Secrets 03 - Shattered Secrets

by Lana Williams

  “What is it?”

  Rather than answer, she ran her hand along his muscled buttock, rewarded when his breath caught. She pressed a kiss on his back as her fingers molded the shape of his body once again.

  “Moira.” This time, he said her name with a moan as he rolled over to draw her into his arms.

  “Yes,” she whispered again, her body pulsing with need.

  “Oh, Christ,” he murmured as his hands roamed along her body. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  “If it’s anything like how you make me feel, I have an excellent idea.”

  The candlelight barely illuminated the shadows and as he rose above her to kiss her, his damaged eye hidden from view. She couldn’t resist running her hands along his face as they kissed, loving that the barrier was gone, if only temporarily.

  His body slid along hers until she moaned with pleasure. His kisses lit her everywhere he placed them, from her shoulder to the underside of her jaw to the peak of her breast. When he kissed the flare of her hip, she shivered with need. His fingers found her heat, causing her to moan with desire. Anxious to make him feel as she did, she reached down and found his shaft, wrapping her fingers around him.

  “Moira. Oh, sweet, Moira.” His body shaking, he rose above her and found her center, thrusting himself inside her.

  She wrapped her legs around him, loving his weight on her, the feel of him inside her. Passion swelled until they found the edge and pushed beyond. Together. As one.

  She held on tight as they sank back to earth, her world complete with Lucas holding her as though he’d never let her go. While she knew this solved nothing, she hoped it would make him see that they belonged together, through good and bad, for better or worse. She hadn’t realized that part of their vows would be so meaningful.

  He shifted to the side and she moaned in protest. But he only lifted up to blow out the candle, then wrapped her in his embrace. The kiss he pressed to her hair warmed her heart, filling it with even more love, though she would’ve said that was impossible.

  What happened on the morrow could wait. She would enjoy this moment though she couldn’t help but say a little prayer that it would be the beginning of many more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Lucas took a seat in the upper balcony at the House of Lords beside Weston and Ashbury. The floor below was packed. This was the second day of the members’ return since the previous session, which had ended mid-July.

  “The last time I was here was with the two of you,” Weston whispered.

  Lucas nodded. The same was true for him. They had come during their university years, more as a lark than a learning experience. At a glance, it appeared little had changed. The chamber carried the elegance such a stately place required. Dark wood paneling and red seats covered the lower half while the upper contained paintings and stained glass windows.

  “Doesn’t look as if Tysdale has began speaking,” Weston said.

  “Where is he?” Lucas asked. He’d continued to receive the newssheet from England while he was in Brazil but hadn’t kept completely abreast of the movements of Parliament. From what he understood, Tysdale was a relatively new member.

  “I understand Gladstone doesn’t care for him,” Ashbury said as Weston pointed him out.

  Weston looked at Ashbury in surprise. “How did you discover that?”

  Ashbury smiled. “I’ve had one of the lads hanging about here the last couple of days. He overhead some of the groomsmen speaking while they waited for their employers.”

  Gladstone, a Liberal politician, was serving his second term as Prime Minister. He’d been criticized for his foreign policy by many. In July, he’d ordered the bombardment of Alexandria, which had started the Anglo-Egyptian War. While many claimed it had been necessary in order to protect the Suez Canal, others argued he’d done so in order to safeguard the interests of British investors with assets in Egypt, as well as to increase the popularity of the Liberal Party.

  “From what I’ve read in the paper, several members of Parliament agree with Tysdale’s aggressive stance to make England a dominant world power.” Weston had always followed what was happening in the government.

  “That might be, but when it comes to the need for force, they may change their mind,” Lucas added as he studied Tysdale. He was in his late twenties, tall with long sideburns. His aura was light from this distance. “Do either of you see anything?”

  “Nothing here,” Ashbury said. “Only the normal murkiness that follows most people.”

  “It doesn’t look as if he’ll be able to convince enough people of the logic of his plan to make a difference,” Weston said. “Not today, at any rate.”

