Secrets 03 - Shattered Secrets

by Lana Williams

  He stared straight ahead for a long moment, trying to decide the best way to handle this situation without revealing his terrible ability.

  “Nay. I only speak from my personal experience from someone with an ailment similar to hers. I don’t want you to hope overmuch that a remedy can be found for her.”

  “Why won’t you tell me what you know?”

  Lucas scowled. Hadn’t he just thought how very intelligent Moira was? But that didn’t mean he wanted her to use that intelligence on him. “I’ve told you what I know.”

  With a huff, she clasped her gloved hands on her lap. “If you won’t tell me then I must assume you’re saying that because you doubt my abilities. That must also mean my attempt to aid you the other day did nothing.” She blinked rapidly, sending alarm spinning through him. “I can only apologize and tell you I was trying to help. You can trust that such an intrusion will not happen again.”

  He briefly placed his gloved hand over hers. “That is not what I’m saying.” He waited until her gaze met his. “You helped me a great deal.”

  She sniffed and looked away. Obviously he hadn’t yet convinced her.

  “Moira.” He shifted to sit beside her, fully aware of her warm body next to his. “Please believe me.” He hesitated to say more. After all, what could he possibly tell her to convince her? The truth was not an option. Yet he sounded crazed anyway, as though he was a seer with a vision. He supposed in a way, he was. But it was not a vision he welcomed.

  He put a gentle finger beneath her chin, hoping she’d look at him. “Please believe me,” he repeated when her green gaze met his. That was all he could ask.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Vincent watched in fascination as his uncle adjusted the currents on the tall electromagnetic devices in the large room of the warehouse they’d rented near the London docks. They’d been forced to move twice in the past four months. No easy task with the large equipment required to produce electromagnetism. Keeping the experiments a secret had grown more and more difficult.

  A high-pitched whirring noise filled the room. The loud sound had caused complaints from the people in the neighboring buildings over the past few days, but neither he nor his uncle could determine an effective way to muffle it. A white-blue bolt of light sparked from one machine to another, creating a link between all three.

  Vincent had seen them functioning many times, but they still amazed him. Electricity sizzled through the air, raising the hair on the back of his neck. The special goggles his uncle had designed for them reduced the glare from the sparks. Unfortunately, they made his uncle’s appearance more disturbing than normal.

  “Increase the voltage, Vincent,” his uncle ordered.

  Vincent eyed the knob before him, uneasy at the idea of turning up the power.

  “Now, Vincent!” The impatience in his uncle’s voice brooked no disobedience.

  With reluctance, Vincent turned the knob, watching the arc of the electricity thicken and rise higher. Now even the hair on his arms rose, increasing his unease.

  “Damn bloody machine.” His uncle muttered more curses as he worked on the large gun connected to the devices by several wires. The gun’s purpose was to combine and narrow the electromagnetic wave so it could be aimed at specific targets.

  This summer, they’d tested the equipment on orphans and workhouse children, then later on adults desperate for employment. They’d strapped the ‘volunteers’ onto tables and hooked them to the machines with cables. Testing the power levels resulted in several deaths. Uncle Grisby insisted the losses were necessary for progress. Vincent wondered if his uncle would feel that way if he were the one strapped to the table as the horrible smell of his burning flesh filled the air.

  There was no doubt the electromagnetic current was capable of killing. The next challenge was to make it do so on a large scale. For his uncle’s ambitious plans, they needed a better way to control and direct the current so it could be used in military situations.

  The gun his uncle had modified looked like something a mad scientist had created, but in reality, that was what his uncle was. Mad.

  The weapon was meant to shoot elephants, and when his uncle had seen a picture of it in an advertisement, he’d insisted Vincent procure one.

  As fate would have it, an article about a lord’s recent hunt in Africa and pictures of his trophies had appeared in a newssheet. Vincent decided stealing it from the lord’s home would be easier than stealing it from a gun shop.

  The large caliber rifle might have velocity limitations while hunting large game, but Uncle Grisby was convinced that when it was attached to the electromagnetic devices, velocity would no longer be a problem.

  “This isn’t working. Turn it off,” his uncle called from across the room.

  Vincent turned down the knob. Both the light and the noise eased to a hum before quieting completely. The silence of the room was shocking. He rubbed his ears, hating the ringing sound that continued.

  “The higher voltage is causing the insulation between the windings to break down.” His uncle shoved his goggles to the top of his head, revealing the terrible scars on the left side of his face. “We need some way to shift the energy from the primary source to a secondary source and store it.”

  Vincent felt his eyes begin to glaze over as his uncle continued. When he started speaking in scientific terms, none of which Vincent understood, it made him long for a pint. Or two.

  “Do you understand anything I’m saying?” Uncle Grisby’s irritation cut through the fog in his brain.

  “Can’t say as I do,” Vincent responded, choosing to be honest. Shift energy? How could you move something you couldn’t touch?

  His uncle sighed. Vincent turned his head so he could roll his eyes in private. Any such display in front of Uncle Grisby only resulted in more lectures.

  Vincent felt compelled to defend himself. “As ye may remember, my talents are in areas that do not directly involve science-related matters.”

