Chapter 24

Astone flew in a graceful arc, then hit the ground and tumbled down the hill.

"Ha! With an aim like this, I wonder how you caught any criminals," Grace taunted with a laugh.

Ford glowered at her in mock offense. "I never needed to resort to throwing stones in order to catch one. I'll have you know that the aim of my fist is rather precise."

"Hmm… Bested many criminals with your fists but unable to best a harlot in a childish game?" Instead of throwing the stone overhead as Ford had done, Grace rolled it down the hill. It skipped and danced along the path until it clipped Ford's stone with a satisfying clink.

Grace raised her brows as if to say, "See?"

Ford bowed low. "I declare defeat."

They had devised a game, knocking each other's stones down the hill. The market was over a mile away, and they needed to busy themselves with something as they traversed the hills on the way to their destination. This was the second time they'd made the journey in the few days they'd stayed in the cottage.

Besides the food, they had also bought some clothing to keep them warm and clean while they were there.

They tried to enjoy themselves as much as they could, but Grace noticed the crease of worry on Ford's forehead deepen more and more every day.

He was frustrated that he wasn't able to continue his search for the murderer and anxious that they were hunted instead.

This time, as they made their way to the village to collect their new boots from the cobbler, he had decided to take the opportunity to send a missive to his friend, the Earl of Payne.

The earl was the only person Ford trusted with their location. He'd said the earl would be able to keep them apprised of the situation in London regarding the hunt for them, telling them if and when there would be an opportunity for them to go back. He was also in the position to send them clues if any were to be revealed about the murderer's identity.

He'd also instructed the earl to ask Thomas to find Jamison so he would pay for his crime.

Grace doubted that Jamison was still in London. He'd probably caught the first ship out of the country.

In the meantime, they made the best of the strange situation.

Ford pulled out the coin from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers nervously. "The money is running out," he said absently.

"I have an extra pound sewn into my skirts."

He threw her a sidelong glance. "I have one sewn into the lining of my breeches."

Grace raised her brow. "If we are frugal, this should last us a month or two. But then I would need at least one more dress."

"I am not planning to be here for two months," Ford grumbled. "I need to get my job back. I will find a way to do it."

Grace swallowed. His grim determination was both reassuring and in a way… sad. She knew the moment they got back to London, their liaison would be over. They led completely different lives. They did not belong together. "While I do not doubt you one bit… What if you couldn't be a thief-taker anymore?"

"That's a rather grim thought." He frowned.

"Just for the sake of conversation, imagine a reality where you are not a thief-taker. Or perhaps, what would you do if you retired?"

Ford's gait slowed as he mulled over the idea. "I suppose I will have to retire eventually," he conceded. "My back is already aching; my knees are popping every time I stand after crouching, and that would definitely inhibit my stealth."

His wry tone drew a laugh from Grace, the sound light and genuine. "I always thought this would be a lovely place to spend my old days," Grace mused, her eyes sweeping over the picturesque countryside. "If we're never able to find our way back to London, you could start your retirement sooner than you thought."

"I'd rather not." He chortled. "But if I were to retire, no better place than this, I suppose."

"What would you do if you were not a thief-taker?" Grace asked, her curiosity piqued.

Ford shrugged, his response casual. "Become a fisherman or a farmer."

Grace quirked a brow, skepticism clear in her expression. "I feel you would get bored rather easily."

"What do you see me doing, then?" Ford challenged, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She pursed her lips in a thoughtful moue, considering for a moment before answering. "You will find this foolish, but I feel that you'd be a perfect schoolmaster."

Ford's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A schoolmaster? Whatever would make you think that?"

"You have a vast life experience dealing with unruly criminals, and who are more unruly than children?"

Ford let out a hearty laugh. "I don't suppose you think children should be bound and gagged before being thrown into the gaol."

"I think not." She grimaced at the idea, although laughter still clung to her lips. "Perhaps not a schoolmaster then," she conceded. "But you need to do something that will give you some physical work, yes, but also you need to work with your mind, solving puzzles. I don't think you'll be content with a type of work that will satisfy only one part of that."

"I'll have to think about that," he said, his face turning more serious. "And what would you do if you were to retire from running a brothel?"