  Lucas could see how the three of them working together could garner more information and perhaps even solve problems they otherwise couldn’t. But he had no intention of doing that for the professor.

  “Tysdale is a member of the science and technology committee,” Weston continued. “My guess is he’ll try to convince his fellow members of the validity of his plan. They’re meeting tomorrow evening but it’s not open to the public. If he succeeds in persuading them, his chances of convincing the rest of the House of Lords greatly improves.”

  “So at this point, there’s nothing more we can do. We can only hope Grisby contacts one of us to set up a meeting.” Lucas shared a glance with each of his friends.

  “He’ll have guards with him again if he does, so force is not an option,” Ashbury said.

  “Then we’ll have to mount a clever argument to convince him to stop his plans.”

  Weston gestured toward the lower level. “Tysdale is taking the floor.”

  The lord raised his arms, looking up toward the ceiling, reminding Lucas of a witch doctor he’d once watched in Brazil. This situation wasn’t so very different. One man attempting to convince others that he had the knowledge they needed.

  “My fellow lords, today is a new day. I see before me the bright future of England. A great empire that holds the entire globe in the palm of her hand.” His charismatic voice echoed through the chamber as his words were met with a round of applause.

  “Does that mean she’ll have her fingers in every other country’s business?” Ashbury asked.

  Weston smiled as Tysdale continued.

  “Our goods will be sold in every port, our ships will return with inexpensive cargo.” Cheers and more applause filled the room.

  “Don’t they know that encouraging him will only make this speech last longer?” Ashbury asked, obviously restless. “That was how it always worked at Cambridge.”

  Tysdale went on for some time, describing his vision for England in glorious terms.

  “Surely they realize there has to be a drawback to these grand plans,” Lucas said.

  It seemed many did for objections were raised as Tysdale closed his speech. Weston recognized some of the lords who did so and named them for Ashbury and Lucas’s benefit.

  “Now we have a better idea of who supports Tysdale’s ideas and who doesn’t, but no one is standing at his side,” Weston said as he eyed the arguing men below. “This feels unproductive. We need to pursue another course of action.”

  “I detest the idea of sitting and waiting for the professor to contact us,” Ashbury said. “I’ll contact Mikey and see if he has anything for us. The lads following him haven’t seen him go anywhere unusual yet, but perhaps I can encourage Mikey to take action.”

  “Excellent plan.” Lucas rose. “I for one have had enough of politics for now.”

  “Let us swing by my club and see if anyone there supports Tysdale’s opinions. Some of those men gossip far more than a costermonger.” Weston stood with Lucas.

  Lucas scowled, not looking forward to spending more time in a crowd.

  “Can you bear it?” Ashbury asked, his green eyes full of empathy.

  “I can if you can,” Lucas answered. At Ashbury’s nod, the three departed, leaving behind the still arguing members of Parliament.
r />   *

  Moira paused in her embroidery at the sound of someone arriving late the following afternoon. She and the girls were sitting in the morning room, all with needlework. Amelia quite liked the pastime and had made excellent progress on her sampler, but Addie did not have the patience for it. Moira supposed she was somewhere in between.

  “Are we expecting visitors?” Addie asked, her expression hopeful that company would put her torture to an end.

  “No, I don’t believe so,” Moira said as she listened. Tiago had returned to stay with them, but she was certain it wasn’t him.

  “May we ask Abigail’s sisters to visit?” Amelia asked.

  “That is an excellent idea.” Addie’s eyes lit up at the thought.

  “Certainly. Shall we see if they can do so tomorrow?” Moira suggested.

  “It’s Lord Ashbury,” Addie said as she stared out the open door. “I recognize his voice.”

  “So it is. Continue with your stitches.” Moira rose to greet their guest, uncertain if Lucas was home. She hadn’t seen him all day, nor had he come to her bed. Though she knew how busy he was, trying to find the professor, she also knew he was keeping her at arm’s length. Had their night together made any difference to him?

