***
Stephen stood at the interior window of his office at The Barbican, watching the people at the tables in the gambling hell below. The men ranged from earls to barons and everyone in between. The prince had even graced the establishment once or twice, not that Stephen would ever repeat that information to anyone.
Discretion was a necessary element in this line of business. Stephen appreciated that since he had secrets of his own to keep. Sharing one with Abigail had left him feeling off balance and unable to think clearly. He was no longer certain how to proceed with their relationship.
Farley appeared at his side, his suit impeccable, his long gray side burns clipped precisely. “Anyone we need to worry over?”
“No. Not yet at any rate. Although the lord with the gold waistcoat should be limited in the bets he places.”
“Very well.” Farley stepped out to send word down to the floor manager to advise him.
Stephen turned away from the window to pace his office, his thoughts in turmoil. Another boy had disappeared from the workhouse. Vanished was a better term, for no trace remained of any of them. According to his information, there were now eight missing, all boys. He couldn’t understand how no one had seen anything regarding them. Surely someone had noticed the boy talking to a stranger or some other clue.
Farley had spoken with many of the people at the workhouse, but no one appeared to be involved. To think none of the boys had returned was alarming indeed. Stephen had to wonder if they still lived.
He also needed to determine a way to deal with Simmons before he made another unexpected appearance. He hadn’t come by any of the places where he’d previously been sighted. Not having him under watch made Stephen nervous.
Stephen was certain the meteorite was the rock Simmons was after as there was nothing else as unique in Abigail’s father’s collection. But Stephen wasn’t about to hand it to Simmons. Not until he found out who was really behind all this.
Farley returned to the room. “Are you going down to the floor tonight?”
“No, I’ll be leaving shortly.”
“You seem to be spending less and less time here.” Farley’s gaze remained on the crowd below, leaving Stephen to wonder at his thoughts on the matter.
“You have everything well in hand. My presence is no longer required.”
At last, Farley’s gaze met his. “Perhaps your talents are better used elsewhere.”
“My ‘talents’ are not leading us anywhere.” Stephen told him of Simmons’ appearance at the apothecary shop.
“He might’ve taken Miss Bradford out the back door if you hadn’t realized what was happening. You have your aura reading to thank for that,” Farley insisted.
“It would’ve been better if I’d caught him.” Stephen ran a hand through his hair. “There’s been nothing more on the missing boys. I can’t seem to gain any ground on that either.”
“You’ll remember I accompanied Lord Weston on another search of the warehouse Simmons was in.”
“And?” Stephen turned to look at him. He’d forgotten about it.
“I found this in the same room where Lord Weston discovered the sleeping remedy.” Farley pulled a small worn leather pouch from his pocket. He upended the contents into his palm.
“Jacks?” The pointed metal objects and ball were a game most children had played at some point in their lives.
“Indeed. Well worn by the dents and nicks. An inexpensive version,” Farley commented as he turned the jacks over to examine them.
Stephen frowned, wondering what those had been doing in that room of the warehouse. “I don’t see how this has anything to do with whatever Simmons was doing there.”
“I’m not sure if they’re a clue or an unrelated finding.” Farley shook his head as he returned the jacks and ball to the pouch. “I still can’t believe none of the children at the workhouse saw anything. Those kids have their eyes and ears open all the time.”
“Yet they told you they knew nothing.”
Farley frowned. “Would they have a reason to lie? Some acted strangely, frightened even, when I questioned them, but I thought that normal under the circumstances. For all they know, there’s a murderer on the loose who preys on young boys.”
Stephen thought it over. “It’s possible someone’s threatened them.”
“That would explain why none are willing to talk.”
“Perhaps the wrong people questioned them.”
“Who would you suggest?”
“Let’s send one of the boys in our employ to speak with them. Perhaps they’ll have better luck.”
“Excellent suggestion.” Farley nodded. “They’d be more likely to share information amongst themselves. We could also offer a reward for any information.”
“Bribing children?” Stephen smiled. “I’m shocked, Farley.” That sort of thinking was exactly why he admired Farley. The man had excellent strategizing skills.
“I’m certain the end justifies the means in this case. What are our next steps with Simmons?”
“I believe we’ll plan a trap. Somehow, we’ll need to spread the word that we have something he wants,” Stephen said.
“Are you referring to the stone or Miss Bradford?”
