Chapter 14
Grace and Frederick couldn’t leave the house for Lady Moriah’s as early as they’d hoped due to a return visit from Dr. Ross, who—to their great relief—agreed to remove Frederick’s bandages permanently.
Since Frederick had been wounded over a week earlier and had been treated so well both at the Front and during his lengthy transport to Havensbrooke, Dr. Ross felt confident Frederick could manage with only round, dark-tinted glasses for protection.
Which, to Grace’s mind, made him look all the more mysterious.
The glasses hid—at least mostly—his beautiful dark eyes, which were presently teary and red-rimmed with swollen eyelids. All things Dr. Ross assured would right themselves as Frederick continued to heal over the coming weeks and months.
Though Grace would much rather see directly into Frederick’s eyes instead of through a pair of very dark glasses, at least when the candles were low at night and he could remove his glasses, she could look into his eyes properly.
And that would be quite enough for her heart as he continued to heal.
He’d been able to make out her features when she stood close to him, but images more than six feet away remained blurred shapes of color and movement.
Still, he’d successfully navigated to his drink table in the sitting room to pour himself a glass of brandy without incident, which Grace counted as tremendous progress.
All very good in such a short time.
Plus, his mind must have been in excellent order, because he insisted on accompanying her to Lady Moriah’s house to question his mother about Private Pennington’s mysterious grandfather, Mr. Crawford.
Grace was quite certain sleuthing would succeed in improving Frederick’s healing.
“You do realize this is considerably more dangerous than our previous cases, don’t you, darling?” he whispered as they sat side by side in the back of the car while Patton, their chauffeur, drove them toward Astlynn Commons.
“Most certainly,” Grace assured him with a smile, placing her gloved hand in his. Seeing that swath of ebony hair falling over his forehead and his open-collar shirt, she felt her face grow warm.
“Spies are trained assassins, aren’t they?
At least I imagine the one Blake and Miss Montgomery are after must be, given the importance of the intelligence she’s gathering.
Nothing like Celia or Mr. Smallwood, though they were both very clever.
So were Mr. Kane and Mrs. Reynolds—or whatever her real name was.
” She frowned. “We’ve dealt with a great many people who wear disguises.
It’s rather a shame we haven’t gotten the chance yet. ”
Frederick’s jaw tensed, as did his hand around hers. “Grace, I don’t doubt your cleverness. I’ve learned from hard-won experience that you’re capable of many things, but in all of our other adventures, I was … I was able …”
“You are able still.” She squeezed his hand. “Just a little less certain of your eyesight. All of your other faculties are in wonderfully working order.” She leaned close. “And the nightmares will go away eventually. I will be here with you through yours as you have been with me through mine.”
He released a long breath and adjusted his glasses.
“Besides,” she continued, “since most of the notorious things happen at night, your differing vision shouldn’t impede you much at all. That has to be a comfort.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his chin before touching his cheek to turn his face toward her.
Sadness colored his expression. She’d seen it last night too, even after they’d enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s intimate company. The look returned when he was left too much alone with his thoughts.
She’d seen it with the patients as well.
The fear they were a disappointment in their brokenness.
That their losses had crippled them beyond return.
But it wasn’t so. Not only because God’s best work came through brokenness, but also because Frederick was much more than his eyesight or his stature or many other things. He was good-hearted and clever and fiercely protective.
And he would get to the other side of this, whatever it looked like on the other side.
“Frederick, I’ve faced many challenges over the months since you left. In all honesty, I faced things I never imagined I’d be able to manage.” She rubbed her thumb against his cheek. “But we can do a great many things when we must. And we can do them even better together.”
He brought her gloved hand to his lips so quickly she had no time to prepare.
“Oh my darling,” he breathed over her knuckles.
“How I’ve missed you. Your sunshine, your faith, your strength.
” His brow rose, a hint of self-deprecating humor in his voice.
“I didn’t realize how much I needed it until I was—and I may very well be using this word correctly—pining for your letters. ”
Her smile spread so wide it strained her cheeks.
“It is admirable, indeed, for you to admit that outright. And I adore it.” She drew their braided hands to her cheek, closing her eyes and holding his palm against her face.