  She stepped into the hall only to realize Ashbury had already passed by, headed to the library. Lucas must be home after all.

  Ingrid, the maid she didn’t like, lingered outside the library door that stood slightly ajar. Moira eased forward as far as she could while staying out of sight, trying to catch what the maid might be hearing but could only make out the murmur of voices.

  Suddenly, the maid glanced up and down the hall then hurried toward the kitchen. Moira followed her to see what she was up to.

  “Is all well, my lady?” Fran asked as she came around the corner.

  “Can you please stay with the girls?” Moira motioned toward the morning room where she’d left them. “They can return to the nursery whenever they’re ready. I’m not certain how long I’ll be.”

  “My pleasure.” Fran bobbed a curtsey and headed toward the morning room.

  Knowing the twins were safe, Moira followed Ingrid, realizing she must’ve gone down the stairs to the kitchen. The cook and her helpers appeared rather startled at Moira’s arrival.

  Moira glanced about the room but saw no sign of Ingrid.

  “Can I help you, my lady?” the cook asked, holding a ladle above a pot.

  “I was looking for Ingrid.”

  The cook’s brows rose. “She just hurried out the back door. Not certain where she went. That woman’s testing my patience.”

  “I’m going to see what she’s about,” Moira said.

  She wasn’t certain what was happening, but her instincts told her to follow the woman. Perhaps she could find out if she was meeting someone.

  As Moira reached the door, the cook called out, “Take one of the cloaks if you’re going far, my lady. Dusk will soon fall and a chill will come along with it.”

  A row of pegs near the door held a variety of cloaks. Moira took what appeared to be a woman’s black cloak and a matching hat. “Thank you.” She quickly donned the cloak and hat as she hurried out, worried the maid would be long gone.

  The kitchen entrance was just below the street level. She rushed up the steps that led to the alley behind the house and glanced both ways, catching a form disappearing around the corner to her left. Moira ran to catch up, her slippers silent on the cobbled surface. Her effort paid off when she caught sight of the maid hurrying down the street not far ahead of her.

  Convinced the woman was up to no good, Moira followed closely, easing behind bushes and brick columns when twice the maid glanced back. Moira’s curiosity grew the farther they went, but soon her fear did as well. The tidy streets of Mayfair were soon behind them. When the maid hailed a hansom cab, Moira worried all her efforts were for naught. But another cab pulled forward from around the corner to take its place.

  “Did ye need a ride, miss?” the driver asked.

  Moira hesitated, but she hadn’t come this far for nothing. “Yes, please. Can you follow the cab that just departed?”

  The driver glanced down the street. “Certainly, I can.”

  She drew a deep breath to ease her nerves, hoping she was doing the right thing. She stepped up into the conveyance and sat as the cab lurched forward. The driver could easily return her home if needed.

  Resolved to see this through, she watched out the window, her worry increasing as they traveled farther and farther from home. Fog rolled in, making her even more uneasy. At last the cab drew to a halt, and Moira stepped down to speak with the driver.

  “The passenger in the cab ahead took a right at the next corner,” the driver said. “Ye should be able to catch her if ye hurry.”

  Reminding herself that seeing where Ingrid was going might provide Lucas with critical information, she decided to continue her pursuit. “Thank you.” Luckily, she had some money in her pocket and quickly paid the man.

  The streets were busier and dirtier here. The people were rougher as well though a few appeared to be clerks and the like. Most didn’t bother giving her a second glance, making her grateful for her plain cloak and hat as she hurried around the corner.

  Ingrid lost her in the crowd, but Moira continued walking, hoping she’d taken the right path. Her luck held as the woman reappeared a short distance ahead. At last Ingrid reached a large warehouse and knocked on the door.

  Moira ducked into a doorway as the woman glanced back. After waiting a moment, Moira looked to find the maid gone. She had to have entered the warehouse but there was no way to tell for sure.

