Grace was astonished. ‘I recall hearing something along those lines. Lady Mary Montagu wrote about it in her letters. Sheeven mentioned female physicians. But I never imagined it could be true.’
‘It is true, Miss Skye. Perhaps a woman like yourself would have fared better living there.’
His gaze lingered on her with an intensity that made her breath catch. It was as though he truly saw her—not just the outward shell that society observed, but her very core. And much to her dismay, she found herself equally entranced.
A silence settled between them, broken only by the steady ticking of the clock. Was it a compliment? Or a veiled remark suggesting she did not belong in England? A slight frown creased her brow.
Then, with a sudden movement, he strode to the window and cleared his throat.
‘You should return to your home; it is getting late.’
After taking her leave, on the journey home, her thoughts swirled. The prospect that he genuinely wished to help her made her stomach flutter. But his casual dismissal confused her. She wondered what his words implied—would he remain a part of her life?
She also noted how he wished to assist the tenants without seeking personal gain. Perhaps he was sincere in his ambitions, which she found surprisingly pleasing.
Despite her terse responses, he remained courteous and patient, never responding with irritation or anger—even when her manner bordered on rudeness. Grace felt frustrated at how her attempts to keep him at arm’s length were failing.
SEVERAL DAYS LATER, they painstakingly sorted through the mountain of papers and ledgers, emptying every drawer and cabinet. Yet, none of Gibbs’s correspondence offered any clue tohis current whereabouts or the missing girls. As the days passed, Grace began to despair of ever finding them.
During one of her breaks, she even managed to slip into Gibbs’s bedchamber, hoping for a hidden scrap of evidence. Once again, she was thwarted. The room had already been cleared out, and a maid informed her that Mr Stone had inspected everything before ordering its removal.
Soon, Grace found herself coming close to finishing her monumental task in the study. Only one drawer remained. As Grace reached for it, Mr Stone’s hand came down over hers.
A bolt of awareness coursed through her at the contact. His hand lingered fractionally longer than it should have. Struggling to keep her composure, she withdrew her own.
‘Miss Skye, there’s no need to check this drawer—I’ve already examined it,’ he said with a small smile.
He sighed in admiration. ‘I must say, I’m amazed by your diligence. I’ve spent hours poring over these numbers, trying to make sense of them, yet you’ve managed tremendous progress in mere days.’
He exhaled softly, as though in awe. ‘Truly, your help has been invaluable.’
Warmth flooded Grace’s cheeks, yet she accepted the compliment with as much poise as she could muster. With the accounts finally in order, they concluded that the next step should be to assess cottage repairs and check on the tenants. Substantial funds would be required to restore the Estate properly, but Mr Stone assured her that Lord Armitage had granted permission to spend whatever was necessary.
On her journey home, she found her mind returning to Mr Stone’s hazel eyes, glowing like embers in her memory. He truly has the most captivating eyes, she thought dreamily, before chastising herself for indulging such musings. At least whentravelling to the Estate, she would be spared the immediate distraction of his gaze—she need not look upon him so closely.
It was not until much later, as she was preparing for bed, that she recalled how quickly he had intervened when she reached for that final drawer.Was he trying to hide something in that drawer?
Chapter 11
The next day, Grace arrived at the Manor half an hour earlier than usual, determined to inspect that damned drawer. She berated herself for being such a half-wit—letting him distract her with frippery compliments. Once Taylor let her in, she hurried into the study, relieved to find it empty.
With trembling hands, she tried the drawer, but it was locked. She yanked at it again, yet the sturdy lock refused to budge. If only she knew how to pick locks! Alas, that skill was beyond her; perhaps Jimmy could pry it open with his tools. She turned to go just as Mr Stone entered, nearly colliding with her. She found herself uncomfortably close to his powerfully built chest, wrapped in a well-fitted riding jacket. She stepped back, blinking and quite possibly gawping.
Mr Stone’s gaze flicked towards the door. ‘Shall we go, Miss Skye?’ he murmured, stepping aside with a poised confidence that made Grace’s pulse flutter.
They set off from the stables with Jimmy trailing behind for propriety—and to glower at the tenants if they dared express surprise at Grace’s altered figure.
Their first stop was the Marsh family. Mrs Marsh’s eyes widened when she saw Grace, but she schooled her features quickly and smoothed her apron. Forcing a polite smile, she opened the door wider. ‘Please, come in.’
A laugh bubbled in Grace’s throat, and she had to press her lips together to keep it from escaping. The sheer absurdity of the moment was almost too much to contain, but she settledfor a broad smile, mindful of Mr Stone close behind. The scene turned even more comical when Mrs Marsh gaped at Mr Stone’s entrance. Undoubtedly, she was awestruck by his masculine beauty, and Grace had to stifle a giggle.
As they entered the cottage, Grace’s gaze drifted over the bare shelves, once lined with simple but cherished knick-knacks. Now, only faint dust outlines hinted at where the ornaments had stood. She noted the empty space on the table, where a polished tea set should have been. A wave of sympathy welled within her, the stark absence of familiar comforts speaking louder than words.
Mrs Marsh, a kindly woman, had always appeared weary—understandable given how many children she had raised over the years. Some of the younger ones now scampered round the kitchen table as they all sat for tea. Joseph, a particularly precocious boy, recognised Grace beneath her disguise and blurted, ‘Miss Skye, you look funny.’
Luckily, Mrs Marsh whisked him away to the back garden before anyone could respond. Unfortunately, Mr Stone heard the remark and raised an eyebrow, though he was too much of a gentleman to comment further.
Looking anxious, Mrs Marsh sat down and asked why they had come, likely fearing the rent might be raised again.
