Page 30 of The Highland Heist
For the first time, Grace wasn’t too certain she wanted to solve a mystery. Not this one, anyway.
“Are you sure you want this conversation to happen now?” Grace asked, her arm tucked through Frederick’s as they made their way downstairs to the study. It was more to steady him than anything else—he seemed to be holding himself together well enough, but his pallor prevented her from experiencing complete peace of mind.
“There are too many moving parts to delay.” Frederick searched her face, his brow furrowing as he added, “What if you’d been the one out in the garden?”
She slowed them to a stop in front of the study door, where Detective Johnson and Officer Todd waited at Frederick’s request. “We’ve had this discussion several times before, my dear Lord Astley. Only God has the power to protect us fully.”
“But He gave us wits to use as well.” He narrowed his eyes at her in an attempt at mock seriousness. He knew, as well as she did, that they had both teetered on the edge of something awful tonight. The teasing helped her heart stay steady, if only just.
“And we need more help than just ourselves in this situation, Grace,” he added, his voice softer but no less resolute.
Her gaze swept over his face, noting that some pink had returned to his cheeks. “I know.”
The tension around his eyes softened, and he squeezed her hand. “I will be all right.”
She studied him a moment longer, a frown tugging at the corner of her mouth, then nodded before Frederick opened the door and led them into the study.
Detective Johnson stood from the nearby chair and Officer Todd turned at their entry. “Lord Astley, I am glad to see you upright considering your recent attack.”
Frederick nodded to the man and led Grace to a nearby chair, taking the couch next to her for himself. “I am well enough, Detective, thank you.”
“And Mrs. Dixon?” Officer Todd looked toward the doorway, expectantly.
“The doctor gave her something to help her sleep, as she was quite”—Grace tried to figure out which word would be best—”overrun with her nerves.”
Yes. That seemed a perfect descriptor. Her sister appeared on the brink of some sort of breakdown. Hopefully, in a less homicidal direction.
“That doesn’t seem to be your predilection, Lady Astley.” Detective Johnson tipped his head, studying her with the faintest glint of amusement. “Not the swooning sort?”
“Not from dangers, sir,” She shot back, a little pleased at her quick and somewhat subtle retort. She looked over at her husband. She wasn’t a swooning sort of woman, but exceptions to that rule always came because of him, and she wasn’t about to admit that to the detective.
“Clearly.” Johnson turned his attention back to Frederick as Grace helped her husband adjust his position on the nearby couch. “And you felt this meeting necessary tonight, Lord Astley.”
Frederick raised his gaze to the man. “Based on some information we’ve gathered today.”
“Information you’ve gathered?” Officer Todd scoffed, his arms crossed in an unflattering stance. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
Grace narrowed her eyes at the boorish man. Her husband was exceptionally impressive. Just wait until they saw him cane fighting. Or wielding a pistol. Or deciphering clues. Her cheeks grew hot at the loveliness of the memories. Officer Todd, no doubt, couldn’t look nearly as dashing while embroiled in such villain-fighting moments.
The detective exchanged a look with the officer, and Todd frowned but said no more.
“Though we do have a history as sleuths, Detective, this time our involvement was much less intentional.” Grace clarified. “And the information found us more than we found it.”
The detective raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but settled himself in the chair across from them. “What has happened?”
Frederick took a steadying breath and proceeded to recount their visit to Miss Steen’s house as well as the attack in the back garden, his words as thorough as any detective could hope for. Grace couldn’t help the proud smile that tugged at her lips. Clearly, the knock to the head hadn’t hurt his memory at all. Nothing like what she’d read about in other mysteries. One man even forgot who he was and didn’t remember for seven entire chapters!
How delightful to have a husband whose mind wasn’t easily scrambled.
“Let me get this straight,” Johnson began, his tone measured. “You, Lord and Lady Astley, ventured out to interview Miss Steen without notifying me—”
“As I mentioned before, Detective, our intention wasn’t to interview her at all.” Then Grace frowned at the unintended hint of a lie in her words. Of course, she was always trying to discover more information about a mystery. “Well, not entirely. We did mean to deliver the letter, but if Miss Steen offered us information, we were hardly about to refuse it, especially in the interest of finding Tony’s murderer.”
“But as I mentioned,” Frederick continued, “we never delivered Mrs. Dixon’s letter. Miss Steen, however, thought we were part of the investigation and provided us with information, as well as mentioning a man who had paid her for information—Mr. K.”
“Rather inconspicuous, isn’t it?” Johnson quirked an eyebrow, his tone dry.
“And Lillias’ letter wasn’t the heartfelt plea for reconciliation she’d told us that it was.” Grace continued. “Instead, it was an attempt to coerce Miss Steen into providing a false alibi for Lillias—an entirely fabricated account of her whereabouts this morning.”
