Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (18 page)

Yet Stephen had only to look at her and she burned
like a flame in a gas lantern.

Though hurt
at his rejection of her request for an affair, she wasn’t completely surprised. Perhaps he was trying to be a gentleman. At any rate, the idea of not pursuing her relationship with Stephen further was unacceptable. After all these years, she’d at last discovered a man who stirred her senses in every way. She wasn’t willing to let that experience pass. Not yet.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sophia and Olivia who were
excited about a gathering they’d been invited to attend that afternoon. Abigail wasn’t sure if they were animated about the party or the idea of escaping lessons for a few hours.

Abigail nodded at the appropriate time when her opinion was consulted about what they should wear, but her thoughts remained on Stephen. Would a different tactic be more successful with him? What might have happened if she hadn
’t stopped to ask him about having an affair, but used seduction instead? She was sure he felt something for her, some kind of desire.

While she intended to spend her future alone, shouldn
’t she have a night to remember? A night that would make her a woman in full and give her memories for a lifetime?

“Abigail.”

The exasperated tone to her stepmother’s voice caught her attention.

“That
’s the third time I’ve called your name.” Irene’s eyes narrowed in concern. Or was it suspicion?

“I
’m sorry. I confess I’m a bit distracted this morning.” Abigail tried a smile, hoping to appease her.

“I would like to speak with you privately after breakfast.”

The girls hushed. Irene rarely requested such meetings and never in that tone.

“Of course.”

In short order, the girls departed for their lessons with curious looks.

Irene studied her for a long moment. “You know I love you like my own daughter...”

Abigail smothered a sigh. This was definitely going to be a lecture.

“But your recent behavior is highly concerning.” Irene held her gaze for a long moment. “You were so strong when your father died.” She reached out to take Abigail
’s hand. “I leaned on you when you should’ve been leaning on me. It was hard to remember how young you were when you acted so mature.”

“That was a difficult time for all of us. We got through it together.” She squeezed Irene
’s hand, wondering where she was going with this conversation.

“Yes, we did. But I have to wonder if I
’ve allowed you to become too independent. I’m not always certain you act in your own best interests.”

Abigail frowned. “I
’ve always put the welfare of the family first. You and the girls have been my top priority.”

Irene leveled her a stare. “Exactly. You are a young lady. Yet you act like the head of the family. You
’ve never had a chance to be normal.”

“Normal?” Offended, Abigail had to question her. “I
’m not certain I understand what you’re saying.”

Irene sighed as she released Abigail
’s hand. “My concern is your secretive behavior of late. You’re leaving the house without mentioning to anyone where you’re going. You did it again yesterday. And now you’re injured and I have to think it’s far more than your ankle. Are you rebelling because I burdened you too much when you were younger?”

“No.” Abigail hardly knew how to react to her
question when it was so far from the truth.

“I feel like you
’re keeping something from me.”

Abigail
’s heart thundered. This was her chance to share the burden of Simmons’ return, to tell her of the threat he posed. She could even tell her of her attraction to Stephen and the tumult of emotions she felt.

But all the years of protecting her could not be changed so easily. The business with Simmons might be over any day
. Wouldn’t revealing it to Irene now be selfish? They’d been so close to catching him yesterday. Why worry her? Abigail knew herself to be the stronger of the two of them and had years of proof of that.

Stephen had a guard hidden nearby to watch the house. Thomas and
Ponsford continued to watch over them as well. If they remained vigilant, Simmons couldn’t cause any harm. She’d just make sure they took extra care in the next few days.

She released a long, slow breath and pasted on a feeble smile. “I took a tumble when I hurt my ankle. I confess my shoulder is sore as well. I
’m just rather embarrassed at my clumsiness. That is why I didn’t want to tell you the extent of my injuries.”

Irene watched her and Abigail could practically see her weighing what she
’d said. “I would like to think that you would come to me with any concern you might have.”

“Of co
urse,” Abigail agreed.

“Hmm...I hope so.” Irene tapped a finger on her lip. “There
’s something different about you this morning. Are you certain that’s all that happened yesterday? Were you with Lord Ashbury?”

“I
—ah—” Guilt and shock warred within Abigail.

“Do you have
any sort of affection for him?”

“We have more of a
...business relationship,” she offered, hoping to appease her.

“Business?” Irene made the word sound rather distasteful. “Please tell me you
’re not attempting to convince him of the merits of some new investment scheme you’ve found.”

