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Authors: Shelley Gray

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Deception at Sable Hill

BOOK: Deception at Sable Hill
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ACCLAIM FOR
SECRETS OF SLOANE HOUSE

“Shelley Gray writes a well-paced story full of historical detail that will invite you into the romance, the glamour . . . and the mystery surrounding the Chicago World’s Fair.”

—C
OLLEEN
C
OBLE
,
USA T
ODAY
BEST
-
SELLING AUTHOR OF
R
OSEMARY
C
OTTAGE
AND THE
H
OPE
B
EACH SERIES


Downton Abbey
comes to Chicago in Shelley Gray’s delightful romantic suspense,
Secrets of Sloane House
. Gray’s novel is rich in description and historical detail while asking thought-provoking questions about faith and one’s place in society.”

—E
LIZABETH
M
USSER
,
NOVELIST
,
T
HE
S
WAN
H
OUSE
, T
HE
S
WEETEST
T
HING
,
T
HE
S
ECRETS OF THE
C
ROSS
T
RILOGY

ALSO IN THE CHICAGO WORLD’S FAIR MYSTERY SERIES

Secrets of Sloane House

ZONDERVAN

Deception
on
Sable
Hill

Copyright © 2015 by Shelley Gray

ePub Edition © March 2015: ISBN 978-0-310-33854-3

Requests for information should be addressed to:

Zondervan,
Grand
Rapids, Michigan 49546

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Gray, Shelley Shepard.

Deception on Sable Hill / Shelley Gray.

pages ; cm. -- (Chicago World’s Fair mystery series)

ISBN 978-0-310-33850-5 (softcover : acid-free paper) 1. Young women--Crimes against--Fiction. 2. Young women--Illinois--Chicago--Fiction. 3. Chicago (Ill.)--Social life and customs--19th century--Fiction. 4. World’s Columbian Exposition (1893 : Chicago, Ill.)--Fiction. I. Title.

PS3607.R3966D43 2015

813’.6--dc23

2014040831

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible,
New
International
Version®, NIV®
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover design
: Gearbox

Cover photography
: Trevillion and Library of Congress

Interior
design:
Mallory Perkins

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 / RRD / 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Becky Philpot, my editor for this series. Becky, you
are my own Eloisa Carstairs—you are truly as lovely
on the inside as on the outside! Thank you for believing
in the book and especially for believing in Eloisa.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

AUTHOR BIO

Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every
time we fail.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Come back to me and live!

—Amos 5:4

CHAPTER 1

CHICAGO, SEPTEMBER 1893

D
on’t keep me in the dark for another second, Eloisa,” Quentin Gardner teased as they waltzed across the gleaming parquet floor of his family’s crowded ballroom. “Where have you been? No one has seen you in what seems like ages. You’ve missed quite a few of the events around the fair.”

“I’ve been the same places you have,” she replied, taking care to keep her voice light and steady. “Though to be honest, it would be a wonder if you were able to spy me among this year’s debutantes clamoring for your attention.”

He chuckled. “I’ve hardly been that in demand.”


The
Tribune
did just list you as one of society’s most eligible bachelors.” She raised an eyebrow, half expecting him to act surprised. Quentin enjoyed pretending he was above such things as the society pages.

He didn’t deny the article. Instead, his cheeks flushed. “I was only on that list because of my family’s money.”

“And perhaps your good looks too.” She tapped his shoulder lightly with her gloved hand. “I’ve been told that blue eyes and coalblack hair are an irresistible combination.”

“You and I both know that article was mere gossip.”

“One that has a shred of truth, though.”

“Even if I was surrounded by a bevy of young ladies—which I most definitely was not—I would have noticed if you were in our midst. You have not been out, Miss Carstairs.”

With effort she kept her expression impassive. “You sound so sure about that.”

“That’s because I am.”

Just as she was formulating a reply, Quentin twirled her around. Then, as she chuckled at his exuberance, he eased her a bit closer. “I’ve missed your company, Eloisa. What made you decide to suddenly be so elusive?”

