Page 62 of The Bachelor Spy
“It would depend,” he said carefully, “on what the man was trying to accomplish. And who he was trying to deceive.” His voice dropped. “Or protect.”
Her heartbeat began a stronger pulse in her ears. Protect? That would be Blake, wouldn’t it? Whatever he was doing.
“In Smith’s case?” Her words came slowly as she tried to find the right tone. “I … I don’t think he’s in league with Pennington.”
“No,” Blake agreed. “I don’t think he is either.”
Then somehow Smith had to be part of Blake’s mission, didn’t he? There was no other mystery to match it in the mental inventory.
“Then … Blake, if there’s something dangerous happening in my home—something that could hurt the patients or the staff … or Zahra—I need to know. I need to be able to protect them.”
“Youareprotecting them.” Blake’s voice was gentle now. “By being observant. By bringing concerns to me. By trusting your instincts.” He paused. “And by not asking questions that could put you in danger if the wrong person overheard the answers.”
Her breath caught. So he wasn’t going to tell her. Not fully.
But he’d just confirmed she was right.
“Then … there is adifferentsort of danger than thievery?”
Something fierce flashed in Blake’s eyes. “If I believed you were in immediate danger, I would have you on a train to London within the hour, your protests notwithstanding.” His hand covered hers where it rested on his arm. “I promise you, Grace. I am watching. And I will not let harm come to you or yours, but I can’t fully explain without potentially putting you in more danger than you’re already in.”
She studied his face—the familiar features, the charm that was only partly a mask, the genuine affection beneath it all.
“You’re not really wounded, are you?” she said quietly.
Blake’s smile turned wry, not even a hint of surprise. That was only a little disappointing. She had wanted to appear clever.
“I have a shoulder that aches when it rains and a few scars from past … mistakes. But no, I’m not as wounded as I’ve appeared.”
Air squeezed from her lungs. She’d been right! “And you’re here for a reason that has nothing to do with recuperation.”
“I’m here,” Blake said carefully, hesitantly, “because things are happening that require the attention of someone with a particular set of skills.”
Grace absorbed this. Not a full confession, but closer than she’d expected.
“I do trust you,” she said finally. “But, Blake, if you’re asking me to be observant and cautious—if you’re asking me to keep watch—then you need to tell me what I’m watching for. I can’t protect anyone if I don’t know the threat.”
Blake was quiet for a long moment, clearly weighing his options.
“Keep your distance from Private Smith,” he said finally. “If you must interact with him, do so only when others are present. Don’t go to the chapel alone. Don’t wander the west wing after dark.” His eyes held hers. “And if you notice anyone asking unusual questions of the patients—specific questions about their service, their units, their officers—I need you to tell me immediately.”
A delicious tingle ran down Grace’s spine. “So there’s more than one spy at Havensbrooke.”
At this, the smallest hint of surprise lit his eyes, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he said, “I need you to trust that I will do whatever is necessary to protect you and Zahra to the best of my ability … and that is not inconsiderable.”
Grace wanted to argue, to demand answers, to insist she had every right to know what was happening in her own home. But something in Blake’s expression stopped her—a kind of weary concern that suggested he was carrying burdens she couldn’t see.
“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll visit Lady Moriah tomorrow morning. Ask about the Crawfords. See what she remembers.”
Relief flooded Blake’s face. “Thank you.”
“But, Blake?” Grace caught his arm as he turned to leave. “Whatever you’re really doing here—whatever danger you’re investigating—please be careful. Frederick would never forgivemeif something happened toyou.”
“And you?” Blake’s smile crooked. “Would you forgive yourself?”
“Probably not.” Grace released his arm. “You’re family. Even when you’re being unforgivably secretive.”
Something shifted in his expression—perhaps a little guilt mixed in with all the care? “I’m trying to protect you, Grace. All of you. That’s the truth, even if I can’t explain everything else.”
