Page 24 of The Spinster's Resolve

H eather entered Grace’s room mid-morning, her face alight with excitement.

‘Gracy, why did you leave the ball so early? You missed all the commotion!’

Grace, exhausted and emotionally drained, could not have cared less about another ton scandal, but she asked anyway.

‘What commotion?’

‘They announced Lord Gerrard’s and Lady Jane’s engagement, and the ton is abuzz with the scandal! Can you imagine? Lady Jane was engaged to the Duke only a week ago, and now she’s already moved on to his brother!’

Grace winced inwardly. She had yet to tell Heather about the encounter in the library, and all this secrecy was beginning to weigh on her.

‘Oh, and there’s a rumour going around that Lady Jane only broke off her engagement with the Duke because she discovered he was keeping a mistress in the countryside!’

Grace’s heart sank. Were they talking about her? Had someone overheard their conversation last night? A wave of nausea threatened to rise, but she feigned indifference.

‘What mistress?’

Heather shrugged. ‘No one seems to know, but they say the Duke is smitten with her. Gosh, Grace, you were right about him. It seems he does enjoy flirting and keeping mistresses. I’m sorry I tried to match you both up—I’m glad nothing happened between you.’

Grace felt a flood of relief at hearing her name had not been exposed. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding. Yet, an unsettling thought lingered at the back of her mind—how much longer could she remain anonymous in this unfolding drama?

She managed a weak smile, trying to maintain a sense of composure. She was trying to remain philosophically stoical as much as possible after a night of tear-soaked cathartic pillow bashing. There was little to be done now. The Duke had admitted to being attracted to her, but that attraction had not been strong enough for him to fight against societal constraints—or his own reluctance towards matrimony.

At the fifth hour of tossing and turning, she had come to a bitter resolution. She had practically flung herself at him—metaphorically, at least—by asking about his intentions. What had she expected? She had humiliated herself with her forwardness, and she could not, in good conscience, be angry with him for his reply.

Despite her heartbreak, she bore him no malice. He had done nothing that countless other aristocratic men wouldn’t do. He was not the man she had once thought him to be, but he was no worse than most gentlemen of her acquaintance.

Why, then, should she pine for someone who did not love her enough to marry her?

The thought comforted her—if only a little. To her, he would simply be the Duke of Armitage, and nothing more.

‘Never mind all that, Heather,’ she said lightly, keen to steer the conversation elsewhere. She would tell her sister the truth eventually, but right now, she did not have the strength to relive it. ‘Tell me about the young bucks who were hovering around you last night. Did anyone catch your eye?’

Heather blushed prettily. ‘Perhaps... but I am not sure. Mr Howard was very attentive, but he’s rather thin. Captain Little is quite handsome, but he is very reserved—I don’t know much about him. And then there’s Mr Brock. He was a little rude at first, but now I think we are becoming friends.’

‘Well, don’t go breaking too many hearts,’ Grace advised, speaking from experience.

She rose from the bed, making a show of busying herself. Her blasted eyes threatened to produce yet more tears, so she turned her back to Heather and hastily wiped them away.

She had to remain level-headed. There was still a killer at large, and she was convinced it had to be Lord Edward. She had given her word that she would help find evidence against him. Even if the Duke had manipulated her into assisting him, she would still do it.

‘I think you are right; I should be more careful. I know the pain of heartbreak and would be ashamed if I caused it in another,’ Heather admitted.

Grace winced. She had not intended to remind her sister of past heartache. Tentatively, she asked, ‘Do you still think about him?’

Heather smiled wistfully. ‘I do think of him often, and I still prefer Mr Smith above all the men I have met, but I know it cannot happen. He must be married by now. I will strive to forget him.’

‘I fear you may not be able to sufficiently move on,’ Grace said softly. ‘I only wish to see you happy. But I have noticed a lingering sadness in you.’

Heather reached out, placing a hand over her sister’s. ‘I am not the only person in the world scorned in love. I will recover and be myself again—please do not worry.’

Grace wished, rather than believed, this to be true—for both their sakes.

As the sisters entered the breakfast room together, Grace was relieved to find no sign of the Duke.

Lady Elizabeth was standing near the side table and greeted them warmly. ‘Ahh, my sweet, you were described as the diamond of the first water by Sir Walter! He said it within earshot of the Almack’s matrons, and they immediately wanted you to attend on the first Wednesday.’

