Page 38 of The Bachelor Spy
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But to have the sketch taken and then this?”
The sketch of the chapel? What did it mean?
The spy at Havensbrooke wouldn’t need the chapel, would she? And the thief? What good could that old chapel do for a wounded soldier?
It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t like it.
“Lady Astley, in the meantime, perhaps you might consider not wandering off to isolated chapels without informing anyone of your whereabouts?”
“I had Zeus,” Grace pointed out reasonably. “And Zahra. We were perfectly safe.”
“Zeus once lost a fight with a curtain,” Blake said dryly. “And Zahra, delightful though she is, weighs approximately seven stone. Neither inspires confidence in matters of personal security.”
Zahra frowned at him with all the dignity an eleven-year-old could muster. “I know where to kick a man to make him fall down and cry like a baby.”
“That’s … actually quite reassuring.” Blake blinked. “Thank you, Zahra.”
Grace bit back a smile. “You’re beginning to sound like Frederick.”
“Your husband has excellent instincts about keeping you out of danger,” Blake countered. “It’s one of his few redeeming qualities.”
“He has many redeeming qualities.”
“Yes, well, the rest of us must suffer by comparison.” Blake gave a crooked grin. “Though I do my best.”
She laughed and then sobered. “I know I’ve smelled that cologne before. Here, at Havensbrooke. And wouldn’t it be just like a thief to enter into a house disguised as a patient?”
A thief … or a spy?
“It’s brilliant actually,” Grace continued. “I’ve always wanted to go undercover on some investigation. I think I could act very well now that I’ve had some practice sleuthing. But there’s never been a real opportunity to try it just yet, except when Frederick and I went to meet my sister’s former maid.” Her eyes gleamed with a renewed smile. “I pretended to be a new detective in training.”
“It’s a regular card played in those mystery novels of yours.”
“But it must happen in real life too. For people to write about it so well.” She looked up at him, and then something flickered in her eyes. Her attention dropped to his leg, brow furrowing. “I know spies in books do sometimes.”
Her gaze flew back to his and held.
No, certainly she didn’t know.
He grinned. “Exactly.” He shrugged. “Hiding in plain sight certainly increases the tension of any good novel, I should think, spy or not.”
Those curious eyes studied him.
Blast. She’s too observant by half.
Gratefully, a maid entered the room with tea, breaking the moment.
Blake’s mind continued to turn over the pieces. The button at the font. The stolen sketch. The cologne scent Grace had noticed.
And through it all, the ghost of Evie Montgomery moving through Havensbrooke’s corridors with purposes he couldn’t quite divine.
One problem at a time,he told himself firmly.Find the spy. Sort out the thief. Deal with the impossibly alive woman later.
Something told him those three problems were about to become hopelessly entangled.
Sadly, in his experience, problems usually did.
Chapter 6
