Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (11 page)

A knowing smile came over Irene
’s face. “As a matter of fact, yes. Did he say something to you?” The hope in her voice made Abigail squirm.

“I realize you only want what
’s best for me,” she said, trying to find some way to make her mother understand, “and that you’d like for me to marry. But I do
not
welcome his interest.”

“But
—”

“Please don
’t encourage him.” Though tempted to tell her exactly what the lord had done last night, she couldn’t see a purpose to it. “I don’t care for him at all. He’d be the last man I’d want to spend any time with, let alone the rest of my life.”

“I see.” Irene stared at her, obviously trying to read between the lines. “I
realize he isn’t young or handsome, but he is wealthy. He could take care of all of us. You’ve carried the burden of that for far too long.”

Frustrated, Abiga
il tried to think of a way to make her understand. “We can take care of ourselves. We don’t need a man for that. Especially not Lord Brighton.”

“Did he do something inappropriate?”

“Yes, and I told him in no uncertain terms his advances were not appreciated.” Not that he’d listened to her, but there could be no doubt he’d received Stephen’s message. “I believe he now understands my feelings on the matter.”

Irene frowned. “I
hope nothing I said made him act rashly.”

She took Irene
’s hand. “I wish you’d understand that I don’t want to marry.”

“I only want you to have
—”

“What you and Father had,
I know, but what you shared was so special that I doubt many people have that chance.”

Irene squeezed her hand. “As long as you promise not to completely rule out marriage if the right man should come along.”

Abigail smiled, unable to keep the image of Stephen from popping into her mind. He made her heart beat faster, of that there was no doubt. She’d told him of her interest in financial matters and he hadn’t batted an eye. But she didn’t think he was interested in marriage any more than she. “Yes, I promise, as long as you promise not to encourage anyone else to approach me.”

“That
’s fair.” Irene leaned forward to press a kiss on Abigail’s temple and squeeze her shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re feeling poorly, dear. Stay right here and rest. I’ll have Eloise bring up some warm chocolate.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Sophia and Olivia arrived with the hot drink and sat on either side of her for a time, concerned that she wasn’t feeling well. Their presence gave her such comfort, but when their governess arrived, they departed, leaving her alone with her thoughts again.

As she
enjoyed the chocolate, Abigail couldn’t help but imagine the story Lord Brighton would circulate for his injuries. The idea of running into him next week or even next month made her feel worse.

Would he try something again? She shuddered at the thought
. Last night had been a narrow escape. If she wanted to remain independent so she could continue to manage her family’s investments and help others manage theirs, vigilance needed to be her constant companion. The next time, Stephen wouldn’t be there.

She
’d be forever grateful to him for rescuing her otherwise she might be betrothed this morning. She frowned, trying to remember what he’d said as he’d carried her to the carriage. Something about how he’d seen Brighton’s ill intent. Whatever had he meant?

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, embarrassment heating her face as she thought of her forward behavior in the carriage. Then she realized she didn
’t care. She’d do it again if given the chance. Stephen was unique as was her reaction to him. She might never again meet a man like him.

Strong.

Virile.

Passionate.

And she mustn’t forget dangerous. The manner in which he’d dealt with Brighton with such ease made her shiver.

Dangerous indeed.

He kept a distance between himself and others, and that was something with which she was familiar.

She would never again risk losing someone she loved. She
’d decided that soon after her father had been killed. The pain of losing him had been unbearable. While she refused to turn over all her hard-earned income to a husband, her decision to never marry hinged even more on her desire not to be hurt again.

To date, she hadn
’t met anyone who’d changed her mind. In fact, the men she’d encountered confirmed to her that she wasn’t meant for marriage.

A marriage of convenience had never been an option she
’d seriously considered. Convenient for whom? Certainly not for her. Besides, her stepmother and the twins still needed her.

Yet without the protection of a husband, she was vulnerable to what Lord Brighton or any other hopeful suitor imposed upon her as Stephen had said. A dismal thought for certain.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Miss? You have a visitor,” said Eloise
with a smile.

Dread filled her. Surely Lord Brighton wouldn
’t have the gall to come. “Who is it?”

“Lord Ashbury.”

The air left her lungs in a whoosh. How unexpected. Her cheeks flooded with heat. Her heart beat furiously.

“Shall I have
Ponsford send him away?”

