He shook his head. ‘I received a telegraph from the Bow Street Runners—this was why I had to leave for London so abruptly. They found Barnes. He had been stabbed to death and left in an empty property in London, one owned by Armitage Holdings. The wounds were similar to those on Gibbs. There was nothing on his person that could help us now.’
Grace exhaled sharply, swallowing her disappointment. Another lead—another dead end.
He turned to her, his gaze earnest. ‘I know I hid my identity from you and deceived you, but given the circumstances, I hope you can forgive me.’
Grace took a moment to consider his words. ‘In truth, if I were in your place, I would have done the same. I have no right to judge you—I disguised myself, too,’ she said with a small, hesitant smile.
His lips curved in response. ‘Ah yes, your disguise. A brilliant plan. It might have worked—if we hadn’t been working so closely together. Despite my best efforts, I was impressed by how stubbornly you clung to it.’
Grace cringed. ‘How did you know?’
He chuckled, stroking his jaw, clearly amused. ‘I had my suspicions from the start. Half the village described you and your sister as local beauties, and I must admit, I was surprised when I first saw you.’ His lips twitched. ‘Forgive me for saying so, but I thought either the entire village was blind, or something was amiss. Let’s just say I was intrigued when I first saw you standing in the study that day.’
Grace groaned as realisation dawned. ‘Of course—you mentioned how the staff and tenants held me in high esteem!’
‘Yes. But the true moment of confirmation was when you were drinking your tea. The rice powder rubbed off... and revealed a rather attractive pair of lips.’
Grace’s face burned with humiliation. She wished the ground would swallow her whole.
‘The second clue,’ he continued, utterly relishing her embarrassment, ‘was when I lifted you onto my horse. I felt... what I can only describe as cushioning around your waist.’ His eyes gleamed with laughter.
He was enjoying this far too much. The brute!
Seeing her pained expression, he sobered, schooling his features into something approaching respectability. Clearing his throat, he said, ‘I am sorry for all those times I teased you. Forgive me.’
Grace shook her head, defeated. ‘I am sorry too. I suppose we both tried to deceive each other—unsuccessfully, I might add. And I do apologise for attempting to bludgeon you with a candlestick.’
He laughed outright. ‘I doubt you could have reached my head, but still—apology accepted. If it is any consolation, I was going to tell you everything in the morning.’ For a fleeting moment, she almost allowed herself to believe he was still just Mr Stone—the man she had grown to trust.
But he wasn’t.
His true identity had been revealed, and with it, an undeniable truth: they belonged to different worlds. Worlds that could never come together.
She felt like a fool for not realising it sooner.
His effortless confidence—of course, it had come from years of privilege, an upbringing steeped in wealth and power. His perfect diction and refined knowledge had been shaped by the best education money could buy. His charm and easy manners had been honed in the ballrooms of the elite.
How had she been so blind? How had she allowed herself to be swayed by his attentions, his compliments, when she should have known they were merely the practised words of a man raised among the titled?
And yet... she could not fault him.
He had made no promises. He owed her no loyalty—he hadn’t even known she existed before coming here.
She had let herself believe he felt something for her.
But now, she doubted even that.
Charlotte’s letter had said he was engaged.
A betrothed Duke had no business making her heart race.
Her foolishness, her heart, shattered as reality set in.
There was no hope. No future.
Nothing she could do.
She wanted to cry, wanted to let the despair consume her—but not here. Not in front of him.