Pining, waiting, praying, hoping—oh, she’d felt them all every day of their separation.
“And because I don’t wish for you to worry, I promise to do my best to leave the spy business to Blake and Miss Montgomery.
You and I can focus our attention on Pennington. ”
“The thief.” Frederick sighed—relief, she hoped. “Yes. You were going to explain more about the thefts.”
“There have been several thefts over the past few weeks. First a painting from the morning room and then some silver candlesticks.”
“Before all the spy business?” He straightened.
“I suppose it was all happening around the same time, but I learned about the thefts first. The painting and candlesticks thief, however, turned out to be our housemaid Jane, who confessed and has been let go.” Grace squeezed his hand again, more for her own comfort than his.
“And it was very difficult to let her go, Frederick, because she truly was remorseful, but I thought it had to be done.”
His lips softened the slightest bit. “I’m certain it was difficult for you.”
“I made sure Brandon gave her a bit of extra money when she left, just because her father is so deathly ill. That’s the whole reason she stole those items.”
His lips pinched tight, as if attempting to keep from responding, and she could almost sense him closing his eyes behind those dark lenses. Perhaps giving the extra funds had been unwise?
“No servant-turned-thief could ask for a more gracious judgment, darling.”
She felt the warmth of his approval all the way to her heart.
“I’m so glad you agree.” She relaxed back in her seat with a nod of satisfaction. “But then someone broke into your study and took the sketch of the chapel, which I couldn’t for the life of me sort out why.”
“The chapel?” He turned toward her. “That sketch is merely an excellent likeness of the nave in days gone by. More sentimental than anything else.”
“Precisely. Which at first made it seem unimportant. And why would a thief steal something unimportant?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “I have a feeling you know why.”
“Perhaps.” She wiggled her brows. “Because then I found a button at the chapel. A new button from a military uniform.”
“Ah yes, one of the patients had been down there.” Frederick frowned. “Pennington, was it?”
“Blake and I think so, though we’ve not been able to locate his clothes closet to check for a uniform with a missing button. Or to discover whether he smells like cloves.”
Frederick coughed. “Cloves?”
“The cologne scent left behind by the person in the chapel.” She sent him a meaningful look. “But I’ve tried.”
“I have no doubt, darling.”
“At one point, I believe Pennington began purposefully avoiding me, even when I brought cookies.”
Frederick’s grin twitched a little wider, and it almost distracted her from her thorough explanation. Oh, how she’d missed that smile.
“But then Blake overheard Pennington speaking to another patient about tunnels beneath the chapel and some sort of treasure his grandfather had hidden there decades ago. Pennington seems to think it’s still there.”
“The tunnels? But those tunnels are unpredictable at best. Half of them have collapsed. If a treasure was hidden there, it’s likely buried beyond finding.” Frederick squinted behind the glasses. “Was this the Crawford connection?”
“Yes, does that name mean anything to you?”
Frederick went absolutely still, his back tensing slightly. “Crawford,” he repeated slowly. “I remember Crawford. Or rather, I remember the scandal. How old is this Private Pennington?”
“Early twenties, I think. One of the usual sort we get at the hospital.”
“Then the timing fits.” Frederick tightened his grip on her hand, turning even more to face her. “Crawford was dismissed from service over twenty years ago. I was only a boy—perhaps seven or eight—but I remember it causing quite an upheaval in the household.”
Grace’s pulse quickened at Frederick’s confirmation.
Treasure? Mysterious tunnels? Spies? Good heavens, she’d desperately missed a good mystery!
So long as no one got caught in quicksand—unlikely—or nearly drowned in a flooding cavern—also unlikely since Havensbrooke wasn’t by the sea—then all they’d really have to worry about was someone setting the house on fire or a man with a gun.
But since she was fairly certain Blake and Evie both had guns, at least they were covered on that front with a few prepared individuals.
All they were missing was a rope.
She made a mental note to remedy that oversight.
“What was the scandal?”
“Something was stolen from the family.” Frederick’s gaze grew distant. “Though I can’t recall precisely what. My father was furious about it—more furious than I’d ever seen him. Crawford was the prime suspect, but nothing could be proven.”
“Was he arrested?” Grace asked.