None of it made any sense.
It certainly confirmed what Stephen had already determined—Simmons was not working alone.
She paused by her window to search the area below but nothing was visible in the dark. It was unnerving to know Simmons was still out there and wanted something from her. Since she hadn’t given it to him, she had to assume he’d be back for it.
No wonder she couldn’t sleep.
Stephen’s ideas for additional inquiries on the switch seemed logical but unlikely to provide them with real answers. How many people would remember what had taken place that long ago?
She took comfort in the knowledge that Stephen was having Simmons watched. With luck, he’d get to the bottom of the situation before Simmons had a chance to follow through on his plans, whatever they were.
Thoughts of Stephen caused a peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. Leaning on him in the carriage had comforted her at first, but then her awareness of him had bloomed. There was no doubt her attraction to him was deepening each time she saw him.
Tonight, as she’d bid him goodbye, she’d realized she didn’t have to worry about broaching the topic of an affair with him. Instead, she would simply let their attraction take them there.
The very idea of it made her tremble.
As she saw the situation, she had two options. She could be forthcoming and tell him exactly what she wanted. That seemed such a cold way to approach what should be, dare she say, hot?
Or—
Her breath caught as heat coursed through her. She could seduce him. She bit her lip as the idea formed more clearly. He’d hold her as he had earlier, kiss her, even caress her, and at last she’d know what it was like to make love.
To be a woman in truth.
She couldn’t think of a better man to give her that experience. No one else could make her heart pound with a simple look and that slow smile. No one else could make her head spin with his kisses.
Now she need only determine the proper timing and arrange a few other details. She could ease into it; plant the seed of desire in their next meeting or two. An affair would follow naturally. That would make it a simple process, she thought with a smile. One she looked forward to. A welcome distraction from the worry of Simmons.
She need only find her courage to make it a reality.
***
The next afternoon, Stephen surveyed the rocks and minerals displayed on the desk in Abigail’s library. With much effort, he kept his gaze on the specimens rather than Abigail. A difficult task considering the pale blue gown she wore with its low-cut neckline, something highly unusual for this time of day. Or perhaps he was more out of touch with society and fashions than he’d thought.
For the tenth time, he reminded himself that the purpose of his call was to inspect the rock collection, not ogle her.
He’d been certain her stepmother would be home, but Lady Bradford and her two youngest daughters were out shopping.
“Your father had an extensive collection,” he commented, tearing his gaze away from tempting curves of her breasts. The sweet pink of her aura caused his own passion to rise.
“Yes,” she said as she bent forward and lingered in that position to reach for an obsidian rock, her curves drawing his gaze again. “Grandfather gave him a few items when he was young and Father collected many more over the years.”
He held his breath, wondering if she’d spill out of the low neckline. Once she’d straightened, he forced his gaze from the perfection of her breasts to look at the rock she held.
She rubbed the black, shiny surface back and forth slowly with her thumb. Her pink aura deepened to rose even as she looked at him from beneath her long lashes.
Was she trying to drive him mad?
“He brought back many from his travels,” she added.
“Did he have a particular area of interest?” Stephen realized he held an oddly shaped conglomerate.
“Anything unusual, I suppose.” She pointed to the books on a nearby shelf. “He studied all he could find on the subject and loved speaking to anyone who shared his...passion.”
He swallowed hard, trying to cool his ardor. The way she’d spoken that word in her honeyed tone made it difficult to think. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what looked to be a meteorite—a flat gray stone on the opposite side of the desk. “Do you know much about them?”
“Not really. He catalogued the collection but I’m not certain where that information is.” She frowned as though trying to remember. “He was very excited about a particular meteorite he found while in India. That happened only a few months before his death. He also received a rather unique specimen from a fellow collector in Brazil.”
Stephen walked around the desk to pick up the one he’d spotted. “Is this one of them?”
She took it from him, her fingers trailing along his palm. “I’m not sure. It might be. Do you collect as well?” Her bright blue eyes distracted him once again. Her bare fingers lingered in his palm as she handed the stone back to him.
He stared at her, his mind blank for a long moment. “I only dabble, but I once assisted someone who took great interest,” he said at last. Professor Grisby had been an avid collector. He’d had a special interest in meteorites. In fact, before his death, he’d been searching for a particular lunar specimen said to aid in the conduction of electricity. He’d been certain it would help their experiments with electromagnetism and give them the even conduction for which they’d been looking.
“My stepmother and I have talked about donating the collection to The Society for the Science of Rocks and Minerals, but neither of us has had the heart to part with it.” She sighed as she looked over the stones, her aura dimming. “I thought I’d put father’s death behind me, but now that Simmons has returned, it seems to have brought it all back.”