Heather blushed prettily. Such praise was a great honour, and to be personally invited to Almack’s was no small feat.

Grace beamed at her sister. ‘I am so proud, Heather. But do not let it inflate your head too much—you may lose your balance when you curtsy.’

The company present chuckled as Heather retaliated with a sisterly shove.

‘We must celebrate! Let us go for a walk in Hyde Park!’ suggested Lady Jane, throwing a sly glance at Lord Gerrard. He smiled knowingly from the other end of the table.

Lady Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes. She was about to scold the couple when Grace and Heather quickly intervened, enthusiastically congratulating the newly betrothed and encouraging the breakfasting party to plan their outing.

As excitement filled the air, Grace was forming her own plans. She intended to find an excuse to break away from the walking party.

She would feign a twisted ankle and remain in the carriage—hopefully with Mrs Merriweather—and use the opportunity to visit the watchmaker Lord Harry had suggested.

When the carriage arrived at the park, Grace executed her plan. She leapt down and made a deliberate misstep, landing awkwardly.

‘Oh!’ she gasped, clutching her ankle.

Her plan would have worked had it not been for male chivalry. Unfortunately, Lord Harry immediately insisted on staying behind with the injured. But instead of waiting in the carriage, he ordered it to take them home—along with Mrs Merriweather.

Grace’s heart sank. Her carefully laid-out plans were ruined.

‘Never fear, Miss Skye, the pain will ease shortly. It looks more like a sprain than anything broken. I have a tincture that will bring you relief—it helps me significantly,’ Lord Harry assured her.

‘You are too kind, sir,’ Grace responded, dejected.

As the carriage moved in the opposite direction of the watchmaker’s shop, Lord Harry turned the conversation elsewhere.

‘How are you finding London?’ he asked.

‘The entertainments are diverting, but I must confess I am not an enthusiast of all the crowds,’ Mrs Merriweather replied.

Grace, still brooding over her failed attempt, forced a smile. ‘I have not yet had the chance to visit all the places I have read about to form an opinion.’

Lord Harry grinned. ‘We must remedy that. Provide me with your list, Miss Skye, and I shall endeavour to fulfil your wishes. I hear Vauxhall Gardens is a favourite among young ladies. Though I daresay Edward would make a better guide—he knows London like the back of his hand.’

Grace’s stomach tightened at the mention of Lord Edward. Was Lord Harry encouraging a match between them? Did he know about Lord Edward’s proposal? A temporary panic gripped her at the thought of spending more time with the prime suspect.

She masked her discomfort. ‘Oh? How so?’

Lord Harry gave her a considering look before answering, ‘I suppose it is due to the businesses he has invested in throughout London.’

Grace feigned polite curiosity. ‘He must have a good mind for investments in such a competitive market.’

‘Indeed. He had excellent connections in Europe, especially France—before the war, of course. Some childhood friends of his used to visit often.’

A prickling unease crawled over Grace’s skin. ‘He kept ties with the French aristocracy even after the Revolution?’

Lord Harry hesitated before nodding. ‘Yes. He has helped quite a few who sought refuge in England.’

Mrs Merriweather pursed her lips. ‘A noble cause, no doubt. But would he not be concerned about spies?’

Lord Harry sighed. ‘That has been one of many areas where we have disagreed, Miss Skye. I have worried about his... associations for quite some time. However, in the past few weeks, I have noticed a change in him. He seems to be distancing himself from his more reckless habits. Perhaps there is hope yet.’

Grace swallowed.

‘I wonder what could have prompted such a transformation.’ Mrs Merriweather stated, and cast Grace a glance. ‘Perhaps a certain someone?’

Grace stiffened but forced an indifferent smile.

Lord Harry’s expression darkened slightly, as though troubled by his own thoughts.

As soon as the carriage reached the Duke’s residence, Grace seized the opportunity to act. The moment they were inside, she pulled Mrs Merriweather aside.

‘Come, we need to leave again immediately!’ Mrs Merriweather was bewildered as she was rushed along.

‘But your ankle—’

‘There is nothing the matter with it, Mrs M, but I needed an excuse to leave.’

Grace and the confused Mrs Merriweather set off at breakneck speed to the watchmaker’s place that Lord Harry recommended on the other end of town. There was still time to make it before the walking party returned from Hyde Park. Mrs Merriweather, though grumbling, allowed herself to be dragged into a waiting hackney carriage.