Abigail dropped her gaze. Maybe she should
’ve told her the truth, but she could hardly explain that she’d almost been compromised, but not quite. She’d almost made love, but not really. That she was still trying to find some way to convince Stephen to cooperate.

“Honestly, dear, I don
’t think that wise. Men hate being told what to do and heaven forbid if he realizes how intelligent you are.”

“
Oh!” Abigail could only stare. Where did Irene get such ideas?

“I know your financial endeavors are important to you but do try to hold your tongue around
him. Men of his ilk like to be the one giving advice.”

“I
—”

Irene patted her hand. “
You promised me you’d be willing to explore your feelings if they should arise. After all, he might be using business as a ruse to get closer to you.” She studied Abigail closer. “Should we have a more detailed discussion about intimacy? I always assumed you’d come to me if you wanted to know more details.”

“No need.” Abigail could only imagine how red her cheeks must be.

“You
do
know you can speak to me about anything? That I’m always here for you? That I love you dearly?”

“Indeed I do and I
’m extremely grateful for it. I love you, too.”

Irene released her hand and smiled. “Enough of this conversation.” She rose, smoothing the front of her gown. “I suggest you rest today. The less you walk on that ankle, the better.”

Abigail smiled with relief at the change in the subject. “You’re right. What of you and the girls? Do you have plans other than the gathering this afternoon?”

“I believe it
’s our only outing for the day.”

“Is Thomas driving you?
”

“
Unless you’ll need him,” Irene said.

Relieved they
’d be well protected, Abigail shook her head. “No, I’ll remain home today. Perhaps Mrs. Weatherly can visit me. Shall we plan on dining together this evening? Perhaps we can convince the girls to play for us.”

“That would be lovely. I look forward to it.” Irene paused beside Abigail
’s chair. “You’re certain you’re all right? You really do seem...different somehow.”

It took all of Abigail
’s resolve to maintain her composure. Why now, after all these years, did her stepmother choose to be quite so insightful? “I’m fine. Truly.”

“By the way, there was a
ruffian lingering outside the kitchen entrance this morning. I had Thomas send him on his way. We don’t want people lining up at the door seeking handouts.”

Abigail
’s stomach plummeted. The man had been sent by Stephen as an additional guard. She could only hope Thomas or Ponsford had remedied the situation since they were aware of the man Stephen had sent.

Lying was always so much more complicated than one anticipated. How was she going to manage to keep the
whole problem a secret even for a few more days?

Weston paced Stephen
’s library the next morning, his steps jerky with tension. “If this is some sort of hoax, some trick to get us to reveal ourselves...”

Stephen sat slumped in his chair, tired from his night
’s work. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to grasp why Weston was so riled. “Reveal what?”

After he and Weston had finished their foray into the empty warehouse, he
’d met with Farley at the gaming den and solved a few problems there, among them stopping a lord from cheating at cards. He and Farley had then visited the East End again in hopes of finding something about the missing children. The leads on that case had dried up. The conversations and activities at several taverns had yielded little. A man had taken a disliking to Farley at one of the bars, and they’d had to create a diversion to avoid a fight.

On nights like that, he was tempted to let events unfold without him. Trying to find reasons to prevent people from acting upon their impulses without appearing a crazed lunatic was no easy task. At times people were grateful for his interference. Others became frightened of him as they feared he could read their minds. Still others became outraged at his meddling, certain he was spying on them.

In the few hours he’d had to rest afterward, sleep had eluded him. Dark, dragging despair had nipped at the edges of his mind, making slumber impossible.

As he watched Weston pace, Stephen
shook his head. More people had been in his home, his private sanctuary, in the past two days then in the past five years combined. Weston had come of his own accord this morning. How had that come to pass? He wasn’t sure if his exhaustion was the problem, but he couldn’t determine what his friend was going on about.

“Don
’t be a fool.” The look Weston cast him would’ve withered a weaker man.

“Ah.” At last, light dawned on him. “You
’re referring to our aura reading abilities.” He waited, wondering if Weston would actually admit to anything. Weston hadn’t discussed his ability to read success or failure since he’d first revealed it before the professor’s funeral. “No one knows anything about us or our odd talents. Besides, we found nothing at the warehouse.”

Weston stopped and stared at him as though his brain was addled.

“What? Three rings on the floor can hardly be called actual evidence,” Stephen argued.

“Hmm.”

“Have you told anyone about your...” Stephen hesitated on the proper term to use.

