A search party had been dispatched by the constable, but to no avail. How thorough this search had been was another matter entirely—Grace suspected it was a half-hearted effort, given how unpopular Mr Gibbs had been. His supposed friends were nowhere to be found either, and the staff at Skye Manor speculated that they had fled the county at the same time.
Grace feared that Gibbs had discovered her letter to Lord Armitage and had been tipped off. What if he had followed her back to the cottage that day and decided to kidnap the first female he could get his hands on as revenge? The thought sickened her. If so, what if he sought further retribution?
These thoughts put her on edge. She avoided walking alone and ensured Heather did the same. The unease in her heart refused to settle—Melissa was still missing, and so was the truth.
One morning, Heather approached Grace with a letter in hand. ‘Gracy, a letter has arrived for you... it smells lovely.’ She sniffed the paper before handing it over.
Grace noted that the letter had a distinct fragrance of sandalwood and something else intriguing. Upon opening it, she found elegant, broad, and masculine writing.
Miss Skye,
I would be honoured if you could attend Skye Manor at your earliest convenience to discuss an important matter.
Sincerely,
Mr Gabriel Stone
Chapter 8
The letter was signed by a certain Mr Gabriel Stone, which perplexed the ladies. It gave no indication of the purpose of the meeting, which struck them as rather odd.
Grace could keep it a secret no longer and finally told Heather and Mrs Merriweather what had happened with Mr Gibbs. As expected, they were both shocked and furious that she had put herself in such danger.
Mrs Merriweather was the first to speak, her voice firm with concern. ‘I say you refuse to go, Miss Grace. This is all highly irregular, and frankly, I do not think it safe for you. Gibbs already tried to force himself on you—goodness knows this Mr Stone may be no better! There have been many troubling reports about Skye Manor.’ She shook her head in censure. ‘Even though Gibbs has gone, for all we know, this new steward may have been sent to cover up his crimes.’
She assumed Mr Stone was the new steward, though he had not stated so in the letter.
‘Pooh-pooh,’ Heather interjected. ‘I wager it is nothing as serious as that. Maybe this is our chance to put a facer on these villains, Gracy. I will go with you.’ She looked determined, as though preparing for battle.
Grace rolled her eyes at her sister’s theatrical boldness. ‘Heather, you must stop with this “all men are evil” nonsense. You know it is not true.’
Heather looked ashamed at the chastisement. ‘I know... You are right. I—I will try.’
Satisfied that Heather was at least open to reason, Grace nodded approvingly before brightening. ‘But I do have an idea.’
Both Mrs Merriweather and Heather exclaimed loudly, ‘Oh no!’
Their immediate protest flattened Grace’s enthusiasm slightly, but she pressed on regardless. ‘I have decided to go, for I would be doing the residents of Skye Estate a great disservice if I did not. But,’ she added quickly before Mrs Merriweather could interrupt, ‘I will go in the same disguise I used when Charles came to visit, to deter any unwanted attention. And I shall take Jimmy with me for protection.’
Mrs Merriweather turned an alarming shade of deep pink, clearly agitated. She wobbled in her seat, upsetting Garlic, who had been enjoying a nap in her lap. Heather, on the other hand, cheered. ‘Huzzah!’ she cried, delighted by her sister’s resolve.
THUS DISGUISED, GRACEarrived at Skye Manor in the plush ducal carriage sent for her. The servants were briefly surprised to see her arrive in such a fashion but quickly schooled their features. In fact, some of the footmen nodded their approval as they led her into the study.
‘Wait outside, Jimmy,’ she instructed. ‘If I call, come in at once.’
Jimmy nodded, lingering just beyond the door—his presence reassuring.
The study was much altered, dishevelled and sorely neglected. Nevertheless, despite its sorry state, nostalgia assailed Grace. She had spent long hours here, poring over figures and discussing agricultural innovations with Travers.
Her reverie was broken by the sound of someone clearing their throat at the doorway. Turning swiftly, she nearly lost her balance at the sight before her.
A man—the most handsome man she had ever seen—was leaning against the doorframe.
He could have been plucked straight from the pages of her imagination. Strikingly tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, his elegant London attire was perfectly complemented by dark, wavy hair and a sun-kissed complexion—evidence of recent travel. His piercing hazel eyes were set in a mature, well-defined face. He looked to be not yet five-and-thirty, though the easy, almost boyish smile he flashed her made him seem younger.
Not wanting to gape like a fish, Grace pulled out her handkerchief, feigning a cough to mask her surprise and embarrassment. At the same time, she dropped into a clumsy curtsy, hoping it would lend credibility to her ‘ailing’ charade. She was rather pleased with her performance—despite the way he cocked his head to one side, his keen gaze studying her as though she were a rare specimen.
‘Miss Skye, I appreciate your making the journey to Skye Manor at such short notice. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am the new man of business to the Duke of Armitage—Gabriel Stone—at your service,’ said the vision as he bowed charmingly. He emphasised the word ‘new,’ which did not go unnoticed by her.
