Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy)

by Lana Williams

  “I’m not so certain about his other idea.”

  “Oh?” Abigail waited, curious as to what that might be.

  “He wants me to go to school.”

  Abigail’s heart expanded another notch. Bless Stephen for encouraging the boy. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  Hubert shook his head as though he couldn’t imagine doing so. “If it was anyone else but his lordship suggestin’ such a thing, I’d tell them to bugger off. But his lordship has a gift fer judgin’ people.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He can tell if...” Hubert narrowed his eyes as though deciding how best to explain.

  But she was desperate to hear it. “He can tell what?”

  He shrugged. “If someone has good intentions or not. I’m not sure how to describe it. But he’s helped some of the other kids from the workhouse. Saved them, in fact. If not for him, they’d have ended up in some terrible factory or out on the streets like meself.”

  “How so?”

  “He takes in as many of the young ones as he can at the orphanage he sponsors, but the older kids—those he deems worthy—he helps get them in schools or jobs. He’s spot on at pickin’ the good ones. Some of the kids already settled on a life of crime. They’ve no interest in learnin’ a proper job. They’d prefer pickin’ pockets or the like. They’d turn their backs on ye without a second thought.”

  “Oh?”

  “But his lordship can tell those with just a glance. I don’t know how, but he’s right every time.”

  “Amazing.” She thought back to previous conversations with him, what he’d said about both Catherine and Brighton.

  “We’ve been tryin’ to figure out how he does it but with no luck. It’s a right mystery, it is.”

  “Unbelievable.” He hid this all from society whereas other gentlemen involved in charitable activities bragged of their social responsibility. Why? And how did he so accurately determine those he could save and those he couldn’t?

  “I brought you a little something.” Abigail handed him the box. It seemed so inadequate compared to what he’d done for her. “I know it’s not much.”

  Hubert tore into the wrapped package with glee. “Chocolates? Oh, thank you, miss. What a treat. The other lads will be jealous and I’m not willin’ to share.”

  Abigail smiled, happy Hubert was so pleased with her token. “Don’t eat them all at once. You’ll end up with a stomach ache.”

  Hubert nodded around a mouthful of one of the sweets.

  “Your bravery saved my life.” Tears clogged her throat as the terror of that moment claimed her again. She’d thought Simmons intended to kill her just as he’d killed her father. “Simmons would’ve succeeded in dragging me off if not for your valiant efforts.”

  Hubert swallowed the mouthful he chewed. “But miss, I think ye forgot somethin’.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After I saved ye, ye saved me. We’re even.”

  Abigail frowned, bewildered by Hubert’s statement.

  “Ye were kickin’ that man like a mad woman, no offense. If not for ye, Simmons might’ve done me in.”

  “He’s right.” Stephen’s deep voice came from the doorway. “Your efforts distracted Simmons from further harming Hubert.”

  Abigail’s face heated as she looked at Stephen, her heartbeat quickening. “I thought you were out.”

  “I’ve just returned. Winston informed me of your visit to Hubert.” He moved to stand beside her chair.

  Her stomach quivered at his proximity. His green eyes held hers for a long moment, stealing her breath. She could only wonder at the thoughts behind them.

  “She brought me chocolates!” Hubert held up the box to Stephen. “Would you like one, my lord?”

  “No, thank you. You deserve every one,” Stephen told the boy with a smile.

  Hubert dipped his head and smiled.

  Abigail drew a long breath. Despite her nervousness at speaking with Stephen, she had even more questions for him after her visit with Hubert. “If you have a moment, may I speak with you privately?” she asked Stephen.

  “Of course.”

  She rose and bid the boy goodbye with a promise to visit again soon, then followed Stephen down to the library. She couldn’t help but stare at him in the light of the new information she’d received as she took a seat before his desk.

  “What is it?” He frowned when she watched him, wondering if she dared ask what was on her mind.

  “I have a few questions.”

  “Oh?”

  She decided to ignore the warning in that one word. “I feel you’ve been less than honest with me.”

  “How so?”

  Was it just her imagination or did he look uncomfortable at her accusation? Surely that was a sign of guilt.

  A knock on the door interrupted them. A young maid peeked into the room. “Shall I bring tea, my lord?”

  “No,” Abigail answered.

  “Yes,” Stephen said at the same time.

  She looked at him with frustration. “We’re in the middle of a discussion.”

  “Tea is conducive to discussions, I’m told.”

  She was sure he was attempting to delay her questions.

  “Yes, Sally, please bring us tea.” He turned to Abigail. “Perhaps sandwiches as well?”

  With a huff, she said, “Very well then.”

  “Excellent.” He thanked Sally, who departed. “Now you were saying?”

  “I was asking—”

  “I hope you’re feeling no ill effects of yesterday’s events?”

  Abigail couldn’t help the heat as it rose in her cheeks. Did he refer only to the fight with Simmons or to their interlude? She decided to assume the former. “A bit bruised but fine.”

  “Good. Allow me to advise you of the new information we’ve discovered.”

  “Oh?”

