Seated at Hereford’s dinner table, Grace ran a finger along the edge of the handle of her knife. It was of the finest quality, sharp and precise.
Lord Burke, seated across from her, boasted, “Don’t they make a fine couple?”
She contemplated the potential risks and benefits of hurling the blade into the heart of her fiancé’s sire. The pink tip of Tobias’s tongue appeared at the corner of his mouth, distracting her. She reluctantly shifted her narrowed gaze from Lord Burke to his son. Tobias’s ridiculous smile was gone, and the man was indeed sticking his tongue out at her. It reminded her of when the girls from her childhood would stick their tongues out at her when she would quote a passage from one of the many etiquette books her mama had made her read. Grace was a rule follower. Life was much simpler that way. But the rules of the game were changing. The players were changing. Matthew was not in attendance, and Tobias, who was usually never seen at such events, occupied the seat next to her.
Her betrothed said, “You’ll hang at Newgate if you kill him in front of witnesses.” The man’s idiotic smile returned.
Grace prayed; Lord, grant me the patience to endure this evening of torture. Every muscle in her neck and back ached. The tension of having Tobias a stranger so close two evenings in a row took a toll on her body, the same body that longed for Matthew’s reassuring touches at these arduous events. Matthew would skillfully set her at ease with a slight brush against the back of her hand as he reached for a glass or utensil or by merely shifting his booted foot next to hers. Thoughts of Matthew helped her focus on relaxing her grip on the knife.
Grace glanced at Theo, who sat next to her on her left, and laid the weapon on the table before turning her attention back to Tobias. “I’m not certain anyone present would report me. Would you?”
He tilted his head to capture her gaze. “I would…” Tobias paused as he lifted his knife and deftly sliced through a piece of chicken upon his plate. His eyes remained on her the entire time. “I’d prefer that you gave me the honor of taking care of the matter.”
Of course, he would. He’d already said as much that morning. But Grace placed little trust in those she was not well acquainted with. Reaching for her glass of watered-down wine, Grace said, “You have many who are competing for the pleasure.”
“That is why I will act first.” He stabbed the piece of meat with his fork. “With your assistance.”
Grace stared at her betrothed. He hadn’t made a request, nor were his words phrased as a statement. It was an order. She did not take direction from strangers. Grace only took orders from her papa. She released a sigh. That was not true; there was one other person she used to take instruction from willingly—Matthew.
Tobias popped the forkful of food into his mouth and chewed loudly. Making a show of swallowing, he asked, “Wishing I was another?”
God, she hated his disguise. While Tobias acted the fool, his words were cutting. Her fiancé had an uncanny ability to read her thoughts, or perhaps she was failing rather miserably at masking them.
As he leaned back into his chair, he muttered, “The irises of your eyes dilate, and you tilt your head slightly to the right every time you think of him.” His astute observations had Grace shifting food about her plate.
“Jealous?”
Tobias chuckled. “I’ll admit, a little.” His admission was the last thing Grace expected him to say. Why would he be jealous?
Confident he wouldn’t care for her next thought, she speared a piece of fish, the least likely item before her to make her choke upon his reply. “If you wish for me to aid you, I will require the particulars of your plan.” She glanced over her shoulder as she chewed.
With a toothy smile, he said, “I’ve already informed you of my scheme.”
Telling her to pretend to be madly in love with him until the royal surgeon declared Burke dead and that he intended to be aboard the Quarter Moon well on his way to America by the time word had spread of his sire’s death was hardly enough information.
Narrowing her eyes, Grace said, “Vaguely—I need the details.”
Tobias leaned forward and shuffled his seat a tad closer to her. “I’ve already told you. For the safety of everyone, it’s best you are unaware of the finer points.”
She wanted to frown and growl at the man who now sat inappropriately close. Instead, Grace plastered a smile on her face. Glancing about the table, it appeared their farce was working. No one paid them any attention. Not willing to give up, she said, “Very well. Tell me what is in America that beckons you, and I won’t press further.”
