Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(81)

“I bet it was more than the city. I bet it was you.”

“I don’t know. But I didn’t waste that second chance. I could tell he would drift away if I didn’t tie him down. No one remembered him, so I helped him make a new life. Set him up at the store, had him take charge of teaching Aiana to protect herself. He slipped into new roles so easily that it didn’t take long to realize he could do what I do—except he could do it in secret. Everyone knows I run the agency. But they don’t know who works for me. And, well, technically, he doesn’t. I can only make him an agent-for-hire, so to speak. Sir Ronald can give him a legitimate position—and will, once we stamp out these traitors. Agent or not, Grant can be invisible right now, and that’s very, very useful to us.”

“Useful for him too,” I mused. “He gets to be everyone—and no one. He can move without restraint or commitment. Just the way he likes it.” One of Silas’s bushy eyebrows rose again. I’d come to realize that was a signal that something had really and truly astonished him. “Except you did tie him down. You gave him something, and here he is.”

“But he won’t stay.” Silas’s hard countenance faded, and for the first time in our brief acquaintance, he looked vulnerable.

A loud knock heralded Grant’s arrival and ended the conversation. Silas’s gruffness returned as he opened the door. Grant entered, dirtier and sweatier than when I’d last seen him. He gave a quick nod to me and focused on Silas.

“We rode all the way up to Hamley. Scarborough had us search around the taverns for signs of itinerant priests while he had a very long talk with a tin merchant about the town’s heretic situation.”

Silas made a hrmph. “Something tells me they discussed more than that. I assume you got his name? We’ll get Crenshaw on it. Right now, we’ve got more pressing problems.”

We updated Grant on what I’d learned, and he seemed even more suspicious of how I’d found a “reliable source.” But after studying the map with Silas, he confirmed the oldest boardinghouse on Water Street, adding, “Oh, yeah, it’s ugly. Horribly maintained. A lot of shifty people go through there. The other one’s not quite as old, and that owner’s pretty strict about who he lets board.”

I listened, ignored, as they plotted strategy. Silas wanted to recruit a few soldiers to follow Sandler when he left with the delivery, arresting him only once they determined his destination and the North Joyce contact.

Silas put a hat on. “I’m going to the fort right now. Wait for me. And let her finish that letter—she’s earned it.”

I’d been so engrossed in their planning that I’d paused in my writing again. After Silas left, I scrawled the ending and folded the paper up. Grant leaned against the wall, lost in his own thoughts. There was an almost feverish glitter in his eyes from the excitement of the night’s developments, but his body looked as though it had been pushed past exhaustion.

“You should get some rest before whatever happens . . . happens.”

His dark eyes flicked to me. “It won’t be much longer. Just through dawn. Then I’ll get a couple hours of sleep before the store opens. Right now? I’ve got the drive. I can do anything.”

I tilted my head. “Are you sure? Can you explain what ‘because’ meant?”

“Because?”

“In the conservatory. You said I didn’t do anything wrong that night. But the only reason you gave for why you stopped was ‘because.’”

He straightened up and walked to the other side of the room, angling away from me. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Well, you’re not doing anything else until Silas gets back.”

“Would you settle for me saying I did it because I’d hoped to avoid conversations like this? I knew things would get muddled.”

“They shouldn’t have.” My voice cracked a little, and I cleared my throat to sound hard again. “It was all supposed to be simple. I thought we had an understanding.”

He was showing all the little signs of agitation I’d learned. Pacing. Raking his hands through his hair. But I knew he wasn’t frustrated at me so much as himself, and having to talk about personal things. Finally, he spun around.

“Simple, huh? Okay. Then tell me why you wanted to do it.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What kind of question is that?”

“An easy one. Here, I’ll give you a simple answer. I wanted to because you’ve got a face that could sack Ruva and a body I can’t stop staring at. That night we ‘met’ in the rain? I saw plenty in that wet nightgown, and I’ve wanted to see the rest for a long time. Those other girls you live with are like dolls. They look like they’ll break. But not you.”

My mouth went dry, and I had no idea how to respond or even feel. To a certain extent, I’d just been complimented—on my appearance, at least. And wasn’t this whole debacle supposed to be circling around physical attraction? Desire and nothing more?

He’d given me a simple answer, but he’d delivered it with almost no expression, no feeling, not even when citing the almost poetic reference to an ancient queen whose beauty had allegedly broken the great peace of Ruva. It sounded so practiced, like he could have been reading from a script.

“No simple answer from you on what should have been a simple matter?” he prompted.