Page 13 of The Bachelor Spy
And the direct look she sent Grace caused the back of Grace’s head to tingle in the telltale way it did when a mystery waited nearby. But why on earth would a new servant lead to such a response? Apart from the way Miss Gale scanned a room and those interesting eyes, her demeanor and appearance didn’t announce any trouble.
“I’m honored to have the opportunity to serve at Havensbrooke.” The woman’s calm voice held the tiniest hint of an accent. “And you, my lady.”
Grace moved forward, extending her hand in a gesture that made both John’s and Brandon’s eyebrows rise slightly. But Grace had never been one for excessive formality, especially not in her own home. “I’m so pleased you’re here, Miss Gale. We truly are in desperate need of help, what with the hospital and all the comings and goings.”
Miss Gale’s hand was cool in Grace’s, and she showed surprising strength in her grip. She seemed quite capable, as Brandon had said.
But capable of what, exactly?
Grace smiled at her own turn of phrase, but something in the back of her mind paused on the moment. Catalogued it somewhere within the place she housed curiosities she wanted to revisit later.
Grace had read enough novels to recognize when something was off about a person. When the governess was actually a duchess in disguise, or the butler was really a detective, or the lady’s maid was harboring secrets that would unravel by chapter 20.
Miss Helen Gale had secrets. Or at least Grace hoped so.
The question was—what kind?
Chapter 2
Grace pressed Frederick’s letter to her chest and sank onto the edge of her bed, the electric lights brightening the entire room to such an extent Grace turned them off and lit a lantern she kept by her bed.
For some reason, reading Frederick’s letter in a cozy glow of firelight and lantern light made him feel closer. She wasn’t sure why, but perhaps it reminded her of their first few months together, when her room was without electricity, or when they were traipsing through the wilds of Cairo or adventuring in the Highlands of Scotland.
She wasn’t certain, but it comforted her.
Especially if she wrapped herself within the folds of a large blanket and snuggled in deep, pretending his arms—instead of mere cloth and thread—enclosed her.
They’d reopened the Astlynn Commons Glassworks as soon as they’d gotten back from their last adventure in Scotland, and it had proven a monetary boon after their shocking discovery of her father’s financial decline. They’d almost finished the renovations to the east wing bedchambers before Frederick had gone off to war, leaving only the nursery unfinished, which meant Lily, the little daughter born to him years before he met Grace, still remained with her nurse on the grounds. But Grace would be pleased to bring the little darling into the house once all was ready for her, and then Lily could join Zahra as Grace’s own adopted daughter too.
Zahra had been happily tending to the cat she’d named Shams, which evidently meant “sun” in Arabic, but may have proven to fit the cat’s personality with its English meaning as far as the creature’s sneakiness.
Grace could see it in the cat’s eyes.
Or perhaps that was the way the firelight had been glinting off the creature as it lay in Zahra’s arms while Grace had tucked the girl into bed. But at least Shams had brought a smile to Zahra’s face, and perhaps the animal offered some company for the girl, besides Lily, who was younger in years and much younger in experience than Zahra.
Grace brought the letter to her face and pressed a kiss to it, closing her eyes and trying to imagine Frederick taking the time in some tent or hovel, surrounded by muck or darkness or gunfire—or all three—to pen it to her. She’d waited all day to read it. Through the chaos with Zeus and the cat, through the introduction to Miss Gale, through dinner and evening rounds with the wounded, she’d saved it like a sweet to be savored in quiet.
She settled back in the chair by the fire, adjusting her gown to fit more comfortably. Her dresses had become so odd lately. Tighter in the middle and chest. She really ought to stop eating so many of Mrs. Lennox’s cakes, she supposed. And if she’d just stop making them taste so wonderful, Grace would.
She sighed.
Then broke the letter’s seal with trembling fingers.
My dearest Grace,
Apart from being God’s beloved child, was there anything lovelier than being Frederick Percy’s dearest Grace?
I hope this letter finds you well and Havensbrooke still standing despite the trials and undoubted chaos a convalescent hospital inspires. To be honest, I’m a little relieved not to witness how my family home has been transformed, but I am proud of the work you and those working with you are doing for the men and women who have served so faithfully in this war.
Your last letter mentioned an egg-and-spoon race among the patients that ended with someone in the rosebushes? Darling, I can picture it perfectly, and I cannot decide if I’m sorry to have missed it or grateful to have been spared. Though I am every hour pained to be away from you, Zahra, and Lily. As I’ve mentioned already, the way you have loved my little daughter Lily and given her the attention of such a mother warms my heart more than I can say. But I am certain she has enjoyed her lengthy visits to my sister’s.
Grace laughed softly, though tears were already prickling at her eyes. Yes, little Lily had transformed at the opportunity to enjoy the countryside with Frederick’s sister and play with children of like age. The absence had also helped keep little Lily away from the noises of the hospital. She was by far less prepared for them than Zahra.
The work here is tedious more than dangerous at present—mostly bridge inspections and drainage concerns. (You see how I’m becoming quite dull?) The dampness you worried about in your last letter is indeed considerable, but I assure you I’m taking every precaution. Please don’t let your imagination run away with you. What we are experiencing here is different than any of your novels.
More combat is coming soon, so do keep our men in your prayers. As I am certain you’ve heard through the wireless, the rain has made the battles even more dangerous than they already were.
I was glad to learn from your last letter that the glassworks are continuing to expand and bring in some revenue in addition to what is being given to run the hospital. The funds your mother left you have placed us in good stead, so do not worry too much about money. Take care more than anything of our girls and yourself. Nothing else is so dear to me than you.
