Page 18 of The Spinster's Resolve

M orning broke, and Grace had not slept a wink. Her chest felt hollow and sore all at once. Her face was surely swollen and blotchy from all the crying. But she was dried out now, and with the harsh daylight streaming in, she would have to rise, splash cool water on her face, and carry on.

She resolved to return to her cottage with Heather and Mrs Merriweather as soon as possible. She felt like an intruder now.

Grace feared encountering the Duke again, but she knew it was inevitable. However, at that moment, Betty entered her bed chamber and when Grace enquired about his whereabouts, she was handed a letter instead.

Betty said, ‘He left early this morning, Miss, but he was most particular that you receive this as soon as you woke.’

A deep disappointment settled in the pit of her stomach. He was gone. Grace impatiently tore open the letter, noting the official ducal seal.

Dear Miss Skye,

I had intended to speak with you last night but, regrettably, did not have the opportunity.

Please know that I hold you in the highest esteem. Without your assistance, I would not have come a step closer to uncovering the person responsible for my father’s and brother’s deaths. For that, I am forever in your debt.

As a small token of my gratitude, I wish for you and your family to remain at Skye Manor—your rightful home. It was taken from you unjustly, and I would not have it any other way than to see it restored to you. I will make the necessary legal arrangements upon my return to London.

Lastly, I would be honoured if you, your sister, and Mrs Merriweather joined me at my London residence next week. My sister, who will be staying with me, is most eager to assist Heather in her preparations for the Season. This would also allow us to continue our investigation.

My friend is already pursuing a lead on Madame Jacqueline’s establishment. I only hope you have forgiven me enough to consider assisting me once more.

I await your response with anticipation.

Yours, etc.

Grace frowned. His tone was formal, distant—mercenary, even. It was as though he were settling accounts rather than extending kindness. A month ago, the thought of regaining Skye Manor would have been a dream come true. Yet, for some reason, the idea now left her unsettled.

He had left without seeing them.

Most likely, he would return to his ducal duties, leaving the chaperoning to his sister. He had gone back to London, where he belonged.

And she was here, where she belonged.

Her head told her to be indifferent, to treat his letter as a transaction. But her heart... her heart whispered that this was goodbye. That she had meant nothing to him after all.

Should she accept his offer? Or would it be too painful? She had no answer.

AT brEAKFAST, SHE TOOK the opportunity to reveal the Duke’s identity to Heather and Mrs Merriweather.

‘I can’t believe it! But we laughed and joked together—you even sang that duet the other evening!’ Heather gushed.

‘He wrapped a shawl around me and fetched a footstool for me,’ Mrs Merriweather said, looking mortified. ‘And you say he is the Duke of Armitage?’ She turned pink. ‘Why... we treated him as we would treat anyone else. This is simply too embarrassing—how shall we ever face him again?’

Heather turned to Grace. ‘Gracy, I know he has feelings for you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you! He must be in love with you.’

Grace sighed and corrected her, ‘No, poppet, you’re mistaken. He is engaged to another. Whatever you saw was nothing but ingrained high-society flirtation. He was bored here, with no ladies to entertain him, and he was merely passing the time. That is all,’ she said, more to herself than to Heather.

Heather let out a dramatic groan. ‘Oh no, Gracy! I had high hopes that he would be my brother-in-law! I feel awful for encouraging this. I wish I hadn’t meddled!’

Grace frowned. ‘What on earth are you going on about?’

Heather replied sheepishly, ‘I wanted him to see the real you, so I devised a way to undo your disguise. I spent a great deal of time discussing it with Betty. And I insisted on moving here—not because I wanted a dance master or to practise music, but so that you two could spend as much time together as possible.

Grace gasped. ‘Heather, how could you?! You sly monkey!’ The thought of her younger sister playing matchmaker was utterly mortifying. She promptly scolded Heather for interfering. After gaining her promise to not interfere again, Grace related the content of his letter.

Hours passed, and they were still debating.

‘I do not see why we should not stay here. After all, he is giving you the deed,’ Heather argued.

