Page 16 of The Bachelor Spy
How curious to leave those things of value behind. “But what were they looking for?”
“What sort of thief breaks in and takes nothing?” Mrs. Powell said from the doorway.
Precisely.
“What lay there?”
Grace looked up to find Miss Gale nearby, her gaze fixed on a back corner of the shelf. “There is a clear spot where the dust hasn’t gathered.”
All eyes turned from Miss Gale to Grace, who blinked several times before leaning in the direction Miss Gale indicated. The back corner? Grace squinted, peering closer.
Sure enough, behind a wooden box and a set of books lay a space devoid of … something. A perfect rectangle shape outlined in the surrounding dust.
“Very observant, Miss Gale.” Grace studied the woman, that peculiar tingling sensation rushing through her head again.
Was the feeling from the birth of a mystery … or from Miss Gale herself?
The woman’s violet gaze swung to Grace. Her expression shifted from a sudden wariness into a tepid smile. “My … my father was a constable, my lady. I learned a few things about investigations.”
“How useful!” Grace offered the woman an encouraging smile. “You may not know this, but I am forever finding myself in need of excellent sleuths.” She nodded toward Brandon. “Just ask our dear Brandon. He’s been the poor sufferer of being hit in the head by a scoundrel while trying to protect Lord Astley, who himself ended up being a victim to a man-napping.”
Miss Gale’s brow creased for the tiniest moment as she stared at Grace before looking to Mr. Brandon as if for clarity.
“Beg your pardon, but Lady Astley does have a keen ability to attract …”
Grace stared at Brandon, waiting for his declaration.
He cleared his throat. “Curious happenings.”
Her smile slid wide at his careful wording. Good man. And then she turned to Miss Gale. “They’re attracted to Lord Astley as well, though he’d never admit to it.”
A cough erupted from Brandon, which Grace resolutely ignored, and she leaned nearer, examining the empty space on the shelf, her mind working through possibilities. What had been there?
A painting? A book? A document box?
Oh, if only Frederick were here. “John, you said you heard noises?”
“Yes, my lady. I was making my rounds—checking the locks on the ground floor as I do every night—when I heard something from this direction. By the time I arrived, whoever it was had fled through the window.” He gestured to the window, which stood slightly ajar.
Grace rose and moved to the window, peering out into the darkness. The gardens beyond were quiet and peaceful, the moon painting a pale glow over the orderly hedges and paths.
Miss Gale appeared at her side, so silent Grace nearly startled.
Had whoever broken the glass known to escape through this particular window? Or had they simply made a fortunate guess that it would lead to such an easily concealed route?
“I know the windows were locked, my lady,” Brandon said, nodding toward John. “We ensure they are secured every evening without fail.”
“So the thief didn’t come into the house through the window.” Miss Gale offered, running a finger over the window’s seal. “It was opened from the inside.”
“Meaning …” Grace held Miss Gale’s gaze, her pulse quickening. “It was either unlocked on purpose or …”
“The thief was already in the house,” Miss Gale finished quietly.
A delightful chill skimmed up Grace’s spine from the small of her back all the way to her neck.
“Which means someone inside the house either is the thief or is assisting the thief.” Brandon’s voice came low and grave. “This will not do, my lady. We must alert the authorities.”
Grace turned to him, her mind already racing ahead. “If our brains can’t come up with an answer, then I’m afraid our dear police from Astlynn Commons aren’t likely to do much better. Especially with their numbers so diminished from the war effort.”
