Page 36 of Grace in Glasgow (Seduced in Scotland #3)

T he gas lamps that lined the tidy street that sat behind Grace’s home illuminated the stone path that led out of the kitchens, into the alley, and out onto the road where James’s house stood.

It was late in the evening, at least for Aunt Belle, who had fallen asleep in the parlor after dinner, as usual.

Arabella sat in the corner, writing frantically to someone, though she wasn’t exactly eager to share who, as Grace had wandered down the hallway, down through the kitchens that had finally emptied out after the kitchen staff had finished cleaning, and out the back door.

With Mrs. Stevens mending a gown, Andrews stationed by her aunt, and the cook, maids, and footmen all settling down for the evening, Grace had thought it a perfect time to confront James about the toy top.

It was strange, being out of the house alone at night. She had never actually been by herself on the streets during the dark hours and feeling somewhat daring, she hurried across the street, climbed the two stone steps, and knocked on James’s door.

To her surprise, the door instantly opened to reveal James, staring at her with questioning eyes, as if he had somehow anticipated her arrival.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he asked, gazing past her. “Why are you sneaking out of your house this late at night?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“And it couldn’t wait?”

“No.” He didn’t move, obviously hesitant. “Are you going to let me in or must we discuss this in the middle of the street?”

Faced with such an unappealing offer, James reluctantly stood aside to allow her entry.

Grace removed her shawl and glanced around the foyer.

It was a smaller entrance than Aunt Belle’s house, with a black and white checkered floor, dark oak banister, and stairs that were covered in an ornate runner of carpet that curved up to the second floor.

The walls were white, but two large paintings hung above a marble-topped hallway table, revealing a sight that stunned Grace.

“This is a portrait of Mrs. Fletcher,” she said, stepping toward the painting. “And Dr. Barkley’s office in Glencoe.”

“Yes.”

She turned to face him, noting something she had never seen before. Just above the top of his beard line, where his cheekbones showed, a faint blush had appeared. Grace tilted her head.

“I thought you… Well, I always assumed…”

“What? That I didn’t care for my aunt or Glencoe?”

“No, of course not.”

“But that’s what you were thinking,” he said, walking around her as he pushed open a dark, polished wooden door that led into another part of the house.

Grace followed and was rather taken aback at the size of the room. It seemed that unlike Aunt Belle’s home, that had rooms on either side of the main foyer and hallway, and thus cutting the rooms in half, James’s house had been designed to have all the rooms on one side, creating wide open spaces.

Guessing that this was the parlor, Grace noted the impressive crown molding that topped the tall walls.

This room was also white, with dark wood furnishings.

The settee and chairs and benches were all matched in a moss green velvet fabric, that had been embroidered with a heather purple stitching.

The artwork in this room were landscapes, of all the mountains and Munros that encircled Glencoe.

He had decorated his home to match the Highlands.

Grace gazed at him, mouth slightly parted as it dawned on her. She had believed that the doctor disliked Glencoe, but it seemed he missed it terribly and this was his way of being surrounded by the home he had left, the place he had loved.

She shook her head.

“But you never speak of Glencoe, or Dr. Barkley or your aunt,” she said. “You barely even mention the Highlands.”

James swallowed, trying to appear unaffected.

“It’s easier for me to be here if I have reminders of home.

Like how annoying my aunt can be, or how pushy and hovered over I feel when I’m in Dr. Barkley’s presence.

He’s really quite bothersome when we see a patient together.

Right over my shoulder.” James gestured to his own.

“Constantly telling me the next step as if I haven’t been a practicing physician for years now. ”

Grace smiled.

“He was your mentor. I’m sure he cannot help himself.”

“More than that, he was my benefactor. When I came to live with my aunt, she was something of an outcast and not very wealthy, but Dr. Barkley had always paid for her lodgings. She was a healer after all, in the old ways, and he thought to keep her close.”

“I didn’t know that.”

James sighed.

“I wasn’t happy when I moved in with her.

I was angry that my parents had died, angry that I had to live with someone who I believed, at the time, was a madwoman.

