Page 19 of The Spinster's Resolve

I t was past midnight.

Grace had no choice but to remove her gown and don her nightdress; otherwise, Betty would have suspected something. Still, she had wrapped herself in a couple of shawls for warmth. She had also been forced to remove the pins Betty had jabbed into her hair, letting it tumble loosely down her back. As she paced the room anxiously, she felt vulnerable. He had said he would come. But why? Why did he need to meet her in her bedroom again? The thought made her deeply uncomfortable, knowing he was an engaged man. With every passing moment, her annoyance grew.

A light knock on the door announced him.

He entered swiftly, only to be met with her scowl.

‘Is this any way to greet a friend?’ he exclaimed, feigning dismay.

‘I wish to know the meaning of this clandestine meeting, Your Grace,’ she said irritably.

‘Don’t "Your Grace" me. I am Gabriel to you.’ Now it was his turn to sound annoyed. He approached her, hands folded behind his back, leaning in slightly. ‘Or, at the very least, call me Mr Stone. I quite liked it when you addressed me that way.’

‘I cannot,’ she gasped. ‘It would be scandalous to address you so in front of others.’

‘Very well. In public, you may address me formally. But in private, it is another matter entirely—I insist.’ His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Not wishing to prolong the argument, Grace relented. ‘Fine. Mr Stone it is.’ The words felt strange on her tongue. She quickly walked into the sitting area, eager to change the subject. ‘Now, what could be so important that you have risked coming here in the middle of the night? If someone finds you here, I will be ruined—and so will my sister!’

Realising at last the reason for her distress, he was quick to reassure her. ‘Do not fret, Grace. I am staying in the room opposite yours. No one saw me.’

‘What do you mean? Why are you staying in the guest wing?’

‘I needed to be able to speak to you in private, so I arranged some refurbishments in the ducal chambers. It will not be unusual for me to stay in the guest wing until the work is completed.’

Suspicion flared in her. ‘You put a great deal of thought into arranging this. Why is it so important for you to speak to me privately in this manner? What if your fiancé found out.’

He looked taken aback. ‘Do you not want to know how the investigation is progressing? I am surprised that you have not asked—not even in the letter I received from you.’

Grace was indeed curious. ‘I did not know if your letters were still being intercepted.’

He studied her intently, his usual manner of staring deep into her eyes as though reading her very soul.

Grace wondered if he could see the hurt within them.

His voice softened. ‘You may be right. That was very prudent of you.’

Was he speaking of the investigation? Or did he mean something else? She could not tell.

A knock on the door startled them both.

‘Gracy, it is me. Open the door—I cannot sleep,’ Heather called from the other side.

Panic seized Grace. She glanced around for a place to hide the Duke. He, much to her annoyance, looked completely unbothered. She shoved and pushed and pulled, but he was too large to fit anywhere. In desperation, she rammed him behind the thick, floor-length velvet curtains covering the Juliet balcony.

Breathless, she opened the door.

Heather stood there clutching her pillow, looking miserable.

‘Heather, you cannot sleep in my room tonight. You flail about like a fish in your sleep—last time, you left a bruise the shape of your foot on my back!’

Heather moaned. ‘But I cannot sleep in my room! It’s too big, and I keep hearing footsteps in the corridor. Betty said these old houses can be haunted!’

She stood her ground, refusing to be shooed away.

Thinking fast, Grace changed tactics. ‘Very well. I needed to speak to you about... ladies’ things anyway. Better you learn about them now, before you find a husband.’

Heather frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

Grace took a bold approach. ‘Do you know where babies come from?’

The velvet curtain twitched.

Grace grabbed Heather’s shoulders and turned her away from it, lest she spot a pair of very expensive boots peeking out from underneath.

Heather shifted uncomfortably. ‘Gracy, I do not want to —’

Grace pressed on. ‘Remember Bessie the cow, when she was birthing her calf? Well, humans are much the same —’

Heather’s eyes widened in horror. ‘But that was awful! The calf was huge! You can’t mean—’ She trailed off, looking down at her own body as though just realising something dreadful.

‘And do you know how they get there?’ Grace asked, schooling her expression into grave seriousness.

Heather turned bright red. ‘I—I think I should go to bed now. We can talk about this some other time...’

