Page 20 of The Spinster's Resolve

B leary-eyed, Grace was not ready for Heather’s exuberance the next morning, but she met her with her usual calmness.

‘Poppet, stop trying to strangle me. Remember not to display such wildness when we go shopping with the ladies,’ she said, extricating herself from Heather’s enthusiastic embrace.

‘Pooh-pooh, I am sure they will not mind a little light-heartedness. But why did you miss breakfast this morning?’ Before Grace could reply, Heather launched into the real reason for her excitement. ‘Do you think I shall get a whole new wardrobe, Gracy? Lady Elizabeth mentioned they are arranging a ball in honour of the new Duke. They will probably announce the wedding date, but it would also be a good opportunity to introduce me as his ward.’

‘I did wonder at the suggestion of a ball. The family are still in mourning,’ said Mrs Merriweather pensively, shaking her head. ‘I never did understand the aristocracy. They seem to make up their own societal rules as they go along,’ she added disapprovingly.

Mrs Merriweather’s remarks made Grace want to defend him. ‘True. However, if Lady Elizabeth does not join in the dancing, I see no reason why she should not attend the ball. I think His Grace has other reasons for hosting it. I shall tell you in due time, but for now, I am sworn to secrecy.’

Both ladies protested.

‘How can you keep us in the dark? What happened?’ Heather whined, pouting.

‘I do not know if you should be a part of this, Miss Grace. You could be in danger,’ Mrs Merriweather said with concern.

‘I will be careful, I promise,’ Grace reassured her, though she knew Mrs Merriweather was not convinced.

‘But we could help!’ cried Heather, pouting even more.

‘And I would have personally found your help invaluable, poppet, but it is not up to me. His Grace insisted upon it.’

This seemed to satisfy Heather—reluctantly.

‘Fine. But I think His Grace is taking advantage of your kind-heartedness,’ she said sharply, causing Grace to feel a pang of doubt. Was he manipulating her into helping him? She shoved the thought aside.

‘Let us go down,’ she said.

The ladies had arranged to visit a renowned dressmaker’s shop, and Lord Gerrard and Lord Harry had agreed to escort them. It was a merry party, with the gentlemen offering their attentions and making outrageous remarks that had the ladies blushing as they browsed swathes of fabric. However, after an hour, Lord Harry’s leg began to ache, and he bowed out, resting in the carriage.

The ladies exclaimed their sympathies, but he took it in good humour.

‘Alas, ladies, I would stay with you till the end of time, but my leg doth protest too much.’

His limp had worsened, likely due to the pain he was in.

‘I shall take some rest and then secure us a luncheon at The Parlour. Shall I meet you all there at one o’clock?’

Judging by Lady Jane’s and Lady Elizabeth’s reactions, The Parlour was a welcome suggestion, and they readily agreed.

After Lord Harry’s departure, the conversation naturally turned to him.

‘Such a shame about his leg,’ Lady Elizabeth remarked. ‘Otherwise, he would be quite the catch among the ladies. He cannot even dance or ride properly.’

‘How did he injure it?’ Grace could not help but ask.

‘It is a bit of a mystery,’ Lady Elizabeth said. ‘He was sleepwalking as a child and fell down the stairs. Edward found him unconscious in the morning, and the doctor did not set it properly, I suppose. He has walked with a cane ever since.’

Perplexed, Grace asked, ‘Why is that a mystery?’

‘Oh, well, I suppose because I thought he would have woken up from the pain. Edward did not find him until morning. And where on earth were all the servants? They always seem shifty when I ask about it. Also, I have never heard of him sleepwalking before or since. As I understand it, sleepwalking is usually a recurring problem. Is that not right, Gerrard?’

‘How should I know, sis? You are the expert on these things!’ He shrugged, then frowned thoughtfully. ‘Now you mention it, it does seem a little odd. Perhaps he was under some stress at the time. I know Eton can be tough when you do not fit in.’

He stopped rather abruptly, as though reminded of something he should not have said. Attempting to change the subject, he asked, ‘What is your theory?’

