. Moving them away from the west wing—away from wherever Smith was going, away from whatever she needed to do without observation.
And she was doing it by appearing helpful. Romantic. Sympathetic to young lovers stealing moments together. Oh yes, she knew how to play the game.
“Sage advice,” Blake managed. “Thank you for your discretion, Miss Rivers.”
“Of course.” She bobbed a little curtsy, the smile on her lips not matching the look in those eyes.
“I must be off to find our dear Private Jones.” She gestured vaguely down the corridor.
“Terribly understaffed tonight, I’m afraid.
But someone needs to ensure our brave soldiers are properly cared for, don’t they? ”
She was establishing her alibi. Her reason for being in this part of the house after dark.
“Indeed,” Blake agreed. “Your dedication is admirable.”
“Thank you, Mr. Blake.” Another warm smile. “Do try to get some rest. You look quite tired. I’m sure Miss Gale would hate for your recovery to be compromised by … exertion.”
The slight emphasis on the last word could have been innocent teasing.
Or it could have been a subtle threat.
Before Blake could respond, she hurried past them down the corridor and turned away from the door to the west wing, a choice she made for their benefit, he was sure.
Blake and Evie remained frozen until the sounds of her retreat faded completely.
“Tell me you saw that,” Evie whispered urgently.
“The way she assessed our position before committing to her response, as well as her searching for a reason for being on this side of the house?” Blake’s voice was grim. “The hand checking her pocket? The specific directions away from the west wing?”
“I think she knows.” Evie’s palms moved to his chest, face still wonderfully close. “She knows we’re not just romantic fools stealing kisses. She’s not certain what we are, but she’s suspicious now.” Evie tugged at his lapel as if to emphasize her words. “Did you notice her lamp?”
Blake had. “No candle. She’s using an electric torch with red-filtered glass. The kind that preserves her night vision.”
“Exactly. Not the lamp a nurse on rounds would carry.”
They stared at each other in the dim corridor, the full weight of their discovery settling over them.
“She’s the one we’re looking for.”
“And Smith must be her accomplice,” Evie added.
“We need proof. And we must act quickly, attempt to catch her or Smith in the act.” Blake’s mind was already working through the logistics. “And now that we’re on her trail, we can find her patterns of movement.”
“And hopefully some evidence.”
He scanned the space again before looking back down at Evie’s upturned face. One of his hands left her waist to cover hers still resting on his chest. “You know, ducky, we’re getting to the dark of it. I’m afraid it could all go badly wrong.”
“Ducky?” She rolled her eyes, her smile slipping sideways. “You’re clever enough to do better than that. And besides, don’t go soft on me. I’m as much prepared for this as you.”
“Of course you are, dove. I have no doubt.” He released his hold, and she stepped back.
“That kiss? For operational purposes only, that one?” Her lips curved slightly, even as something much more tender entered her expression. “It was thoroughly convincing.”
Despite everything—the danger, the mission, the ticking clock—Blake felt his smile respond. “Purely tactical, you understand.”
“Of course.” One of those brows of hers rose. “I would expect nothing less.”
He drew in a breath, sliding a step nearer. “Though I may need additional practice. To perfect the technique for future operational requirements.”
“Dedication to your craft. Admirable.” But she was smiling now, that real smile that transformed her entire face. “I take my tradecraft seriously as well, so future practice, especially after all this is finished, would be an excellent idea.”
Grace walked down the hallway, her face still heated from Frederick’s assumptions. How could he have possibly thought she’d ever have any romantic entanglement outside of being entangled with him? And to think of Blake?
She gave her head a furious shake. Blake?
Clearly, he was charming. And he’d always been kind to her, even taught her to shoot pistols. But she had no more interest in anything romantic with him than she did with Mr. Brandon or John the footman or any other person at Havensbrooke.
How could Frederick not know that her heart, her dreams, and all her romantic imagination were his alone?
It simply must be a symptom of gas exposure. That was the only sense to it.
Otherwise, her dear husband never would have been so … irrational.
She nodded to herself at this conclusion and then smiled. She’d make sure to devote additional time to his lengthy care tonight to help clear up any mental fog remaining. Thorough care. Likely the lip-on-lip variety.
She’d almost made it to the main stair when she saw Blake coming down the corridor toward her, hair a bit disheveled and wearing a look that reminded Grace of Shams’ satisfied smirk after she’d done something mischievous.
For some odd reason, it made her think instantly of Miss Gale … er … Evie.
“My lady?” He dipped his head. “How is the patient this evening?”
Grace paused in front of him, crossing her arms. “He’s actually quite determined to have a long conversation with you and Miss Gale. As am I, Mr. Blake.”
“Of course.” Blake offered an exaggerated shudder. “You’ve already divulged your findings?”
“Only because he thought the reason you wanted to meet with me was for something much less honorable than”—she glanced down the hall and lowered her voice—”what it truly is.”
Both of Blake’s brows took flight. “Say what?”
“And,” Grace continued, her own frustration rising to the defense of the fact she should have told Frederick the truth from the beginning, “I’m afraid he may have been in much greater distress because of having his mental faculties wounded by the possibility of our …
clandestine encounters rather than the fact of”—she waved toward him, desperately trying not to reveal too much aloud—”what is really going on. ”
“Well, that does change things considerably, doesn’t it?” He frowned and pushed a hand through his hair. “Where would he ever get such a preposterous idea?”
“From your little comment about needing to speak with me about ‘last night.’” Grace sighed, allowing her ire to dissipate under the very real dangers of the situation.
“I feel as though, dear Mr. Blake, I may bring out the very worst in your professional skills. I can only imagine the stress of managing my curiosity, plus the thief, then”—she touched her stomach—”my condition, as well as your …
usual occupation. You may be slightly discombobulated. ”
He nodded slowly as a strange sort of humor lit his eyes. Almost mischievous.
Where had he just come from?
“Perhaps I am.” He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at her in playful teasing. “But only slightly.” Then he straightened. “We should clear this up straightaway. Would you like me to fetch Miss Gale?”
Grace shook her head. “I’ve already had Ellie collect her, so she should be on her way to our sitting room as we speak.”
“Ah.” Blake’s expression shifted, the playfulness fading into something more serious. “Then I suppose there’s no delaying the inevitable.”
“None whatsoever.” Grace linked her arm through his, steering him back up the corridor.
“And he’s only a little angry at you for making such a horrid comment within his hearing that would lead him to such conclusions.
However, I’m certain he’ll be so caught up in the truth of what’s really happening that he’ll quickly forgive you. ”