Page 39 of The Bachelor Spy
It wasn’t true.
Surely.
Stephen Blake, Frederick’s cousin and dearest friend, wasn’t a spy.
Was he?
Grace walked toward the morning room to meet Dr. Ross for his visit, her fingers busily fidgeting with the sleeves of her gown as she went.
She’d rather concentrate on the thief and Blake’s possible spy life than contemplate whether she was possibly dying.
Although she wasn’t necessarilyafraidof dying. Heaven sounded like such a lovely place, and she’d daydreamed about it enough to feel a real connection to it, but the idea of leaving her darling Frederick without the chance to say goodbye was the real trouble.
Plus, who would be a mother for Lily and Zahra?
And who would run the hospital or help encourage the glassworks to keep growing?
She sighed. Well, Mr. Cox, the manager of the glassworks, knew how to manage the business without her, of course. And Nurse Wilson was perfectly capable of running the hospital.
But there really was no other answer for the first two questions.
And Blake hadonlywanted to ensure she was well after all the stress of managing the hospital.
Which was perfectly sensible advice.
She narrowed her eyes. Unless he was a spy. And she couldn’t really trust him to say what he meant, could she?
But he’d had a look about him that suggested more.
Yet she didn’t feel ill. Certainly notdeathlyill.
She had just turned the corridor to the morning room when the soft sound of sniffling sent her feet into a faster pace. At the end of the hall, Jane, one of the housemaids who’d been with the household since before Grace had married Frederick, stood with her dustcloth, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron.
“Jane?” Grace closed in. “Whatever is the matter?”
The young woman, likely not much older than Grace, spun toward her, blinking. Fresh tears glistened on her cheeks. The sight pinched Grace’s heart completely.
“I’m so sorry, my lady.” She attempted to wipe at her eyes, but even more tears sprang forward. “I shouldn’t be carrying on like this while I’m working. It’s just—” Her voice broke.
“Oh dear.” Grace took Jane by the arm and gently guided her into the morning room to one of the chairs. Thankfully, Dr. Ross had not arrived just yet.
“Now”—she sat next to the girl and leaned forward—”what’s happened? Is your father still ill?”
Jane nodded, her chin trembling as she clutched the dustcloth in her lap. “He’s gotten worse, my lady. Much worse. The doctor in Astlynn Commons says he needs to see a specialist in Matlock, but we haven’t the money for the journey, let alone for lodging while he’s being treated.” She pressed the cloth to her eyes, heedless of any dust. “I’ve been trying to save to help my mum, since Dad can’t work, but it’s just not …”
Her voice broke into a little sob.
Poor girl. She’d worked so faithfully and hard, never complaining despite the long hours and the additional strain the hospital had brought, all the while sending most of her wages home to help support her family. But things had gotten increasingly difficult since her father could no longer work due to his health.
Someone needed to help her.
Grace nodded to herself. And Frederick had left her in charge of these people in their home, their dear servants. So … it was her job to do so.
“How much do you need?” Grace asked quietly.
Jane’s eyes widened, and she gave her head a tiny shake. “Oh, my lady, I wasn’t asking for—”
“I know you weren’t.” Grace smiled gently. “How much, Jane?”