Tobias’s glass of wine precariously tilted as he reached for it. It would have spilled if he hadn’t deftly caught it without the notice of others. But Grace had witnessed his swift reflexes. It was the first time his clumsy actions had not been intentional.
Recalling Theo’s reference to love, Grace pressed on and said, “Or perhaps I should ask, who.” His spine stiffened. “What is this beauty’s name who has caught your attention?”
Raising his glass to his lips, Tobias answered, “Come now, Grace, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It is why you do not find me handsome. The reason why your pulse remains steady when we are close, yet your skin prickles, and your heart aches to be close to him as soon as Matthew enters the same room as you. Appearances alone have nothing to do with whether you are attracted to a person.” As if to punctuate his statement, he licked the corner of his lips, capturing an errant trickle of wine. Had Matthew performed the same motions, her cheeks would be flooded with heat, but Grace’s face remained aloof, and frustration roared through her at the thought, Tobias is sticking his tongue out at me again. Her fiancé was right. He did not evoke the sensual fantasies Matthew could.
“You must love her.” Grace wasn’t certain, but she suspected he hid a smile behind his napkin as he dabbed his mouth.
Looking down as he replaced his napkin to his lap, he said, “She is to me as Harrington is to you. The one person who makes the rest of the world disappear as soon as they appear.”
How poetic and not at all idiotic. The man was clearly in love with another. Yet here he sat next to Grace, playing the role of a besotted fool, exhibiting none of the strains she was experiencing.
Tobias raised his eyes to meet hers. They were filled with sadness. “I feel empty without her.” His gaze shifted away from Grace. “But she, like Archbroke and your dear friend Theo beside you—who, by the way, is throwing daggers at me at this very moment—places duty before her own desires.”
Grace swiveled to see Theo was indeed glaring at Tobias. Turning back, Grace declared, “You know nothing of Theo or Archbroke.”
Tobias’s indolent smirk returned. “I believe you are the one mistaken. It is you who is unaware of the true bond they share. And unfortunate as it may be, a connection that I too share alongside them.”
The man was always talking in riddles. He leaned forward and nodded at Theo.
In a harsh whisper, Theo said, “You know better than to refer to such matters.”
Letting out a loud laugh, Tobias brought the entire dinner party’s attention upon himself. “My dear, Lady Theo, you two are the most astonishingly intelligent women of my acquaintance. I know not what you speak of, but no matter, you are both highly entertaining.” His gaze landed squarely on Grace’s décolletage.
Hereford, their host, was the first to recover from the shock. “Lord Ellingsworth, perhaps you will join the other gentlemen and me in my study for a drink.”
“Hereford, I don’t suppose you managed to smuggle any whiskey or cigars from the Continent upon your return?”
Tobias rose, and the rest of the gentlemen followed suit. Grace’s gaze fell upon Hereford. She was responsible for sending him there to ensure Matthew returned safely. It was her orders that resulted in Hereford being held captive and tortured for many months. Grace cringed as Hereford’s eyes darkened.
How rude and uncaring of Tobias to purposefully bring up the matter. Tobias eyed his papa. Lord Burke shifted uncomfortably. The comment wasn’t intended to offend Hereford. It was to send a message of sorts to Lord Burke. A warning. It was the first indication that Tobias had the mettle to see to Lord Burke’s demise.
Theo’s sweet voice interrupted Grace’s reflections. “Your betrothed is rather crafty, but do not let him underestimate you. You are a brilliant strategist and let no one convince you otherwise.” Theo squeezed Grace’s hand that lay fisted upon the table.
Grace glanced about the room. The tension between Tobias and Lord Burke escalated. All the gentlemen remained standing, ready to leave. Hereford shifted his weight uncomfortably. It was Lord Hadfield who broke the strained silence. “Gentlemen, let’s adjourn.”
How peculiar that it was Lord Hadfield who assumed the lead in Archbroke’s absence.
Theo leaned closer and whispered, “Now, tell me of your plans.”
Grace hadn’t sorted through the myriad of ideas that she had formulated throughout the day. She shook her head and replied, “I’ve not yet decided on the best course of action.”