She had a very good reason. A very good reason that only a handful of people knew about. It was imperative that she keep it that way.

As she felt his warm breath brush against her neck, her unease returned. Pressing on his shoulder, she attempted to regain some space between them. “Quentin, there’s no need to hold me so close.”

Something flashed in his eyes before they filled with hurt. Anger? Frustration?

“I’m not doing anything inappropriate. I simply want to talk to you without having to raise my voice.”

She tried to pull away again, but his arm around her waist was very strong. “The way you are holding me is rather improper.”

“Hardly that. Besides, I can promise that no one is paying the slightest attention to us. It’s a veritable crush here. I think my mother’s guest list included every dignitary associated with the fair.”

He was, of course, talking about the fair to commemorate the
four hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s discovery of America, the World’s Columbian Exposition. Though some were still scratching their heads, wondering about the need to celebrate such a thing in such a grand fashion, no one could deny that the World’s Fair of 1893 had certainly made Chicago feel as if it were the center of the universe.

The excitement surrounding the fair had been exhilarating, wondrous—and exhausting. Every dignitary and society matron had used the event as an excuse to hold a soiree, dinner party, gala, or ball. And because her mother was intent on Eloisa marrying well, she’d encouraged her daughter to attend as many events as she could.

The only excuse she would hear of for Eloisa to decline was a migraine headache. Therefore, Eloisa had made sure she’d had as many such headaches as possible.

When Quentin twirled her again, Eloisa tried to relax. Tried to remind herself he was doing nothing but dancing with her—in plain sight of everyone. “Soon all the visitors will go back to their homes and Chicago will seem almost empty.”

“Yes, the fairgrounds will close on All Hallow’s Eve, you know.”

“I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

Quentin nodded. “As will I. Our city feels filled to the brim with miscreants and vagabonds.” Tilting his head back so their eyes met, he added, “I know how independent you are. I hope you are taking care when you go out. It’s no longer safe for young ladies to go anywhere unescorted.”

“It hasn’t been for some time.”

Regret filled his clear blue eyes. “Forgive me for frightening you. I imagine you’re still reeling over the news about Douglass Sloane’s death. It has been only two weeks.”

She nearly stumbled. “Yes. His death has been something of a shock. I can still hardly believe the news is true.”

“I’m still trying to figure out why he decided to go boating in September. It isn’t quite the thing, you know. He was never one I would call a friend, but still . . . drowning in Lake Michigan? That’s a terrible way to go.”

Hardly able to even think about Douglass, she nodded and prayed for their dance to be over soon. Or, at the very least, for Quentin to change the subject.

And as if on cue, he did just that. “Now, of course we have even more to worry about, what with the recent string of attacks on women of substance.”

“Indeed. It, uh, is a wonder any of us ever leaves the house.”

“How many women have been attacked with a stiletto knife now?”

“I don’t recall,” she lied. However, she knew the number as well as she knew the number of faint scars on her own body. Three. Three acquaintances of hers had found themselves at the mercy of a crazed madman intent on ruining their looks.

“You’re looking pale, dear. Forgive me. I’m not usually such a clumsy conversationalist.”

“I am perfectly fine.” She attempted to smile while peeking over Quentin’s shoulder at the orchestra. Would this waltz never end? When it did, if the friends who accompanied her were ready to leave as well, she could quietly make her escape with them and return to the sanctity of her bedroom at home on Sable Hill. Leaving it had been a mistake.

The faint wrinkle that had been marring Quentin’s perfect features smoothed. “Please don’t be concerned about your safety, dear Eloisa. I’ll look after you. This Slasher cannot get to you here.”

“That is very kind, but people will talk if I monopolize all of your attention.”

He laughed. “I don’t care. Actually, my mother would practically
start crowing if everyone believed you and I had formed an alliance. I might be this week’s most eligible bachelor, but you, Eloisa, have been the focus of every man’s attention between the age of eighteen and eighty since you made your debut two years ago.”

BOOK: Deception at Sable Hill
10.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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