Page 10 of The Spinster's Resolve

G race arrived at the Manor feeling decidedly nervous. She was unsure whether Lord Armitage would agree to sponsor her sister or if he would consider her request an impertinence. She loathed the thought of mentioning it to Mr Stone. However, she loved her sister more than her own silly pride, and it was time to partake in a little humble pie, she thought as she approached the front door.

Taylor opened the door, smiling in recognition, and welcomed her warmly. She asked after his family and was thus engaged when Mr Stone approached.

‘Miss Skye, lovely to meet you again,’ he said, bowing smoothly and taking her hand to place a kiss upon it.

Grace, flabbergasted by his overly familiar manner, withdrew her hand quickly—but not quickly enough. A frisson of pleasure shot through her at his touch. She felt her cheeks burn but was thankful that the cover cream Betty had made would camouflage it.

Determined not to make a fool of herself again, she dropped into a careful curtsy and, with a steady voice—thankfully—replied to his enquiries. It annoyed her that he seemed to expect her return, and she would have liked to refuse his offer just to shake his overconfidence slightly. But alas, as he escorted her into the study, she settled into a chair and began her rehearsed speech.

‘Mr Stone, I would like to accept your offer to work with you in setting the Estate back in order, but I have a condition...’ She waited with bated breath.

‘Naturally, Miss Skye, I expected no less. Pray, continue.’ He smiled—a little cynically, she thought.

‘As you know, we have no male relatives to help us at present, and although, by the grace of God, we are comfortable, I regret that my younger sister, who has turned seventeen, has been dealt a poor hand. You see, we had hoped she would have the chance to attend a season in London and marry, but due to our current circumstances, this has become difficult.’ Hesitating slightly, she forged on. ‘I... I was hoping you might ask Lord Armitage if he would be willing to sponsor her for a season.’

He laughed—a hearty, deep laugh that, for some reason, tugged at Grace’s heart. If it was even possible, it made him more handsome. It struck her that laughter might be rare for him.

‘Is that all? You could have asked for the sun and the moon for yourself, considering the service you rendered. Instead, you ask for nothing for yourself—only for your sister?’ He cocked his head as he looked at her, curiosity flickering across his face. ‘Miss Skye, you are full of surprises. I thought you were about to ask me for something else! I am certain your request will be no problem, and His Grace would be happy to oblige.’

‘Even so, Mr Stone, I would not like to presume and would be grateful if you could write to him.’

‘Ah, yes, of course. But are you not forgetting something, Miss Skye?’

Grace’s brows knitted in confusion.

He edged closer towards her in his seat and, to her surprise, said, ‘What about you? I wonder at you asking for your sister while seeking nothing for yourself.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, sir.’

‘Do you not desire to have a season, Miss Skye? To marry?’

Now it was Grace’s turn to chuckle. ‘You jest, sir. I am far too old to marry now—I am more of a chaperone to my sister.’

He frowned but said nothing more than, ‘Yes, of course. You must at the very least join her in London to chaperone. For now.’

With those enigmatic words, Grace set an appointment to begin work, provided Lord Armitage agreed to her condition.

Relieved that he had not dismissed her request outright, she began to relax and partook in some refreshments with Mr Stone. He seemed interested in learning about her small family, and in her relaxed state, she was happy to oblige. As she described Heather, she became more animated. ‘Heather loves to play the pianoforte, although it has not been possible due to the lack of an instrument at our cottage. It doesn’t stop her from entertaining us with a song or two in the evenings. Getting her to sit quietly, however, is the real challenge.’ She laughed lightly. ‘We usually have to tempt her with cakes. I recommend this if you ever find yourself in need of peace.’

‘I will certainly keep this valuable piece of information in mind.’ He smiled back. ‘What about you, Miss Skye? Do you play?’

‘I used to...’ she replied but could not explain to him that music had lost its appeal since Mama passed.

‘I would love to hear you sometime. I have a feeling there is more than meets the eye here too.’ Slightly rattled, she worried his comment might have a dual meaning. Taking this as her cue, Grace took her leave for the day.

A FEW DAYS LATER, A letter arrived bearing Lord Armitage’s seal, affirming that her conditions would be met. In addition, the Duke had agreed to fully finance the season. Their attire was to be purchased in London by the best modistes. The Skye household was ecstatic.

Heather was pleasantly surprised and thanked Grace sweetly. She was determined to put Mr Smith behind her and find a suitor who truly wished to marry her. Betty, meanwhile, was consumed with talk of gowns.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Betty, enough about lace trims and fabric swatches!’ Grace responded testily after five straight hours of discussing Heather’s come-out. ‘Give me some peace, will you? I need to finish the sewing.’

But nothing she said dampened Betty’s enthusiasm. The woman simply left the room—no doubt to find her next victim.

Grace, however, was preoccupied. Mr Stone invaded her thoughts far more than she liked. These meetings would only make matters worse.