Grace sighed. ‘It does not sit well with me. I feel awkward staying here.’

Heather scoffed. ‘Look, Gracy, you helped him tremendously—he owes you.’

‘How so? Because of me, the late Duke was poisoned,’ Grace said bitterly.

‘You must not blame yourself for that,’ Heather countered. ‘How could you have foreseen any of this? If you had not helped him, that Averton fellow would have ruined the duchy and destroyed the family’s good name. He might have even let the Duke take the fall for the smuggling operation. If authorities traced anything back, who do you think they would blame? Now they have a chance to expose the truth. And do not forget—Averton already killed the Duke’s elder brother. Who knows how many more he would have eliminated?’

Mrs Merriweather nodded sagely. ‘I daresay this is what we had hoped Mr Charles would do, but instead, he sold the Manor. Perhaps it is karma. And besides, we would not want to offend the Duke. He is still sponsoring Miss Heather’s Season. If we refuse to stay, he might take offence.’

Thus, outnumbered and outvoted, Grace reluctantly agreed to remain at Skye Manor for now, and the ladies prepared to travel to London. But once the Season ended and Heather had secured a suitable husband, Grace was determined to return to her cottage and embrace a quiet, peaceful life.

Despite everything, she could not abandon the investigation. She owed it to Melissa and the other missing girls. The thought of the Duke returning to London—plunging himself into danger—unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Hell would freeze over before she allowed harm to come to him. Still, in London, she would keep their association strictly professional. If he could be mercenary, then so could she. She would remain cool, detached—to protect what remained of her shattered heart.

With great reluctance, she forced herself to write to Charles, though the very thought of seeking his help left a bitter taste in her mouth. His reply was as disappointing as it was infuriating.

Cousin,

I was surprised to hear from you, but even more disappointed that you still refuse to accept your place as a mixed-heritage female. You embarrass yourself by trying to force your way into the business of men.

You should focus on your femininity and behave as a lady for your sister’s sake.

Please do not write to me again. I have no further interest in hearing from you.

Sincerely, etc.

Grace had expected his cutting remarks on her femininity, but she had hoped he would at least answer her questions. It seemed she would have to confront him in London—something she dreaded.

THEY WERE USHERED INTO the morning room of the Duke of Armitage’s London residence and greeted by his sister, Lady Elizabeth Pickering. As expected, everything was built on a grand scale, and Grace and Heather felt like country bumpkins. Large chandeliers—bigger than Grace’s entire morning room—hung overhead, luxurious Turkish carpets softened their steps, and elegant ornaments were placed strategically throughout the space. The townhouse was magnificent, unlike anything Grace had ever seen.

She reminded herself that they were not here to compete with the rich and titled but to enjoy a London Season and secure a husband for Heather. She would not be intimidated by the grandeur surrounding them. Squaring her shoulders, she greeted Lady Elizabeth.

‘Well, it is lovely to meet you at last, Miss Skye. We have heard so much about you, and none of the praise has been exaggerated, I see,’ Lady Elizabeth said warmly. Grace noted with a pang that she bore a strong resemblance to the Duke.

‘You are both most welcome. And this must be the famous Mrs M?’

Grace dipped into a perfect curtsy, and Heather and Mrs Merriweather followed suit.

‘Thank you for having us,’ Grace replied.

At the back of the room, another lady sat quietly—tall, elegant, and beautiful. Lady Jane, daughter of the Duke of Summers. The fiancée. Grace had hoped—quite unfairly—that she would be... less perfect.

Lady Elizabeth and Lady Jane insisted on showing them to their rooms.

It only got worse when Lady Jane spoke. She was all politeness and kindness. ‘We are delighted to have more female company. I look forward to getting better acquainted, Miss Skye and Miss Heather. Elizabeth and I will be escorting you to all the Season’s entertainments—I simply cannot wait!’ She smiled warmly.

With a sinking heart, Grace accepted Lady Jane’s exuberance and inwardly dreaded the weeks ahead, knowing she would be forced to spend time with the Duke’s fiancée.

