Page 129 of The Bachelor Spy
He was in no condition to make it back to the house alone, despite the fact that he was a spy and probably possessed more determination than sense. Frederick looked over at Brandon, gaze locking with an unvoiced directive.
The butler’s attention moved to the chapel for only a moment before his entire body stiffened into action. “I’ll take him, sir. And call the police.” He replaced Frederick at Blake’s side but kept holding Frederick’s gaze. “You bring Lady Astley home, sir.”
Frederick almost smiled.
The good man.
No, the great, unassuming, faithful man. Christopher Brandon! A contemporary of Frederick’s grandfather, not just in age but in spirit and heart. As quietly loyal as his Austen namesake.
He gave a firm nod. “I will.”
They parted ways, and Frederick focused back on the chapel path, steeple in clear view.
A sudden sense of urgency rushed through him.
He looked down at Zahra. She was quick but still so small.
“Ever done a piggyback, Zahra?”
The little girl’s brows rose, and with the slightest grin and a bend of Frederick’s knees, she climbed onto his back. He took hold of one of her legs, clutched the lantern with his other hand, and set off at a run. Crossing the space at almost double time.
Moonlight gave the chapel its own spotlight in the clearing surrounded by forest. The scene was a strange mixture of welcome and danger, as the dark firs encircled the space like sentries, daring him forward into the fray.
He almost snorted at the thought. Something Grace would think. He, a knight charging to her rescue.
But he would. Over and over again.
Blind or not. Healthy or not. As long as God allowed.
He paused at the chapel steps and lowered Zahra to the ground, taking her hand and bringing her behind him as he reached for his revolver. The chapel door stood wide, displaying only what could be seen by the moonlight filtering in through the windows.
An empty nave greeted them, but not silence.
The distant sound of voices carried toward them from the left.
“Here, Papa.” Zahra tugged him toward the font, where a tapestry was pushed back, revealing the disguised door standing open. Stone steps led down into shadow, and the smell of damp earth and old timber wafted from it.
An aching crack of wood sounded, followed by an inhuman moan.
Frederick’s stomach dropped.
The tunnel could collapse at any moment. What was Pennington thinking?
He isn’t.Which was the clear problem.
“Papa, I can hear them,” Zahra whispered, pressing close to his side. “Mama and the man. They are talking.”
Frederick drew Zahra to the top of the steps and knelt, bringing himself to Zahra’s eye level.
“I need you to stay here,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “Hold the lantern so we can see the way back up. Do you understand? You must stay here, no matter what you hear.”
“But—”
“I will bring her back.” Frederick cupped her face gently. “I promise. But I need you safe. I need to know you’re waiting for us here.”
Zahra’s gray-green eyes met his, held. Her expression grew solemn, and she nodded.
“Good girl.”
