Page 92 of The Bachelor Spy
Or it could have been a subtle threat.
Before Blake could respond, she hurried past them down the corridor and turned away from the door to the west wing, a choice she made for their benefit, he was sure.
Blake and Evie remained frozen until the sounds of her retreat faded completely.
“Tell me you saw that,” Evie whispered urgently.
“The way she assessed our position before committing to her response, as well as her searching for a reason for being on this side of the house?” Blake’s voice was grim. “The hand checking her pocket? The specific directions away from the west wing?”
“I think she knows.” Evie’s palms moved to his chest, face still wonderfully close. “She knows we’re not just romantic fools stealing kisses. She’s not certain what we are, but she’s suspicious now.” Evie tugged at his lapel as if to emphasize her words. “Did you notice her lamp?”
Blake had. “No candle. She’s using an electric torch with red-filtered glass. The kind that preserves her night vision.”
“Exactly. Not the lamp a nurse on rounds would carry.”
They stared at each other in the dim corridor, the full weight of their discovery settling over them.
“She’s the one we’re looking for.”
“And Smith must be her accomplice,” Evie added.
“We need proof. And we must act quickly, attempt to catch her or Smith in the act.” Blake’s mind was already working through the logistics. “And now that we’re on her trail, we can find her patterns of movement.”
“And hopefully some evidence.”
He scanned the space again before looking back down at Evie’s upturned face. One of his hands left her waist to cover hers still resting on his chest. “You know, ducky, we’re getting to the dark of it. I’m afraid it could all go badly wrong.”
“Ducky?” She rolled her eyes, her smile slipping sideways. “You’re clever enough to do better than that. And besides, don’t go soft on me. I’m as much prepared for this as you.”
“Of course you are, dove. I have no doubt.” He released his hold, and she stepped back.
“That kiss? For operational purposes only, that one?” Her lips curved slightly, even as something much more tender entered her expression. “It was thoroughly convincing.”
Despite everything—the danger, the mission, the ticking clock—Blake felt his smile respond. “Purely tactical, you understand.”
“Of course.” One of those brows of hers rose. “I would expect nothing less.”
He drew in a breath, sliding a step nearer. “Though I may need additional practice. To perfect the technique for future operational requirements.”
“Dedication to your craft. Admirable.” But she was smiling now, that real smile that transformed her entire face. “I take my tradecraft seriously as well, so future practice, especially after all this is finished, would be an excellent idea.”
Grace walked down the hallway, her face still heated from Frederick’s assumptions. How could he have possibly thought she’d ever have any romantic entanglement outside of being entangled with him? And to think of Blake?
She gave her head a furious shake.Blake?
Clearly, he was charming. And he’d always been kind to her, even taught her to shoot pistols. But she had no more interest in anything romantic with him than she did with Mr. Brandon or John the footman or any other person at Havensbrooke.
How could Frederick not know that her heart, her dreams, and all her romantic imagination were his alone?
It simply must be a symptom of gas exposure. That was the only sense to it.
Otherwise, her dear husband never would have been so … irrational.
She nodded to herself at this conclusion and then smiled. She’d make sure to devote additional time to his lengthy care tonight to help clear up any mental fog remaining. Thorough care. Likely the lip-on-lip variety.
She’d almost made it to the main stair when she saw Blake coming down the corridor toward her, hair a bit disheveled and wearing a look that reminded Grace of Shams’ satisfied smirk after she’d done something mischievous.
For some odd reason, it made her think instantly of Miss Gale … er … Evie.
