Page 11 of The Bachelor Spy
Grace’s shoulders slumped slightly. As the lady of the house, she should certainly develop a more imposing presence to, at the very least, stand up to the woman.
Or perhaps she should just accept that Nurse Wilson found her fundamentally trying and move on with her life. Though that really wasn’t Grace’s way. She desperately wanted to find friendships where she could, even with women like Nurse Wilson.
“I will be right there, Mary.” Grace turned to Nurse Wilson. “Thank you for all you do for our soldiers. I know managing them—and me—cannot be easy.”
The woman’s expression failed to even flicker. “My job is to serve these men.” Nurse Wilson’s tone was neutral, as usual. She was terribly good at neutral. “It is an honor.”
With that, she turned and wove through the rows of cots toward the corporal and his unraveled bandages.
Grace released a long sigh and stepped into the hallway, where Mary, brown eyes wide, dipped another curtsy and began wringing her hands. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, my lady, but John has been searching for you.”
Oh, why would their footman be searching for her?
“Has he?”
She nodded. “He mentioned something about the morning room. He says one of the small paintings is missing from the wall. The landscape, I believe.”
The morning room? One of the few rooms on the main floor not occupied by patients. At the advice of Aunt Lavinia, Grace had kept a few rooms for meeting people and having tea with important members of society who helped fund the ongoing operations of the hospital.
“Oh!” Grace started walking in that direction. “Is it the painting of the pond or the sheep field?”
Mary only raised a brow, clearly uncertain.
Grace supposed Mary rarely attempted to imagine herself inside paintings, so it likely made them harder to remember. “Thank you for letting me know. I’m sure it’s simply been moved for cleaning or some such. I’m always misplacing things, you know. Just last week I couldn’t find my favorite fountain pen for three days, and it turned out I’d left it in a book I’d been reading in the conservatory.” She laughed. “And then there’s my favorite pair of earrings Lord Astley bought for me in Italy that I thought I’d lost. Missing for five months, they were.”
Five months?
Her entire face heated. Oh yes. She remembered very well what might have happened on that library couch during Frederick’s last visit. Perhaps her other missing jewelry and hair clips were scattered in various other places around the house for similar reasons.
Goodness.
She smiled brightly to cover her sudden flush, and her attention caught on a movement down the hall. Brandon, butler’s livery in perfect press, stepped toward her. His usually impassive expression was almost … smiling.
What?
Her gaze dropped to the silver tray in his hand, upon which some sort of folded paper lay.
Her heart jumped into a faster pace.
She turned to Mary. “Tell John I will see him in the morning room in a few moments.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mary disappeared down the hall, and Grace rushed toward Brandon, barely missing Mr. Somersby—or should she say Mr. Somersby’scane—as he sat dozing in his usual chair.
“A letter, my lady. From Major Percy.” Brandon’s stern expression softened in the way it only did when Frederick was mentioned. The butler had served the Percy family for decades and held a particular fondness for Frederick … and Grace was fairly certain he had softened to her a bit too.
After her personality had shocked him first.
“Oh, Brandon!” Grace rushed forward and took the envelope. “Thank you so very much.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Grace pressed the letter to her chest for just a moment—proof he was alive, proof he was well enough to write—then carefully tucked it into her apron pocket. Her smile pinched into her cheeks. She’d save it. Read it somewhere quiet, somewhere she could savor every word without interruption.
The library, perhaps. Her sanctuary.
“And I do apologize, my lady, but there is one more matter.” Brandon’s tone shifted slightly, taking on that particular note that suggested something required her attention. “The new maid has arrived.”
“Oh! The maid Mrs. Davies mentioned?” Grace brightened. “How fortuitous! We’re desperately in need of help.”
