‘I only ever saw Gibbs. Everything I know is in that letter. What I would like to know is how anyone else learned of it. Who could have tipped off Gibbs?’
He took a few moments before haltingly answering, ‘I... That is what I am trying to find out.’ His eyes darkened, and his voice hardened. ‘Why did you get involved? Who sent you?’
Grace bristled at the interrogation, momentarily lost for words. As she became visibly flustered, he exhaled sharply and softened his tone. ‘Forgive me. Travelling has made me irritable. Who else knows about the letter?’
Grace was convinced he was hiding something. What if he was here to cover up Gibbs’s crimes? She had no desire to involve Heather or Mrs Merriweather, so she lied.
‘Nobody. Now, if that is all, I shall take my leave.’ She half rose from her seat, eager to escape.
‘Just a moment. Here—your tea is getting cold.’
Reluctantly, she sat back down as he handed her the cup.
‘Some rudimentary checks on the Estate paperwork quickly revealed that the last time any semblance of order was in place was when you were here. Everyone I have met speaks highly of you, Miss Skye...’
His voice trailed off as he studied her, a prolonged, searching gaze that made her heart race. Grace initially thought he was trying to gauge her reaction, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing what she was thinking. She sipped her tea instead, though a troubling thought niggled at her—could he see through her disguise?
Clearing his throat, he continued, ‘I would be grateful if you could tell me who your steward was and where I might find him to offer the position again.’
Leaning back in his chair, he resumed his quiet scrutiny, an almost amused glint in his eye. Grace stiffened, resisting the urge to fidget beneath his gaze. But when she felt a slow heat creeping up her cheeks, she quickly masked it with defiance, squaring her shoulders and finishing her tea with deliberate ease. His eyebrow quirked, as if accepting an unspoken challenge.
Pushing aside her irritation, she focused on the Estate. She was relieved to hear of planned improvements, but how could she be certain he truly represented the Duke? What if this was merely a ruse to learn what she knew—so he could take over where Gibbs had left off? The thought sent a chill through her. She dared not mention the missing girls now.
Instead, she asked, ‘So what happened to the man of business? Did he reveal anything further about the activities on the other Estates you mentioned?’
He seemed momentarily taken aback by her directness, his expression shifting. A pause. Then, ‘I can see you are not one tobe overlooked, Miss Skye.’ His lips twitched, as if he found her response amusing.
‘Unfortunately, we could gather no information from him—he vanished before Lord Armitage could have him arrested.’
Grace frowned. How convenient. The very man who could provide answers had disappeared without a trace. And how had they even discovered her letter in the first place?
More importantly, she asked, ‘How can I trust you, sir? You say His Grace sent you, but what proof do you have? For all I know, you could be an accomplice of Gibbs or Barnes.’
He hesitated, a frown creasing his brow. For the first time, he appeared... uncertain. A flicker of something—guilt, frustration?—passed over his features before he masked it with that infuriatingly smooth confidence.
Grace had never felt so intently observed before. She lowered her gaze, afraid she might betray too much of her thoughts. When she dared look up again, she found him still watching her, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips.
Time for the handkerchief again. She launched into a sudden coughing fit.
The spell was broken.
‘I do not have proof,’ he admitted. ‘Even if I did, I suspect you would not be easily convinced. Therefore, you will simply have to take my word for it.’
He tilted his head, his expression turning wry. ‘But if I were a villain, would I not try to silence you rather than ask for your help in setting things right?’ He spread his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. ‘I doubt I could make matters worse than they already are. So you will have to take a leap of faith—or, if you prefer, keep an eye on me to ensure I am up to the task.’
A twinkle of challenge lit his eyes.
Grace had to admit his reasoning was sound, though she suspected he was also mocking her. Still, the idea of watchinghim closely had its merits. Perhaps if she played along, she could ensure the Estate’s tenants were truly protected.
Only one problem.
‘I am pleased the tenants and staff of Skye will finally be treated better, but I am afraid the last steward died two years ago,’ she said.
Mr Stone looked perplexed. ‘But the accounts were in order—until eight months ago. Who managed them?’
Grace hesitated. Would he be the sort of man who believed a lady’s place was among embroidery hoops and tea sets? Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she had long refused to be confined to such things. If her answer unsettled him, so be it.
Boldly, she replied, ‘I did, sir.’