Anger coursed through Stephen, surprising him with its intensity. “Using Miss Bradford is not an option. The meteorite should prove sufficient.” He worked to keep the emotion out of his voice.
“I meant no offense.”
Farley watched him closely, but Stephen merely nodded in acknowledgement. How could he explain his reaction to Farley when he didn’t understand it himself? The protectiveness he felt for Abigail...hell, who was he trying to fool? The growing feelings he had for her refused to be smothered. Instead, they blossomed each time he saw her. He had no idea what to do about it.
“I wonder what he wants with rock.” Farley caught his gaze. “Do you have any inkling?”
Stephen considered telling him about Professor Grisby’s search for a similar stone, but decided it was irrelevant. The professor was dead, and they couldn’t afford to make mistaken assumptions about why Simmons might want the damned meteorite.
“I intend to find out before we offer it up, but we have to hurry before he does something rash. I refuse to put Miss Bradford or her family in harm’s way.”
***
Abigail sat in the drawing room, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet with some reading. She’d met with the staff earlier and given them an update on the joint investment she’d made on their behalf. Their funds were accumulating nicely and that had the servants excited about the venture.
While at Mr. Larson’s bookstore the other day, she’d picked up a small but fascinating book on neuro-hypnotism. The author was a Scottish physician who’d used the technique on himself to relieve pain. For some reason, she found the topic intriguing. She knew Stephen suffered from headaches and wondered if the practice could somehow help him.
Irene entered the room with the girls directly behind her, putting an end to Abigail’s solitude.
“Mother, you promised!” Olivia stomped her foot as Irene sat on the settee beside Abigail and picked up her embroidery.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out today,” Irene said as she sorted through a basket of colored thread.
Knowing full well why Irene refused to allow the girls to leave the house unless absolutely necessary, Abigail felt obligated to intercede. “Did you finish the book you were reading?” she asked the girls.
“Yes,” they answered together.
“It was very good,” Sophia added.
“Then you’ll be pleased to know that we’re investing in the company that printed it.”
“Really?” Olivia looked interested at the news. “Does that mean there will be another in the series soon?”
“Indeed,” Abigail said. “But these things take time.”
Olivia looked less than pleased at the news.
“We’re tired of being inside.” So
phia flopped down on the settee between Abigail and Irene.
“We don’t have lessons today and we want to go out,” Olivia said. “Look.” She pointed to the window. “It’s not even raining.”
The morning light streamed in the windows of the drawing room, beckoning them with its warmth. It was indeed a lovely day.
Abigail and Irene had come up with every possible excuse to curtail their activities over the past two days. Even Abigail was beginning to feel stifled. She’d heard nothing from Stephen since the apothecary.
She glanced to Irene and raised her brow, wondering if they should relent. Irene met her gaze, seeming weary of the girls’ arguments.
“I could accompany them,” Abigail offered.
“I don’t know,” said Irene, her hands quiet in her lap as she thought it over.
“Why are we always staying home now?” Olivia asked. “Please, Mother. I can’t stand another day inside.”
“Yes, Mother. Please!” Sophia’s long lashes fluttered over her big brown eyes and Abigail was certain Irene would give in. Who could possibly resist Sophia when she used her charm?
Irene turned to Abigail. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a fine day for an outing. Girls, get your hats and cloaks.” Abigail waited until they departed before saying anything more. “I’ll take Thomas and one of the guards with me. Ponsford will be here with you along with the other guard.”
Irene closed her eyes as though Abigail’s words only worried her more.
“Olivia and Sophia will make us crazed if we don’t allow it.”
“True,” Irene admitted with a sigh.
“I’ll be extra careful. Besides, the sunshine is inviting,” Abigail said. “Are you certain you don’t wish to come with us?”
“I believe I’ll admire it from inside.”
“Very well.” Abigail smiled. “We won’t stay out long.”
In a flurry of activity worthy of an overnight adventure rather than a simple outing to the park, the girls returned to the foyer then followed Abigail to the carriage. They didn’t seem to notice how carefully she and Thomas scanned the area or that a new footman traveled with them.
From past experience, Abigail knew a public place wouldn’t prevent Simmons from making contact. The man was certainly clever when it came to using opportunities. If he approached her again, she’d force him to describe the rock he wanted. She needed to know if it was the same one Stephen had taken.
The only reason she could think that Simmons would want a rock from her father’s collection was because it was valuable. Yet if that was the case, why didn’t he just ask for money?