She fled so fast she did not notice the curtain shaking.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Grace locked it and pulled back the velvet drapes.

Lord Armitage stood grinning from ear to ear, head cocked to the side, one brow arched in clear amusement.

‘Did you just attempt to give your sister the marital act talk?’ He tutted playfully. ‘I think you need a lesson yourself—you did a poor job of it. The poor girl will be traumatised.’

Now it was Grace’s turn to blush furiously.

‘I had to get her out of the room! She’s stubborn. If I had not scared her, you would still be standing behind those curtains until daybreak! You should be thanking me, mister!’

She worried her lip, glancing at the door. ‘I will speak to her properly later...’

‘Well,’ he mused, ‘if you need help with the wording, I would be delighted to assist.’ His voice was thick with mischief.

Grace’s lips twitched, but she managed to school her features into a suitable scowl. ‘No, thank you. Now—what did you want to speak to me about?’

All traces of playfulness vanished. He turned to the window, staring out into the night.

His voice was low, serious. ‘I am once again in need of your help.’

Something about his tone made her walls soften. ‘Are you in trouble?’ she asked, stepping toward him.

He turned back to face her. ‘I am not in any trouble, sweet—not yet, anyway.’ He bumped his shoulder lightly against hers, catching her off guard.

His light-heartedness was infectious. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

‘Alright. So what has happened since we last left off? Tell me everything!’

A slow smile crept onto his face.

‘There you are! I knew your curiosity would come out eventually.’

He guided her to the armchair in front of the fire. Once they were seated, he began.

‘When I arrived in London, I made further enquiries about Madame Jacqueline’s establishment. A friend from my military days has agreed to assist me. He has been working to uncover its location.’

‘Really? Did you find the missing girls?’ Grace was eager to know.

He winced slightly. ‘Yes, we managed to find them,’ he replied, though his expression remained pained.

Studying his face, she cautiously asked, ‘What happened to them? Where are they?’

‘Brace yourself, Grace. What I am about to tell you is disturbing. My friend infiltrated the establishment, which took a great deal of effort, as this place is only accessible by invitation from a member. It is an exclusive club of men called the Order of Oddfellows.’

‘Oh, my goodness, that must have been what Taylor overheard when the guests kept calling each other "odd fellows." They were addressing one another as members of the society!’ She smacked her forehead in disbelief.

‘That is correct. The guests who visited Skye Manor were members of this society. They are highly secretive. My friend had to fish for contacts among the ton who knew of institutions that procured young virgins for elites. It took a great deal of work to find a lead. Eventually, he found men who could make introductions.’

‘My goodness, that must have been difficult. He must be a good friend!’

‘The best. I will introduce you at some point, but for now, his anonymity is crucial.’

Grace nodded. ‘So, what did he find out?’

‘Nothing good, I’m afraid. This organisation is responsible for kidnappings across England, mostly targeting young girls, and selling them to so-called gentlemen of high society. It’s a vast criminal network, and we are working with the Bow Street Runners to bring it down. But it will take time. If we don’t dismantle it properly, they will simply reorganise under a new name elsewhere.’

‘So does this mean the girls from my area cannot be taken out of there?’

‘Thankfully, they are being kept together in one of the group’s safe houses. There is a way to get them out, but it will be dangerous. This is where I need your help. It must look as though they escaped on their own—otherwise, the organisation will be alerted.’

‘How? I will do anything I can to help.’ After so many disappointments, she was feeling reckless and restless—desperate to act.

‘This is one of the reasons I admire you. Your bravery is legendary. We intend to break them out tomorrow night, but they will be frightened, traumatised, and sceptical. That is where your presence will be invaluable. Seeing a familiar, kind face will reassure them. It is vital they do not scream, or try to run away, thereby alerting the bodyguards. I know it is a great deal to ask, but I can think of no one better suited.’

‘Thank you. Yes, of course.’

‘There is one more favour I must ask of you. Melissa may have witnessed Mr Gibbs’s murder and could identify which Averton we are after.’

‘And you want me to talk to her?’

He nodded.

It would be difficult, and she would need to be careful, but aiding in the downfall of this vile organisation—and helping Lord Armitage uncover his father’s and brother’s killer—was worth any risk. Besides, she was increasingly worried for his safety.