The journey was swift but tense.

‘I do not see why His Grace cannot send someone else on this errand,’ Mrs Merriweather muttered for the fifth time.

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Because, Mrs M, he cannot trust just anyone with this. And I volunteered,’ she replied smoothly.

Mrs Merriweather huffed. ‘Curious, don’t you think, that Lord Harry mentioned his brother’s French connections? Do you believe it has any link to the smuggling ring at Skye Manor?’

Grace’s jaw tightened. ‘That is precisely what I think.’

Mrs Merriweather shifted uncomfortably. ‘Should we not inform His Grace?’

Grace grimaced. The very thought of facing the Duke again made her stomach churn. ‘I will... soon.’

They arrived at the watchmaker’s shop—a modest, unassuming building that barely resembled a shop at all. A small, discreet sign on the door was the only indication of its purpose.

Had they not known to look for it, they might have walked past without ever noticing.

Grace knocked twice.

Silence.

She knocked again.

After a moment, a young man answered. He eyed them with suspicion. ‘Yes?’

Grace produced the gold watch from her reticule. ‘I wonder, sir, if you might recognise this piece?’

The young man’s eyes widened. He hesitated before taking it from her and examining the engravings.

His expression turned wary. ‘Where did you come by this, miss?’

Grace affected a mild tone, as though this were merely a social errand. ‘My friend and I found it while walking in Hyde Park. It looks like a keepsake—judging by the engravings, it must hold sentimental value. We have made it our mission to find the owner.’

She infused just the right amount of aristocratic entitlement into her voice, as if returning a lost trinket was the most pressing concern of her day.

It worked.

The young man relaxed slightly. ‘Apologies, miss, I meant no offence. It is just... an unusual request.’

‘I understand,’ Grace said smoothly. ‘Can you tell me if you’ve seen it before?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. This has the markings of my father’s work.’

A real lead at last! The rush of possibility sent her pulse into a gallop.

‘Oh! Then you must know who it belongs to—I should very much like to return it to him.’ She played up her girlish enthusiasm, tilting her head in what she hoped was an innocent, well-bred fashion.

The young man hesitated, then said, ‘I will fetch my father. He may remember better than I.’

He disappeared into the back room.

A long while later, an elderly man emerged, moving with slow, careful steps. His frail frame and hunched back made Grace anxious that he might collapse before reaching them.

He peered at her through watery eyes, his face wrinkled with years of experience. ‘Ah, Miss, it seems you are on a mission.’ He chuckled. ‘Honest folk are rare these days. Most would have sold this watch.’

Grace forced herself to remain patient. ‘It is important that we return it to its rightful owner.’

The watchmaker examined the piece for a long moment before nodding.

‘Yes, I remember making this, many years ago. It has a twin, you know.’

Grace’s brow furrowed. ‘A twin?’

The old man smiled. ‘Indeed. The gentleman who commissioned it wished to keep one for himself and gift the other to his brother. He came to me only a few weeks ago, very distressed, saying he had lost it.’

He gestured to the gold watch resting on the counter.

‘He asked if I could make a replica, but I had to disappoint him. My hands are not what they used to be.’ He lifted trembling fingers. ‘I have retired now, you see. I still tinker with repairs, but I no longer craft new pieces.’

Grace’s heartbeat pounded so violently that she feared it would give her away. ‘And this gentleman... What was his name?’

The watchmaker smiled kindly, as if amused by her enthusiasm.

‘Lord Edward Averton.’

Mrs Merriweather gasped. Grace exhaled sharply.

At last. Proof.

Proof that the murderer had to be Lord Edward.

The watchmaker turned, shuffling through his records. ‘I have the original bill of sale here. I keep a record of everything.’

He handed her a yellowed parchment with faded ink. But there was no mistaking the name.

Lord Edward Averton.

Mrs Merriweather gripped Grace’s arm. ‘We have him.’

Grace barely heard her. Relief and triumph flooded her veins. This was it.

They had what they needed.

They left the shop in a hurry, hailing another hackney back to the Duke’s residence.

Grace clutched the parchment tightly in her hands, her determination renewed.

She had to speak with the Duke.

And she prayed that tonight, she would finally have the chance.