  Grateful he’d diverted her attention, even if only temporarily, Stephen said, “Weston and I paid a visit to the building Simmons was frequenting, but unfortunately we found it empty.”

  “Why would Simmons be in an empty building that long? I waited outside for hours.”

  Stephen sent her a look of disapproval. “Don’t remind me. At any rate, it appears the building was emptied sometime after our encounter with Simmons.”

  “Perhaps we could discover who leases the building—”

  “Weston has. From what we can tell, it was leased under a fictitious name. He’s digging deeper but it will take time.”

  Abigail leaned back in her chair, her shoulders wilted. “Will every clue we obtain lead to a dead end? I fear this will never end, that Simmons will never be stopped.” Not only did her expression hold defeat, her golden aura was smothered in gray.

  Unable to stand her despair, he rose to take her hands in his and pull her into his arms. Never did he want her to lose hope, for if she did, he feared his own fragile hold on that elusive feeling would cease. A life without hope was no life at all.

  She’d come to represent all good things in this world, and he needed her to remain just as she was. He could only offer her temporary comfort because once Simmons was stopped, Stephen’s time with her would end. Once again, he’d be left to his lonely existence. He hoped he could fill the void of losing her with the memories of their time together.

  That had to be enough.

  “Abigail,” he murmured, studying her bright blue eyes, wishing he could make things right with a snap of his fingers. “Hold on for a little longer. We will see this thing through.”

  “How much longer?”

  “I’m not certain. But we’re getting closer each day. If we capture Simmons when we next spot him, we might lose our chance to stop something far worse.”

  “Worse than him harming my family?”

  “We’re trying to make certain it doesn’t come to that. But we need additional information. Can you manage for a few more days?”

  She bowed her head. “You’ve no idea how muc
h I wish this to end. For life to be normal once again.”

  “I do understand. It’s your decision. I’ll do all I possibly can to protect you, but if you want me to catch Simmons and warn him off now, I will.” But he knew that wouldn’t be enough.

  Men like Simmons couldn’t be stopped by a few words. His aura was dark as night, and the information they’d gathered thus far confirmed Stephen’s suspicions. While he couldn’t predict the future, he knew from his ability and past experience that a plan was in the making.

  A long moment passed as he waited, wanting nothing more than to keep her in his arms, to hold her and comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right.

  But he couldn’t promise her anything more than he already had.

  At last she met his gaze again. “If Simmons is involved in something—something that could hurt others, then he must be stopped.” Even as she spoke, the gray smothering her aura lifted. Not completely, but it abated.

  And for now, that was enough.

  “We’ll take every possible precaution—”

  Abigail placed her hands along his shoulders and his words fled. “Yes, I know. You’ll do your best.”

  She tilted her face up to his, and the blood in his head rushed down. The desire he’d reined in forged ahead. Her sudden change of mood was disconcerting. He could only hope she didn’t intend to ask him to finish what they’d started the previous day because he feared at this moment, he’d readily agree.

  “You see, it all comes down to one thing.” She studied his face as she trailed a finger across his cheek toward his lips.

  His breath halted as spears of pink and rose colored her aura.

  “I trust you.” She lifted up onto her toes and kissed him.

  For a brief moment, he simply basked in her words and her affection, receiving what she gave him. Then his own desire took over. He wrapped his arms around her and hungrily demanded more. He clung to her like a drowning man holding fast to a rope.

  A knock on the door startled them both.

  Abigail backed up and dropped into her chair, leaving Stephen standing there with his mind blank.

  The maid entered the room with the tea tray and set the items on the low table at the end of the room which had a small sitting area. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

  “That will do, Sally. Thank you.”

  Stephen’s gaze returned to Abigail, wondering if she cared to continue where they’d left off.

  She seemed to have recovered quicker than he. With grace, she rose and patted his arm as she walked toward the sofa and chairs near the table. “May I serve?”

  He watched her, trying to determine if she was attempting to make him crazed or if that was just a side effect of her actions. With a deep breath, he sat beside her on the sofa, determined to regain control of his longing for her. “As you wish.”

  She placed a variety of sandwiches and biscuits on his plate and prepared a cup of tea for him as well.

  Stephen sat back, trying to work up an appetite for something other than her.

  “Now then,” she said as she took a sip of her own tea, “I believe we were discussing you not being forthright with me.”

  Were they? He couldn’t quite remember.

  “Hubert shared some interesting information.”

  “Oh?” He tried to think what secrets the lad could possibly know.

  “He’s excited about your suggestion that he attend school.”

  Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. How could she take affront with him not telling her that? It had only happened yesterday.

  “He told me how many other children you save.”

  He didn’t think they’d had that long to visit.

  “Hubert also mentioned something about an orphanage that you help support.”

  Stephen gritted his teeth, wondering what else the boy had said.

  “He mentioned you finding employment for some of the children in the workhouse.” She nibbled a biscuit. The movement of her lips made it difficult to think. “Is all this correct thus far?”

