Page 124 of The Bachelor Spy
Perhaps the search parties had ventured that far after all?
Grace turned to look behind them. Wait.
Her gaze sharpened. Was that where Blake had gone?
She stumbled, but Pennington steadied her, his eyes dropping briefly to her stomach before he released a curse and continued their walk.
She really hoped babies couldn’t hear too many things from the womb, because in the fifteen minutes they’d been walking, Pennington had released quite a few words and phrases she’d prefer the little one not overhear.
Her eyes blinked wide. And could a baby hear his mother’s thoughts?
She glanced heavenward. God already heard them, and that was quite humbling enough.
The chapel rose ahead of them in the moonlight, its ancient stone walls glowing silver. Haloed. It really was a lovely building. And tonight, beautiful and eerie all at once—exactly the sort of setting one found in Gothic novels.
Pennington pushed open the heavy wooden door, the hinges groaning in protest. The interior was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the stained-glass windows, painting pale-colored shadows across the stone floor.
It looked very different at night.
In the dark.
A chill skittered up her arms. And a low rumble surfaced from her stomach, sounding much louder with the acoustics of the hallowed, empty nave.
Pennington looked down at her, brows nearly touching.
Grace shrugged. “I was too busy being kidnapped to eat supper, if you recall.”
And the man had the gall to roll his eyes.
Grace had liked him a little better before that.
“Where’s the entrance?” Pennington demanded, his voice echoing in the empty space. “Your daughter knew. Where?”
“I told you I would help you, and I keep my word, Private Pennington.” Grace jerked her arm free of his hold. “You don’t have to manhandle me.” She walked toward the font. “Zahra said it was hidden behind a curtain on this wall.”
Which, as Grace examined the wall, was really a tapestry, but Zahra probably didn’t know much about those.
Pennington followed silently, but Grace stopped and turned back to him as they reached the tapestry. Frederick would be on his way by now. He couldn’t be too far behind.
If she kept Pennington talking, slowed their progress, maybe Frederick could get here before they traveled too far into the tunnel.
Close spaces hadn’t been her favorite since Egypt.
Nearly dying in a sand trap left a lasting impression.
“You could leave now. Run away.” Grace waved toward the door. “Act like nothing happened. Even if you find the jewels, the authorities will search for you as long as it takes. Is that the way you want to live your life?”
He stepped forward, looming over her. “My family has suffered for twenty years because of what happened at Havensbrooke. My grandfather died in disgrace. My father couldn’t find decent work. We’ve been poor, desperate,ashamed—all because my grandfather took payment for services rendered to the late Lord Astley.”
“What sort of services?”
Pennington’s jaw worked. “I … I don’t know the specifics. Terrible things at his lordship’s command. Things no decent man should be asked to do. He said the jewels were payment, not theft.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “But sometimes, in his final days, when the fever had him, he’d cry out about it. About the things he’d done. The things he’d seen. The people he’d …” Pennington cleared his throat. “But whatever they were, they haunted him until he died. And that”—his voice turned bitter—”that is why the Percy family owes us those jewels.”
Frederick had never had glowing things to say about his father. The only warm regard he ever shared was a memory or two near the late Lord Astley’s death, but she’d heard stories whispered in town. Rumors, she’d thought. Of women, fraud, even … unexpected disappearances of men who’d crossed him.
Could those have been true?
“Now”—Pennington raised the shears toward her, his eyes taking on a fierceness they’d not had before—”show me the door.”
