Page 119 of The Mistletoe Countess
A laugh burst from Grace, the sound of it soothing over some of the residual pain in Frederick’s chest at the idea of losing her. “Why does that not surprise me at all?”
“Because you’ve gotten to know my lifelong friend well enough to expect no less.” Frederick answered. “And your exuberant imagination likely does the rest.”
“I’m glad he went to speak to your mother,” Grace added, nodding her thanks to Elliott as he took her plate.
“He’s always had a way of talking with her,” Frederick nodded. “But she must still be held accountable for her actions.”
“Your mother has borne the penalty of her choices for years.” Grace’s fingers covered his. “If there’s a way to extend mercy, perhaps the ending of her story will look very different than the preceding chapters.”
He breathed out his frustrations and collected Grace’s hand in his. “I will only do it for your sake. Not hers.”
“That’s an excellent place to start.” She pulled his fingers to her lips and kissed them, her smile more captivating and precious with each passing minute. “You were very brave today. A true hero.”
“A hero?” He chuckled. “What about you? I suspect not even Robert Louis Stevenson or Jules Verne could have posed such a rescue as we witnessed today.”
“You certainly know how to compliment a lady.” Her face beamed with pleasure. “But despite her superb villainous qualities, I should never wish to meet Celia again.”
“According to Detective Miracle, evidence has been mounting against her for some time. All they needed was proof to connect everything.” Frederick stood and brought Grace up with him. “Parks was quick to confess the entire plan, with Turner not far behind.”
“Will she…hang?”
He almost smiled at the compassion in her question. Even with the ruthless Celia Blackmore Percy, Grace desired mercy. Would he ever plumb the depths of her generous heart?
“I cannot say.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her to the window seat as Elliott continued clearing their dishes. “But she certainly met her match with you, darling.”
She looked up at him, moonlight drifting through the window and draping her in a halo of white. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Celia lived for her own desires, her own happiness. She had no script for you and your selflessness.”
“Actually, what she didn’t expect was how we worked together. She’d anticipated you to be alone, like her.” Grace settled next to him in the window. “But I’m here to ensure you’re never alone.”
He tugged her close to his side. “Nor I you.”
“And we make an excellent team. Who’s to say we might not become detectives all our own.”
Tension flew back into his spine. “Grace.”
“You were perfect for finding clues. The letters. The flowers. Putting the pieces together.” Her eyes sparkled in a terrifying sort of way.
“I have no desire to—”
“And we can learn from Detective Miracle.” She squeezed his fingers, her smile growing. “You have to admit it’s rather exhilarating.”
“Near-death experiences? Being held at knifepoint?”
“Scissors-point,” she corrected. “And since Mr. Patton is teaching me to drive, not all the pressure would be on you for a quick getaway. I wonder if you might help improve my archery though.”
“Patton is teaching you to drive?”
“I started archery once, but Father stopped lessons when I almost killed the dog.”
“Grace.” This time his attempt was half-hearted. She was happiest when concocting plans.
“He was a very old dog.” She nodded, looking duly remorseful. “I feel I would do better now.”
“I’ve heard that Mr. Reams, our gardener, is quite adept at throwing knives,” came Elliot’s addition.
Grace’s mouth dropped wide to match her eyes.