Lady Elizabeth looked thoughtful. ‘I think the brothers must have quarrelled, and in the process, Harry got hurt. They did not want to tell their father, so they made up the sleepwalking story.’ She turned to Grace. ‘Edward has a bit of a short temper. He is much better now, but as an adolescent, he was worse.’

‘Really? Why would they want to hide something like this from their father?’ asked Grace.

‘Uncle was not a forgiving man. He was strict and wanted them both to behave perfectly,’ she replied. ‘They probably did not want to be punished.’

She was losing interest in the topic as a lovely cerulean silk scarf caught her attention.

Grace, however, wanted to know more about the brothers.

She turned to Lord Gerrard. ‘Did you and Lord Harry attend Eton together?’

‘Oh yes, we are the same age,’ he replied.

‘Why did you think he might be stressed at such a young age?’

Lord Gerrard hesitated but answered, nonetheless. ‘Well, I suppose he was socially awkward at the time. And you know how children can be. I believe he was teased quite a bit.’ He looked sheepish. ‘I may have joined in now and then to fit in.’

All the ladies protested, Lady Jane the most vocal. ‘That is terrible! How could you treat your cousin so ill?’

‘It is all water under the bridge now,’ Gerrard said hastily. ‘Harry knows it was just a lark. He made friends eventually. Besides, he and I are as close as brothers now. Closer than he is with Edward. They do not get along at all.’

The ladies teased him mercilessly until, half an hour later, they found something new to focus on.

Grace had been careful to remain in the background whilst the ladies chose materials for Heather and themselves. But when Heather pointed out a fabric that suited Grace’s colouring, they all pounced on her, insisting she choose something for herself.

She tried to settle on the plainest fabrics, but Lady Elizabeth was a force to be reckoned with. No matter how much Grace protested, she was unable to dissuade her. Even Lord Gerrard, now grateful not to be the subject of teasing, joined in.

By the time they left the shop, Grace was flustered and embarrassed by all the attention. She had no idea which fabrics Lady Elizabeth had chosen for her, and it would be a couple of weeks before the dresses were ready.

The ladies entered The Parlour , exhausted but exhilarated from their shopping expedition, and found Lord Harry had ordered them a lovely meal, which ended the day perfectly. However, Grace was frustrated that she did not get an opportunity to slip away and visit a couple of watchmakers she had spotted nearby.

Later in the evening, Grace was glad of a more intimate dinner with just the ladies and Lord Gerrard—since the other gentlemen had dined at the club—Grace took the opportunity to observe him more carefully. He appeared nothing but easy manners and affability, dividing his attention equally among the ladies, as any well-bred gentleman would.

‘I wonder at you not joining the other gentlemen at the club, Gerrard?’ his sister remarked.

He smiled wryly. ‘I wished to spend more time with you ladies, but if you would rather I were elsewhere...’ He trailed off with an exaggerated sigh, looking rather put out.

The ladies were quick to protest, assuring him that his presence was most welcome, and he was soon appeased.

‘I, for one, am grateful for your company, Gerrard,’ Lady Jane said warmly. ‘Since Gareth passed, it has been such a difficult time for all of us. But when the late Lord Armitage died... I do not know how we would have borne it had you not returned from your Grand Tour.’

‘I meant no offence, Gerrard, of course,’ Lady Elizabeth added. ‘We love your company. I only meant that you used to love the club and hated being indoors for too long.’

‘Well, everyone grieves differently, Lady Elizabeth,’ Jane answered for him, giving him a look of sympathy.

Lord Gerrard responded more slowly. ‘Er, yes, of course, as Lady Jane says. I have felt disinclined to socialise much of late.’

‘Poor boy,’ his sister said affectionately, reaching out to ruffle his hair. She recoiled almost instantly. ‘Eugh, Gerrard, you must refrain from putting so much pomade on your hair—it is vile.’ She scrubbed her hands on a nearby napkin.