Dr. Barkley began taking me on rounds with him.

He was so normal in comparison. A professional man, well liked and well respected.

A stark contrast to the woman I was living with, but he was always certain to instill tolerance in me for her bizarre behavior.

For everyone.” He stared absently into the space in front of him. “I owe them both a great deal.”

Grace stepped forward, touching his arm in a comforting way.

“She’s always spoken very highly of you.

They both have. The little silver charm she gave me?

She said to keep it on my person whenever I was working with you, as it would protect us both from illness.

I know she believes that to be some sort of magic herb, but there have been studies about mint’s cleansing properties. ”

James let out a huff of breath that almost sounded like a laugh as his mouth curved into a self-deprecating grin.

“I suspect she did that because she knows my fondness for water mint.”

“Oh.”

A moment passed and Grace dropped her hand from his forearm, feeling suddenly exposed. To be sure, when she gazed up at him, he was staring at her.

“Why are you here, Grace?”

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she stepped away from him, in an effort to distance herself from what would surely be an argument.

“I went to Gallowgate this afternoon to ask some questions of the factory workers. I wanted to know if they had seen anything regarding the missing persons that have been vanishing from their neighborhood.”

“You what?” James’s voice sounded behind her, soft, yet enraged. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I am certain something is going on and I needed to know—”

Grace was instantly whipped around, as James reached for her elbow and spun her. His gray-blue eyes were wide with fury and something else. Fear?

“Tell me you did not go to Gallowgate alone?” When she made a grimace, he swore. “Grace, are you aware of what could have happened to you? The only reason I allow you to accompany me there is because I am with you.”

“I am capable enough—”

He shook her slightly.

“No, Grace. You aren’t. No one is. My own presence is only tolerated because I serve a purpose and I know not to open my mouth about things that do not concern me.”

She frowned.

“But that’s dishonest—”

“It’s a reality. I do not pass judgment on them, do not interfere with their affairs, and I’m left alone. Going there without any protection, to purposely try and find something out among them is a death wish.”

“But I did find something out. Something you need to know.”

“What?” he snapped. “What on earth could you have discovered that might be worth risking your life over?”

“The top toy that you brought there for Mrs. Monty’s son to identify. He didn’t tell you where he got it from, did he?”

James’s entire expression froze. He released her at once.

“How do you know about that?”

“Because Mrs. Monty told me you went there searching for answers,” she countered. “Not so unlike myself.”

“It’s different. They know me, trust me.”

“Well then, why didn’t Charlie Monty tell you where he received the top toy from?

” James opened his mouth, then shut it, visibly contrite.

Grace stepped toward him. “Because he was afraid. Afraid that you might take it away from him. So, he said he found it. But when I arrived, Mrs. Monty forced him to tell the truth, mostly because she didn’t want me there, but that’s beside the point.

Charlie told me one of the men I saw Mr. Roberts paying, he was the one that gave it to him.

He said he makes them out of scraps and bits of rubbish and hands them out to children in the neighborhood. ”

James’s eyes widened at the revelation and Grace knew something had connected in his brain. His hand came up to his face and he rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

“Bugger me.”

“Where did you find a top toy that would bring you to question Charlie Monty?”

“In the grave of a nun whose body had just been stolen.”

Grace grabbed James’s wrist.

“So, I was right? Those men Mr. Roberts was paying off, they’ve been stealing bodies from the cemetery?” She bit her lip with trepidation. “I knew something was amiss. I bet it was the man who nearly grabbed at me in Gallowgate, although to learn that I was correct, it was almost worth it.”

James’s brow furrowed, blinking several times as if he hadn’t heard her properly.

“Excuse me?”

Grace stood up straight, releasing his wrist at once.

“Nothing.”

“What happened in Gallowgate?” he asked, stepping toward her. She took a step back, but instantly the back of her legs bumped into an end table. “Grace.”

“It was nothing really. My driver was able to beat him off with an umbrella.”

“Beat him off?” he repeated incredulously. “You were attacked?”