Grace let out a long breath as the door closed, and to her sudden surprise, James instantly grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, twirling her around right in the middle of the hallway. When he set her down, he was beaming down at her, pride and amazement shining in his eyes.
“God above, Grace, that was brilliant. Brilliant!”
“I, no,” she stuttered, shaking her head. “It was just what needed to be done.”
“How did you learn to do it?”
“Dr. Barkley had me practice. On pigs.”
“At the butchers?”
Grace tilted her head.
“How did you know?”
“It’s where I learned how to suture myself. But a tracheotomy. That incision was clean, and done with a near diabolical speed.” He shook his head. “You’ve really an amazing talent for this sort of work.”
Grace swallowed, trying not to let his praise affect her, but she had to admit that she felt several stories tall as they made their way to the last room on their list. But as Grace went to follow James inside, Mrs. Monty stopped her.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not allowed in, what with your loose tongue.”
Grace bobbed her head.
“I’ll wait in the carriage.”
“Miss Sharpe is assisting me,” James tried, but Grace held up her hand.
“Really, I wouldn’t want to make Mrs. Monty uncomfortable.”
After giving her a concerned expression, James nodded.
“All right. I shouldn’t be long. I’ll meet you in the carriage.”
Grace turned to walk the short distance to the front door and exited. The streets were unsurprisingly empty as the rain had been steady in its downfall. With a small bounce in her step, she hurried toward the carriage as she glanced around at her surroundings and just before she reached the door, she saw him.
Mr. Roberts.
At least, she thought it was him. He was wearing a rounded top hat, a coke hat, she believed it was called, and the collar of his great overcoat was turned up, hiding his chin, but she could have sworn it was him.
What was he doing in Gallowgate?
She paused, unaware of the rain that fell as she watched him hand two poorly dressed, rather rough looking men several paper notes as he glanced around them. He saw Grace, or at least, she thought he did when he froze, staring in her direction.
“Mr. Roberts?” she called out, only for the man to spin around promptly as he stalked down the street.
The other two men glared at her before turning back to enter the building behind them. Unsure why she was provoked to investigate or what she even planned on doing, Grace glanced both ways along the street before hurrying across, where she saw a sign hanging above the door that had just been slammed. Rabbit House Boarding. She glanced up the road, but couldn’t see Mr. Roberts anymore, and so, facing the door once again, she knocked.
But no one answered.
“Hello?” she yelled, knocking harder. “Hello!” She stepped back, to gaze up at the structure. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello!”
Instantly, a hand wrapped around her arm and whipped her around. James’s intense, wide eyes were watching her as if she had lost her mind.
“What are you doing?” he asked loudly through the sound of the storm.
“I saw Mr. Roberts,” she answered, pointing down the road with her free hand. “Just now. He was paying two men who went into this building.”
“This is a boarding house for the poor,” James said. “And who is Mr. Roberts?”