As they entered the drawing room, Heather suggested a game of cribbage. Lord Gerrard and Lady Jane declined, choosing instead to occupy themselves with books. Grace played one round but soon decided to sit out, preferring to observe the others. The game quickly became lively as Lady Elizabeth and Heather grew increasingly competitive.

After some time, Lady Jane, evidently bored of her book, left to fetch another from the library. Shortly thereafter, Lord Gerrard excused himself, claiming he needed to go to the study to write a letter.

Grace hesitated only a moment before deciding to follow him.

She told herself she was merely being cautious, ensuring there was nothing amiss—but in truth, she was curious. Was he truly going to write a letter? Or was there another reason for his sudden departure?

The others, still engrossed in their game, took no notice as she slipped quietly from the room. As she stepped into the hallway, she was stopped by Holden, the butler.

‘Can I help you, Miss Skye?’ he asked.

Grace took a moment to study him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp features and intelligent eyes. For a butler, he was relatively young—she guessed he would be in his mid-forties. But then again, she reminded herself, Holden was not really a butler.

Feigning nonchalance, she replied, ‘Oh, I was just looking for the library.’

She had no intention of letting him suspect her true reason for being out of the drawing room—nor did she wish for him to report back to Lord Armitage that she had been recklessly spying on one of the suspects.

Holden inclined his head. ‘I am afraid, ma’am, the library has not been made ready for use. It has seen little use by the family— unless, of course, His Grace is at home. I can open it for you, but it may take some time to light the candles and get the fire going.’

He was kind enough to offer, but Grace was not about to let him make a fuss over her supposed book-browsing.

‘Goodness, I would not wish to be a nuisance,’ she said lightly. ‘Perhaps I could peruse a section using a candle stick. I am sure Lady Jane must be doing the same.’

Holden frowned slightly. ‘Lady Jane? I do not believe she could have. Only I have the key—well, and His Grace, of course,’ he said as he reached for a set of keys and unlocked the door. ‘The family have been quite careful about securing these rooms, particularly since the late Duke’s passing. You understand, given the... circumstances.’

Indeed, to be poisoned in one’s own home... Yes, of course, such an incident would make anyone paranoid , Grace thought as she followed him inside.

As Holden had said, the library was dark and cold. The candle he carried did little to illuminate more than a few feet ahead.

‘I had no idea... if I had known, I would have prepared the room for you earlier,’ Holden said, his tone almost apologetic.

‘Please, do not trouble yourself. It is of no consequence,’ she reassured him.

But just as she turned a corner, she came face to face with Lady Jane, who was holding a book in one hand and a candle stick in the other.

‘Oh!’ Lady Jane gasped, looking startled. ‘You frightened me.’

Holden raised a brow. ‘Lady Jane, I had no idea you were here.’ His face betrayed no emotion, but his voice was laced with curiosity. It seemed, Holden had no idea about a lot of things tonight.

‘Oh, yes,’ Lady Jane said breezily, recovering her composure. ‘His Grace gave me access to the library some time ago. You must not have been informed—you are still new, after all.’

The excuse felt hollow. Why had Holden not known this? And why did Lady Jane seem so dismissive of it?

But before Grace could dwell on it, Lady Jane turned to her with a warm smile. ‘Were you also looking for a book? There is a nice selection here.’ She gestured towards a bookshelf.

Not wanting to draw attention to her suspicions, Grace selected the first book that caught her eye and walked out with Lady Jane.

As they stepped into the corridor, they were met by Lord Gerrard.

His appearance made Grace pause. Gone was the excessive pomade that had previously kept his hair slicked back; instead, his dark locks were slightly tousled, as though he had run his fingers through them repeatedly. Had he taken Lady Elizabeth’s advice to heart?

More to the point—where had he been?

She followed his gaze and realised he had just emerged from the study. Had he been writing letters, as he claimed?

As Grace peered through the slightly ajar door, she caught a glimpse of a large desk and several chairs. Her fingers itched to go inside and see if anything had been disturbed. But she did not know the room well enough to discern whether anything was amiss.