  “Yes, yes, your skills lay in another direction entirely.” His uncle limped over to him. “What I really need is the assistance of another man of science.” He turned and scowled at the three large machines.

  The transducer coils were nearly as high as the ceiling. Vincent could barely reach his arms around half of one of the circular devices. They’d had to construct a new device as the police had confiscated one of them at the beginning of the summer. Though Vincent helped build that one, he still had no clear understanding of how the thing worked.

  “If only Ashbury and Weston could be convinced to join me.”

  “It didn’t go so well when ye tried to speak with them.” They had been his uncle’s students when he’d been a Cambridge professor and also had been injured in the accident.

  “I merely need a little more time with both men to better explain my plan.”

  Vincent didn’t believe his uncle would convince either of those lords to join his side, but he held his tongue. Some things were not worth arguing about, and that was one of them. “What about the other lord who’s coming from South America?”

  “Berkmond as well. The three men together are the key to my success. I’m certain of it. I only need to find a way to show them the wisdom of my plan and how it will benefit the entire country.”

  Vincent nodded even if he doubted how this grand plan could benefit anyone, let alone all of England. He preferred to focus on his own needs. The idea of doing something that might aid the country seemed too far out of his reach to consider.

  “Berkmond should’ve arrived from Brazil by now. Can you check his townhouse?”

  “That I can.” Vincent was pleased to have an assignment of which he was capable.

  “Convincing the three of them would be easier if the devices were functioning properly.” Uncle Grisby pointed at the elephant gun. “I don’t think this particular weapon is going to work after all. We need something more effective.”

  Vincent scowled with frustration. His uncle didn’t u
nderstand how much work it was to pinch something like that. And if this one wasn’t working, it meant he’d have to nick something else. Bollocks.

  First the item had to be located. Then the place needed to be watched so you knew the schedule of the occupants. Then you had to decide the best way to break in. All in all, it was a lot of work. And God forbid if he was caught. He couldn’t risk that. Not since the police now thought him dead.

  Not for the first time, he questioned the wisdom of aiding his uncle, but what choice did he have? He promised himself that if a better opportunity came along, he’d take it.

  “Do be careful skulking about Berkmond’s home. If you’re apprehended, our plans will be disrupted.”

  “Not to mention my safety,” Vincent muttered.

  “What was that? You have a terrible habit of mumbling.”

  With a sigh, Vincent contained his annoyance. “I’ll need to wait until dark. I don’t want to risk bein’ seen.”

  “Very well, but the sooner I can contact Berkmond the better. Perhaps he’ll be more reasonable than Weston and Ashbury.”

  “We can hope.” Though Vincent was convinced none of them would take his uncle’s side in this matter.

  “I held such high hopes for Weston since he married Emma.”

  Vincent shook his head. His cousin, Emma Grisby, had somehow managed to pull the wool over Lord Weston’s eyes. She was no better than Vincent and had been serving as a governess for many years before reuniting with Weston. Now the couple was married.

  Maybe he had a calling as a matchmaker, he thought with a smile. After all, the other couple that had met because of him, Abigail Bradford and Viscount Ashbury, recently married as well.

  “What has you so amused?” his uncle asked.

  “I was just thinkin’ of how they’re all married now. Maybe the one from Brazil, Lord Berkmond, will find a wife too.”

  “Bah. Women are nothing but a distraction.”

  “Even Emma?”

  “Especially her.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

  “Oh, that’s right. Ye had the chance to talk with her at that ball, but it didn’t go so well.” Vincent couldn’t help his smirk.

  “I thought she of all people would understand. Such an intelligent person for a female. But alas, she seems to have far more resentment of my absence these past ten years than I hoped.”

  “Mayhap she’ll come to her senses.”

  “We shall see. Let us secure the devices and return home. I need to do further research on some other type of weapon that might suit our needs.”

  Vincent hid a smile. With his uncle busy with research, he could easily manage to swing by the pub after checking Berkmond’s home. He licked his lips in anticipation of that pint.

  This day was looking up after all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Moira paused in surprise as she opened the door of the nursery the next day. Lucas sat with the girls at their little table with its matching chairs, all of them unaware of her arrival. She might’ve laughed at the sight he made, his knees up high, looking anything but comfortable. But she could see he was working with Addie and Amelia on writing their letters.

  “Don’t think of it as writing. Think of it as drawing. Here, try it this way,” he said, his low voice rumbling through the classroom. “Down, down, across.” He drew a large letter A on the paper. “Your turn.”

  “Down, down, across,” the girls repeated.

  “I did it!” Addie cried out as she brushed her already untidy hair out of her eyes.

  “Me, too!” Amelia said, her voice full of wonder. “Show us another one, Uncle.”

  Moira smiled as he showed them a D then an M. Soon they’d be writing their own names. He was so good for them. Why didn’t he see that?

  She eased back, prepared to leave, when Lucas’s head turned as though feeling her gaze on him. The girls looked up as well. “Aunt Moira!”

  They dropped their pencils and came running to give her a hug. She knew she would never grow tired of those small arms wrapped tight around her.

