Page 97 of The Bachelor Spy
Blake touched her head gently. “That’s a good girl.” He stood and turned back to them. “I’m only sharing this information with you so you understand the gravity of the situation, but it does not leave this room.”
Grace’s attention flitted from Blake to Evie and back, the tension in her stomach tightening all over again.
Blake steadied a hand on the back of the chair and looked from Frederick to Grace. “If Rook is part of this messy business, then everything has become more dangerous.”
“He’s one of the most lethal controllers within Abteilung IIIb,” Evie added. “Supervising hundreds of successful missions for Germany.”
“With nearly as much bloodshed left behind,” Blake whispered, turning to look out the window, his expression more intense than Grace had ever seen it.
“We need to act carefully,” Evie said to him, as if the rest of them weren’t in the room anymore.
Blake looked down at her. “And swiftly.”
“What doweneed to do?” Grace asked, stepping toward Blake. “Surely there is something we can do to help?”
Some way to protect her family. Her staff. These soldiers.
Blake paused, his jaw tensing for a moment before he met her gaze. “Continue on as if nothing’s changed. These spies will notice if there’s a difference in behavior. We need them to be oblivious to such things.” He stepped closer, his attention shifting to Frederick. “And stay alert. The next twenty-four hours will prove the most dangerous for all of us.”
Chapter 14
Grace and Frederick couldn’t leave the house for Lady Moriah’s as early as they’d hoped due to a return visit from Dr. Ross, who—to their great relief—agreed to remove Frederick’s bandages permanently. Since Frederick had been wounded over a week earlier and had been treated so well both at the Front and during his lengthy transport to Havensbrooke, Dr. Ross felt confident Frederick could manage with only round, dark-tinted glasses for protection.
Which, to Grace’s mind, made him look all the more mysterious.
The glasses hid—at least mostly—his beautiful dark eyes, which were presently teary and red-rimmed with swollen eyelids. All things Dr. Ross assured would right themselves as Frederick continued to heal over the coming weeks and months.
Though Grace would much rather see directly into Frederick’s eyes instead of through a pair of very dark glasses, at least when the candles were low at night and he could remove his glasses, she could look into his eyes properly.
And that would be quite enough for her heart as he continued to heal.
He’d been able to make out her features when she stood close to him, but images more than six feet away remained blurred shapes of color and movement. Still, he’d successfully navigated to his drink table in the sitting room to pour himself a glass of brandy without incident, which Grace counted as tremendous progress.
All very good in such a short time.
Plus, his mind must have been in excellent order, because he insisted on accompanying her to Lady Moriah’s house to question his mother about Private Pennington’s mysterious grandfather, Mr. Crawford.
Grace was quite certain sleuthing would succeed in improving Frederick’s healing.
“You do realize this is considerably more dangerous than our previous cases, don’t you, darling?” he whispered as they sat side by side in the back of the car while Patton, their chauffeur, drove them toward Astlynn Commons.
“Most certainly,” Grace assured him with a smile, placing her gloved hand in his. Seeing that swath of ebony hair falling over his forehead and his open-collar shirt, she felt her face grow warm.
“Spies are trained assassins, aren’t they? At least I imagine the one Blake and Miss Montgomery are after must be, given the importance of the intelligence she’s gathering. Nothing like Celia or Mr. Smallwood, though they were both very clever. So were Mr. Kane and Mrs. Reynolds—or whatever her real name was.” She frowned. “We’ve dealt with a great many people who wear disguises. It’s rather a shame we haven’t gotten the chance yet.”
Frederick’s jaw tensed, as did his hand around hers. “Grace, I don’t doubt your cleverness. I’ve learned from hard-won experience that you’re capable of many things, but in all of our other adventures, I was … I was able …”
“You are able still.” She squeezed his hand. “Just a little less certain of your eyesight. All of your other faculties are in wonderfully working order.” She leaned close. “And the nightmares will go away eventually. I will be here with you through yours as you have been with me through mine.”
He released a long breath and adjusted his glasses.
“Besides,” she continued, “since most of the notorious things happen at night, your differing vision shouldn’t impede you much at all. That has to be a comfort.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his chin before touching his cheek to turn his face toward her.
Sadness colored his expression. She’d seen it last night too, even after they’d enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s intimate company. The look returned when he was left too much alone with his thoughts.
She’d seen it with the patients as well.
The fear they were a disappointment in their brokenness.
