Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (10 page)

She moved with grace, her dark hair gleaming under the
lights of the softly lit ballroom. The strands were twisted in an intricate manner then pulled back to tumble in curls down her neck. A neck that begged to be kissed. She fit him perfectly, following his movements as though they’d danced many times before.

He rarely attended balls or other social events. The crowds here were nearly as
painful as the one at the Bull and Boar Tavern. Just as many held desperate urges and his head pounded in response. Yet as he focused on Abigail, the distractions faded, lessening his discomfort. The simple act of holding her seemed to settle the restlessness deep inside him.

As they spun to the music, Abigail let out a laugh of delight. “You
’re very good.”

He couldn
’t help but smile at her enjoyment. More easily than he expected, he pushed the sight of other people’s auras and their urges aside and focused on her. The beauty of the moment, of Abigail, soaked into him. Everything else became a blur. Her gaze held his and even the sounds around him faded.

Her responsiveness to his every step on the dance floor made him wonder how responsive she
’d be in his bed. Would she follow his lead? Go where he guided? Desire spiked through him at the thought.

When s
he tipped her head back and laughed, it was all he could do not to pull her close and devour her.

Heady with
need, he knew he had to stop, to end this torture. Yet he couldn’t. This sort of pleasure came into his life—his lonely existence—so rarely; he couldn’t bear for it to end when it had only begun.

All too soon, the notes of the
music faded, and they were forced to stop. He enjoyed the feel of Abigail in his arms, their bodies scandalously close for a long moment, before at last he released her.

What had made him think he needed to seek her out at the ball? He could never again be part of this world.
He might have kept his involvement in The Barbican hidden, but if he moved in these circles, it wouldn’t remain that way. Far worse, if polite society knew of his aura reading, he’d be considered a freak, an oddity better displayed in Covent Garden alongside the fat lady or the elephant man. Not to mention what Abigail would think.

He was unfit to be
a husband. He couldn’t allow his desire for this woman make him forget.

“Is something amiss?” Abigail
’s eyes were full of concern.

If only she knew how truly amiss things were. He mentally slammed the door on his longing for things that could never be and put his mask firmly in place.
He needed to return his focus to the business at hand.

“We
’ve found Simmons’ new lodgings. It’s being watched and we hope to locate him within the next day. I thought you’d want to know.”

The brilliant light in her cobalt eyes dimmed, much to his surprise. He thought she
’d be pleased with the news.

“Is that why you came here?” she asked, her tone flat.

He frowned. “I rarely attend balls.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Abigail—”

“Tell me more of his lodgings.” She seemed to be all business now.

“He isn’t there often according to the sources we’ve found, but we’ll catch him upon his return.”

“Good.”

“I’ll keep you apprised of any further progress.”

“Of course.”

Blast the woman! Why did he feel like he’d disappointed her? What did she want him to say? That he’d come here expressly to see her? Well, he had. But for her sake as well as his own, the reason had to be to advise her of the latest development in their pursuit of Simmons. After all, he well knew if he didn’t she’d seek him out. And look at what had happened the last two times she’d done so.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.
” He bowed and left her with her stepmother.

“And you as well, my lord.” She turned away without a backward glance.

***

The evening
passed with excruciating slowness for Abigail once Lord Ashbury had departed. Dancing with him had left her longing for more, but she knew all other partners would fall short. Then again, it wasn’t really dancing for which she longed.

The way she felt when she was with him was indescribable. Something about him drew forth a yearning deep within her.
His slow smile started in his eyes then crooked the corner of his mouth before becoming a smile in full. But it was worth waiting for.

When she was in his arms, s
he could think of nothing else. She feared he’d forever ruined dancing for her. They’d moved as though they’d been made for each other. He had an effortless grace with an innate rhythm that made the waltz a true joy.

Or perhaps she
’d just felt as if she were floating because of the way he made her feel, not because of how he danced. She sighed at the thought.

Though she told herself over and over she was glad he
’d reminded her that their relationship was only business, she couldn’t quite convince herself. The pleasure had gone out of the evening and she wanted nothing more than to go home.

“Mother, are you planning on staying
much longer?” Abigail asked, hopeful that she might be ready to leave.

“I
’m rather enjoying myself, dear. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” she lied. “I just wondered how long you
’d like to stay.”

“Who was the man you were dancing with earlier?”

“No one special.” Her heart felt heavy at the answer for he wasn’t—he couldn’t be.

Irene smiled
as she glanced past Abigail’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’d like to dance some more. I know how much you enjoy doing so.”

Abigail
’s heart leapt to her throat. She spun to see if Stephen had returned.

Lord Brighton stood behind her, smiling broadly, yellowed teeth in full display.

Disappointment speared through her, followed by dread. Something about him made her uneasy.

“Now that your ankle is better, may I request the honor of this dance?” Lord Brighton
’s expression was confident.

