Page 56 of The Bachelor Spy
“Please, my lady. I know I have to face the consequences. I know you’ll have to turn me over to the authorities. I just … I needed you to know how sorry I am. How grateful I am for your kindness.”
Grace looked helplessly toward Brandon, who merely inclined his head—a quiet acknowledgement thatshe,not he, must decide.
She blinked, drew in a breath, and slowly lifted the candlesticks from Jane’s trembling hands.
Then it struck her.Shewas the authority.
She had to make the choice.
In novels, this was the moment the heroine dispensed mercy or justice with admirable decisiveness. Then one simply turned the page to observe the outcome.
But this was not a novel. This was real life, with real people and consequences, and very little in the way of convenient chapter endings.
Jane had stolen from her. Had betrayed her trust. Had lied to her face while Grace had been worrying about her father.
But she had also been desperate, frantic with worry for her father. Had confessed at the cost of her security. Had been gnawed apart by guilt.
Grace placed a hand over her stomach. The tiny life within stirred faintly beneath her palm. What wouldshedo for someone she loved? Whathadshe already done?
Risked her future, for certain.
And her life a few times.
“Stand up, Jane,” Grace said quietly.
Jane rose on shaking legs, her face pale.
“What you did was wrong, and by your confession, I know you are aware of its seriousness. You betrayed my trust. You stole from this house, from this family.” Grace released a long sigh. “And there must be consequences for that.”
“I know, my lady. I understand—”
“But,” Grace interrupted, “I also understand why you did it. And I understand that you’re genuinely sorry. That counts for something.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “My lady?”
“I’m not going to turn you over to the authorities,” Grace said. Brandon’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing. “However …” She drew in a breath, her voice pinching tight from the force it took to speak the next words. “I can’t have a thief in my household. It wouldn’t be fair to the other servants, and it wouldn’t be safe for anyone here.”
Jane’s face crumpled. “I understand, my lady.”
“You’ll have to leave Havensbrooke,” Grace continued, her heart aching at the words. “I’ll give you a character reference—not a glowing one, but an honest one that explains you were let go due to financial difficulties, not dishonesty. That should help you find another position eventually.”
Jane burst into fresh sobs. “I don’t deserve your mercy.”
“None of us deserves mercy,” Grace murmured, thinking of her own missteps, follies, narrow escapes, and the grace she had been shown again and again. God had always been more than merciful to her. She stood and crossed to Jane, gently taking the girl’s hands for a brief squeeze. “That is what makes it mercy.”
Jane blinked a few times, shaking her head as if she couldn’t speak, and then whispered, “Why are you being so good to me?” Jane’s voice broke. “After what I did?”
Grace thought about Frederick, far away in France. About this baby growing inside her. About Zahra and what choices she may have been forced to make should she have stayed on the streets of Cairo.
And she thought of the lavish love of God, who knew her deepest flaws and secret sins and loved her anyway, far beyond her greatest imaginings.
“Because we all need second chances,” Grace said with a soft laugh. “Sometimes third. Or fourth. Or … well, we need rather a great many, don’t we?” She squeezed Jane’s hands again. “And because I pray that if I’m ever desperate enough to do something wrong, someone will show me the same mercy.”
With a choked little sound, Jane threw her arms around Grace in a fierce, improper hug, sobbing into her shoulder. Grace patted the girl’s back, sending a small smile over to Brandon as she waited for Jane’s tears to abate.
And Brandon offered her the faintest smile in return. A kind of approval, perhaps?
When Jane finally pulled back, Grace handed her a handkerchief.