“No! No.” She sucked in a breath. “Tell
Ponsford I’ll be down shortly.”

“Of course, miss. I
’ll be right back to assist you.”

As soon as the maid shut the door behind her, Abigail
scrambled out of bed, breathing deeply to calm herself. “Oh, dear!”

What on ea
rth was Stephen doing here? Her mind spun at the possibilities. A flutter of longing curled deep within her.

Abigail put a hand to her forehead to see if she had a fever after all. She must be coming down with something. No other excuse
explained the heat flooding her entire body.

Shoving the unfamiliar feelings aside, she hurried to her wardrobe, wondering what to wear. She still hadn
’t been able to decide by the time her maid returned. “Which one, Eloise?”

“Perhaps the
yellow? You look lovely in that.” The maid pulled out the gown to hold it for Abigail’s inspection. Her brown eyes twinkled with excitement, making Abigail realize how unusual the situation was.

Rarely
—no, never—did she have male visitors.

“Excellent idea. Did you see him? How did he look?” Abigail
asked as Eloise assisted her with her stockings and chemise.

“
Ponsford? He looks fine, miss.”

“Not
Ponsford. Lord Ashbury.”

“Oh. I didn
’t see him. Ponsford had already showed him into the drawing room.”

With quick efficient movements, Eloise fastened her
corset then reached for her camisole. Finally she drew the gown over Abigail’s head and began to arrange her hair.

“I hit my head last night,” Abigail said as she touched the bump, “so please be careful.”

“Oh, miss, that’s a terrible goose egg! No wonder you have a headache this morning.”

With a gentle touch, she arranged Abigail
’s hair into a loose chignon. “There you are, miss. You look lovely.”

Abigail studied her reflection in the mirror with a critical eye. Her face was pale and shadows marked her eyes, but little could be done about that. She
drew a deep breath to calm herself, surprised to realize she was trembling. Surely Stephen was only here to make certain she was recovering from the previous night’s events.

Very kind of him actually.

How odd that ‘kind’ was a word she’d use to describe him despite the violence she’d witnessed last night.

Uncertain what to expect,
she made her way down to the drawing room where Ponsford stood immobile in front of the closed door. The butler made no effort to open it for her.

“Are you going to let me in?” she asked warily.

“Do you realize the identity of your visitor?”

Abigail narrowed her eyes, wondering where this conversation was going. “
Lord Ashbury?”

Ponsford
raised a brow—the right one of course. “I do believe he’s the very person we agreed it would be best if you avoided.”

Abigail had forgotten that. “Oh. Yes. Well...”

“He is a dangerous man, miss,” he whispered.

The image of him beating Brighton came to mind. “
That’s true, but he’s helped me tremendously.”

“He located Simmons?”

“Not yet. He might need assistance with that.”

Ponsford
looked down his nose at her. “That shouldn’t require your involvement.”

“
Well—”

“I don
’t believe it wise to associate with him.”

“I know,
Ponsford. Truly I do. But some risks may be necessary to protect our family.”

With a scowl, h
e put his hand on the doorknob. “There’s one more thing you should know.”

“And that is?”

“Lady Bradford is in there with him.”

Abigail stared at
Ponsford, her stomach sinking to her knees. “Oh, no.”

“I saw you at the Mortenson’s ball last night, did I not?” Lady Bradford offered Stephen a polite smile.

“Briefly
.” He wondered how long he’d have to wait until Abigail arrived to save him.

“When did you and
my daughter become acquainted?”

“Only recently.” He could feel the woman
’s curiosity, even see it in the streaks of her aura, but he didn’t intend to answer her questions. He’d leave that to Abigail.

“
Hmm. Well, it’s very kind of you to drop by even though it’s rather early for visiting.”

He gave what he hoped was a charming smile
at her reprimand but didn’t rise to the bait, waiting to see if she’d berate him further for not following social rules. In truth, he was out of practice. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d called upon a lady.

“I believe she
’ll be down shortly.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Lovely weather we’ve been having.”

“Indeed.” He
’d never been adept at the art of small talk and since the accident that lack had worsened. The difference between people’s thoughts and what they said was distracting, to say the least. It made it difficult to keep track of conversations.

The door opened and Abigail
rushed into the room, ending the awkward silence. For that he was grateful. She looked back and forth between them as though worried about what topic they were discussing.