His
certainty alone irritated her.

“Abigail, do grant Lord Brighton
’s request. He’s asking so nicely,” Irene implored her.

She turned to stare at Irene, wondering what on earth had gotten into her. Why was she pleading Lord Brighton
’s cause?

Left with no choice, she reluctantly nodded her acceptance.

The music swelled and the dance began. He stepped on her toe twice and kept such a firm hold on her hand that her fingers were numb. His performance, or rather lack thereof, was all the more noticeable after her dance with Lord Ashbury.

She escaped Lord Brighton as quickly as possible
only to catch sight of Lord Thompson moving in her direction. She couldn’t stand another meaningless conversation with an overdressed dandy who acted as if he did her a great favor by showing interest in her.

With a quick word to Irene, she slipped out the garden door into the cool evening air. She watched through
a window as Lord Thompson arrived at where she’d been standing moments before and searched the crowd for her.

She sighed with relief at the near miss then gave a startled gasp when warm hands grasped her arms from behind.

“I knew you’d eventually follow me outside. I’m glad I waited for you.”

The strong odor of onions made Abigail turn her head away. “Lord Brighton, I didn
’t realize you were out here.”

He laughed as he turned her around to face him, keeping a tight hold on her. “I don
’t believe you, but play the innocent. I must say I find that appealing.”

She stepped back
only to come up against the high, brick garden wall. A flutter of panic tumbled through her, but she pushed it away with anger. “I must return to the ballroom. Mother will wonder where I’ve gone.”

“I think your mother might approve of us having a little time to ourselves. I
’ve been waiting for this opportunity all evening. I’m not about to let you sneak off now.” He moved closer, one finger trailing up and down her arm.

Trying not to inhale his obnoxious breath, she pushed him back. “You
’re taking liberties I don’t appreciate. I’m going back inside.”

He seized her again, the feel of his
gloved hands on the bare skin of her arms repulsive. “Not before you bestow a kiss on me, my dear. You’ve teased me all night.”

“I have not and I resent you saying so. I was merely being polite. Let me be clear
—I’m not interested in pursuing any sort of involvement with you.” Again she shoved him back, but he didn’t budge.

“You may not be interested in me, but I
’m interested in you. I don’t mind your bookish ways overmuch. Intelligence is occasionally an asset in a wife, as long as you keep it to a minimum. We’d make an excellent match.” He held her tight, trapping her arms between them, and attempted a kiss.

Abigail turned her head and his lips landed on her cheek. She held on to the anger that poured through her at
his forward behavior and tried to shove him back but he didn’t budge.

“Cease this madness at once!” She struggled against him, shocked at how strong he was, unable to believe him capable of this. “What sort of gentleman are you?”

He laughed—a very unpleasant sound. “The kind who takes what he wants. Just the man a headstrong woman like you needs.”

“Let me go!” She wrenched one hand free and managed to punch him in the stomach, but as she suspected, he wore a corset. The blow did nothing to deter him.

“I admit I occasionally like it rough,” he said with another laugh. “But your independent streak will be a thing of the past once I’m through with you.”

Fear rushed through her and she fought his hold in earnest.

“Easy now,” he chided. “We’ll soon be interrupted by Lord Thompson, your mother, and Lady Mortenson. I fear I’ll be forced to propose and you’ll be forced to accept.”

Panic, hot and liquid, surged. She looked him in the eye, determined to make herself clear. “I will not marry you and nothing you do or say will coerce me.”

He shoved her back against the wall, the force stealing her breath, the violence of his attack shocking her. “You’ll do as I say or pay the price.” He kissed her again, this time finding his target. His tongue filled her mouth, the taste gagging her. Then he drew back and squeezed her breast through the fabric of her gown.

“Leave me be!” She lifted her knee, aiming for his gro
in, but he blocked her attempt.

“Such a fighter. That makes me want you e
ven more.” Again he shoved her.

This time, her head struck the brick and a black haze filled her vision. Stunned from the impact, she felt his hands at the neck of her gown followed by the cool night air on her naked breast.
He pinched her nipple painfully.

“You are a beauty, Abigail. Too headstrong by far. I can
’t wait to tame you in proper fashion.”

Abigail struggled harder, realizing Lord Brighton might very well succeed in his attempt to compromise her. But he anticipated her every move. Terrified, she tried to clear her head enough to determine a way to escape him.

Without warning, his bulky form was torn from her. She searched the darkness, dreading the sight of her stepmother’s horrified expression.

Rage coursed through
Stephen as he shook Brighton like a rag doll. How dare the lecher put his hands on Abigail.

“Leave me be
,” Lord Brighton cried.

“You bastard.
” Stephen let go of Brighton’s jacket and plowed his fist into his jaw.

Brighton howled in pain, but Stephen wasn
’t finished. He repeated the hammering twice more until Brighton crumpled to the ground. He bent over Brighton’s inert form, ready to do more damage.

