Vincent drew a deep breath, trying to digest the information, only to wince. He touched his hand to his side and found a tender spot. “What happened to me ribs?”
His uncle shrugged. “The plan was not without its share of mishaps. I’m afraid your body was dropped once or twice.”
Vincent rubbed his forehead, realizing he didn’t want to know the details. A few minor aches and pains seemed a small price to pay for no longer being confined to a cell, not to mention being alive. “The police believe me dead? I don’t have to return to prison?”
“As long as you don’t draw attention to your existence, our secret should be safe.”
Vincent breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to have escaped life in prison a second time. For that, he definitely owed his uncle. Perhaps the time had come for him to become more committed to his uncle’s goal. “Where are we?”
“Our new temporary quarters. I had to move once more. Inquiries were being made that caused me to be quite uncomfortable.”
“Those lords again, eh? Along with that meddlin’ Miss Bradford.” Vincent shook his head. He still couldn’t believe they’d somehow managed to best him.
“They are intelligent men. Now that they’ve banded together, their efforts are even more effective.” Uncle Joseph stared out the dirty window. His eyes had that far away look in them that made Vincent nervous.
“Are ye still going to meet with ’em? Tell ’em you live?”
“Eventually. But that time has not yet come. First, I need to make sure my plans are in place. I want them to see my vision as I do. The discovery of electromagnetism was a landmark breakthrough in science, Vincent. And we are going to take full advantage of it.”
“Perhaps ye could explain the whole thing to me again. If I understood the experiments better, I might be of more help.” He was all too aware of what a close call he’d had. His uncle could have just as easily killed him. Vincent knew if he wanted to share in the success his uncle kept promising, he needed to become a bigger part of his plan.
“Electromagnets are magnets that can be easily controlled by the amount of current running through them. The copper wire coiled around the magnet concentrates the magnetic field.”
Vincent nodded. At least he understood parts of what his uncle told him, but when he started using scientific terms, comprehension escaped him.
“Humans are electromagnetic beings,” his uncle continued. “Are you familiar with the study of electrophysiology?”
“Can’t say as I am.” Vincent rubbed his hand over his face, no longer certain he’d understand no matter how many times his uncle explained.
“It is the study of the electrical properties of tissue.” At Vincent’s puzzled look, he added, “Human tissue. If magnets can be used to pull and stretch matter, including tissue, we might be able to find a way to control humans using electromagnetism.”
Vincent held his tongue. He thought his uncle a bit crazed. The vision he saw was not one that Vincent shared. Controlling people using some sort of device seemed impossible. The last few weeks had proven to him that he was a man of simple needs. All he wanted was a pint at his elbow, food in his belly, and a warm bed to lay his head. He no longer hoped to reach the stars. He only wanted to stay out of prison.
But he wasn’t about to tell his uncle that. Else he might find himself asleep again but not waking up.
“We have much to do, Vincent. First, we must obtain the meteorite Lord Ashbury has in order to maintain an even power source for our electromagnetic device. It’s vital for the success of our mission.”
Vincent scowled, less than pleased with his assignment. He had no desire to deal with Lord Ashbury or the Bradford woman ever again.
~*~
The next evening, Emma stood before the looking glass, staring at the image before her. This woman looked beautiful, confident, as though she belonged in this room.
“You look lovely, miss, if I may say so.” The maid adjusted her hair one last time then stepped back. “I’ll tell the viscountess that you’re ready.”
But wait, Emma wanted to cry out. I’m not ready at all.
Her green silk gown was simple in design but elegant in its fit. A cream colored underskirt drew the eye to a narrow waist and the hint of cleavage at the neckline. Her hair was artfully drawn back to cascade in loose curls to her shoulders.
Gone were the spectacles, the pasty complexion and grey hair. Without her mask, she felt naked, exposed to the world.
Emma had never been more scared in her life.
She closed her eyes. Hadn’t she simply traded one disguise for another? Would she never be able to live life as her true self? She wasn’t even certain who she was anymore. What would her family think of her appearance? They’d see through her new disguise, just as everyone else would.
A tap on the door interrupted her racing thoughts.
The maid hurried forward to open the door, revealing the viscountess.
“Oh.” She walked slowly forward while staring at Emma.
The stunned look on her face made Emma’s heart sink. “What is it? It’s the dress, isn’t it? It’s not right for me. The wrong color perhaps?”
“You look stunning.” The viscountess’s eyes watered as she took Emma’s hand. “Absolutely breathtaking. I knew you were an attractive woman, but...”
The emotion in her face made tears well in Emma’s eyes too. “Are you certain I look acceptable?”
“Acceptable? My dear, I doubt there will be a man at the ball who won’t beg for a dance with you.”
Emma smiled. She well knew the viscountess was merely being kind, but she appreciated her words all the same. “It is all due to you and your good taste.”
“You’re beautiful, but it’s more than that. I think it has to do with the way you carry yourself, with the wary intelligence in your eyes.”
With a laugh, Emma tried to draw a deep breath, but her corset wouldn’t allow it. “I’m not certain I’m prepared for this.”