She wore a gown of golden yellow, but that seemed a poor description of it. The warm, sunny color flattered her luminescent complexion and enhanced her aura. He could hardly take his eyes off her. Relief filled him as he realized she looked quite recovered from last night
’s incident.

He rose to greet her, taking her hand in his bef
ore he realized what he’d done.

“Lord Ashbury. This is...unexpected.” Her tone held a repr
oof he found amusing.

Stephen almost wished he hadn
’t made this visit, but what he had to tell Abigail couldn’t wait. It was the least he could do after the previous night’s events.

“Abigail, I didn
’t realize you and the viscount were so well acquainted.” Lady Bradford’s brows rose as she waited for an explanation.

For the first time
since he’d met Abigail, she had no immediate response. In fact, she nearly squirmed as she tugged her hand from his. “We were...introduced a week or two ago.” She looked at her stepmother as though to see if her response was sufficient.

“Oh?”

She shifted as though still trying to keep the squirming urge at bay. Apparently some of her thoughts were dark as her aura smudged with gray.

Stephen had learned over the years that the more often someone acted on their negative ideas, the darker their aura became. One of the reasons he was here was to make certain that never happened to Abigail
’s brilliant aura. That alone was worth the uncomfortable situation in which he now found himself.

“So nice of you to drop by, Lord Ashbury.” Abigail
’s glare conveyed the opposite of her words.

He smile
d, pleased last night had not damaged her spirit. Deciding the time had come to proceed with the reason for his visit, he turned to Abigail’s stepmother. “It was lovely to meet you, Lady Bradford.”

The woman remained still for a long moment, as though deciding whether to comply with his subtle request for a few moments alone with her daughter. At last she rose, her eyes alight with curiosity. “A pleasure to meet you as well, my lord. I hope we
’ll see you again.”

Stephen
dipped his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Lady Bradford turned to her daughter. “I trust you
’ll be along shortly, Abigail?”

“Of course.”

The lady left with one last glance over her shoulder, leaving the door open wide.

Abigail waited a moment before walking to the door to peek out then pushed it nearly closed. When she turned back to him, her expression changed to irritation, something he was getting used to seeing.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“I came to inquire as to how you
’re feeling.”

Her cheeks flushed pink as did her aura. “I
’m—I’m a bit bruised but fine.”

He waited to see if she
’d offer more. He could only imagine how upset she was. He’d spent a restless night and ventured to guess she’d tossed and turned as well.

She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “I fear the next encounter I have with Lord Brighton will be rather awkward, but I don
’t intend to let that keep me from my normal activities.”

Even the mention of Brighton
’s name angered Stephen. He clenched his fists in an attempt to rein in his temper. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”

A frown marred her brow. “What do you mean?”

“It seems that Brighton is planning to leave London.”

“Truly?” The hope that lit her face justified his early morning visit to Brighton
’s home.

“Indeed. He
’ll be gone for some time.” He could nearly see her mind process his news.

“I heard nothing of this last night.”

“I believe it’s a new development.”

“Is he spending some time at his country estate?”

“Actually, he’s leaving for the continent.”

“What did you do?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me. What did you do?”

She’d come to know him better than he’d realized, but he didn’t intend to confirm her suspicions. He had no desire to darken her golden light with the details of his exploits.

But h
e wouldn’t lie to her either. “I merely had a few words with him.”

“On my behalf?”

Stephen shifted, now the uncomfortable one. He couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking. Surely she wouldn’t be angry with him for taking care of this matter. The woman needed someone to protect her and if she refused to find a husband, he had to serve in that capacity this time. Their acquaintance would soon end and someone else would be responsible for her.

The thought
caused him to scowl.

“Yes,” he said at last.

Wonder spread over her face and she stepped forward to grasp his hands. “No one has ever done something like that for me.”

In that moment, Stephen understood how challenging her life had been since her father
’s death. A young girl who’d had to grow up quickly and become the head of her family. No chance for the frivolity young ladies of her station should enjoy. No hand to guide her or shelter her from the harshness of the world. No male relative to protect her.

All the more reason she needed a husband. If only he could make her see that. An honorable man who would love her for her independence, not try to squelch it.

He released her hand to cup her cheek. “A man such as he has no business claiming the title of gentleman. Nor should you be forced to encounter him at a ball or some other outing.”

“I confess the notion worried me. What exactly did you say to him?”