  He dragged his thoughts back to her words, trying to foresee any potential damage in admitting to what she’d already discovered. Still, after all these years of keeping secrets, he could not bring himself to admit to anything. “Hubert must be feeling better if he was so inclined to chat.”

  “I have to wonder why you have an association with the gaming den.” She sipped her tea then tilted her head to the side as though she pondered nothing more than the proper word to describe the color of the fabric covering the sofa.

  He had to force himself to remain still instead of fidgeting like a boy caught in the act of stealing a biscuit from the kitchen.

  “The only possible conclusion is that you use the profits from the gaming den to help fund the orphanage.” Her eyes narrowed as she honed in. “You take money others insist on throwing away and use it to help those in need.”

  “Hmm.” Her conjecture was amazingly accurate. No one else of his acquaintance had come to that conclusion. Then again, she was one of a very few who knew of the gaming hell.

  “Most of those you rescue from the workhouses are children.”

  He nearly groaned as he realized she wasn’t done.

  “But it sounds as if you’re rather selective in choosing those you deem worthy of helping. According to Hubert, you have an uncanny knack for determining which children would actually benefit from your assistance.”

  A tight band wrapped around his chest. This was what he’d feared. Abigail was an intelligent woman who had a great deal of information about him.

  Her gaze held his. “Don’t deny it. I know something more is going on.” Her eyes widened as though she’d just remembered something. “The night Brighton attacked me, you said you’d seen his ill intent. You seem to know things before you should. How is that possible?”

  Damn. She’d unraveled his secrets after all.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The silence grew long as Abigail held Stephen’s gaze. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, whether she judged him poorly or thought him mad.

  He’d wondered himself over the years.

  Did he admit the truth? Or should he deny it all?

  “Surely you don’t intend to lie to me? Not after everything we’ve been through.” Her soft words caught in his chest, creating a warmth he found unbearable, for he knew it couldn’t last.

  He dropped her gaze as he set down his cup. He’d delighted in Abigail’s company since he’d known her. She was a bright, beautiful woman, and she twisted him into knots with just a glance from under her lashes. She was both clever and relentless. He must never forget that.

  If he bothered to deny the truth of what she’d pieced together, she’d find evidence to prove him a liar. She’d watch him like a hawk for verification of what she thought true. Therefore, he had to conclude it was a waste of time to lie.

  Weak logic, he berated himself. In truth, he had no desire to lie, not to her. He was tired of hiding, of avoiding connections to others for fear of having his secrets discovered, of having no one with whom to share his life.

  Still he hesitated. If she thought him mad, it would strike a blow he wasn’t sure he could survive. Dare he risk it?

  For the first time, he was willing to try.

  “Nearly ten years ago, I was at Cambridge with Michael Drury, Lord Weston, and Lucas Stanby, Lord Berkmond. We were all mentored by a professor highly interested in electromagnetism.”

  He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “He taught us much on the subject, and we conducted an experiment in his lab with large transducer coils we’d built. But something went awry. Not only did the experiment fail, but our professor was killed, and all of us injured.”

  “That must’ve been terrible.”

  He rose to pace before her. Even after all these years, it was difficult to revisit the details of that night. “Indeed it was. Lucas nearly lost his life. Michael stood behind him and was struck by the explosi
on as well.”

  “The scar on your chest?” Abigail asked.

  “Yes.” He rubbed the mark that would forever serve as a reminder. “Michael’s is worse.”

  He glanced at her to find her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. He hoped it didn’t change to horror or pity when he revealed the rest.

  “Within hours, I realized something more had changed. Something in our basic makeup had been altered by the electromagnetic blast.”

  Abigail frowned. “How so?”

  He turned to face her so he could watch her expression. “I suddenly had the ability to see auras.”

  “Auras?”

  It had been hard for him to understand and believe. He could only image that it would be doubly so for anyone who’d never experienced the ability firsthand. “Each person has a...light, a field of energy, that hovers an inch or two around their body, especially their head and shoulders.”

  “Oh, yes. A clairvoyant woman gave a demonstration of it at a meeting for the Society of Psychic Investigations last year.”

  He shuddered at the thought of giving a demonstration of his own abilities. “I see mainly good and evil in auras. If someone is overall a good person, they have a light-colored aura. If someone is bad, it’s dark. Many people appear gray to me, but if they think about something or intend to do something, it changes.”

  “That’s why you’re always looking at my hair,” she said as she touched her hat.

  He smiled. “Yes. It’s difficult at times not to be distracted by what I see.”

  “The night of the Mortenson’s ball, you saw Brighton’s ill intent in his aura?”

  He grimaced at the memory. “Yes, but obviously not clearly enough.”

  She scoffed. “You saved me in case you forgot. What of Lord Weston? Does he see the same?”

  “He sees success and failure.”

  “Fascinating.” She bit her lower lip as she processed what he’d told her.

  The sight made him want to do some nibbling of his own. “I’m not sure I’d put it quite that way.”

  “And your other friend, Lord Berkmond?”

  “I don’t know. He refused to speak of it and left the country as soon as he was able.”