‘Who is it?’ she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mr Stone’s expression was grim. ‘A middle-aged man. He could be Gibbs, but as neither Jimmy nor I have met him, we need someone to confirm it.’
Relief flooded through her—it wasn’t one of the missing girls. But the discovery was still unsettling. Swallowing hard, she squared her shoulders. ‘I can identify him. I have met him once, as you know.’
Mr Stone hesitated. ‘Miss Skye, I do not advise it. You should not have to see this.’
Grace straightened. ‘I appreciate your concern, Mr Stone, but I am fine now. I was merely startled before. It will save time if I identify him.’
Instead of arguing, he inclined his head and offered his hand. ‘Very well. Take my hand. I would rather not risk you feeling faint.’
Grace, grateful for his steadying presence, took his hand and allowed him to lead her. As they neared the corpse, Jimmy approached them, he had uncovered something else—a book lying several feet away from Gibbs.
‘Look, Miss Grace.’ He handed herFirst Impressions—the book Grace had given to Melissa.
Grace froze, her fingers trembling as she opened the first page and saw her inscription. A shudder ran through her, sharp and sudden.
Mr Stone’s voice was steady but grave. ‘We have not found any other bodies, Miss Skye. But we still need to search the rest of the woods to make sure.’
Swallowing her fear, she nodded.
Grace looked down at the bloated, mottled face of the corpse. There was no mistaking it.
‘That’s him,’ she whispered. ‘That’s Mr Gibbs.’
THE RIDE BACK TO THEManor was unusually quiet. Mr Stone sat deep in thought, his brow furrowed, while Grace’s mind raced with the implications of what they had uncovered. The weight of it all pressed heavily on her chest—Mr Gibbs was dead, Melissa’s book had been found near his body, and young girls were being taken right under their noses.
She gulped hard, holding back her sob. If Melissa had been taken to London, was there still a chance to save her?What if they discover her body in the woods too?A paralysing dread jolted through her, stealing her breath.No, I must stay hopeful, she is alive, I know it,she thought fiercely.
As soon as they arrived at the Manor, Mr Stone dismounted first, turning to help Grace down. His hands lingered at her waist just a second too long. She told herself it was nothing—just agentleman assisting a lady—but the warmth of his hands burned through the fabric of her riding habit.
He stepped back swiftly. ‘I will return to the site with Jimmy. The body must be reported, and we need to ensure no further evidence is disturbed.’
Grace nodded, though the idea of him returning to that grim place unsettled her. ‘Be careful.’
Something flickered in his gaze. ‘I will, Miss Skye.’
Without another word, he strode back towards his horse, leaving her standing at the Manor steps, her heart still unsteady.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension after Grace told them what happened. The horror of it all clung to them like a shroud.
That evening, the household dined in near silence. Heather, usually so lively, barely touched her food. Even Mrs Merriweather, who had a habit of filling silence with pleasant conversation, seemed unusually subdued.
Grace barely tasted her meal. Her mind kept returning to the body in the woods, to Melissa’s book, and to the way Mr Stone had looked at her when she said she could identify Gibbs.
She had expected him to argue. To insist she be spared the sight of the body.
But he had let her choose.
And something about that—about the way he had trusted her strength—unsettled her more than anything.
The night dragged on. Grace paced restlessly in her chamber, unable to find comfort in her bed. The image of that decaying hand, the sickening stench, the way her stomach had lurched in horror—it haunted her.
She pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It was over. They had found Gibbs. Now they needed to find Melissa.
A gentle knock at the door made her jump.
‘Who is it?’ she called softly, half-expecting Heather to complain about her insomnia.