Theo nodded and stood to move to the seat next to Mary. Grace should follow, but she remained in her chair, stealing a moment for herself. Theo was an excellent mediator, but Grace wanted a partner. She needed Matthew.
Squeezing her eyes tight, Grace moaned as the pounding in her head resumed. She’d returned home from Hereford’s dinner party intending to wait for Matthew at the gazebo, but the intense shooting pain in her brain had her seeking out her bed. She rolled her head forward, then from side to side, attempting to alleviate the tension in her neck and the knots in her shoulders.
Doubts and concerns regarding her scheme and Tobias’s motives plagued her. She threw the coverlet back and wrapped her favorite thick wool tartan about her. Fresh air and the comfort of the gazebo might ease her mind.
She tiptoed her way down the hall but hesitated as voices wafted up from below. Pushing against the side panel, the click of the lock sliding open revealed the secret passageway her papa had installed. Grace slipped into the narrow space and sidestepped a few feet before it opened up wide enough for her to walk comfortably. She made her way through the dark, hand pressed against the familiar fake wood walls. Her mama’s laughter halted Grace in her tracks. Peeking through the spy hole into the family drawing room, she saw her mama cradled in her papa’s lap.
With love-filled eyes, her papa looked down at his wife. “You are the love of my heart.”
Her mama chuckled. “That may be the case now—but love, it was not always that way. If Gracie marries Ellingsworth, I only hope he too comes to love her as you grew to love me.”
“I was a fool. I apologize, my dear. I should never have treated you so.”
Her mama placed her hand upon his cheek. “Hush, that is all in the past. Alex has settled nicely among us and is back safe and sound.”
Grace placed a hand over her mouth—silencing the gasp that threatened to escape. Who was Alex?
“Yes, I’m exceedingly proud of my son.”
His son! She had a half-brother.
“My dear, he had a rough year held in captivity with Harrington. You should visit soon.”
Fustian. There was no one named Alex imprisoned with Matthew. Lord Addington’s given name was Benedict, and Lord Hereford’s was Sebastian. The only other person rescued was Archbroke’s Home Office messenger, Mr. Jones. Grace pressed her aching head against the faux door. Mr. Jones was her brother.
Her papa’s sleepy voice floated through the wall. “You are correct. I should like to visit with him. Would you arrange for Alex to come at an opportune time, my love?”
Why had her parents kept the existence of Alex a secret from her? Her papa should have integrated her brother into the Foreign Office’s network, not allowed him to be under the supervision of Archbroke. Did Alex know she was his sister and had refused to work under a woman?
Her mama’s soft voice brought Grace’s head back up to peek at the loving couple. “For you love, anything.”
Her mama placed a kiss on her husband’s forehead. Grace had believed her parents to be one of the few couples who had married for love when, in fact, they had not been in love. The truth of her father impregnating another sent Grace’s mind into a thousand different directions.
She had always wanted a sibling. If Alex was her brother, she would claim him as such. But first, she needed more information. Summoning Alex was not an option, for he did not report to her, and she was loath to seek out Archbroke’s assistance in this matter.
There was only one man she trusted to help her muddle through everything—Matthew.
If Archbroke had already assigned Alex to monitor the docks, her brother could be in grave danger. Abandoning the idea to retreat to her gazebo, Grace swiftly made her way to the study. Seated at her papa’s well-worn wooden desk with her quill poised midair, Grace mentally composed several reiterations of the message she needed Matthew to respond to. Ultimately, Grace settled upon:
M,
Friends in peril. I’ll be waiting.
G.
With a drop of wax, she sealed the missive. Silverman, the crafty butler, appeared flanked by two footmen.
Silverman said, “I shall see to it that it is delivered. But I must insist you not leave the house unaccompanied again.”
She handed him her missive. Silverman’s eyebrows shot up as he read to whom it was addressed. How uncharacteristic of the old man to reveal any reaction.
Grace said, “I’m perfectly safe here.”
“I’ll have young Jamison posted here until Lord Harrington arrives.” Silverman didn’t wait for a response. He simply left as quietly and swiftly as he had arrived.