‘I hope you do not mind being called by your Christian name?’ Lady Elizabeth asked. ‘We do not stand on ceremony here.’

Grace liked her immediately. She had a kind face and an easy manner.

‘Oh yes, please call me Jane,’ chimed in Lady Jane.

When they entered their rooms, Grace was momentarily speechless. The space was vast, the colours soft and inviting, with elegant, delicate furnishings. A four-poster bed draped in cream satin beckoned her, promising unparalleled comfort. By the fireplace, a plush sofa and armchair were accompanied by a thoughtfully chosen selection of books. Heather’s and Mrs Merriweather’s rooms were equally exquisite.

‘Heather will be introduced to society soon. In the meantime, I suggest we show you some of the sights of London—some light socialising, perhaps some shopping?’ Lady Elizabeth suggested. ‘We will ask Gerrard to accompany us.’ Seeing Grace’s confusion, she added, ‘Oh, that is right, you have not met Gerrard. He is our younger brother—he will join us this evening.’

Jane smiled warmly, too warmly. ‘Oh, you simply must accompany us, Miss Skye. After all... we are to become quite well acquainted, are we not?’ both ladies retreated, leaving the sisters and Mrs Merriweather to rest before dinner. Lady Jane flashed one last perfect smile and left.

Grace hated her.

PREPARATIONS FOR DINNER began early, with both sisters fretting over what to wear. Heather chose a cream satin gown, befitting a debutante.

Grace, however, was not here to attract attention. Out of sheer stubbornness, she selected the simplest dress she owned—a navy-blue gown that, while well-fitted, was decidedly conservative.

This did not sit well with Betty.

‘If you are going to dress like you are still at Skye Manor, I wonder why you bothered coming to London at all!’ Betty scolded, pinning Grace’s hair with unnecessary force.

Once dressed, the ladies descended the grand staircase and were ushered into the drawing room, where more guests than expected had gathered.

Grace squeezed Heather’s hand reassuringly before stepping forward.

They were introduced to many people, most of whose names Grace promptly forgot—except for three.

Lord Gerrard Averton, the Duke’s younger brother. Lord Edward Averton, his cousin. And Lord Harry Averton, their younger cousin.

Lord Gerrard was strikingly similar to the Duke, though slighter and younger. His cousins, however, bore different features. Lord Harry was pale and delicate, the smallest of the four men. He walked with a distinct limp, relying on a cane, and appeared more bookish than the others.

Lord Edward, however, was entirely different. He had the air of a man who had seen much of the world—handsome, but with a cynical twist to his mouth. He carried himself with a confident ease, his sharp gaze lingering a little too long on Grace.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you both. Indeed, you are a breath of fresh air,’ Lord Edward remarked, flashing a broad smile at her.

Unused to such forwardness, Grace hesitated. But curiosity won over caution—after all, she had not forgotten her suspicions. Forcing a polite smile, she responded with pleasantries.

Thus encouraged, he declared, ‘I would be honoured to escort you to the dining room, Miss Skye.’ Before she could respond, a sudden commotion stirred near the entrance of the withdrawing room.

Grace turned, craning her neck.

The crowd parted, and her breath hitched.

The Duke of Armitage, Lord Gabriel Averton, stood at the threshold. He was resplendent in his evening attire and stood a head taller than everyone else. Grace sighed.

He was not expected to dine with them tonight—that much was evident from his family’s surprised greetings.

His hazel eyes swept the room until they found hers.

Something flickered in his gaze. Recognition.

His eyes travelled over her from head to toe, a strange smile playing on his lips.

And then, as if nothing had happened, he nodded briefly—before turning away and immersing himself in his family’s greetings.

Grace, Heather, and Mrs Merriweather hung back, all but forgotten in the excitement. As the evening wore on, she took the opportunity to observe the suspects.

Lord Harry was the most reclusive, sitting in the corner with a calculus book.

Lord Edward had already found another target for his flirtations and was having considerably more success than he had with Grace.

Lord Gerrard appeared to be the socialite. Regaling the room with tales from his Grand Tour.