  That left Moira standing in a doorway, waiting for her, as the sun set and the air grew chilly. People passed by, many giving her curious looks, so she eased back farther and kept her head down, hoping to draw less attention.

  As the cold seeped through her cloak and the fog grew denser, she realized following the maid had been a terrible mistake. What had she been thinking? She should return home and share the address of the warehouse with Lucas.

  She studied the building, trying to determine the address, when the door opened to reveal Ingrid once again. Her heart pounding, Moira jerked back then peered out to watch. The maid was accompanied by a man in a bowler hat—Simmons, the one who’d attempted to take the girls at the theater—and Professor Grisby who carried a cane, a hood covering his head.

  Though this was exactly what she and Lucas had suspected, Moira was still shocked. To think the woman had been spying on them since their arrival in London was unbelievable and made Moira furious. The urge to make certain Ingrid didn’t get away with it filled her.

  The group walked down the street in the opposite direction toward a hansom cab. Moira panicked as she realized they were leaving. Now what? After coming all this way, she couldn’t lose them. She hesitated only a moment but determination won over fear. She had to do something.

  A glance up and down the street showed no other cab for hire. Then again, she didn’t have any more money. She stared at the back of the cab as its passengers settled in place, considering her limited options. Three horizontal supports graced the back of the cab at different levels. The memory of a street urchin riding there the day they’d arrived in London was vivid in her mind.

  Heart pounding, she hurried forward, keeping her head down so her hat shielded her face. She reached it just as the cab started forward. Holding her breath, she hopped on to the lowest support and grabbed the upper one, her position tenuous at best. To her surprise, no one shouted at her to get off nor did anyone alert the cab driver or the occupants of her presence. She received many odd looks, including one from a lad who loitered outside the warehouse.

  As the cab picked up speed, she said a quick prayer that she could hold on long enough to find out where the three of them were going and with luck, what terrible deeds they were plotting.

  *

  “You do realize this could very well be a trap.”
Lucas felt it necessary to point out the obvious.

  He rode in the carriage with Ashbury and Weston. Ashbury had called on him to advise him that Mikey had come forward with the location of Simmons and the professor. They’d left immediately to pick up Weston.

  “Indeed,” Ashbury agreed. “I sent some of the lads ahead to watch the place to be certain they didn’t leave before we arrived. This might be our best opportunity to find them.”

  “The only opportunity.” Weston pulled aside the curtain to watch outside. “It doesn’t matter if it is a trap. We will be prepared either way.”

  Lucas hoped Weston’s confidence was justified. But the sooner this whole situation was over the better. He’d kept his distance from Moira as best he could, but each day grew more difficult. His feelings for her continued to grow, far outstretching his capacity—or so he’d thought. She’d permeated every nuance of his life, every fiber of his being, including his heart. When he’d woken to find her in his bed the other night, he’d realized how far gone he was. Nothing could have made him turn her away. Instead, he’d reached for her like a drowning man reaches for a lifeline. With both hands.

  The sooner he returned to Brazil, the better. Watching her and the girls’ auras each day drained him. Never mind that he wondered if he’d worry more if he wasn’t there to keep watch over them.

  As the carriage rumbled along the streets, Lucas realized he’d forgotten to give Moira an update before he’d left. Knowing she and the girls were tucked safely at home, out of harm’s way with Tiago watching over them, eased his mind. He chose to ignore the small voice that asked who’d keep them safe once he and Tiago left.

  Yet what choice did he have? How could he remain here, wondering each day if the shadow of death would come over them? Marriage to him would only make her miserable. Of that he had no doubt. At least with him in another country, she might have an affair or— “Christ, Berkmond. I can hear you thinking from over here,” Ashbury muttered. “What on earth is going on in that head of yours?”

  Weston scoffed. “He always thinks too much. He needs to learn to relax and enjoy the moments of happiness that life sprinkles over us from time to time.”