She did not know why she felt drawn to him, yet the thought unsettled her. Gentlemen were not in the habit of noticing an impoverished spinster, and she was not accustomed to such attention. She knew he could have ladies lining up at his door.

Grace had thought her dowdy appearance would prevent any temptation or attachment from forming on his side. In fact, she had relied on this. She hoped he would treat her indifferently. However, she knew this was not the case. In both their meetings, Mr Stone had made her feel as though she were the only woman in the world. His attention towards her was irritatingly focused. Grace groaned inwardly—how would she survive his onslaught of intense looks and compliments?

He might be naturally charming and overly friendly without it affecting his heart in any way, but Grace feared for her own. That fear fuelled her desire to protect herself—but how? Then she remembered her mother’s frequent warnings about falling for a handsome face and charm. She had always said a man’s character was what truly mattered.

Determined not to be swayed by mere looks and pretty compliments, Grace reminded herself that, despite verifying his position as the man of business, she still did not fully trust Mr Stone. Her instincts told her he was hiding something—Mary would be proud of her suspicion—and she was determined to uncover the truth.

She did not even know if he was married or had children. No, he could not be married, as he wore no ring. But then again, some men removed rings , she mused. Regardless, why am I building castles in the sky , she scoffed. He would not be contemplating any sort of serious attachment to me in my current state . And yet, Grace was certain she had caught glances of admiration in his eyes. Perhaps she was mistaken, and he was simply surprised by her outspokenness and eccentricities. There was no reason to assume any deeper interest.

Deciding to ignore such glances, she was determined to complete her task as quickly as possible. That way, she could return to her routine and forget about her lost girlhood dreams. If she had any hope of protecting her heart in the process, she would have to be resilient to his polished charm. The best way to avoid falling into that trap, she decided, was to be as unappealing in her manner towards him as possible. Hopefully, then, he would lose interest—with all his manly good looks and charm.

More importantly, she needed to keep her head clear and search for clues about the missing girls while helping the tenants.

With renewed resolve, she stabbed her gown with a needle with more vigour than usual.

JIMMY, THE POOR SOUL , had been hard at work running around the Skye Estate, warning the remaining tenants about Grace’s disguise. He accompanied her, ready to tackle any staff or tenant who might slip up, saying,

‘If anyone forgets, I’ll soon set 'em right!’ he declared, earning a chuckle from Grace.

Thus, in good cheer, she arrived at the Manor and was shown into the study, where she found Mr Stone poring over some ledgers. He stood immediately and welcomed her in his usual style, but Grace moved past him quickly before he could take her hand again.

Mr Stone was left in her wake with a surprised but amused look on his face. He held his hands up in mock acquiescence to her refusal to be touched.

Wasting no time, Grace immediately set to work. ‘Would you like some refreshments, Miss Skye?’ he asked as he walked towards her, like a panther stalking his prey. Her heart skipped a beat at his approach, but she recovered quickly.

‘No, thank you. I would just like to crack on, if I may?’ she replied briskly, grabbing the nearest pile of ledgers and taking a seat behind the desk, grateful for the barrier.

‘Very well,’ he said, following her around and pulling up a chair much too close to hers for her liking. His fragrance distracted her, and she was sure his arm brushed against her for no reason at all. As his large form emanated heat, her heart drummed in her chest, gosh even my ears are burning. As she tried to edge away, the frustrating man leant closer.

She had a hard time concentrating but forged on valiantly, despite her fast-beating heart and the slight tremor in her hands at his proximity.

She spent a great deal of time reviewing the Estate’s financial statements, income, and expenses. They soon discovered that the previous steward had been pilfering, which came as no surprise. However, it was important to know the full extent of the damage—a difficult task, as the accounts had not been updated for quite some time.

It was a slow, methodical process, but Grace did not mind. As the calculations became more intricate, Grace found her focus shifting to the numbers and thankfully less on Mr Stone. He often remarked in astonishment over her abilities and knowledge of the Estate.

Over the next few days, they fell into a routine. Grace would arrive in the morning, and they would remain in the study reconciling the books until the late afternoon. Then, they would take refreshments—which Mr Stone insisted upon, despite Grace’s reluctance—before she would leave for the day.

To her disappointment, she could not find any paperwork or letters containing clues about the missing girls. At times, she surreptitiously left the study under the pretence of using the lady’s room, slipping away to search a room or two. But she found nothing untoward. The rooms were perfectly clean.

After completing her search of the ground floor, she returned for refreshments. She wondered if she might have better luck speaking with the maids and footmen and thought of ways to approach them privately.

As she entered the room, Mr Stone asked, ‘Miss Skye, what are your plans after your sister gets married?’

Caught off guard by such an existential question, Grace answered honestly.

‘I would like to have a purpose in life. I would like to leave the world a better place than I found it.’

