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Garrick Clairmont was stalking her and may not, for some unfathomable reason, have told his father about their meeting two nights ago.

Jonathan had left her, without warning, to save Fidara alone.

This new Rogue put everything Grace loved at risk.

And James.

Would it pain him to grin unabashedly at her? Or give her a hint about what he was hiding?

Wait.

Could it be…

Was it possible the secret James kept was the distinct forest-green shade of a verdure cloak?

Her focus sharpened, examining the man beside her more thoroughly. She saw a downturn of his eyes as he watched her, forehead furrowed. Concern, she thought. Concern for what, or whom?

Maybe, he was worried enough for the people to try something dangerously illicit.

James existed in a grey area of Fidara’s social hierarchy. Before Orville Nautin swooped into Fidara and strong-armed the gentry into a design that served his own needs, James’sfather had been sheriff, and their family had lived in a manor as full-fledged gentry. When, at Mayor Nautin’s insistence, Gustav Clairmont seized the job from Mr. Patton, James’s family had no other form of income, and were forced into common labor. Eventually, they’d sold their manor and land and took up residence in a small cottage on a neighbor’s land.

Some tattered remnant of who the Patton’s had been kept James included in interactions and functions reserved for gentry, even after his parents had passed, but many, especially those who’d come to Fidara since the sale of Patton Manor, saw him as lower caste.

It was one of the things that attracted Grace to James. He, like her, didn’t quite belong with Mayor Nautin’s “nobility,” and he certainly had reason to hate the gold-grubber of a man. But James was so reserved and proper that she’d never caught a hint of such strong emotion in him. Perhaps he found freedom in the form of green-masked anonymity? Yes, Grace could picture James as the Rogue.

“Miss Robbins?” James started to fidget, eyes scanning the square around them.

Grace realized she’d been lost in her thoughts and probably hadn’t hidden her intensity during her examination of him.

“Oh, don’t mind Grace,” Lizzy said, coming to her rescue. “She’s had an utterly exhausting week. Pulling up all that wheat, you know.”

Grace leaned into the excuse, despite the inaccuracies and the fact that Lizzy had used the same one at the soirée. She wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to test her theory. What might prove James was the new Rogue without outright asking?

“There’s always something to be done in the month before harvest, from sun-up until the moon sits alone in the dark sky. But then, Fidara is beautiful in moonlight. Don’t you think, James?”

He hesitated. “I couldn’t say. I’m afraid evenings find me in my office. A scribe doesn’t spend time outdoors quite like a farmer.”

Grace smiled. “Of course not.” So he claimed to be home when the Rogue had been in the forest. She knew he lived alone. He could easily don a verdure cloak and slip into the woods, no one the wiser.

“We are lucky, then,” Grace said, “that you venture into the night for the monthly soirées. I know I can count on you for a dance every time. Perhaps, though, it would be nice if we were to meet more often, say…for a stroll through the forest.” She watched for a reaction.

James started. “The forest is restricted,” he said.

Grace laughed. “We don’t have to go far. Just the edge.” She gestured to her hat. “I prefer the shade. The sun wreaks havoc on my skin. Too long without a hat and gloves and I look like a turnip.”

He didn’t concede. “I’ll simply have to buy you a parasol at the market next month. Then we can stroll through the square instead.”

His reply caught her off guard. He hadn’t given away a familiarity with Sherwood Forest, but he had accepted an invitation to spend time with her alone.

“How can I argue with that? A stroll and a gift.”

James nodded.

Over James’s shoulder, Grace noticed Milo heading toward them, bearing a tray with a plate and three glasses upon it.

As he approached, he came upon a group of people that included his brother, Frank. A far more boisterous individual than his quiet brother, Frank quickly pulled Milo into a discussion. Milo tried to free himself from his brother’s hold, eying Lizzy and the full glasses on his tray. The group shifted, and Grace saw Garrick Clairmont staring at her.

Spying on her, again!