Page 88 of The Bachelor Spy
And he should have remembered that more quickly before jumping to thoroughly unfair conclusions.
Grace’s hand began that smoothing pattern she did when she was close to him but her mind was racing through information. Oh, how he loved her—all her brilliant, chaotic, utterly maddening glory.
“At least if you’re teasing me now, you’ve gotten over your ridiculous notions about me and Blake.” She shuddered. “I still can’t quite believe you thought it at all.”
“That was my only madness of the day,” he murmured against her hair. “Apart from being madly in love with you.”
He felt her breath as she sighed.
“Well, that was a very lovely thing to say.” She kissed him. “But I think to properly explain everything, I should fetch Blake. He needs to clarify some particulars—about the enemy spy in the house—after I locked him and Evie in a closet.”
Frederick sat very still, processing this statement. Enemy spy? Closet?
“You locked my spy cousin in a closet with a woman who once shot him.”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“And this seemed like a sensible course of action.”
“They needed to talk,” she said simply, as if this explained everything. Which, in Grace’s mind, it probably did.
“Of course.” Frederick’s tone was absolutely desert dry. “How foolish of me not to see the logic immediately.”
Grace pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’ve missed your sarcasm terribly.”
“And I’ve missed your spectacular ability to transform my orderly life into complete chaos.” He squeezed her gently. “Now go. Fetch the spies. Let’s discover how deep this particular rabbit hole goes.”
“And you’re not angry? Now that you know I haven’t—that Blake and I haven’t—”
“Oh, I’m furious,” Frederick said mildly. “But primarily at Blake for keeping secrets and making wildly inappropriate comments that led me to imagine appalling scenarios. You, my darling, are entirely blameless in this disaster.”
“Except for the closet-locking,” she admitted. “And finding a soldier’s button at the old chapel, which likely indicates we have a thief as well as spies.”
“What on earth—“
But she slipped from his lap, only to pause after taking a few steps. “I’m so glad you’re home, Frederick. I certainly cannot solve mysteries half so well without my sleuthing partner.”
Just before the war, he’d started to embrace that calling, but at the moment he wasn’t certain he was ready for another mystery. His heart was still shaking a little from his fear of her betrayal.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Frederick leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingers against the bandages covering his eyes.
With Blake as a spy …
An enemy agent in Havensbrooke …
His wife locking people in closets …
It was a very good thing he was home.
Chapter 13
Smith was not in his bed.
And it was far too late for a casual stroll among the corridors.
Blake slipped silently across the carpeted wards, keeping to the shadows where moonlight from the tall windows wouldn’t betray his movement. The nights among the patients remained mostly still, punctuated only by an occasional nightmare that roused the room until morphine brought merciful slumber again.
But Smith’s bed occupied a more secluded part of the music room, tucked back near a door that gave easy access to the back hall. No doubt by design—and precisely how Smith had managed to leave unnoticed night after night.