The quiver in her voice tugged at him. “I’m sure that’s only natural. Not only did he die a violent death, but you witnessed it. That must make it all the more difficult.” Stephen told himself he had no other choice but to draw her into his arms, unable to resist offering her some small measure of comfort.
She nestled into his embrace, her head on his shoulder, her warm form melding to his as though she were made for him. He could feel the tension in her body ease as he continued to hold her, running his hands along her back. “I’m sorry this is so painful for you.”
She’d grown up with the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. Her desire for independence was a lonely path and he wondered if she’d realized that. She was turning her back on the very thing he couldn’t have—a family.
He understood why in some respects, but he didn’t think she’d counted the many advantages a marriage with the right person could bring her.
She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes full of unshed tears. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, his hands pausing in their rhythm, hoping those tears wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t bear it.
“For understanding. For helping me with Simmons. For everything.” She smiled tremulously. “What started as a simple quest was no such thing, I fear.”
“Yes.” The mention of the reason for their relationship doused him with reality and reminded him to maintain his distance. He eased her from his arms, bracing himself when her smile fell, hoping the tears wouldn’t follow.
It wasn’t his place to offer comfort or question the path she’d chosen for her life. Each time he met with her seemed like a test of his fortitude, of his ability to resist temptation—a test he had no intention of failing. Nothing good could come of indulging his affection for her except for temporary pleasure and that would end in hurt.
He did his best to push aside the black hole of darkness that opened before him at the thought of the lonely days ahead when the temptation of her had been removed. There was nothing to be done about it except move on, and the sooner the better.
“We’ve followed Simmons several times to a warehouse near Hook Lane and Blackwall Road
close to the docks but haven’t yet discovered why he’s going there. The buildings and streets in that area are a maze which has made it difficult to track him.”
Abigail sighed. “I have to confess it feels as though two steps are taken backward for every step forward.”
“If we can’t resolve the case soon, we’ll form another plan. Perhaps set a trap of some sort.”
“That’s an excellent notion.”
The excitement in her eyes made him nervous. Even as he stared, dark spears appeared in her aura. Now what was she thinking?
“I could be the bait for the trap. We could get the word to him somehow that I have the rock he wants.” Her enthusiasm gained momentum. He could see her ideas swirling through her aura. “When shall we plan it? Perhaps tomorrow? Where do you think would be the best place?”
Stephen held up his hand in an attempt to slow her down. “You’ll not be luring him anywhere. That is not an option.”
“Why ever not? I think it would be quite effective.”
“But not safe.”
“You’d be nearby, would you not?”
“My presence wouldn’t prevent Simmons from drawing that knife of which he seems so fond.”
“Oh.”
He watched as her enthusiasm for her idea deflated like a dirigible tangled in a tree.
“I would feel better if I were assisting you in some capacity,” she said. “Surely you could use another pair of eyes watching for him.” Her hopeful expression was difficult to resist.
“Abigail, I would not risk even so much as a hair on your head.” He reached out to run a finger along the black, silken strands just above her ear, enjoying her reaction as her eyes widened and her breath caught. “We will discover what he’s up to soon enough along with who else is involved. But we will not risk any harm to you.”
Those fathomless blue eyes held his and, for a long moment, he thought her in agreement.
“I appreciate your concern. Truly, I do.”
He sighed, bracing himself for her argument. From past experience, he knew it would be a sound and logical one.
“But at times such as these, reward cannot be gained without risk. Please know that I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to capture Simmons and put an end to the nefarious plan in which he’s involved.”
He marveled at how she could take him from desire to anger in a moment. A remarkable skill for certain and quite effective. “I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice yourself.”
Her cheeks colored at his words.
“But we’ll leave sacrifice to others. I have people working for me who are skilled in such matters. There’s no need to—”
“I have to disagree.” She lifted her chin, those blue eyes determined. “It’s me he’s after.”
“That may be, but he can’t have you.” It took him the barest moment to realize how proprietary he sounded. This woman twisted him in knots—physically and mentally and verbally. His only option was to leave before he did something he’d regret.
“You will remain home or escorted by your footman at all times. You will not take any chances. Do you understand?”
Her reluctant agreement to his request made him doubt her sincerity right along with the dim color of her aura.
As he walked out of the house moments later, the meteorite in his pocket, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that came over him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Abigail pondered the message from Stephen for the fiftieth time as she sat at her desk in her bedroom after breakfast.
Delivered two days ago, the note was vague at best.
Developments have arisen. More to follow.
S.
Yet nothing had followed. Why bother to send a note that said so little?
After worrying endlessly about what developments he referred to, she’d sent a message of her own yesterday, but he’d not bothered to answer. Waiting was driving her crazy. There had to be something else she could do.
Simmons hadn’t been sighted for days now, but if anything, that made her more nervous. With everything Stephen had discovered, she had no doubt Simmons was plotting something terrible.
But what?
