Secrets 03 - Shattered Secrets

by Lana Williams

  “That is hardly an argument to aid your cause, my dear,” Abigail said as she entered the room.

  Ashbury laughed. “’Tis true, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed it is.” She shook her head as she helped herself to breakfast. “I don’t know how your twins do things, but what one of my sisters doesn’t think of, the other one does.”

  “They complete each other’s sentences. It’s the strangest thing,” Ashbury said as he forked a bite of sausage.

  Moira smiled. “The girls will adore them, I’m sure.” She turned to Lucas. “Are you certain we won’t be in the way?”

  “Of course not. I will visit with Addie and Amelia after breakfast and see if I can talk them into accompanying us.”

  “Good morning,” Weston said as he and Emma entered the room. “Did you save any for us?”

  Lucas gestured toward the sideboard. “Please help yourself. There’s an article in the paper you might find of interest.”

  “Oh?” Weston raised a brow. “Do share.”

  Lucas read the headline and the opening paragraph of the article aloud.

  Lord Tysdale gave a passionate speech sharing his concern with the rising power of Russia. He said, “England should lead the way as an imperial power, our mission can’t be only to settle and trade. It is our moral duty to civilize and educate all our domains, from the Caribbean to Asia, from Africa to North America. We must set an example for the rest of the world.”

  Lucas lowered the sheet. “That sounds remarkably like what Professor Grisby told you in the garden that night, does it not?”

  “We need to see Lord Tysdale.” Ashbury turned to Weston. “Do you know him?”

  “No. Never met the man. I’ve seen reports of some of his speeches though. He seems to raise valid points even if his ideas are rather extreme,” Weston said.

  “Didn’t he have an older brother who was ahead of us at university?” Lucas asked.

  “He was killed in India. Perhaps that affected the younger brother’s beliefs.” Weston took the last bite of his eggs. “When shall we leave for London?”

  *

  Vincent eyed the dark townhouse on Park Lane, considering his options. He’d been watching Lord Ashbury’s home for the past two days. It appeared as though the lord and his wife were out of town. While the servants remained, they stayed in the back of the house or on the upper floor in the servant’s quarters. That meant he could search the library for the meteorite with no one the wiser.

  He rubbed his hands in anticipation. If he found the meteorite, it would silence his uncle once and for all. He could imagine the moment perfectly—he would toss it at the old man’s head. No. He’d find a gold pillow to present it on and enjoy his uncle’s astonishment. He paused, trying to imagine what astonishment might look like on that scarred face.

  “Stop dillydallying,” he told himself.

  Before any of that was possible, he had a job to do. He searched the street but no one was out at this hour of the night. Lucky him. A rush of excitement and nervousness filled him as he edged his way to the garden gate. He tested the lock and found it fastened securely, but he’d expected that.

  A quick twist with the proper tool and the lock clicked open. “One door open. I’m half done,” he whispered. He closed the door behind him and eased through the garden. It was darker than he expected. He moved forward slowly, his hands out before him to make certain he didn’t run into anything. Plants and trees created strange shadows in the dim light, giving him the creeps.

  “Ahhhh.”

  The ghostly moan stopped him in his tracks. He listened carefully, his heart pounding in fear.

  “Ohhhh.”

  Vincent spun toward the sound. “Who’s there?”

  “Ahh.”

  Christ. Spirits were everywhere. He backed toward the gate, unwilling to risk his life for the damned meteorite.

  “Ohhh.”

  “Stay back,” he cried out then fell over his feet as he panicked, trying to escape.

  “Ahhh.”

  They were getting closer. He had to hurry. With a moan of his own, he gained his feet and scrambled to the gate, his fingers trembling as he opened it and made good his escape.

  Once he reached the street, he dared a glance over his shoulder to see how close they were. Another moan from the garden had him yelping in fear. He ran as quick as his legs could carry him.

  The echo of ghostly laughter followed him all the way home.

  *

  Moira settled into the coach, a flutter of excitement flitting through her middle. They’d spent the past two days preparing for the journey. She’d longed for a week or two in London when she was younger. It had sounded terribly exciting, a true adventure. But as the years passed, such a trip seemed as unlikely as a trip to France. Her father had never wanted to leave the area, convinced he would be needed by someone in his small parish and he wouldn’t be there for them. The result was that Moira hadn’t traveled farther than to a neighboring village.

  Lucas had given a cool, logical talk to the girls that failed to convince them that they should all travel to London. Moira had watched until she could stand it no more. She’d stepped in and told the girls of some of the things they’d be doing while there, from touring Covent Gardens to museums, not to mention a bit of shopping. The idea of new gowns had helped turn the tide, though it would be many months before the girls could wear something other than mourning. The prospect of meeting Abigail’s sisters, another set of twins, had sealed their approval for the trip. Tiago was joining them as well, quite intrigued by the idea of spending time in the city.

  The girls climbed into the coach, settling into the seat opposite her.

  “Girls, why don’t you sit beside me so your uncle has more room?”

  “Nonsense.” Lucas’s deep voice filled the coach from the door. “I’ll sit beside you. There’s plenty of room.”

