To her surprise, it was a man’s voice that answered.
‘Are you up?’
Mr Stone.
A restless energy hummed through her veins. She hesitated, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was slightly dishevelled, strands having slipped from her braid. She hastily tucked them away, put her mob cap on, and pulled her shawl around her shoulders before opening the door.
He stood there, taller than he seemed in the daylight, his expression unreadable. A trace of fatigue darkened his hazel eyes, yet he remained composed, steady.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
His gaze drifted slowly down the length of her body. His eyes sparked embers. His gaze was entirely too bold, and yet, she found herself powerless to look away. The weight of his regard sent an inexplicable thrilling tremor through her. Clearing his throat, he asked, ‘May I come in?’ his voice lower than usual.
Chapter 16
Grace hesitated. No man had ever entered her bedchamber before. A rebellious part of her urged her to be bold, and she stepped aside, opening the door wider to allow him entry.
As he crossed the threshold, the room seemed to shrink, his presence filling every corner. A rush of excitement and nervousness washed over her, but she remained frozen, unsure of how to proceed. Mr Stone appeared equally uncertain, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, breaking the silence, he glanced around and remarked, ‘This looks like a comfortable room.’
‘Yes, it is,’ she replied awkwardly. Then, after a brief pause, she added, ‘How are you?’
He turned to her swiftly, his expression softening at her concern. ‘I am well, thank you.’
Another silence fell between them, thick with unspoken words. His gaze lingered on her face, as though he wished to say something but was unsure how. Grace gestured towards the seating area.
Once they were seated, the tension in the room eased—if only slightly. Grace cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure.
‘What happened afterwards?’ Her voice trembled as she whispered, ‘Was she...’ The words caught in her throat. She could not bring herself to ask if Melissa’s body had been found as well.
Mr Stone, understanding, shook his head. ‘The book you gave her was all we found. I believe she witnessed the murder and was taken by the killer.’
Relief mingled with dread. Melissa was alive—at least for now.
Her faith in the local authorities was shattered. They would do nothing to investigate Gibbs’s murder or search for the missing girls. She could only hope that Mr Stone would persist.
Mr Stone shifted on the sofa and exhaled. ‘Jimmy rounded up some men to move the body, and the constable eventually came to examine him. There were multiple stab wounds in his back—no defensive wounds on his hands, arms, or chest. The constable ruled it a robbery.’
Grace frowned. ‘But why would he dismount from his horse unless he was meeting someone?’
Mr Stone’s lips quirked in admiration. ‘Precisely. You have hit the nail on the head yet again, Miss Skye. His wounds suggest he was taken by surprise, likely by someone he knew and trusted. And given what we know about the constable, it is safe to assume he is not a reliable investigator.’
His approving eye lingered a little too long, trailing down her face before dropping lower. A strange, exhilarating tension crackled in the air between them. She shifted in her seat, heat creeping up her neck. She forced herself to focus and pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
‘Perhaps this was the place he arranged to meet Averton,’ she suggested.
Mr Stone reached into his coat and pulled out a small gold pocket watch, placing it in her hands. The intricate design on the cover was exquisite, but the chain was broken. Grace flipped it open, her brow furrowing as she read the engraving inside:
What does not kill us makes us stronger.
She raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation.
‘Jimmy and I found this watch clutched in Gibbs’s hand,’ he explained. ‘I am confident it broke off from the killer’s chain.’
‘How do you know it doesn’t belong to Mr Gibbs?’
‘Because he was already wearing a pocket watch. I questioned Taylor as soon as I returned, and he swears he has never seen this one before. Taylor was the only one permitted inside Gibbs’s quarters, so he would know. The constable, of course, was uninterested. He assumed it belonged to Gibbs, but I find it highly unlikely that a man would carry two pocket watches.’