A genuine smile tugged at her lips. She'd thought about it before. She'd thought about it when she was a child. She'd thought about it, fantasized about it during her darkest days. And she still thought about it when she sat in her little office counting money long into the night. "I always loved to paint," she admitted softly. "If I were to do something else in my life, it would be that. I don't know how successful I would be, but that is something I would have liked to pursue."

"When was the last time you painted?"

"With watercolors? A long time ago. But I sketch all the time. Although, the subject matter is rather different from what I used to paint."

"What do you sketch?" Ford asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

She felt a mischievous grin spread across her face. "I will show you later."

"I would love to see that. Although…" He pressed his finger to his lips in thought.

"Although?"

"I would have imagined you to be an inventor."

She laughed at the impossibility of such a feat but also felt touched that Ford thought her deserving of the title. "Perhaps if I were a man."

He shook his head, suddenly serious. "I mean it. I've seen your love-chair design and you said you have more."

"Oh…" Grace felt heat rising to her cheeks, remembering her design and realizing Ford had not only seen it but appreciated it. "Yes, I have quite a few inventions like that. But they are very specific. If I didn't have a brothel, what would I be using them for? Not sure how that would translate into a peaceful seaside life."

The village appeared around the bend, and they both quickened their steps. "People in quiet towns need pleasure as well." Ford shrugged. "Perhaps use your inventions to help married couples keep their life interesting."

"Married life?" She frowned in thought. "I don't see a lot of marital bliss in my line of work."

"Perhaps you would see more of it if you shifted your focus away from the brothels and into the quiet village life."

She pursed her lips in thought. "I might consider this idea. Even if we ever escape this place."

Ford's laughter lightened the mood as they approached the cobbler. "I'll send the missive to Blake," he said. "I'll meet you here in a moment."

Grace nodded, turning her attention to selecting candles. When Ford returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a rectangular item wrapped in paper.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Open it," he urged, handing it to her.

As Grace unwrapped the package, revealing a sketchbook and a couple of pencils, she looked up at Ford, her eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper, more complex.

"I thought we were supposed to be frugal," she said softly, her fingers tracing the edge of the sketchbook.

Ford shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. "Worse comes to worst, I can be a fisherman in this quaint village." He paused, his lips pursing in thought. "Or a schoolmaster."

* * *

Ford stepped into Grace's bedroom, his hair still damp from the bath, a towel draped around his shoulders. His eyes were immediately drawn to Grace, illuminated by the soft glow of a single candle.

She sat at a small desk, her attention wholly focused on the task before her. Her delicate hands moved with practiced precision, wielding a pencil over the sketchbook he'd bought her earlier in the day.

Ford approached quietly, hoping not to break her concentration.

As he drew nearer, the image on the paper came into focus.

His breath caught in his throat. There, rendered in fine black lines, was the unmistakable scene of a man and woman on horseback… entwined in a sensual embrace.

The woman's hair streamed behind her, captured mid-motion as if caught in a wild wind. Her back was arched dramatically, her head tilted back, and an emotion of undeniable bliss was evident in her features. The man's strong hands gripped her hips, holding her securely against him as they rode.

This sketch was definitely of the moment Grace and he shared together, except Grace had managed to change a few details. In this rendition, the woman's torso was bare, her breasts were exposed to the viewer, and it was happening at night.

"That is absolutely… incredible," he whispered.

Grace raised her head, her eyes expressing her vulnerability, her lips curved in a timid smile. "Thank you."

"Is that your new subject matter you were talking about?"

She nodded. "Yes. I love sketching couples in the throes of passion, exploring each other's bodies, and finding new ways to please each other. I started sketching things like this after meeting harlots in Hades' Hell. They would tell me about the different acts, and I would draw them to understand what they looked like. Later, I started putting them in ink on the cards. I use them in my brothel now. Clients can select what they want without any words."

He chuckled. "Clever."

"I really enjoy it. The human body is rather versatile in the ways it can find pleasure."

He turned toward her and licked his lips. "Teach me."

She swallowed, their eyes holding for a long moment. "I'd say you're quite capable."

He leaned closer to her and shook his head. "No. Teach me something new. Something I haven't done before." Then his eyes dropped to her lips. "Something you've always wanted to try. I will be your willing puppet."