No one looked like a murderer.

No one looked like a monster.

DINNER WAS A LAVISH affair, each course more extravagant than the last. Crystal glasses caught the flickering candlelight, casting delicate reflections upon the table, which groaned under the weight of an abundant feast. Hundreds of candles bathed the dining hall in a warm, golden glow, illuminating the grandeur of the occasion.

Grace and Heather were seated far from the Duke, making conversation impossible. However, snippets of Lady Jane’s voice carried across the table.

‘Why, Gabriel, you have been most neglectful of me. Imagine—I, your fiancée—not even knowing of your arrival today!’ She gave a nervous laugh.

‘My dear Jane, as I explained, this was an impromptu decision. My business at the Estate concluded earlier than expected.’

‘Yes, of course. I feel sorry for you, having such tiresome affairs to attend to. I could not bear it myself—all of it seems dreadfully dull.’

He chuckled. ‘Then it is fortunate that this burden falls to me rather than you.’

Lord Gerrard laughed. ‘My brother has always been this way, Jane. He must keep himself occupied, or he becomes rather grumpy.’

The ladies tittered.

‘An idle mind is the devil’s workshop, brother,’ the Duke responded.

‘Truer words were never spoken,’ Lady Elizabeth interjected. ‘I am glad you are back, Gabriel.’ She squeezed his hand.

‘Well, Gabriel cannot go gallivanting off now. He has a ward to see to over the next few weeks,’ Lady Elizabeth reminded him.

At that, all eyes turned to Grace and Heather.

Heather, caught off guard, nearly choked on her food, turning bright red.

Lady Jane smirked. ‘Yes, we will work hard to make them presentable to society—so you need not worry, Gabriel.’

The Duke’s voice was cool as he replied, ‘Miss Skye and Miss Heather need no such help. They are the epitome of English ladies. It was a privilege to meet them at Skye Manor.’

He raised his glass in their direction.

Grace was grateful for his defence—Heather’s confidence might have been shattered otherwise.

As the conversation shifted, the Skye sisters gradually faded into the background once more.

After dinner, as the gentlemen joined the ladies in the withdrawing room, Lord Edward approached Grace again.

‘My goodness, Miss Skye, you must have made quite an impression on my cousin for him to speak so highly of you and your sister. I must say, I am most intrigued.’

‘His Grace is most generous, I assure you. There is nothing remarkable about us,’ Grace replied hastily, eager to deflect attention from Lord Armitage singling them out.

Unwittingly, she only piqued his interest further. It seemed he was accustomed to bold, flirtatious society ladies, and to his mind, Miss Skye was utterly enchanting—especially when she blushed.

‘I understand that Miss Heather is here for the Season. Are you here for the same purpose, Miss Skye?’ He leaned in slightly as they sat upon the sofa and traced his finger over her hand. ‘I would be honoured if I could escort you to all the entertainments.’

Grace felt a flicker of alarm. He was being rather forward and given that he was a possible suspect in a string of murders, she was determined to dissuade him.

‘You are most kind, my lord, but I would not wish to impose upon you. I am here solely as my sister’s chaperone. I am sure you have other engagements.’

He smiled, his gaze lingering. ‘I assure you, Miss Skye, nothing could be more important.’ Grace resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How was she to shake him? He seemed relentless.

Desperately, she glanced around the room, but no one was within earshot. Thinking quickly, she seized the first excuse that came to mind. ‘I had better find my sister. After all, I am her chaperone.’ With a swift curtsy, she turned and walked away.

Heather stood near the fireplace with Lady Elizabeth and Lord Gerrard, looking perfectly at ease. The sight reassured Grace. As she approached them, she felt the lightest touch upon the small of her back, a fleeting sensation that sent an unexpected ripple of excitement through her.

She turned.

Lord Armitage stood behind her.

As he passed, he murmured in her ear, ‘Keep your door unlocked tonight. I have matters to discuss.’

Then, just as swiftly, he walked away, seamlessly rejoining his siblings in lively conversation.

Grace remained rooted to the spot, utterly bewildered.