  Moira swallowed hard. The prospect of spending the entire day seated beside Lucas made her mouth dry. She scooted across the tufted wool seat to provide room for Lucas.

  The girls chattered, quite excited about the journey. Moira wondered how long that would last. Keeping the girls amused would take effort. She doubted Lucas would have much patience for their restlessness, something she was certain would occur a few hours into the journey. She’d packed a basket of things they might be able to do in the coach, depending on how bumpy the road was.

  Their visitors were settling into their coach as well. Tiago had accepted Lord Ashbury’s invitation to ride with them as they had more room.

  Moira didn’t expect to see much of Lucas while they were in London. It sounded as if Weston and Ashbury had many things they wanted him to see plus they needed to investigate the new information they’d come upon. She looked forward to spending additional time with Abigail and Emma, whom she was growing to care for more and more. Would their friendship continue once Lucas returned to Brazil?

  She glanced at him from beneath her lashes as he settled in next to her. Already the well-sprung coach felt smaller.

  “Are you prepared for a very long ride?” he asked the girls.

  “Yes. Aunt Moira told us we must be on our best behavior so we can prove we’re ready for the activities in London.”

  “How clever of your aunt.” Lucas glanced at Moira with a smile before returning his focus to the girls. “What have you forgotten to pack?”

  They giggled. “How could we possibly know what we’ve forgotten?” Addie glanced at her sister and shook her head.

  “If we’ve forgotten to pack it, we won’t remember until we’re in need of it,” Amelia explained. “Have you ever been to Covent Gardens?”

  “Yes, I have, but not for a very long time,” Lucas said.

  Moira couldn’t help but wonder what memories filled him when he turned to stare out the window. Had he stolen kisses from young ladies during walks along the dark pathways?

  “Will we be able to go on a hot air balloon ride?” Addie asked.r />
  Moira glanced at Lucas in alarm. Surely he wouldn’t allow them to do something so dangerous.

  “We shall see. I’m not certain such a ride is appropriate for two young girls.” Lucas held Moira’s gaze, seeming to understand her worry. “That is something your aunt and I will have to discuss.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  George, the footman accompanying them, stood at the coach door. “All is ready if your lordship would like to leave now.”

  Lucas gave his approval, and they were soon rumbling down the drive. George and Fran, her maid, sat with the driver.

  The girls watched out the window for a time but soon lost interest in the countryside and switched their attention to their dolls. They each had a cloth doll their mother had bought prior to their birth. She’d been certain her babies would be girls. Addie and Amelia had fancier, more expensive dolls as well, but they loved the cloth ones best.

  Moira’s heart gave a little tug each time they played with them. She hadn’t known Lady Berkmond well, but her death had been a shock to everyone.

  The coach hit a bump, sending Moira’s shoulder into the wall. Lucas patted the space between them. “You must sit closer to the center or you’ll arrive in London bruised.”

  Moira shifted toward Lucas. “Now I’ll be bumping into you instead.”

  “I don’t mind. And I’m much softer than the wall.” He held her gaze, causing her mouth to go dry.

  How she wished she knew what he was thinking. She glanced away, staring through the small opening in the curtains. He hadn’t sought her bed since their wedding night. She had no idea if that had something to do with her performance, the arrival of his friends, or—she swallowed down her hurt—perhaps he no longer desired her.

  While she might already be expecting, it was difficult to believe one night was enough. Only time would tell. Would she have to go to him in a few weeks and tell him that she hadn’t conceived? Her face heated at the idea of such an embarrassing conversation. What if he’d already left by then?

  “What is it?” His voice in her ear sent shivers down her spine.

  She turned her head quickly, only to realize they were practically nose-to-nose.

  “I can hear you thinking,” he said. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I was merely wondering what London will be like.”

  “Liar,” he accused. When she met his gaze, he continued, “I’d wager that is not at all what you are thinking.”

  Her face heated further. At times, his observation skills regarding her were far too accurate. She shook her head, refusing to share her thoughts.

  He glanced at the girls who whispered to each other, their dolls taking all their attention.

  To her complete surprise, he drew closer still, until she felt his breath in her ear. “May I tell you what I’ve been thinking?”

  She froze and gave the slightest nod, desperate to hear what he would say.

  “I am thinking about our first night in London. About your sweet kisses, about how you will feel in my arms again, your soft skin against me.”

  Her breath caught as desire swirled low in her belly at his whispered words. She couldn’t help but turn to look at him again, to see if he was serious or if he was playing some sort of game.

  The heat in his gray-blue gaze was answer enough.

  He leaned close again and liquid heat filled her entire body. “I want to see your face when your passion overcomes you. I want to touch—”

  She jerked back, unable to take any more. Her breasts tingled and she throbbed in places he’d touched her on their wedding night. She wasn’t certain what to make of his behavior. He’d made no effort to visit her bedroom in the past few days, but now that they were in the coach with the girls, he chose to whisper such things?

