Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (21 page)

“What do you want?” she demanded even as her heart pounded.

He studied her from head to toe. “Yer dressed a bit different than the last time I saw ye. Hope I didn’t damage ye much.”

Abigail didn
’t bother to answer. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain Emma was behind her then risked a glance out the shop window, hoping to get Stephen’s attention.

“Lookin
’ for yer protector?” Simmons asked. “Yeah, I saw him out there. He seems to be everywhere ye are. He’s got people watchin’ every damned place I want to go. How’s a man supposed to do his business with so many eyes followin’ him?”

“We could resolve all this if we stepped outside and spoke with Lord Ashbury.” Fear made her chest tight, making breathing difficult. She eased back another step.

“I think not. Yer the one I want to speak with. Think those guards posted at yer house are goin’ to protect ye?”

“Why do you insist on bothering us?”

“I want the rock. I’ve told ye that, but still ye don’t hand it over.”

“I have no idea
to which rock you’re referring.” Abigail moved farther away, hoping she and her maid could get close enough to the door to make a run for it.

“I think ye do, and I
’m growin’ weary of the lies.” His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “If ye don’t get it for me, I’ll be comin’ to collect it. And next time I pay a visit ter yer house, I won’t be so friendly. Blood will be shed, just like with yer father.”

Emma gasped as Abigail
’s vision filled with flashes of memory, stealing her ability to think. Fear made her feet leaden. She glanced at Mr. Skyrme who appeared stunned from the invasion of his shop. No help would come from that quarter.

Simmons cocked his head to the side. “Ye best stop backin
’ up or I’ll have ta—”

He stared at something out the window then scrunched his shoulders like a turtle retreating into its shell. “Damn me.”

Abigail turned to look behind her to see Stephen enter the shop just as Simmons bolted for the back door.

“Bloody hell.” Stephen glanced at her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

But she was speaking to his back as he sprinted after Simmons. The rear door slammed, leaving silence in its wake.

Abigail looked at Mr. Skyrme, who still leaned on the counter where he’d landed.

“I say, what was that all about?” he asked.

“Part of the omens you mentioned,” Abigail muttered.

“Pardon me?”

“Never mind.” She sank into a nearby chair to ease her trembling legs, hoping her heart didn’t beat its way out of her chest.

Two streets away Stephen stopped, unable to locate Simmons. He’d lost him in the crowded thoroughfare.

“Damn.”

He leapt up the front steps of a nearby building and scanned the area, searching for a fleeing figure wearing a brown bowler hat.

Nothing.

On this busy street, Simmons could easily have removed his hat, slowed his pace and blended in with the other people on the sidewalk.

Frustrated,
Stephen turned to make his way back to the apothecary. Though tempted to search further, he couldn’t risk leaving Abigail alone. Simmons was clever enough to circle around for her. That was something Stephen wouldn’t allow.

He entered the shop, listening carefully to see if any conversation sounded unnatural. Only the even tones of Abigail and the shopkeeper greeted him. He glanced around the corner to catch sight of her. If her aura looked similar to when Simmons had appeared, he
’d know danger was near. It had turned a muddy blue and thinned in places, and he’d known something was terribly wrong.

Now she stood, nodding politely to whatever the shopkeeper was telling her. She glanced at the stuffed alligator out of the corner of her eye then turned away. Her maid waited nearby.

Abigail’s beauty here in this simple shop gave him pause. Her vivid blue eyes radiated intelligence. Her black hair shined in the light adorned with a clever hat set at an angle. He could envision her removing it as she had yesterday. If only she knew how erotic her disrobing had been. He knew he should regret making love with her, yet how could he? Never had he burned with desire as he did for her.

Afterward, his pleasure had dimmed knowing
that he couldn’t let it happen again. He had to keep her at a distance for both their sakes. If she were to get with child, they’d be forced to marry. He couldn’t allow that. She wasn’t his to keep. He wasn’t fit to be a husband, especially not to a woman like her. If she were bound to him, her golden light might be forever smothered by the darkness inside him.

Still, he couldn
’t help but admire her as she chatted amiably with the shopkeeper as though the encounter with the man who’d killed her father and now threatened her family was of little consequence. She caught sight of him, and her face lit with relief.