‘I think I can do that,’ she said, with more confidence than she felt.

He looked relieved and stood up. As he reached the door, he paused.

‘Thank you, Grace. I don’t know what I would do without you. We leave tomorrow night—I will collect you at midnight.’

She nodded in agreement but, before he left, said, ‘Wait, Mr Stone, you said you would make enquiries about the watch. Did you find out anything?’

He shook his head. ‘The Bow Street Runners visited many watchmakers, but no one could identify it. There is a chance it was not made in London at all. This task seems like looking for a needle in a haystack. I am afraid the Bow Street Runners gave up on this lead. I have tried a few other places but not had much luck either.’

‘What about Lady Elizabeth? Perhaps she will be able to tell who it belongs to? I know you do not want to involve her, but you can make it seem like a casual question.’

Lord Armitage appeared conflicted. ‘I showed her this watch, but she said all gold watches look the same to her. She could not tell if it belonged to anyone in particular. I have not pressed her further.’

‘In that case, may I have it? I will make a few discreet enquiries while the ladies shop in London.’

He nodded, took the watch from his inner jacket pocket, and placed it in her hands alongside a list of shops that had already been checked.

‘Keep this on your person.’ He covered her hand with his. ‘Do not let even the maids know you have it. Trust no one here apart from Holden. I have recently appointed him head butler, but he is actually a Bow Street Runner, keeping an ear on the servants’ quarters. I have told him he can trust you with anything in my absence.’

Then he smiled—that devastatingly magnificent smile that always made Grace feel as though she were the only woman in the world.

She tucked the watch safely into her pocket. ‘Did Taylor manage to identify the gentlemen who accompanied Gibbs?’

Lord Armitage’s expression darkened. ‘I have taken him to various clubs and haunts, but he has not spotted them.’ He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. ‘Whoever they are, they have vanished—either they are in hiding, or someone has ensured their silence.’

Grace swallowed hard. ‘So what do we do now?’

‘I am considering holding a ball and inviting the ton. If they feel untouchable, they may make an appearance.’

‘And if they don’t?’

He met her gaze, his voice grave. ‘Then we may already be too late.’

Grace nodded. He had thought of everything. Searching for a useful suggestion, she asked, ‘Have you considered having the suspects followed to see who they meet or who their associates are?’

He smiled. ‘I am impressed, Miss Skye. You are beginning to think like a true Bow Street Runner. Yes, I have had them tailed, but nothing has come of it yet. I suspect the murderer is on his best behaviour, knowing we are investigating.’

Suddenly, Grace remembered to mention Charles’s letter.

‘Hmmm,’ he said. ‘I will arrange an invitation for him to attend the ball. Perhaps we can confront him there. Please keep everything we have discussed to yourself, Grace—even from Heather and Mrs M.’

Grace was about to protest, but before she could, he added, ‘I know you are close, but this is for their protection. The less they know, the safer they are. If Heather were to accidentally let something slip, she might alert an accomplice—or worse, put herself in danger.’

He had a point. Heather could be careless with secrets.

‘Your secret is safe with me.’ She nodded in understanding and extended her hand. ‘You have the hand of a Skye to it.’

He sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Instead of shaking her hand, he turned it over, tracing his thumb across her palm in a lingering motion. The touch sent warmth curling through her, settling low in her stomach.

‘Such a small hand to hold such deep secrets,’ he murmured, his voice a shade lower, a touch rougher. His eyes flickered to hers, searching, questioning. ‘And yet... I feel safe with you.’

Something in his expression changed—a flicker of vulnerability, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. He withdrew, his face unreadable once more, as if he regretted revealing too much.

Confused, Grace withdrew her hand. ‘Do you have any suspicions? I would hate to think it could be your brother! He has such a sweet temperament—I find it hard to believe he could kill his father and brother.’

A shadow passed over his face. ‘It is my greatest fear.’

Grace noted that he had not ruled his brother out, which sent a chill through her.

‘Be careful and always keep your door locked at night,’ he warned. ‘Make sure you tell Heather and Mrs M to do the same.’

With that, he left the room, leaving Grace deep in thought.