Page 49 of Tempting the Highland Spy
He mulled the words. “Not so very sinister.”
Grace slowly shook her head. “It wasn’t the woman’s words. No, it was the gleam in her eyes when she spoke them. There was maliciousness there. I’ve no doubt of what I heard—and what I saw. Lady Sybil issued a threat—heavily veiled, but a threat nonetheless. It will be interesting to see what happens when I refuse to heed her warning.”
…
More than an hour after she’d first laid eyes on Lady Sybil and Lady Edythe, the tension of the encounter troubled Grace. She couldn’t put it into words—instinct was like that—but Lady Sybil had put her on edge. Something in the woman’s eyes disturbed Grace to the core, a coldness no number of smiles could mask. When Lady Sybil looked at her, it felt as if icy fingers had crept over her spine.
She’d regarded Belle with the same expression, that false half smile and frost in her gaze. If Belle truly regarded the woman as an affectionate friend, she might be well-advised to be on her guard.
They’d returned to the hotel to change into ensembles appropriate for the formal event. This was a time to see and be seen, and Grace needed to play the part to perfection. Mrs. Carmichael fussed over her, a well-intentioned hen of a woman. Despite her stiff-upper-lip attitude, the woman possessed undeniable warmth, and Grace grew more comfortable with her. It seemed a stroke of luck she’d accompanied them—other than the woman’s unintentional noisiness at night, she’d done everything in her power to make the experience more bearable for Grace.
She’d laid out a lovely gown of deep crimson velvet for Grace. After sliding into the tasteful dress, Grace toyed with the bits of black lace at the cuffs. The same lace adorned the modest bodice, designed to draw a man’s eye while providing a degree of decorum appropriate for the event. She’d first worn the gown in New York, before the events that had landed her back here in the Highlands. A bitter memory of that night pinched like too-tight shoes, but she cast it aside. It served no purpose to dwell on unpleasantness.
“I suppose I’d better hurry,” she said as Mrs. Carmichael helped her fasten her gown. “I wouldn’t want to keepHis Highnesswaiting.”
“I presume you are referring to Dr. MacMasters,” Mrs. Carmichael replied with a soft laugh.
“Of course,” Grace said.
“He’s a man, dear. He has no idea what a woman must go through to prepare for a social engagement.”
“I suppose you’re right. But there are times…I wonder why he agreed to take on this assignment. What’s in it for him?”
Mrs. Carmichael closed the final fastener and stepped around to face her. “I really could not answer that question.”
“Men never do anything without some sort of reward attached. I cannot puzzle out the prize he’s expecting.”
The matron’s brow furrowed. “I don’t imagine he’s expecting any prize, so to speak. Not of a material sort, at least. In any case, he’s a good man. You can rest assured of that. But patience has never been one of his better qualities. Quite the opposite.”
Grace studied the older woman. “What is it between the two of you?” she asked finally “At times, you appear quite fond of him. At others, you look as if you’d like to give him a sound rap on the knuckles with your fan.”
Mrs. Carmichael’s smile was gentle and sincere. “Suffice it to say my history with the MacMasters family goes back a very long way. Someday, dear, I will tell you more over a cup of tea and a nice warm biscuit.”
“You knew him as a child?”
Mrs. Carmichael nodded. “He was a precocious lad. Spoiled rather rotten by his mum. And quite the reckless one.”
“Reckless?” The description did not gel with anything she’d observed of the man. “You’re positive you’re speaking of Harrison MacMasters?”
“Time has a way of changing us all.”
As she spoke the words, a knock at the door was followed by Harrison’s husky voice.
“Are you decent?”
“I’m always decent,” Grace said. “Tonight, I intend to be delightful.”
He entered quietly and closed the door behind him. His gaze swept over her, his expression unreadable.
“You’ve chosen well,” he said finally. “The gown…suits your coloring.”
Given the way his attention danced back over her curves, the dress did more than that. She was tempted to point out that rather obvious fact, but she kept the thought to herself.
After the exchange of a few basic instructions for the evening, Harrison escorted her to the waiting carriage. Mrs. Carmichael had declined to join them, feeling her time was better served by chatting up the staff to see what they might have heard of Raibert’s return to his homeland. He’d made the rounds about town, crowing of his triumphs in America and showing off his bride-to-be. One could not underestimate the intelligence to be gleaned from a maid who’d overheard a guest describing an encounter with the man or a desk clerk who’d been privy to the latest rumors.
They exchanged a few words of idle conversation, nothing more. Grace peered from the window as the carriage clattered over the cobblestone pavement.
He’s a good man.Mrs. Carmichael’s words played in her mind. Grace did not doubt their truth. So why had a man of integrity agreed to a scheme involving a woman he regarded as a thief?
