Mr Stone quickly put her at ease, using his town charm to coax a giggle from her—an exchange that rankled Grace, though she could not say why. When he informed Mrs Marsh that the rent would revert to its previous amount, she appeared incredulous.
‘What do you want in return?’ she asked, mystifying both Grace and Mr Stone.
Grace recalled the lewd proposition Gibbs had once made to Melissa. She caught a flicker of anxiety in Mrs Marsh’s eyes. ‘We’re merely trying to right the wrongs left by Mr Gibbs,’ shesaid softly, hoping Mrs Marsh would relax. Yet the woman’s fingers continued twisting in her apron, as though holding back some unspoken fear.
Despite Grace’s explanation, Mrs Marsh’s stiff posture and suspicion persisted until she elaborated further. At last, Mrs Marsh relaxed.
‘Oh, I am ever so relieved!’ she cried. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Miss Skye. Things have been dreadful since you left—Mr Gibbs and his cronies have been harassing us something awful. I can’t wait to tell Michael and the boys when they return from the fields.’
‘I am sorry for the trouble you have endured.’ Mr Stone paused, a note of genuine regret colouring his voice. ‘If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is seeing honest people cheated. I would like to reimburse you for the extra rent Mr Gibbs took—and ensure you are never treated that way again.’
If Mrs Marsh had been impressed by Mr Stone’s appearance before, she was now utterly smitten, tears of joy streaming down her face. By the end of their visit, she waved him off as though sending a war hero into battle. She even raced ahead to untie his horse and lead it to the mounting step herself.
Grace, by contrast, felt suddenly invisible. Left to manage her own horse, she glanced around for Jimmy but found no sign of him. She searched for a mounting block and finally settled on a fallen tree trunk. As she guided her horse towards it, a strong pair of hands seized her waist.
A flurry of butterflies erupted in her stomach. Before she could react, she was hoisted into the saddle, a startled and thoroughly unladylike yelp escaping her lips.
She whipped round to find Mr Stone’s puzzled face level with her knee.
Never in her life had she been handled so boldly. She ought to have been outraged, but privately admitted it was oddly thrilling.
Preoccupied by her thoughts, she did not notice until much later that Mr Stone had dropped behind rather than riding beside her. Realisation dawned with mortification—he had lifted her by the padding of her disguise and probably believed her heavier than she truly was.
Turning to glance at him, she found him eyeing her bodice.
Heat rushed to Grace’s cheeks, and she clenched the reins until her knuckles whitened. She faced forward, forcing herself to concentrate on riding.
She had to keep her distance.
He was smirking. The odious man! Grace fumed, praying he would dismiss the incident and refrain from teasing her. By the time they reached the next farm, he was his usual self again. She stole occasional glances at him during the journey, relieved to find he no longer watched her except out of courtesy.
Jimmy trailed behind at a lazy pace, whistling a tune under his breath. Now and then, he would stray to pluck a wildflower or peer into a hedgerow, as though on a leisurely holiday. By the time he ambled over to Grace, she hissed, ‘Jimmy! Stop wandering off!’ Her cheeks flamed at the memory of Mr Stone’s ‘assistance’ and her own mortification.
Their next visit was to the Joneses. Convincing them proved harder, especially since their daughter, Leah, was among the missing girls. Mr Jones, in particular, took one look at Mr Stone and bristled with hostility. Grace found herself intervening more than once.
‘I don’t mince words, Miss Skye, you know that. And I don’t trust toffs from the city.’ With a sneer at Mr Stone, he added, ‘You don’t own me. If there’s any dodgy business, we’ll leave—to hell with your farm and cottage.’
Tension thickened the air. Mr Jones grew increasingly agitated, and Grace’s efforts to calm him seemed futile. She noticed Mr Stone’s jaw clenching; a sure sign he was battling his temper. She braced for an outburst, but he replied evenly, ‘As you wish, Mr Jones. If you are not satisfied here, by all means leave. But remember—I am not Mr Gibbs. I would appreciate it if you did not insult me when my only intention is to help.’
Mr Jones looked briefly ashamed. After some hesitation, he listened to the proposal and ultimately accepted the assistance.
As they departed, Grace was grateful to find Jimmy more attentive. She mounted her horse quickly—before Mr Stone had any opportunity to ‘help’ her again.
Still, she could not resist a backward glance. She regretted it at once.
He was grinning.
Trying to steady her thoughts, Grace glanced over her shoulder, speaking quietly. ‘Mr Jones may be harsh, but he has a kind heart. Please don’t take offence at his words.’
Mr Stone nodded. ‘What I find puzzling is why Mrs Marsh and the Joneses seemed so frightened and distrustful. There must be more going on than Mr Gibbs simply raising the rent. I intend to find out what has truly been happening.’
He sounded genuinely concerned for the tenants; surely no one could feign such sincerity.
He had shown Grace enough integrity to deserve an honest reply. She took a breath. ‘Erm... I may be able to enlighten you.’
He arched an eyebrow, a slow smile curving his lip, sending another flutter through her. ‘It seems you have been hiding things from me in more ways than one, Miss Skye. Pray, enlighten me.’
She cringed at the double meaning—he definitely knew about her padding. Clearing her throat, she continued, ‘Mr Jones’s daughter, Leah, is missing.’