“Are you all right, my lord?
”

“Yes.
Although I fear I lost our quarry in the crowd.”

Her disappointment was palpable. He knew how much she wanted t
his whole situation to be over.

She shook her head. “He must
’ve been following us. He knew you were out front.” Alarm flooded her features. “You don’t suppose he’s going to my home...”

“No.
My guess is that he’ll retreat to determine a new plan.”

“Oh, dear.” Abigail
’s gaze scanned the room as if it would tell her what that plan might be.

“May I inquire if all is well?” The shopkeeper
’s question seemed to pull Abigail back from her thoughts.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Sk
yrme. And for allowing me to wait here.” She picked up the wrapped items from the counter and handed them to her nervous maid.

Stephen watched the shopkeeper, trying to determine how upset the man was. His aura was a muddled gray but held a hint of blue. Stephen hoped that sign of intelligence meant the man was not overly wrought from the events of the last few minutes.

“No damage to you or your shop?” Stephen inquired.

“No
ne at all. Thank you, my lord.”

“You might want to keep that back door locked.” He bid the man good day then opened the front door for
Abigail as her maid followed.

“This will outdo his worry over the moon and the crows,” Abigail said.

Puzzled, Stephen looked down at her as he offered her his elbow. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I. The man has more omens and prophecies to tell than he has remedies to sell. Today
’s events will give him something else to talk about.”

Stephen
smiled as he searched for any sign of Simmons. He was still annoyed that he’d missed spotting the man. “Do you think he’ll share the excitement with Lady Bradford when she shops there again?”

Abigail halte
d to stare up at him in dismay.

“I fear you
’re going to have to apprise her of the issues that have arisen after all,” he suggested.

“Oh, no.” Her shoulders wilted as her
gloved hand fluttered up to her collarbone, and her aura dimmed. “I suppose you’re correct.”

Stephen guided her aside so they weren
’t halting the other passersby, her maid waiting at a discreet distance.

“If I tell her, I...” Her loss for words pulled at
him. “I’ve failed my promise to my father.” Her blue eyes filled with unshed tears. “I promised to protect them and I haven’t.”

Stephen drew her arm tighter to his side, the only way he could offer comfort in such a public place. “You haven
’t failed anyone. No harm has befallen them.”

She shook her head, clearly not convinced. “The mention of Simmons alone will frighten Irene. To learn that he
’s made threats all for some sort of rock—”

“Did he mention the rock again? Did he describe it?” Warning bells sounded in Stephen
’s mind.

“
He asked for it, and I told him to be more specific. He insists I should know, but I don’t. Do you think it could be the one you have?”

“
It might be.” He had to find a way to lure Simmons out of hiding without putting Abigail at risk.

***

Dread pooled in the pit of Abigail’s stomach as she sat with her stepmother in the drawing room later that evening.

Sophia and Olivia
were safely ensconced in their room. Apparently they were quite enjoying the new novel that was all the rage among their friends and were anxious to continue reading. Abigail had been delighted to realize Mr. Larson from the bookstore where she’d met Stephen had published the book. She’d already made arrangements to invest in his bookstore and looked forward to speaking with him personally about expanding it.

But right now, her concern was how
to tell Irene that Vincent Simmons was not dead. She was having the worst time forming the words. She feared Irene would collapse in tears, much as she had when any other bad news had been delivered.

“Abigail?”

She looked up to find Irene’s green eyes on her, brows puckered with concern.

“Whatever is the matter?”

Tears rushed into her eyes before she could stop them.

Immediately Irene rose
and sat beside her. She put an arm around her shoulders and rested her head against Abigail’s. “Tell me, darling. What’s wrong?”

“We have a problem.” Abigail forced out the words.

Irene drew back to look into her eyes. “What sort of problem?”

Abigail took Irene
’s hand in her own. She swallowed the lump in her throat, determined to find the courage to tell her. “Vincent Simmons did not hang for Father’s murder.”

“That can
’t be.” Her stepmother’s face paled as she sank back in the settee. “We received confirmation of his death.”

“Somehow he switched places with another man who hung in his stead. He was released from prison nearly three weeks ago.”

“How could that have happened? We must notify the police so they can arrest him again.”

“I tried, but they don
’t believe me. Their records show he’s dead. I’ve argued to the contrary, but to no avail.”