For the first time, she considered explaining the entire situation to her stepmother. She couldn’t be with her family all the time. Poor Ponsford and Thomas had been on guard for weeks now and it was wearing on all of them. If Simmons wasn’t caught soon, she’d have to tell Irene, though she dreaded the idea. Irene and the girls would be terrified.
No, she decided. That had to remain a last resort.
She’d promised her father she’d take care of her stepmother and the twins. That included not worrying them unless absolutely necessary. In this case, ignorance was bliss.
She rose from the desk more determined than ever. She had no choice other than to research the situation herself. Sitting here was accomplishing nothing. Obviously, something had gone awry, and it was up to her to discover what.
She’d take the proper precautions of course. No need to be rash, but a visit to the area by the docks Stephen had mentioned was in order. She considered taking Thomas with her but decided against it. The brawny footman would only draw attention and she wanted to remain in disguise. She need only avoid Ponsford as her stepmother and the twins were going out soon. Then she’d conduct her own investigation with no one the wiser.
***
Stephen strode into the dining room, anxious to hurry through breakfast so he could call upon Abigail. He’d already delayed longer than he should’ve, but he’d been trying to keep his distance. Each time he saw her, his feelings deepened. He could no longer trust himself when he was near her. Yet if he didn’t advise her of their progress regarding Simmons soon, she’d do something drastic despite promising otherwise.
As per usual, the morning paper awaited him at the table. He sat and unfolded it as a footman arrived with eggs, hot rolls, bacon and a steaming cup of coffee.
He glanced through the headlines as he started on the eggs. Two bites into his meal, the fork clattered to his plate.
The headline read: Reclusive Scientist Soon to Reveal Electromagnetic Experiment Results.
Alarm spread through him as he read on, his appetite gone. The article was brief, mentioning a mysterious unnamed scientist who’d prepared sizable transducer coils held in a vacuum with the intent of making the electromagnetic waves self-propagating. His newly discovered technique allowed the waves to maintain velocity and therefore ensure a more even transfer of energy.
The writer was obviously a skeptic for he went on to say how other scientists had tried similar experiments without success.
One of those previous scientists had been Professor Grisby.
He read the ambiguous article several times, trying to pinpoint what bothered him. As the reporter stated, several other scientists had conducted such experiments. The professor hadn’t been the only one. It wasn’t unusual for multiple scientists to do similar experiments at nearly the same time. Often it was a matter of who published their results first to determine who received credit for the discovery.
Professor Grisby had nearly completed such an article at the time of the accident. He’d been certain the experiment would succeed and the only thing left to do would be to document the specifics in order to claim the discovery for his own.
Stephen started to set the paper aside but stopped. He couldn’t shake his unease. Hadn’t he learned over the years never to ignore the intuition that seemed to strike when trouble was near? The feeling he had now was no different. Harm would certainly befall someone if he walked away from it.
With reluctance, he pushed back the chair, paper in hand. The time had come to visit an old friend, or as Abigail had so aptly put it, a former friend.
He doubted Weston would be pleased to see him.
***
“Ashbury, this is an unexpected...surprise.”
Stephen clenched his jaw at the lack of welcome from Weston. He’d anticipated it but
that didn’t make it easier to hear. Not for the first time, he wished he could see his friend’s aura. Any sort of assistance to measure his thoughts would’ve been helpful. “Isn’t that the nature of a surprise? To be unexpected?”
Weston didn’t seem to appreciate the insight if his grim expression was any indication. He sat down at his ornate desk and drummed his fingers along the immaculate surface. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“Did you see this morning’s paper?”
“I only had time to peruse the financial section. Why?”
Rather than answer, Stephen held out the paper folded to the article in question.
Weston took it and scanned the headline. “Electromagnetism? I would’ve thought you had lost interest in the subject. I certainly have.”
“The article reminds me of someone.”
Weston narrowed his eyes. “Who?”
“Professor Grisby.”
With a scoff, Weston looked back at the paper. “Oh, please.”
The derision in his voice stung. Stephen wondered if he really was losing his mind. First the headaches, then the melancholy. Now he was imagining things.
“I only ask that you read it.”
Weston sighed then proceeded to do as he asked. At last, he said, “Many scientists are interested in electromagnetism these days. It’s become quite the rage.”
“But isn’t it odd that this particular scientist is a recluse and refuses interviews?”
“Hardly. Most scientists are far from socially adept.”
Frustrated, Stephen tried another avenue. “The vacuum transducer described is very similar to the one Grisby built.”
“There aren’t enough specifics here to determine that. Ashbury, what is it you want?” Weston asked, clearly annoyed by the discussion.
Stephen ran a finger along the inside of his collar which suddenly felt tight, wondering if he dared speak his mind. “Is there any possibility this scientist is Professor Grisby?” He knew it made no sense, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling.
Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) Page 14