Page 50 of The Bachelor Spy
A maid rounded the corner—Mary, wasn’t it?—and stopped short when she saw him.
“Oh! Mr. Blake, sir. You startled me. Are you quite all right? Should you be out of bed?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Blake said with his most charming smile. “Nightmares are nasty little things.” Everyone knew the notoriousness of soldiers’ nightmares. “Thought I’d take a turn about. Clear my head.”
Mary’s entire expression gentled. “Would you like me to fetch someone for you to talk to?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” He waved her words away. “Just heading back now, actually.”
He excused himself and made his way toward the family rooms, his mind still on Evie.
“I am no traitor.”
He wanted to believe her. God help him, he wanted to believe her.
But if he was wrong, it wouldn’t be just his life at stake. Grace could die. Dozens, if not more, soldierswoulddie.
Blake paused at the window overlooking the grounds, moonlight streaming through the glass.
He had to solve this mission quickly.
Even if it killed him.
As was usually the case, the news about Grace’s condition had already spread through the house before she’d even posted Frederick’s letter.
And it didn’t take a great deal of detective work to understand how.
One servant saw the doctor arrive, another overheard her exclamation to Blake in the hallway, and several—most likely—had harbored their suspicions all along. Much to Grace’s temporary mortification.
She paused. No, not mortification. That was too strong a word.
Perhaps humiliation.
At the very least, embarrassment.
But she was determined not to let it—or her fear—distract her for too long from the very real mystery unfolding all around her. Including the possibility that Blake was a spy.
Or something mysterious at the very least.
And of course, someone was stealing items from the house in a manner strangely and confusingly connected to the chapel. She wasn’t yet certain how candlesticks related to ancient ruins, except as a practical means of illumination, but she was confident that with a few more clues, she’d sort it all out.
She’d just finished pulling on her shoes and proceeded to lie on her back across her bed long enough to feel the flutterings in her stomach again. A tremor of excitement rushed through her at the fact she actually knewwhothe flutterings were now.
How spectacular and wonderful!
A sudden crash erupted from somewhere down the hallway.
And it came from the direction of Zahra’s room.
Grace launched herself off the bed and rushed toward the sound. They’d placed Zahra’s room in the same corridor as theirs instead of up on the third floor near the old nursery—partly because the renovations for that floor weren’t finished, but mostly because Grace couldn’t bear the thought of the little girl being so far away.
When she burst through the door, she found Zahra clutching Shams, her eyes wide. Shams licked her paws with supreme indifference, and the remnants of a shattered water pitcher lay scattered across the floor.
Well. At least no one was attempting to kidnap anyone.
Grace narrowed her eyes. She might be willing to part with the cat, however, given this was the third item Shams had destroyed in as many days.
The cat seemed to sense Grace’s suspicion and sent her one of those wide-eyed innocent looks that completely melted her heart.