Stephen shook his head. He would not sully her with the details of the meeting. How Brighton had stumbled back in fear and groveled. “You must promise me this. You will be more careful in the future. You will not wander about alone
anywhere
. You will not go to the East End or any other inappropriate neighborhoods.”

“I hardly think
—”

“
Abigail, if not Brighton, some other man could easily repeat what happened last night with a far worse outcome.”

She frowned and dropped his gaze. He could tell the realization had already occurred to her, no matter that she didn
’t like it. “Yes, well, I plan on being much more careful.”

“
That might not be good enough.”

“What would you have me do?”

He gritted his teeth and said what needed to be said, no matter that he didn’t like it. Hated it, in fact. “Marry.”

A faint flush filled her cheeks as her eyes widened and her mouth opened in surprise. “Is that a proposal?”

Shock coursed through him, stealing his breath. The idea of having Abigail at his side night and day filled him with a longing so deep, he could hardly think. “No!”

“Then what do you mean?” She seemed almost angry at his denial.
Or was she disappointed?

“I
’m merely repeating that a husband would offer the protection you need.”

“But not you.” She lifted her chin as she said it, as though daring him to disagree.

He swallowed hard. He had no right to the feelings he had for Abigail, for the desire with which his body betrayed him when she was near, for the fierce protectiveness he felt for her. She deserved so much more than he. “Not me,” he said at last.

“I see.”

He couldn’t let it go at that. He didn’t want her to think the blame lay with her. With an attempt at a wry smile, he said, “Marriage is not an option for a man such as me.”

She til
ted her head to one side as though his response puzzled her. “How so?”

“You
’ve seen my...shall we say unusual occupation. Not a good fit for a wife and family.” Not to mention his headaches, the bouts of deep despair that slid over him, and oh, yes, his cursed aura reading ability. But he intended to keep those secrets.

“
You do seem to live dangerously.”

Relief filled him as he realized she grasped his problem.

“But I would think that the right woman would understand, perhaps even help you in your endeavors,” she said with a bright, knowing smile.

How dare she use his words from last night back
at him?

“I hardly think you can compare you
r hobby of investing with my—”

“Do
not
refer to my interest as a hobby.” The thin line of her lips told him he’d found a sore spot. “It provides us with a stable income, thank you very much.”

“How clever of you.”

“I know of several investment opportunities you might be interested in.” She blinked up at him with those big blue eyes.

“
I’m certain you do,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. How had she turned the conversation so quickly?

“
Perhaps with better use of your money, you wouldn’t need to involve yourself in the gaming house.”

He breathed deep before he
indulged in the urge to kiss her silent again. That seemed to be the only method to get her to stop talking.

“You see,” she said,
obviously warming to her subject, “investing is rather simple if you consider the advantages and disadvantages of each investment opportunity and weigh them carefully.”

He closed his eyes, hoping for patience.
He didn’t dare kiss her in her own home. Her mother was no doubt right outside the door.

“I
’d be happy to share what I’ve learned with you.”

Patience showed no sign of arriving.
That meant he had to leave. He walked to the door with his jaw clenched, hoping to escape before he did something he’d regret.

“Where are you going?”

Without a backward glance, he shut the door behind him with a satisfying click. The gasp on the other side of it was almost as satisfying.

He
’d been wrong to think the woman could marry. She’d drive her husband mad within days of the nuptials.

He nodded at the tall, elderly butler who stood in the foyer. Stephen paused, looking carefully at him.

“My lord?” asked the man.

“
Ponsford?”

“Yes.”

“She has the craziest notions.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, his voice so matter-of-fact that Stephen realized the butler had probably been privy to that information for years.

“We need to keep a close watch over her.”

The servant held his gaze. “Not an easy task.”

“No, but over the next week, it will continue to be necessary. Of vital importance, in fact.”

Ponsford
nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

Stephen couldn
’t help but smile, for he knew he’d have assistance watching over Abigail.

“Best of luck to us both,” he muttered as he walked out the door. “We
’re going to need it.”

***

Two days later, Abigail perused the shelves at the small bookstore on Truckford Lane, her nerves humming. She’d received a cryptic message from Stephen requesting she meet him here but he had yet to make an appearance. She hoped he planned to tell her Simmons had been found and successfully warned off. If that were true, she intended to propose they change their relationship to something of a more personal nature: an affair.