Page 44 of The Highland Heist
“Lady Astley,” Mrs. James began, her voice flustered, “Officer Todd has come to replace Officer Penny as guard of the house.”
“How good to have someone of your caliber keeping watch.” Grace approached with what she hoped was a subdued smile, but she was never really certain. Other women seemed to look subdued so effortlessly.
The man tipped his hat. “I’ve volunteered, Lady Astley, since you have a guest coming to visit. Detective Johnson felt that a more experienced set of eyes would be required.”
“That’s very good thinking, Officer Todd.” Grace studied him with polite curiosity, though she couldn’t help but fixate on his near-unibrow. It loomed like an ominous cloud over his narrow eyes. “One can’t be too careful with strangers in situations like this, can one?”
His prolonged stare set off an odd prickling at the back of her neck. Was it merely his unfortunate eyebrows, or something deeper? Grace decided it was safer to assume the worst. Any self-respecting heroine in one of her novels would.
And surely, the man couldn’t keep a steady watch on the house if he was standing around flirting with Mrs. James.
“Mrs. James?” Grace turned to the housekeeper, whose complexion had returned to a regular hue. “Do you know if Mrs. Dixon has already ordered tea to be ready for our noon appointment?”
Grace smiled at her own sentence. She sounded very proper and countess-like when she’d spoken that sentence.
“She did, ma’am. And plans to serve it in the breakfast room,” Mrs. James answered.
“Who should I be on the lookout for, my lady?”
The way Officer Todd said ‘my lady’ each time almost stole the very countess-like smile right off Grace’s face. Or perhaps smiling even when one didn’t feel very much like it was the very countess part. She hung on to her smile.
“A Mr. Barclay, thank you.” Without another word, she stepped toward the breakfast room. She had just entered the sunlit space when the front bell rang. Curious, she paused in the doorway, keeping an ear tuned to the exchange at the front door.
The unique lilt of a Scottish accent carried down the hallway, weaving a sharp contrast to Mrs. James’ rural English. How anyone could confuse the two was beyond her. After months of marriage to Frederick, Grace had come to appreciate such distinctions. Frederick’s tones were smooth, refined—like a first-edition novel bound in rich leather. This man’s burr, on the other hand, was rugged and unpolished, more like a weathered folio discovered in a forgotten attic. Both held their charm, but there was something uniquely intriguing about the latter.
Perhaps it was the link to her mother’s childhood in Scotland, a place Grace had only glimpsed through fragmented memories and wistful tales.
“You’ve come so far to visit us, Mr. Barclay,” came Mrs. James’ less refined voice. “What could bring a Scot all the way to Virginia?”
Small talk was certainly one thing, and something Grace failed at more than not, but Mrs. James only proved her immaturity by engaging in such intimate conversation with a guest.
“Personal business,” was the Scot’s clipped reply.
“Oh, I suppose you know Lord and Lady Astley from some visit to England?”
What was Mrs. James doing? No wonder Lillias fretted about rumors. Grace’s mind ticked over the possibilities. Was Mrs. James simply indulging her penchant for tittle-tattle—a word Grace cherished for its sheer cheekiness—or was something more nefarious at play?
Nefarious.She almost shrugged. An equally exciting word.
People really didn’t appreciate well-placed words as much as they ought.
“What has brought you to America, miss?”
The turn of the conversation from the clever Scot paused Mrs. James’ response long enough for Grace to slip fully into the room for Mr. Barclay’s entrance. Grace barely heard Mrs. James mention something about a need for change from her difficult home circumstances, but nothing more as they neared the room.
When it came to the housekeeper and the police officer, was it possible that Mrs. James proved the more dangerous of the two? Had Officer Todd been gleaning information from Mrs. James, or had Mrs. James been deliberately distracting Officer Todd?
Grace’s pulse quickened. Or, heaven help her, were they working together?
She barely had time to smooth her expression before Mr. Barclay stepped into view.
He was stout and broad-shouldered, his well-trimmed beard streaked with gray. He scanned the room, his stance tense, his expression leery, and then … his gaze fastened on her, and something softened around the edges of his pale eyes. He stopped in the doorway, almost in the exact place Grace had just vacated, and gave Grace a long look.
She folded her hands in front of her and offered him a smile. “Mr. Barclay? Welcome, I’m Grace Ferguson Percy.” Then she paused, remembering how she was usually referred to socially. “Lady Astley.”
The sound of her voice seemed to rouse him. He gave a quick shake of his head and stepped farther into the room. “You’re the very image of your mother.”
Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that was not on the list. “Oh.” She pressed a palm to her chest. “I’m certain she wasn’t as troublesome as me.”