“Stephen?”

Abigail’s trembling voice pulled him out of the red haze that filled him. He hesitated before looking at her, not wanting to see the disgust and horror her expression would surely reflect after what she’d witnessed him do.

Before he could utter an apology,
she stepped toward him, her expression filled with relief. Then she stumbled, and he swept her into his arms. Her face was as pale as the frost at dawn. Regret washed through him as he realized he could’ve prevented this.

“I
’m sorry, Abigail,” he whispered. “I saw Brighton’s ill intent in the ball room, but I thought it overzealous lust. I never believed the man would orchestrate something like this.”

He heard voices
approaching and could think of no explanation to the scene that would not create a scandal.

“Please, don
’t let them find me,” Abigail murmured as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He needed no further urging to carry her to his nearby carriage. He
’d left the ball by the same door as Abigail then had watched her through the window like some lovesick schoolboy before at last walking away. But while waiting for his carriage, he’d been unable to shake off his unease and returned to the garden entrance to find Brighton accosting her.

His footman hurried forward to hold open the carriage door. “Can I be of assistance, my lord?”

“Find Lady Bradford and advise her that her daughter isn’t feeling well and is returning home.”

Stephen stepped into the carriage and
settled Abigail on the seat beside him, her head buried in his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She kept her head down and nodded.

He eased back so he could look at her in the soft lantern light, searching her face to make sure she spoke the truth. “What were you thinking? What possessed you to be outside with that blundering fool? Surely at your age you know better.”

“I went out by myself in order to avoid Lord Thompson.” She winced as she touched her head.

The blood on her fingers caused an odd pressure in his chest. He wanted to hold her tight and never let her go, keeping her safe in his embrace. “You shouldn’t go anywhere alone. Especially not with Simmons lurking about.”

“It isn
’t my fault Lord Brighton concocted some crazed plan to force me into marriage.”

He cursed himself once again. If only he
’d watched Brighton closer. “What plan?”

“He said my stepmother
and several others would soon find us in a compromising position so he’d be
forced
to propose and I’d have to accept.”

Stephen wanted to shake her, to make sure she realized what a near miss she
’d had. “Why would you go outside by yourself in the first place?”

She glared at him. “The same reason you did, my lord. To escape the
crowded ballroom.”

It was hard not to sympathize with her when she
stated it like that. “Next time, take an escort with you. If not Brighton, Simmons could’ve been waiting in the garden for you.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “At times, an esco
rt is impossible. My head hurts.” She pressed her hand to it again.

“Not as much as Brighton
’s.”

“There is some comfort in that.” She looked up at him. “Thank you. I
’m not certain what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”

How remarkable that she wasn’t appalled at the beating he’d given Brighton, that she hadn’t turned and run when she’d witnessed the violence of which he was capable.
He cleared his throat, trying to keep his mind on their conversation rather than the flood of emotions coursing through him.

“You’d be
engaged. To an idiot.”

“I would
’ve refused.”

“
The choice wouldn’t be yours,” he argued.

“In case you haven
’t noticed, we live in modern times.”

He shook his head. “You underestimate the power of society and its opinion of you and your entire family. Ruination is no easy path to walk.”

“Yet here I am alone in a carriage with you.”

“No one saw us.”

As she winced again, Stephen’s anger softened. “You’re right. This is not your fault. That lies squarely with Brighton. But you must be more careful.” He lifted his hand to cup her cheek.

“Brighton is not the first to try to manipulate me.”

“Nor will he be the last.” He wanted to say that she was a beautiful, eligible woman whom any man would be lucky to call his wife. But he kept his words to himself.

She sighed and rested her cheek in his palm. “It
’s very tiresome to be on guard from such things. Especially at my age.”

The thought of some man putting his hands on her enraged him all over again. He closed his eyes for a moment to
tamp down his anger. “You are far from on the shelf. I’d suggest you find a husband who can offer you protection.”

“I don
’t intend to marry.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I believe we have time.” He gently brushed a strand of her hair off her cheek, wondering if she trusted him enough to share a part of herself.

“I have a rather unique...endeavor,” she whispered after a long pause.

“Oh?” He couldn
’t imagine what
endeavor
would prevent her from marrying.

“I
—I make investments.” She dropped her gaze as though she didn’t want to see his reaction to her confession.

He frowned, still not quite understanding. “Investments? Of a financial nature? As a hobby?”

“It’s not a hobby,” she retorted, her irritation obvious. “My father did not leave us in the best of financial circumstances when he died. With no male heir, his title went to my uncle, who is not the generous sort. We needed income.” She shrugged as she looked back up at him. “I have a gift for picking successful ventures, you might say.”

“
You are clever, aren’t you?” That fit perfectly with what he knew of her. Intelligence shown like a beacon out of her blue eyes.