He chuckled. ‘A true Gracian reply. Not content to seek personal comfort and security like most women, but to ascend. I am curious—how do you intend to better the human race?’ He rose from his chair and rested against the fireplace mantel. Grace involuntarily noted his rather impressive muscular arms and shoulders.

But bristling at his remark, Grace retorted, ‘I detect disbelief in your tone, Mr Stone, but I stand by what I said. I would like to make a difference—to improve the world, even if it only helps one other person. After all, any animal can look after itself. If more people worked to help just one other person, would the world not be a better place?’

His tone turned serious. ‘There was no intent to belittle your aspirations. I have every intention of helping you achieve your goals. I think you have already begun by improving the lives of the tenants.’

Grace sighed. ‘I wish I could do more. Sadly, society limits a woman’s ability to effect genuine change.’

‘You mean Western society, Miss Skye,’ Mr Stone corrected gently. ‘There are places where women may freely contribute to diverse fields—medicine, science, philosophy, mathematics, and more. I know of women who have excelled in extensive charity work too.’

‘Indeed?’ Grace replied cynically. ‘Pray tell, where might these utopias exist? If they truly do, I shall pack my bags at once.’ Her flippant tone betrayed her disbelief.

‘Careful what you promise, Miss Skye. I might hold you to it.’

He locked eyes with her, and she realised he was not joking. Flustered, she shifted her gaze downward. A thousand questions formed in her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

He continued, ‘In the Ottoman Empire, Muslim women are permitted an education if they so choose—some even become scholars. There, you would not have lost your home and land, as women inherit property by law. Entailments are prohibited. Moreover, upon marriage, a woman’s wealth remains hers; it does not default to her husband, as it does here. Many invest in business, lease properties and they retain their income for themselves.’

Grace was astonished. ‘I recall hearing something along those lines. Lady Mary Montagu wrote about it in her letters. She even mentioned female physicians. But I never imagined it could be true.’

‘It is true, Miss Skye. Perhaps a woman like yourself would have fared better living there.’

His gaze lingered on her with an intensity that made her breath catch. It was as though he truly saw her—not just the outward shell that society observed, but her very core. And much to her dismay, she found herself equally entranced.

A silence settled between them, broken only by the steady ticking of the clock. Was it a compliment? Or a veiled remark suggesting she did not belong in England? A slight frown creased her brow.

Then, with a sudden movement, he strode to the window and cleared his throat.

‘You should return to your home; it is getting late.’

After taking her leave, on the journey home, her thoughts swirled. The prospect that he genuinely wished to help her made her stomach flutter. But his casual dismissal confused her. She wondered what his words implied—would he remain a part of her life?

She also noted how he wished to assist the tenants without seeking personal gain. Perhaps he was sincere in his ambitions, which she found surprisingly pleasing.

Despite her terse responses, he remained courteous and patient, never responding with irritation or anger—even when her manner bordered on rudeness. Grace felt frustrated at how her attempts to keep him at arm’s length were failing.

SEVERAL DAYS LATER , they painstakingly sorted through the mountain of papers and ledgers, emptying every drawer and cabinet. Yet, none of Gibbs’s correspondence offered any clue to his current whereabouts or the missing girls. As the days passed, Grace began to despair of ever finding them.

During one of her breaks, she even managed to slip into Gibbs’s bedchamber, hoping for a hidden scrap of evidence. Once again, she was thwarted. The room had already been cleared out, and a maid informed her that Mr Stone had inspected everything before ordering its removal.

Soon, Grace found herself coming close to finishing her monumental task in the study. Only one drawer remained. As Grace reached for it, Mr Stone’s hand came down over hers.

A bolt of awareness coursed through her at the contact. His hand lingered fractionally longer than it should have. Struggling to keep her composure, she withdrew her own.

‘Miss Skye, there’s no need to check this drawer—I’ve already examined it,’ he said with a small smile.

He sighed in admiration. ‘I must say, I’m amazed by your diligence. I’ve spent hours poring over these numbers, trying to make sense of them, yet you’ve managed tremendous progress in mere days.’

He exhaled softly, as though in awe. ‘Truly, your help has been invaluable.’

Warmth flooded Grace’s cheeks, yet she accepted the compliment with as much poise as she could muster. With the accounts finally in order, they concluded that the next step should be to assess cottage repairs and check on the tenants. Substantial funds would be required to restore the Estate properly, but Mr Stone assured her that Lord Armitage had granted permission to spend whatever was necessary.

On her journey home, she found her mind returning to Mr Stone’s hazel eyes, glowing like embers in her memory. He truly has the most captivating eyes, she thought dreamily, before chastising herself for indulging such musings. At least when travelling to the Estate, she would be spared the immediate distraction of his gaze—she need not look upon him so closely.

It was not until much later, as she was preparing for bed, that she recalled how quickly he had intervened when she reached for that final drawer. Was he trying to hide something in that drawer?