“Nonsense. Of course you are. This is one of those occasions when you must simply step forward and see what happens. Seize life with both hands.”
“I confess that I feel like a fraud. As though I’m pretending to be something I’m not.” She turned back to the mirror to study the woman there. “Surely people will realize I don’t belong, that I’m only pretending.”
The viscountess moved to stand beside her, her gown a vivid shade of burgundy that brought out her eyes which met Emma’s in the mirror. “You do belong, Emma. And if you start to doubt that this evening, you must ask yourself if you ever felt like you belonged while you were a governess. Perhaps that was where the deceit was. Not here. Not now. Try on this new persona and see if it fits better.”
Startled, Emma could only stare at her as her words sunk in. “I’ve never thought of that.”
The older woman smiled. “Enough of this serious conversation. Your only task this evening is to enjoy yourself. Allow us to prepare to depart. I will be ready as soon as I remember where I put my gloves.”
“May I look for them for you?”
“No need. I believe I left them in my room. I’ll meet you in the drawing room shortly.”
The viscountess led the way out of Emma’s room then turned the opposite direction in the hall. “I’ll be down directly, my dear. Have a glass of sherry while you wait. That will help calm your nerves.”
Emma smiled. Maybe she would. That might give her the boost of courage she needed to make it through this night. Keeping a hand on the railing, she made her way down the stairs, the unfamiliar weight of the skirt and new shoes threatening her balance. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the lower level and entered the drawing room.
To her surprise, Viscount Weston stood in the room, one arm resting against the mantle of the fireplace, the other holding a crystal glass.
She stopped abruptly at the unexpected sight of him. For a moment, she considered backing away before he saw her. She was already off kilter
. Seeing him did not help. As she hesitated, he turned to face her.
A range of emotions crossed his face so quickly that she wasn’t sure what he thought. He immediately straightened and came forward, leaving his glass on a nearby table as he passed by.
“Emma?” The way he said her name, it seemed as if he wasn’t quite sure it was truly her.
She lifted her chin, realizing this was her first test of the evening. Would he declare her an impostor? Advise her this would never work? Tell her she didn’t belong? “Good evening, my lord.” She curtsied and found him much closer when she rose.
Too close.
From here, she could see the length of his dark lashes that framed his blue eyes. His black hair was smoothed back but held a hint of a curl as it brushed his collar, making her want to touch it. He smelled glorious—an appealing mix of the woods and bay rum.
“Miss Grisby.” This time he said her name as though he had realized it truly was her. He drew another step closer to take her hand. The warm feel of his skin against hers made her realize she hadn’t yet donned her gloves.
“You look...beautiful.”
She studied him, trying to decide what that slight hesitation meant. “Your grandmother has been very helpful.” She glanced at his jacket, anything to look away from the intensity of his stare. “She thought the gown would be appropriate for this evening.”
Michael frowned, trying to make sense of her words. He could see her mouth moving, but her changed appearance slowed his thoughts. From her shining hair to the delicate rose of her cheeks to the arch of her brow, she bore little resemblance to the woman he’d left here only a few days ago.
His gaze dropped as she gestured toward her vivid green gown and the amazing figure she’d so cleverly hidden in that terrible grey attire. Before he did something he’d regret, he pulled his gaze up only to have that slight bow in her upper lip catch his eye. A spear of desire shot through him that shut off his brain completely. “I had no idea.”
“No idea of what?”
“That you were quite so beautiful. This is more how I remember you.”
Her lips parted at his words, her eyes wide with surprise. “Why...thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
He shook his head. “That has nothing to do with it. Rarely am I kind.”
A blush crept up her cheeks, drawing him nearer. Her aura was golden, shimmering about her as though to celebrate her success.
“Where are your spectacles?”
“I don’t really need them.”
Unable to resist, he reached out to touch the silky softness of her hair, amazed at the rich color of it. “It looks so different.”
She gave a tiny shrug, almost imperceptible. “I covered it with ash to dull it.”
Unable to resist, he grazed his finger along her cheek. “Here too?”
“Yes.”
The deep breath she took drew his attention to her neckline, the fullness of her cleavage giving him pause. The green of the gown contrasted with the alabaster of her skin. Her narrow waist made him want to span it with his hands to see how she fit. Gone was the hint of chubbiness her governess attire had suggested. She looked nothing like the little grey mouse who’d perched on the chair in his library only last week.
“Your transformation is remarkable.”
He tried to gather himself and remember to whom he was speaking and why she was here. As he breathed in to calm himself, he caught her scent of lilies and sunshine. Her brown eyes held the same awareness he felt but held no invitation, no fluttering of her lashes, no flirtatious smile.
How could he resist such a challenge?
Again, he touched her cheek, drawing one finger along the smooth silkiness. His gaze dropped from her eyes to those lips which parted the slightest bit. Slowly, deliberately, he bent his head and kissed her, wondering if she’d shove him away.