She gave a small
, embarrassed laugh. “Men do not appreciate discussing such things with a woman. A husband would never allow me to continue my work. I assist not only my family, but our servants and a few other acquaintances as well. Plus he could take all the money I’ve earned for his own purposes. I cannot allow that.”

He rubbed his thumb along her soft cheek. “The right man would understand. Perhaps even help where he could.”

“Not the men I’ve met. Lord Brighton is a good example.”

“He
’s a poor example of a man.” He shook his head, wondering what other secrets she had.

“I
intend to build our wealth so we can provide a dowry for the twins. And I want to advise others on how to invest their money. Do you know how many widows there are who have no idea what to do or how to do it? They stuff their money under the mattress or in an old teapot because they don’t know what else to do.” The passion in her voice was undeniable.

“I had no idea,” he admitted.
He’d never thought on the subject overmuch.

“
At any rate, I have no intention of marrying as a husband would spoil my plans.”

“I don
’t agree with you but I do respect your desire to help others. Did your parents’ marriage lead you to this conclusion?”

“No, but I
’ve come to realize theirs was the exception. Uncle Reginald is horrible to his wife and she says nothing. Uncle Herbert writes out a schedule for Aunt Lottie. I find it all quite ridiculous. Women have no rights once they marry.”

“So you
’d like to keep your freedom.”

“Wouldn
’t you?” Those blue eyes implored him to understand.

“What sort of things would you do without the restrictions a husband might place on you?”
He was curious to hear what she’d say. He’d never met a woman who said and wanted the things she did.

“I would
—” She hesitated for a moment, lowering her lashes, then lifting them again, staring at his mouth. “I would kiss you and not worry over the consequences.”

His heart stopped.
He could only watch as she drew closer, slowly, haltingly. Her breath fanned across his cheek. Yearning welled through him until at last her lips found his.

He
’d been so sure he was strong enough not to let this happen again.

But no.

He’d underestimated her power over him. Her lips were soft and warm and pressed gently against his. Her golden light was so appealing compared to the darkness he often endured.

She
eased back to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to remember Brighton when I go to sleep tonight. I’d much rather dream of you.”

Unable to deny her request, he took her mouth with his
, until she sighed and her whole body relaxed against his. Though his desire for her was almost painful in its intensity, he held back, reining in his passion. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her with care, offering comfort.

She grimaced
in pain, arching her back.

Stephen loosened his hold. “I
’m sorry you’re hurt.” It made him want to pummel Brighton all over again.

“My back. My head. Damn that man.” Abigail grasped his arms as he released her. “Don
’t let go. Please.” She laid her head on his shoulder and burrowed. There was no other word for it.

“No. I won
’t let go.” His heart squeezed as he uttered the promise.

A soft tap sounded at the carriage door, and Stephen heard his footman
’s voice. “I’ve delivered the message, my lord. Shall we proceed?”

“To Miss Bradford
’s residence, please.”

Soon the carriage swayed. Abigail remained in his arms, her head tucked under his chin, her lavender fragrance teasing his senses
, her soft form pressed against his.

He did the only thing he could
—he held her gently and told himself to let tomorrow take care of itself.

Life took twists that one never expected
—like holding the very person you could never have.

***

The next morning, Abigail snuggled deeper into her pillow, reluctant to rise. She was sore from the bump on her head and the bruises on her back, physical reminders of last night’s events.

Emotionally she felt far worse. Humiliated, angry, and somehow more fragile than ever before. She
’d always believed herself strong and capable, but never had she gone through what she had last night.

The new feeling of vulnerability made her question her hopes for the future. Part of her wondered if her mother and Stephen were right. Perhaps she should consider marrying. A husband would provide protection. It was highly unlikely that she
’d ever have to worry about being accosted if she were married.

A knock sounded at
her bedroom door before she could ponder exactly why the idea held so little appeal.

“
Come in.”

Irene peeked
in, concern evident in her expression. “I came to see how you’re feeling.”

A mixture of fear and embarrassment poured through Abigail. Had her mother found out what had truly happened? Then Abigail remembered Stephen telling his footman to deliver the message that she was ill. Relief made her light-headed.
She’d prefer no one learn what had occurred.

“Ah
—better I think. A little tired and a bit of a headache still.” That much was true, she thought as guilt tapped on her shoulder.

H
er mother sat on the edge of the bed and studied Abigail with a critical eye. She put a hand to her forehead. “You’re pale, but no fever. Why don’t you rest in bed this morning and then see how you feel?”

The comforting presence of the woman who
’d been both her mother and friend for so many years brought a lump to her throat. For a long moment, she was tempted to let her tears flow and tell her everything.

“What is it, Abigail?”

Yet all the years of protecting her could not be overcome so easily. Instead, Abigail found herself asking, “Did Lord Brighton speak with you?”