Page 33 of Grace in Glasgow (Seduced in Scotland #3)

For a moment, James didn’t move, still staring daggers at the older man, but then he released him and turned, quickly glimpsing at Grace, whose dumbstruck expression gave him no answers. He looked at the constable.

“Very well. Let’s go.”

“H-he threatened me,” Dr. Cameron sputtered after a moment. “You heard it, constable. He threatened to dissect me.”

“Only if you continue in your rude treatment of the lady, Doctor,” the constable said as James moved around the room to fill his leather doctor bag. He would have to see to Mr. Felding after his business with the constable. “I suggest you heed his word.”

Shaking with furious indignation, Dr. Cameron pushed himself off the desk and headed for the door. In a short moment, the bell to the outer door rang and he was gone, though the rage within James seemed untempered. He was nearly finished packing when Grace stepped forward, into his view.

“Thank you for that,” she said softly, but he was in no mood.

“Do not thank me, Miss Sharpe. It is far from wise to accuse innocent men of crimes they did not commit.”

“I didn’t accuse anyone of anything, I merely mentioned that I saw Mr. Roberts—”

“Saw him what? Give some money to a couple of men in dirty clothes?” he interrupted, furious with her as well. “It was Gallowgate, Grace. There are a good number of people in stained and dirty clothes all over that neighborhood, not to mention it was raining.”

“Yes, but—”

“But what? The truth is, you saw nothing of consequence. If anything, it could have been an act of charity. Not only have you offended one of the most prominent doctors in this city, but you accuse him, by proxy, of being involved with something truly heinous. Something that has caused fear and suspicion on our profession for decades. And with what proof?”

To his utter misery, Grace’s bottom lip began to tremble as her eyes turned watery. God save him from witnessing her cry over his angry words. He shook his head.

“Tend to the patients today. I fear I will not be back until late.”

With that, he was out of the office and the front door with the constable close at his heels. They both climbed onto their horses and after securing his bag to his horse, they were off.

This, this had been the whole reason he hadn’t wanted Grace to apprentice with him in the first place.

Because he knew his colleagues would think she was some sort of joke.

He hadn’t wanted to fight about the capabilities of the female sex, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to put his hands on a man he had long considered a friend.

Yet, here he was. Without a doubt, news would spread about their argument, and before long James would be ostracized from his own community, all because he couldn’t let Dr. Cameron belittle Grace.

And it wasn’t even because she was right.

It was because James loved her and that was the worst of it.

He had lost sight of his work, his duty to remain impartial and instead had chosen to champion her over common sense.

A small voice within his mind tried to reason that he wouldn’t have done so if he didn’t trust Grace, but it didn’t matter. There was no proof of any foul doing and he was tempted to blame her imagination, but even then he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

He would have to apologize to Dr. Cameron, and that, coupled with the memory of Grace’s unshed tears, sent him into a foul mood indeed.

Perched on a small hill, the graveyard was a vast piece of land that had become the new favorite place for the well to do to be buried.

Gates that were now locked nightly opened as James and the constable rode a short way into the cemetery, where a number of other police officers stood not too far from a large oak that reached out over an open grave.

James got off his horse and landed in the wet dirt. The grave had only been recently dug and then dug up again, leaving mounds of wet soil all round. Shuffling through a few police officers, James came to the edge of the grave and peered down.

The wooden casket had been pried open, but only partially as the bottom half was still nailed in.

There wasn’t much left, save a small pillow that must have been stitched by a loved one and placed inside, as a few tears of cloth that had been caught on the splitting wood were the only clues that were left behind.

Frowning, James noticed the constable come up to his side.

“When did it happen?”

“Last night. They were in a bit of hurry, it seemed, as they left a hammer, supposedly used to pry open the coffin, thanks to the nightwatchman. Fortunately, they weren’t able to get away with the body in tow. We found her near the front gates.”

James’s face contorted at his words.

“Is the hammer all that was left behind?”

“No. Davies!” The constable called out. As they turned around, James saw a young police officer, who was likely only twenty years old, scamper up to them, his police helmet almost too big for his head. “Where’s the evidence?”

“Evidence, sir?”

“Yes, what was found within the grave?”

“Oh yes, sir.” The young man pulled a small item from his breast pocket. “I have it right here, sir.”

Taking it, the constable handed it to James. A small, hand carved cone shaped piece of wood with a rusty nail tapped into the base. His brow cinched together as he inspected it. He had seen this before.

“A child’s toy,” the constable said.

“How do you know it wasn’t placed in the coffin by a family member? A child or grandchild.”

“This is the grave of Pauletta Tidsale. She lived in the nunnery for the last ten years.”

“Nunnery? Why is she buried here then?”

“Her parents were wealthy people. They would rather she be buried with the family plot.”

James shrugged.

“Do nuns not work with orphans? Or even if she didn’t, perhaps it was a toy she played with as a child.”

“The Tidsales hardly seem the type to allow their daughter to play with such an inferior toy. Besides, we asked the nunnery if she had any dealings with children, and it seems she was more of a gardener type. She never spent any time with children and had been quoted to call them ‘feral little beasts’ from time to time.” He sighed.

“No, I believe this fell out of the pocket of one of our grave robbers.”

It was likely that a wealthy family would have a spinner top made of something more substantial than wood. Tin perhaps? But as James twirled the small toy in his hands, he remembered where he saw it.

Mrs. Monty’s child was playing with one of these when he visited with Grace the time before last.

“I have to inquire about something,” he said, handing the evidence back to the constable. “Here. Do not lose that.”

“Where are you going? Do you know something?”

“I may, but I’d like to be certain first.”

With that, James walked toward his horse, hopped on, and rode straight to Gallowgate.