“I know, Ponsford. Truly I do. But some risks may be necessary to protect our family.”
With a scowl, he 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.”
CHAPTER TEN
“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 before he realized what he’d done.
“Lord Ashbury. This is...unexpected.” Her tone held a reproof 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 smiled, 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 he 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 care
ful.”
“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 tilted 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 your 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.
Her stomach dipped at the very idea of it. To calm herself she picked a book from the shelf before her and paged through it.
The shop sat on the edge of respectability and, from what she’d seen, its customers were a mixture of the affluent and the middle class. Based on the interesting collection of books offered for sale, all patrons seemed to share a serious love of reading.
Abigail returned the book to the shelf and walked through the narrow aisles with their tall shelves and stacks of books. Stephen’s choice of a meeting place was quite clever. The layout offered privacy. They were unlikely to run into anyone they knew here due to the location of the bookstore. And she couldn’t help but be touched at his thoughtfulness of selecting a place she would enjoy browsing. Books were one of her favorite things.
She bit her lip as her mind returned to thoughts of Stephen.
An affair.
The idea sent shivers down her arms. She’d thought about it from every angle. It made perfect sense. Neither of them wanted to marry, and while she was certainly no expert, they seemed to have a certain spark.
Who was she kidding? A spark?
She’d never felt this deep sense of longing before in her whole life. It was an ache that poured through her entire being from head to toe when she was near him.
Or when she thought of him.
And especially when she dreamed of him.
Somehow, she was certain this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. At the age of six and twenty, she’d had the chance to meet many men yet had never felt anything like this. She wanted the chance to explore these feelings. Since she didn’t want to marry and neither did Stephen, delving into a passionate affair with him seemed the perfect solution.
She’d spent hours determining the proper way to suggest it, but in the end had decided the words would come to her along with the opportunity. Just the thought of talking to him about it made her stomach flutter.
She’d dressed carefully for the occasion in a gown of blue a shade darker than her eyes. Her hair was twisted into a loose chignon topped with a little hat. She knew she looked her best. Irene had even complimented her as she left the house, supposedly for a meeting with Mr. Nesbitt.
As she paused to study the binding of another book, she reminded herself she need only convince Stephen of the benefits of her plan. He’d see the logic of her suggestion; she was sure of it.
What on earth was keeping him?
“May I help you find something, miss?” A small mouse of a man stepped forward, his shop apron streaked with dust and ink, and a pleasant smile on his face.
“I’m only browsing, but I must say, your collection is quite impressive.”
The man beamed with pride. “I try to offer books on every subject a customer has ever inquired about. If I don’t have it, I find it. If I can’t, I contact an author who I think is capable of writing about a particular subject, and together, we publish a book to answer that need.”
“What a clever idea.” Her mind flew with the possibilities.
“I realized several years ago that if one person was interested enough to look for a book on a topic, someon
e else would be as well. Of course, those books are only available in my shop.”
“Exclusivity, of course. Brilliant.”
“It’s worked out well thus far. We recently expanded and need to do so again soon. It’s always a bit of a struggle between wanting to offer a larger selection and having enough revenues to make changes. Can’t do one without the other.”
“Do you have investors?”
“Good day, Miss Bradford. I see you’ve met Mr. Larson.”
The sound of Stephen’s voice so near had her spinning around in surprise, her heart racing at the sight of him. His black morning coat fit his broad shoulders impeccably. A gray silk waistcoat contrasted with his white shirt and black neck scarf.
As always, it was his eyes that drew her—those green eyes that held more secrets than one person ought to have. She longed to lift the dark depths from them, if only temporarily.
Would he allow her to?
She pulled her thoughts back to the conversation and smiled at the shopkeeper. “Not formally.”
Stephen introduced her and advised Mr. Larson that they wanted to browse. Soon they were left alone to wander among the rows of books.
“So you have news?” she asked, anxious to hear if anything more had occurred with Simmons. She bit her lip, hoping Stephen would tell her the threat of him harming her family was gone.
“Some,” he said as he took a book from a shelf and glanced around as though to ensure no one overheard them.
Worry settled in her stomach, smothering her hope as she studied his serious expression.
“As you know,” he continued, “we found Simmons’ new lodgings and posted a man to watch it. Oddly enough, it took several days before Simmons showed up.”
“I haven’t seen him following me or my family either.” She told herself there was no need for the sense of foreboding that filled her.
“We wondered where he’d been as well. Once he made an appearance, we decided to follow him rather than confront him so we could see what he was about.”
Her unease bloomed. “And?”
“He made several stops, including a baker, an apothecary shop, and a butcher.”
“That doesn’t seem unusual.”
Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) Page 12