“He
’s the one who broke into our home, isn’t he?” Irene put a trembling hand to her mouth.

“I think so.”

“Oh, dear heavens! What could that devil possibly want from us? He already took your father.”

Her upset made Abigail wish she could take back her words.
But she couldn’t. Irene needed to be informed for her own safety, so Abigail made herself continue. “He says he wants a rock from Father’s collection.”

“You
’ve spoken with him?” Irene asked, her eyes wide with shock.

“
Yes.” She shared some of the details without elaborating on Stephen’s suspicions that something more was underfoot.

“Abigail!” The
tears in Irene’s eyes spoke volumes. “You must be careful. I simply couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”

“You won
’t. I promise.” She couldn’t help but put a hand to the high neck of her gown that hid the cut from Simmons’ knife. “Lord Ashbury has been assisting me with this...problem.”

“Oh.” She looked almost disappointed at this news. “That
’s very kind of him, but I’d rather hoped something else was bringing you together.”

Abigail lowered her gaze. She had no idea how to re
spond. She decided it best not to. She could only deal with one issue at a time.

“Until we
eliminate the threat of Simmons, I’d like you and the girls to go to the country and stay with Uncle Reginald.” It was the only way Abigail could think of to keep them safe.

“To Kent? But that
’s where he killed your father!” Irene’s eyes filled with tears, and the sight squeezed Abigail’s heart.

“Simmons is in London, so
you’d be safe in Kent. I’ll send Thomas with you along with some other—”

Irene shook her head. “We
’re not going anywhere without you.”

“I need to stay and see this through. Please take the girls and go,” Abigail pleaded.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Abigail hadn
’t realized how stubborn Irene could be.

“Lord Ashbury will watch over me. I
’ll send word as soon as the problem is resolved.”

Irene rested her hand on Abigail
’s shoulder. “We’ll be safe if we stay together. I do realize you shield me from many of the troubles you face on behalf of our family, but not anymore.”

“Mother
—”

“I will not hear of you dealing with this alone. From now on, you
’ll allow me to help with the dilemmas that arise. We will work through any problems together. Including this one.”

Abigail
hardly knew what to say. This was the last result she’d expected from the conversation. She’d thought her stepmother would welcome escaping to the country rather than risking a confrontation with Simmons. A heavy weight inside Abigail eased. “If you remain, you must promise to take extra precautions.”

“Of course, if you promise me the same.”

To have her stepmother’s support meant more than she could’ve guessed. “We’ll both be careful,” she agreed.

“Now then, let us discuss this further over a glass of sherry, shall we? I find myself in need of sustenance.”

She rang for Ponsford who appeared so quickly that Abigail wondered if he’d been listening outside the door.

“Bring us two glasses of sherry,
Ponsford. And the bottle as well.”

The butler raised a brow in surprise but nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

“I cannot fathom that Simmons managed to change places with someone.” Irene shook her head at the idea. “What could he want with this rock?” she asked as though they discussed nothing more than tomorrow’s schedule.

“I
’ve no idea. Lord Ashbury looked through Father’s collection and found one he thought interesting. But we still don’t know why Simmons would want any of them.”

“Didn
’t your father have a list of them somewhere? Perhaps that would give us insight,” Irene suggested as Ponsford returned with the sherry and poured two glasses. “He was forever going on about their qualities. I think he jotted down many of them.”

“I haven
’t been able to find that list. It seems to have disappeared.” She and Ponsford had searched the library for it earlier.

“Hmm. Why don
’t you show me which rock Lord Ashbury thought might be the one in question? Perhaps that will jog my memory.”

“He took it with him.”

“Why?” Irene frowned at her as she sipped.

“I don
’t know. He didn’t say.” Abigail shivered as a trickle of unease passed through her.

Irene
sipped again. “You’re aware he has the reputation of being...shall we say, a man who walks his own path, are you not?”

Abigail felt
Ponsford’ gaze on her as well. She hadn’t forgotten that he considered Stephen dangerous. In all honesty, there were times when he was, but never toward her. “Yes.”

“Do you think he
’s trustworthy?”

“I do.” She avoided looking at
Ponsford as she took a drink. Surely she couldn’t be wrong.

Irene gestured to
Ponsford to refill her glass. “Did he think the rock valuable?”