If Lord Gerrard had been up to something, he gave nothing away. With his usual easy charm, he offered his arm to Lady Jane, and the two set off towards the drawing room.

Grace, however, made her excuses and retired early to her chambers.

AS THE HOUR APPROACHED , Grace grew increasingly apprehensive. Lord Armitage had warned that this was a dangerous mission, and she began to worry about what might happen to him. As she ruminated, a quiet knock sounded at her door, and he entered, disguised as a commoner.

Grace was ready, clad in her darkest cloak with a heavy hood. He studied her appearance and, seemingly satisfied, simply held out his hand and said, ‘Come.’

They slipped out silently, taking a short passageway through the servants’ entrance, which had been left open. At the rear of the house, a carriage awaited them, and they climbed inside.

Neither spoke as they rode through the darkened streets. A long while later, when they seemed to have reached their destination, he finally broke the silence.

‘My friend and two other disguised Runners will be meeting me at the back. We will get the girls out and bring them here.’

Now his expression turned grave. He took both her hands into his own, his grip firm and possessive. ‘Promise me, if we do not return in half an hour, you will go back to the house. I have instructed the driver to leave if we are not back in time. Promise me that under no circumstances will you step out of this carriage.’

The urgency in his voice sent a pang through her. Although she had no intention of leaving him to danger, she also knew he would not depart until she agreed. To keep her response ambiguous, she simply nodded.

That was all he needed. He released her hands, then stepped out of the carriage. It was only then that she noticed the firearm concealed beneath his jacket.

The next half-hour was the longest of her life. She was terrified something had gone wrong. She kept staring out of the glass window—streetlamps illuminated the dimly lit road, and she could see the building he had entered, but there was no sign of movement.

As the waiting time drew to an end, she resolved to stop the driver from leaving, even if it meant throwing herself in front of the horses. Just as she reached for the door handle, three figures emerged from the shadows, each carrying a struggling girl.

One of the figures was unmistakably the Duke.

The third man—a shorter, rounder fellow—was visibly struggling to restrain his captive. The girl twisted violently, then kicked him in the gut, breaking free.

She bolted towards the street.

Grace knew that if the girl escaped, she would likely be recaptured. Without hesitation, she leapt from the carriage and dropped her hood. The girl saw her and froze, recognition flickering in her tear-streaked eyes.

Grace recognised her, too.

It was Melissa.

‘Miss Skye!’ The girl all but flung herself into Grace’s arms, clinging to her with a sob of disbelief. ‘Miss Skye, is it really you?’

Grace held her tightly. ‘Yes, Melissa. We have come to rescue you. You are safe now.’ She spoke soothingly, guiding her towards the carriage.

The Duke and his companion arrived, carrying the other girls, while the short man huffed breathlessly behind them.

Glancing nervously towards the street, the short man muttered, ‘Egad, I’m glad you caught her before she got away, Miss. What a disaster that would’ve been—there are guards near the front of the building!’

The Duke and the taller man beside him had their faces partially obscured. The taller man spoke with a cultured accent. ‘You must be the mythical Miss Skye,’ he said, eyeing her with a twinkle of masculine appreciation. ‘I can see why my friend holds you in such regard. That was quick thinking, stopping the girl before any real harm could be done.’

The Duke’s reply was clipped. ‘Yes, but we are not out of harm’s way yet. We need to move.’ He turned to his men. ‘I will take the girls to the safe house. Meet me at the usual place tomorrow.’

The other two men nodded before disappearing into the shadows.

Lord Armitage gave a few orders to the driver before stepping into the now rather crowded carriage, where all three girls and Grace sat.

The journey back was silent.

As the carriage jolted forward, Grace leaned against the seat, exhausted but relieved. The girls huddled close, their small hands clinging to her like lifelines. She murmured soothing reassurances, though their haunted expressions told her words would never be enough.

Across from her, the Duke sat in rigid silence. The dim light from the carriage lantern cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the tense line of his jaw. His hands, which had so recently held hers with such possessiveness, now rested in tight fists upon his lap. Every so often, his fingers flexed—an unconscious tic betraying his pent-up agitation. Grace had expected him to say something. To acknowledge their success. To show relief that they had managed to escape unscathed. But he did not speak.

