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“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?”