Her mouth was soft and oh so sweet. Passion crashed through him, surprising him with its strength. He deepened the kiss, unable to resist, drawing her into his arms. Her tentative response fueled him. How could she not feel the same fire that burned within him?
He drew back to look at her, to see her reaction. The shocked heat in her eyes pleased him but the wariness remained. What would it take to remove that caution and leave only passion in its place?
He moved to try again, determined to erase the barrier she’d placed between them, to make her lose control as he nearly had.
“Viscount Weston.” His formal name on her lips halted him. “Your grandmother will be joining us any moment.”
The sound of heels clicking on tile echoed from the hall. The combination of that, along with Emma’s words, helped cool his ardor, but not completely.
One look at the woman before him was enough to heat his blood again. Her hands clasped together as though she needed to hold on to something. He berated himself. Obviously she was nervous yet all he could think about was kissing her. That was wrong for more reasons than he could count, the first of which was his own engagement. The second one being that he had no intention of involving himself with a woman for whom he felt such passion. It had destroyed his father and mother, and he knew that he had those same destructive seeds in himself.
When one lost control, someone else always paid the price.
Yet he couldn’t help but reassure Emma. He could see she was nervous and had reason to be. Navigating the ton would be much like swimming in an ocean of sharks. “You will be an amazing success tonight. Have no doubt.”
She reached up to touch the top of her head. “Is my hair out of place?”
He glanced up to check. “No.”
“Then why do you keep looking at it?”
He was saved from having to answer by his grandmother.
“How nice of you to accompany us, Michael.”
“I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to escort two beautiful ladies to a ball.” He bent to kiss his grandmother on the cheek.
“Nonsense. I’m certain there are a hundred other things you’d rather do, but we appreciate it all the same, do we not, Emma?”
Emma paused before answering, her gaze on his as though weighing his merit. Why did it matter what she thought of him? “Indeed, we do.”
“Let us be off and see what the ton has to say about our protégé.” She looped her arm through Emma’s and looked over her shoulder at him. “Come along. This will be quite the adventure. I expect Emma will be the belle of the ball.”
Suddenly, the idea of other men ogling Emma annoyed him. He had no right to such feelings, nor any right to kiss her. He needed to remember that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emma stared across the crowded ballroom, unable to catch her breath. Especially after that kiss with Michael. Dare she hope he felt something for her? She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to find a myriad of colors interspersed with black, swinging in time to the rhythm of the music. All of it blurred as her heart raced.
Once, several years ago, she’d glimpsed into a ballroom much like this. Her young charges had been put to bed and she’d heard the echo of the music through the halls, beckoning her. She’d been unable to resist peeking in from one of the upper balconies. The beautiful ladies, the elegant men, the richness of the décor had been just as overwhelming as it was this evening.
Now she stood amidst the party but still didn’t feel as if she belonged anymore than she had then.
“Don’t lose your courage now,” Viscount Weston murmured in her ear as he moved past her to offer his elbow to his grandmother. “Whom shall we introduce Miss Grisby to first?”
Viscountess Weston smiled over her shoulder at Emma. “We are not going to introduce her to anyone. They will come to us if they’d like to meet her.”
“Excellent idea.”
The pair moved forward but Michael continually looked over his shoulder to be certain she followed. Emma soon realized those looks from him would be her undoing, for they made her think of their kiss.
Never in her wi
ldest dreams had she expected he might kiss her. Heat flushed her face as emotions swelled through her once again. What was she to make of it? Hope spiraled through her. Why else would he kiss her unless he held some affection for her? Her heart squeezed painfully. She knew she should not read too much into his actions. Men did not always link passion and true caring. She’d learned that much over the years. But she couldn’t completely squelch the flicker of optimism deep inside her. She held it close, allowing it to warm her.
Perhaps she would feel the same if some other man kissed her. No. That was not true. She already knew that, and it would be silly to think otherwise. Of course, her experience was based on unwanted kisses from her employers, not handsome men with blue eyes who made her heart beat faster just by looking at her.
Before they’d moved more than a few steps across the room, someone stepped into their path, halting their progress.
“Hello, darling.” The lady who greeted Viscount Weston was beautiful in a brittle way with high cheekbones and a narrow nose. Her carefully arranged blonde hair must’ve taken hours to complete. She offered her cheek to Michael for a kiss, surprising Emma with her forward behavior. Next she greeted the viscountess but received a rather cool reception. Then the woman’s cold blue gaze landed on Emma.
Her head tilted to the side as though she found Emma’s appearance an oddity. “Who do we have here?”
“May I introduce Miss Emma Grisby, the granddaughter of a dear friend of mine. She’s staying with me for a time,” the viscountess answered. “Miss Grisby, this is Miss Catherine Vandimere, Michael’s fiancé.”
Emma’s heart stopped as she tried to grasp the news. The woman studied her, the calculating look in her eyes making Emma uneasy. “How nice to meet you,” Emma managed.
“I’m sure. Michael’s told me all about you.”
He hasn’t told me anything about you, Emma thought, but she held her tongue. Hadn’t she just told herself not to make too much of their kiss?
Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 9