Instead, his hazel eyes remained trained on the opposite window, his expression dark and unreadable. It was as though he were somewhere else entirely, lost in thoughts she could not begin to decipher. The Duke of Armitage—the composed, calculating man who had taken every measure to ensure this rescue mission’s success—was brooding .

Something was wrong.

Upon arrival at the safe house, a kindly housekeeper greeted them, along with a familiar face.

‘Taylor!’ Grace was pleasantly surprised.

He grinned. ‘Miss, you look well.’ There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took in her appearance without her usual disguise.

‘Abominable boy!’ she chided, though there was warmth in her tone.

Despite the late hour, refreshments were offered, which the girls eagerly accepted. After some time, Grace carefully broached the delicate subject of questioning.

‘My dears, do you know who kidnapped you?’

Leah and Millie both named Gibbs, which was no real surprise.

‘Him and his three creepy friends would stare at me whenever they came to collect the rent,’ Millie spoke first, shuddering. ‘I felt so uncomfortable that, after a while, I made sure to stay out of sight when they came. One day, they caught me outside on the pathway and just grabbed me. They tied me up so I couldn’t scream. They brought me to that building, and I’ve been there ever since.’

Leah’s story was similar.

The girls looked so forlorn—dark circles beneath their eyes, their faces thin and hollowed from what they had endured. Grace’s heart ached for them.

Turning to Melissa, she asked gently, ‘What happened the day you were taken?’

Melissa’s voice trembled. ‘I promised Papa I wouldn’t take the woodland path. I should have listened to him!’

She burst into sobs, and Grace immediately gathered her into her arms, stroking her hair. Though she had been captive for the shortest time, Melissa looked just as haunted as the others.

‘Petal, none of this is your fault. I need you to know that. We will stop all these bad people, but I need your help. I need you to be brave and tell us what happened that day. Do you think you can do that?’

Melissa nodded hesitantly.

‘I was walking through the woodland path when I heard a noise in the trees, but I couldn’t see anything. I called out, but no one answered, so I got scared and started to run. Then I heard someone running behind me. I didn’t look back—I just ran. But then...’ Her voice wavered. ‘He grabbed me and picked me up.’

Grace stroked her hair reassuringly. ‘You are doing so well. Tell me, did you see his face?’

Melissa shook her head. ‘No, he had riding gloves on, and he covered my face with something. I—I couldn’t breathe properly, and then everything went black.’

‘Do you remember anything else? Anything distinctive—his voice, his scent?’

Melissa shook her head again. Then, suddenly, she paused.

‘When he grabbed me, I saw something. A blade. It had "B.A." engraved on it.’ She swallowed hard. ‘There was blood on it.I was terrified that he might use it on me. After that, I do not remember anything else.’

A heavy silence fell over them.

The girls were to remain at the safe house under the care of the housekeeper, with Taylor also keeping watch until it was safe to return them to their families.

When Grace rose to leave, all three girls pleaded, ‘Please don’t go, Miss Skye.’

Their voices were so full of fear that she nearly relented. But she could not stay.

She gave them a reassuring smile. ‘I will see you very soon.’

With that promise, she returned to the waiting carriage, where the Duke remained stony silent. As the carriage rumbled over the cobbled streets, she stole another glance at him. His breathing was measured but heavy, like a man forcing himself to maintain control.

A single thought crossed her mind, sending a shiver through her— he was furious .

But at whom? At the men responsible for the kidnappings? At himself for not getting there sooner? Or... at her ?

Grace swallowed, debating whether to speak, but the Duke’s shoulders remained taut, his body turned slightly away from her. It was a clear signal that he did not wish to be disturbed. Or was he merely trying to keep himself together? She clenched her hands in her lap, a deep unease settling over her.

The silence between them grew unbearable.

Dawn was fast approaching, and they were in a race against time to return before either of them was missed.