“Ailment?” Weston finished. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

Stephen shrugged. “With Lucas in Brazil, there’s only the two of us. I’ve told only one person, someone I’d trust with my life.” Farley would never betray him. “So how could it be a hoax to draw us out? Who would bother?”

Weston spun away to look out the window.

“Did you discover anything about those empty crates in the warehouse?” Stephen was certain something else had raised this level of unease in Weston. His mood was significantly more agitated than when they’d parted ways the previous night.

“Nothing of interest. However, I did find out the lease on the building is under the name of Leon Smith.”

Stephen thought on the name for a moment, trying to determine why it sounded familiar. “Wasn’t Professor Grisby’s middle name Leon?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a bit of a coincidence.”

Weston turned back to look at him. “Surely you remember I don
’t believe in coincidences.”

“Interesting that they could move things
out of the warehouse so quickly.”

“Yes. Those circles on the floor, what exactly did you think of when you saw them?”

“Probably the same thing you did.”

Weston picked up the small transducer coil from Stephen
’s desk and held it up.

Stephen nodded. “But where did they move them to?”

Weston rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have no idea. Nor did anyone share information when we asked around. If they were transducer coils, they’d be large and heavy. Someone should’ve noticed them being loaded and hauled away.”

Stephen frowned. “Were you by chance dressed normally when you made inquiries?”

“What do you mean?”

“You tend to be dressed in the height of fashion. The knot in your cravat puts most to shame.”

Weston touched the item in question. “I hardly think a person’s answer differs when questioned by a man with a properly tied neck scarf than...”

“Than someone who looks less like a well-to-do lord and more like their own
kind?” Stephen finished when words seemed to elude Weston.

Weston scowled. “Perhaps you
’re right. However, unlike your Miss Bradford, I don’t happen to possess a disguise that would make me look like I live on the streets.”

Stephen
’s stomach lurched at the words ‘Your Miss Bradford’. “She’s not mine.”

Weston raised a brow. “I beg to differ. At any rate, I
’ll see if I can come up with more suitable attire and return to the area near the warehouse to make additional inquiries. Would you care to join me?”

“Perhaps. Send word when you
’re going and I’ll see what I can arrange. If I can’t come, I’ll send Farley with you. He’s extremely helpful in these situations. It might be worthwhile to search the warehouse again in the light of day.”

“Good point,” Weston said. “I also spoke to the man who wrote that article you found in the
newspaper. He had nothing more to offer other than confirming that the scientist who’s making those claims is very secretive. A recluse. He knows nothing more than what he wrote.”

Stephen nodded, then opened a drawer in his desk, took out the meteorite he
’d taken from Abigail, and tossed it to Weston.

“It
’s heavy.”

“I believe its density is part of its appeal.”

“Along with its magnetic properties.” Weston turned it over and over in his palm. “The fusion crust is easily identifiable just as Professor Grisby described.”

“I wish I was clearer on what Grisby thought it would do and how he intended to use it with the coils.”

“He was rather vague on that, wasn’t he?”

“In hindsight, one might even think he didn
’t trust us enough to reveal those details,” Stephen offered.

“Or perhaps he didn
’t think three university students would be interested enough to care.”

Stephen shrugged.
Weston had a valid point. The three of them had thought the experiments more of a lark than serious business. They hadn’t really believed anything significant would come of the tests.

Weston sat in the chair opposite Stephen
’s desk and leaned forward. “You don’t truly believe he could’ve survived the accident, do you?”

“How could he? Lucas nearly didn
’t survive. There’s no possible way Grisby did. We both saw his body. He had no pulse.” Stephen tapped his fingers on his desk as he thought it over. Again. “All I know is that something is awry and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.”

“Have you told Miss Bradford of the reason this stone is so desirable?”

“No.” Guilt filled him at the admission but he reminded himself it was for her own protection. “The less she knows the better.”

Weston shook his head.
“I hope you know what you’re about. Do you have a plan in mind?”

“One involving the stone in your hand.”

Weston tossed it lightly up in the air and caught it. “Excellent idea. Perhaps Professor Grisby wasn’t the only one searching for a meteorite like this.”

***

Winston, Stephen’s butler, opened the door with a smile, his blue eyes twinkling. “Good day to you, Miss Bradford.”

“And to you, Winston.”