  She reminded herself this was what she wanted. The knowledge that he truly wanted her again made her slightly giddy. And far too brave. She leaned toward him this time and released her breath with the sole intent of tickling his ear. “I intend to drive you mad with desire when I undress slowly. I’ll kiss you in places you’d never expect.”

  His body stiffened, he spun his head to stare at her, and she couldn’t help but smile. Two could play at this game.

  “As do I.” He returned her smile and her false bravado fell away.

  “Will we stop for lunch?” Amelia asked.

  Moira had never been so pleased to have an interruption. She had no experience with such flirtatious behavior and was completely in over her head.

  The girls chatted about everything the coach passed, from a farmer plowing his field to a small village with a beautiful church steeple. When Lucas responded, she couldn’t help but smile. He was very good with the girls whether he realized it or not. In many ways, he was far more patient than his brother had been with them. He often smiled at what they’d said as though he genuinely enjoyed hearing their thoughts.

  The day passed quickly. Cook had provided them with a small luncheon, including a few special treats for the girls, as there was no convenient place to stop along the road for a meal.

  Soon after the girls ate, they both fell fast asleep snuggled against each other as the coach swayed. Moira tucked a blanket over their legs to keep them warm. Though the autumn weather was mild, it still held a chill.

  Moira had a difficult time keeping her own eyes open despite the book she’d brought. She finally set the book aside and propped herself in the corner so she wouldn’t end up as a heap on the floor of the coach.

  “Come here.” She glanced up to see Lucas holding out his arm. “I make a nice pillow.”

  “No need. I’m fine.” Heaven forbid if she snored or something.

  He gave her a look that brooked no argument. She was certain she’d never be able to sleep while that close to him. Nonetheless, she moved toward him, amazed at the warmth his body produced. He kept his arm behind her to act as a cushion then shifted her to sit even closer. She had to admit he was quite comfortable.

  He sighed then moved her head to lay it on his shoulder. It took several minutes before she actually relaxed. His familiar scent, the heat of his body, and the shifting of the carriage relaxed her more than she expected. This must be what a real marriage was like—quiet moments with the one you loved.

  How she wished their marriage was a true one that would hold moments like this forever.

  *

  Lucas lectured himself sternly as Moira shifted in his arms, the sway of the coach easing her closer. He hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to keep from pulling her onto his lap and kissing her senseless.

  The very thought of doing so made his trousers uncomfortably tight.

  Instead he forced himself to relax, cuddling her close, determined to enjoy the moment. After some internal debate, he’d realized his decision to make their wedding night the only night they spent together would not benefit either of them. Odds were against Moira becoming pregnant from that one night, which meant he wouldn’t be keeping his end of their bargain. He already cared deeply for Moira—he always had. What purpose would be served by keeping her at arm’s length? Why not enjoy the limited time they had together, within reason, of course?

  This moment was a perfect example. He might never have the opportunity hold her quite like this again. He rested his cheek against the softness of her hair, the sweet scent filling his senses, making him very glad she’d decided to remove her hat.

  What was he to do with her?

  The voice inside his head asking that question snuck in when he wasn’t paying attention. He had a plan and he still had every intention of sticking with it. He only needed to find the will to make it so. When the time came, he would concentrate on the reasons he had to leave, and that would provide the motivation he needed.

  But his upcoming departure didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy this moment. Especially with the girls sleeping soundly, giving him and Moira some level of privacy. When Moira stirred in his arms, he couldn’t help but kiss the top o
f her head. She tipped her head back, eyes still closed, and sighed. He kissed her forehead then her cheek and nose.

  Her eyes fluttered open to look up at him, the deep green drawing him closer. What else could he do but press his lips to the softness of hers?

  She sighed and he took the kiss deeper, molding her lips to his. Soon, that wasn’t nearly enough. His tongue danced along the seam of her lips and she opened so willingly, desire filled him even deeper. When her tongue played with his, he couldn’t help but moan, careful not to be so loud as to wake the girls.

  He ran his hand along her curves, enjoying every part of her, from the fullness of her breasts to the narrowness of her waist to the flare of her hips. She was perfect. And for the moment at least, she was his.

  Her hand crept up to the back of his neck and found a sensitive spot there. He shuddered as his need built. Suddenly the journey to London seemed far too long. He eased back, not wanting to take this too far, not with the girls beside them and the possibility of them waking at any moment.

  Moira sighed again as he continued to hold her cheek-to-cheek. “Oh, my,” she whispered.

  “I couldn’t agree more.” He drew back to see the rosiness in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, and best of all, the golden glow of her aura. If she only knew how much of a relief it was to see it glowing so brightly as though it would never dim.

  “Did you mess my hair?” she asked quietly with a smile.

  He looked up again to check. “Nothing of the sort. It still looks perfect.”

  Her eyes narrowed, making him realize his mistake. She’d already noticed him looking at her aura. If she caught him doing so much more, she would surely question him again. He didn’t want that, for he had no explanation to give her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Moira arched her back, already stiff from the long day in the coach. As comfortable as the conveyance was, spending the day in it was far different from her normal activities. She would love to stop and walk for a time.