  “You are both doing so well,” she exclaimed. “I will leave you to your letters with Uncle Lucas.”

  “No need for that,” Lucas said as he rose from his chair. He shifted his legs, making her wonder if he’d stiffened.

  “Uncle Lucas has given us the most terrible news,” Amelia said as she stepped back to look up at Moira.

  Moira’s stomach dropped. “What is it?” Had he decided to return to Brazil already? But she hadn’t had a chance to make a counterproposal to his.

  “He intends to travel to London,” Addie said with a scowl, her tone full of disapproval.

  “It is far too dangerous,” Amelia declared.

  “We’ve asked him not to go,” Addie added, smudging pencil on the front of her apron.

  “London?” Moira asked as she looked at Lucas. She hated to question him, for what he did was none of her business. Yet this was one thing the girls felt very strongly about. They’d become convinced London was a dark and terrible place since that was where their father had been killed.

  “I have business there that requires my attention.” Lucas laid a hand on the girls’ hair. “I don’t intend to be gone overlong.”

  “That’s what Father told us before he left,” Amelia said as her eyes filled with tears. “You’ll be murdered, just like him.”

  Both girls burst into tears.

  He glanced at Moira, his expression imploring her to help, but she held her silence. Reassurances from her would do little good. They needed to come from Lucas.

  He knelt down to gather them both in his arms. “Shh. No tears, please. Let me explain.” But they both continued to cry.

  “Girls,” Moira said firmly. Though she understood their fears, she wanted Lucas to have a chance to tell them what he intended. “Quiet now.”

  “It is because of your father that I need to spend a few days in London.”

  “Why?” Addie asked, her dark eyes full of tears.

  “Please don’t go,” Amelia pleaded.

  “I want to speak with the person who saw what happened and see if there is anything the police missed.”

  “I don’t care if he can tell you new things. I don’t want you to go.” Addie’s lower lip trembled, nearly making Moira do the same.

  Amelia buried her face in Lucas’s neck so tightly that her words could hardly be heard. “Please, please, please don’t go.”

  Lucas looked at Moira again. “Perhaps it doesn’t have to be right away.”

  Amelia drew back to put her hands on either side of his face, completely ignoring his eye patch. “You won’t go?”

  Moira felt tears form in her own eyes. How could he possibly resist such a plea?

  “Not now. My business in London can wait.” He continued to hold both girls tight. “No more tears.”

  Addie sniffed. “Thank you, Uncle.”

  Moira’s heart squeezed even more as she watched the three of them. How was she to protect herself from loving Lucas when he acted so sweetly toward the girls?

  *

  “Moira, darling?” The sorrowful look on her father’s face as he entered the drawing room where Moira was adding notes in her herbal journal had her setting down her pen.

  “What is it?” She rose to take her father’s hands.

  “I fear I have terrible news. Mrs. Smythe has passed away.”

  Shock stole through Moira. “But I visited her again yesterday. She seemed better.”

  “I thought so as well. Mr. Smythe sent a message saying she died in her sleep. I’m going to see him now.” He patted her hand. “I’m sure your visits were a great comfort to her these last few days.”

  Moira could hardly believe it. She had truly thought Mrs. Smythe would recover. She couldn’t help but remember what Lucas had said. How nothing she did would help the elderly woman. She had no idea how he’d known that, but she intended to find out.

  First, however, her concern was for Mr. Smythe. �
��I will come with you, Father.”

  *

  Lucas paused at the edge of the foyer as he heard the girls on the stairs, wanting to see if he could determine what they were up to before he alerted them to his presence. While they had avoided any mischief for several days, he remained on guard. He couldn’t come close to understanding what was going on in the twins’ minds most days.

  “I don’t think we should speak with him.”

  “But I want him to help us with our letters some more.”

  “We can’t spend so much time with him.”

  He realized Amelia was the one who’d said that. She was definitely the more cautious of the two.

  “Why not? I like him,” Addie argued.

  Lucas’s heart warmed at her words. Why it mattered that they cared for him was beyond him. It shouldn’t. But damned if it didn’t.

  “As do I, but the more time we spend with him, the more we’ll like him. Maybe we’ll even grow to love him.”

  Lucas eased closer but remained out of sight, wanting to hear what else they said.

  “We mustn’t do that,” Amelia continued. “He’s leaving, remember? If we love him, then it will hurt nearly as much as it did when we lost Father.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of it quite like that,” Addie said.

  “I don’t want to go through that again. I miss Father very much.”

  “You’re right. It still hurts when I think of him. I don’t want to feel that way when Uncle Lucas leaves. What are we to do then? If Aunt Moira won’t be with us, and Uncle Lucas leaves, we will be alone.”

  The warmth in Lucas’s chest turned sharp and painful. He’d done his best to avoid thinking of the situation from the girls’ perspective but now… He shook his head at the impossible circumstances.

  For many years he’d protected himself above all else, not allowing anyone close. His damned aura reading had made relationships of any sort far too painful. Now, for the first time, not having those relationships felt just as painful.

  “I don’t know.” Amelia sounded very sad. “I suppose we must remember that we’ll always have each other.”