Abigail’s stomach whirled as though she’d spun too many times while playing blind man’s buff. The thought of seeing Stephen again after their passionate interlude the previous day had her emotions in a tumult. How did one act the day after? Pretend as if nothing untoward had occurred? Or be prepared to pick up where things had left off? She wished she knew the proper etiquette for this sort of meeting.

“I
’m afraid Lord Ashbury is not at home at the moment,” the butler said, as he stepped aside for Abigail to enter the foyer.

She
sighed, whether from relief or disappointment, she wasn’t certain. In truth, she wasn’t yet prepared to see Stephen. “Actually, I’ve come to visit Hubert if I may.” She held up a box of candy. “I brought him a little something.”

“
How kind of you, miss. He’s a bit restless, so your call will be a welcome distraction.”

Guilt flooded her. “Is he in pain?”

“Some, of course, but I think boredom is the worst of his symptoms at the moment,” he said. “However, the doctor advised that rest is imperative.”

Winston led the way to the top floor of the house where Hubert was ensconced in a comfortable room. The boy was propped up on the pillows, his face still pale
, but his expression lit up at her arrival.

“Good day to you, Hubert. How are you feeling?” Abigail asked.

“Fairly well, miss. And ye?”

“Thank you, Winston,” she
told the butler as he left the room. She settled in the chair near Hubert’s bed and looked over her shoulder as though to ensure they were alone, then whispered, “I confess I’m a bit sore.”

Hubert chuckled. “Nothin
’ like a street brawl to test yer skills.”

Abigail shook her head
, still shocked at the events of the previous day. “It was certainly a new experience for me. Do you hurt much?”

“Nah. Ain
’t too bad if I stay still. It’s a bit borin’ is all.” The scowl on his face spoke volumes.

“
Resting will help you heal.”

“I think I
’d be fine back on the streets, but Lord Ashbury says otherwise,” he grumbled.

“It
’s impossible to argue with him. I’d advise against it.”

Hubert
nodded. “He’s a standup lord. Ain’t no doubt. He offered to replace my income while I’m laid up.”

“Very generous of him.” Abigail
was impressed by Stephen’s thoughtfulness.

“I
’m not so certain about his other idea.”

“Oh?” Abigail waited, curious as to what that might be.

“He wants me to go to school.”

Abigail’s heart expanded another notch.
Bless Stephen for encouraging the boy. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

Hubert shook his head as though he couldn’t imagine
doing so. “If it was anyone else but his lordship suggestin’ such a thing, I’d tell them to bugger off. But his lordship has a gift fer judgin’ people.”

“How do you mean?”

“He can tell if...” Hubert narrowed his eyes as though deciding how best to explain.

But she was desperate to hear it. “He can tell what?”

He shrugged. “If someone has good intentions or not. I’m not sure how to describe it. But he’s helped some of the other kids from the workhouse. Saved them, in fact. If not for him, they’d have ended up in some terrible factory or out on the streets like meself.”

“
How so?”

“
He takes in as many of the young ones as he can at the orphanage he sponsors, but the older kids—those he deems worthy—he helps get them in schools or jobs. He’s spot on at pickin’ the good ones. Some of the kids already settled on a life of crime. They’ve no interest in learnin’ a proper job. They’d prefer pickin’ pockets or the like. They’d turn their backs on ye without a second thought.”

“Oh?”

“But his lordship can tell those with just a glance. I don’t know how, but he’s right every time.”

“Amazing.” She thought back to previous conversations with him,
what he’d said about both Catherine and Brighton.

“We
’ve been tryin’ to figure out how he does it but with no luck. It’s a right mystery, it is.”

“Unbelievable.” He hid this all from society whereas other gentlemen involved in charitable activities bragged of their social responsibility. Why? And how did he so accurately determine those he could save and those he couldn
’t?

“I brought you a little something.” Abigail handed him the box. It seemed so inadequate compared to what he
’d done for her. “I know it’s not much.”

Hubert tore into the wrapped package with glee. “Chocolates? Oh, thank you, miss. What a treat.
The other lads will be jealous and I’m not willin’ to share.”

Abigail smiled, happy Hubert was so pleased with her token. “Don
’t eat them all at once. You’ll end up with a stomach ache.”

Hubert nodded around a mouthful of one of the sweets.

“Your bravery saved my life.” Tears clogged her throat as the terror of that moment claimed her again. She’d thought Simmons intended to kill her just as he’d killed her father. “Simmons would’ve succeeded in dragging me off if not for your valiant efforts.”