Liliana Mae Rosa Shelby // A Thomas Shelby Fanfiction // UNDER EDITING

21 - GRACE

"We're closed, Mr Shelby," Grace breathed as she faced the Blinder, drenched right through from the stormy night. Hair wet and dishevelled, eyes sore and a sad smile, Grace automatically put it down to Bella. 

"Just get me a drink," he ordered, setting himself down on a table and fishing out the dryest cigarette he could find. 

"Shall I leave you alone?" 

"I came here for company," Tommy replied, lighting his cigarette as Grace fetched two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. His favourite bottle of whiskey. Tommy had noticed his notorious drink of choice, only those closest to him knowing such information, but he didn't pay any mind. Grace was a barmaid.

"Your wife not around?" 

"She's asleep," Tommy replied, necking his drink in one. He could see Grace was itching to ask more questions, and so he eyed her carefully as she shifted under his gaze. 

"And she didn't want to join you?" It sounded like a question, but it was almost as if she sounded unsure herself and was seeking reassurance. 

"My daughter is sick, Grace. So my wife is looking after her. Exhausted, both of 'em. So they're not here with me." 

The tone in his voice held authority, a tone in which Grace knew not to question anymore. "Is she okay? Your daughter?" 

Another question. 

Sighing, Tommy placed his glass back on the table a little too hard causing Grace to jump slightly. "No. No she is not. Where's Harry?" 

It was Tommy's turn to ask the questions. 

"He took the night out, went to the pictures," she explained, cautiously watching him. "How's your beautiful horse?" 

It was silent for a while. A silence that Tommy was comfortable to sit in, but Grace not so much. "I just put a bullet in his head." 

"Was he lame?" 

"He looked at me the weong way," Tommy replied. "It's not a good idea to look at Tommy Shelby the wrong way." 

"What a waste," Grace replied sympathetically, voice soft as Tommy's face cried vulnerability. He looked so much longer, Grace thought. So much softer, as if his skin would melt under your touch. 

"Yeah," Tommy scoffed. "A waste is what it is. You know in France... in France I got used to seeing men die. Never got used to seeing horses die. They die badly." 

Grace felt something she hadn't ever felt before. She was an agent of the Crown, a woman trained in skillful ways, in a role where emotions couldn't afford to come into play. However, she felt guilty. She felt something for Thomas that she thought would be impossible, and she wondered whether Isabella was aware of such a feeling considering she was married to the man. 

Married. And yet here Grace was feeling as if Tommy wanted and enjoyed her company. God, she hated those baby blues, laced with something so powerful it had her shifting in her seat. But then the guilt came to play once more. Why was she close enough to look him in the eyes, the only person in the room able to do so? 

"I dug out a dress like you asked," Grace soke. "It's Cheltenham you're talking about?" 

"The King will be there."

"King George?" 

"King Billy Kimber and all his men," Tommy stated lightly. 

"I must ask, why isn't your wife going?" 

"Because my wife deserves better, Grace. Much, much better." 

"And I don't?"

"You're a barmaid working in my pub," Tommy scoffed.