“Stay close,” Abigail warned them once they arrived.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather have some privacy?” Olivia asked with a mischievous look upon her face.
Sophia giggled.
“No. I’d like you to remain nearby,” Abigail answered, unsure what the girls were going on about.
“Well,” Olivia continued with a sly smile, “if a certain someone was going to meet you here, we wouldn’t want to be a nuisance.”
Abigail’s cheeks heated as she realized they referred to Stephen. Where did the girls get such ideas? “Stay close, please.”
Still giggling, they led the way. Thomas and the other guard, a brawny young man, followed behind Abigail. The park was busy today with many people out enjoying the fine spring day. The girls skipped ahead, stopping here and there to greet friends, often pausing to whisper in each other’s ear. Abigail could only hope they weren’t plotting anything.
As they continued along the path, the girls moved farther ahead. She called out to them, but they didn’t hear her. With a worried glance to Thomas, she walked faster, hoping to catch them. Her skirt and the other people strolling along hampered her progress. She wove through the crowd, nodding politely as she saw acquaintances. Then she lost sight of the girls completely as they walked past the large sculpture of Achilles that stood in the park. Fighting off panic, she hurried toward the sculpture, hoping to find them lingering nearby as they were wont to do.
But the girls were nowhere in sight.
Thoroughly panicked, she stopped and looked back. “Thomas?”
“I can’t see them either, miss. Shall I run ahead and make certain they’re all right?”
“Yes, but not too far. I don’t want us all separated.”
He hurried away, stepping off the path to avoid the crowd.
Abigail glanced back to make sure the other guard was still there. He gave her a polite nod, his gaze continuing to scan the area.
Her heart pounded with fear. What on earth were the girls thinking when she’d specifically told them to stay close? She wobbled between fearing the worst—that somehow Simmons had taken them—to less dour circumstances—that they were having a bit of fun hiding from her.
As she was about to send the other guard for help, she caught sight of Thomas escorting Sophia and Olivia toward her. Both looked put out at the interruption.
“Abigail, whatever is the matter?” asked Olivia. “Thomas insisted you need us.”
Torn between anger and relief, Abigail’s hands shook as she reached for them. “I asked you to stay close when we arrived. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear my request.”
“We weren’t far,” Sophia tried to assure her.
“We were only having some fun,” Olivia added.
A motion caught Abigail’s gaze just past Thomas’s shoulder. She gave a startled gasp at the sight of Simmons a short distance away. “Oh, dear heavens.”
Thomas glanced at her and immediately spun around, searching for the cause of her fright. He, too, must’ve seen Simmons, for he took off at a run, the other guard immediately behind him.
“Whatever is wrong with Thomas?” Sophia asked.
Olivia kept her gaze on Abigail. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
Sophia took her arm. “Are you quite all right?”
“I’m fine. I believe Thomas saw someone he knew.” She hoped the answer would pacify them so they wouldn’t ask further questions. She willed her pounding heart to slow.
“So he chased after him?” Olivia shook her head. “That seems inappropriate.”
Sophia stared at where Thomas had disappeared, her brows puckered. Abigail knew she didn’t believe her explanation.
“Girls,” she began as she realized what a close call they’d had, “I asked you to stay nearby. Why did you get so far ahead of us?”
Olivia gave her a sheepish look. “We were hoping you were meeting Lord Ashbury. We thought we saw him and wanted you to have some time together.”
“Yes, and we didn’t want to be in the way of your budding romance,” Sophia added earnestly. “You need all the help you can get with him.”
Abigail stared at both of them, certain they’d lost their minds. “Lord Ashbury is not interested in me...that way.”
Olivia waved away Abigail’s denial. “We’ve seen the way you look when you speak of him.”
“He came for a visit the other day,” Sophia added.
“And you’ve been gone more than usual,” Olivia continued. “Not to mention how secretive you’ve been.”
“So we assume you’re keeping company with him,” Sophia said. “We thought we saw him and that you had arranged to meet him here.”
Olivia patted Abigail’s hand. “We’ve no doubt he’ll form an affection for you. You’re pretty and smart. How could he possibly resist?”
Abigail shook her head. While she appreciated their faith in her, she couldn’t believe the conclusions they’d drawn. “You’re both mistaken. I need you to be careful over the next few days. There is a—a stranger lurking in our neighborhood, and I don’t want him coming anywhere near either of you.”
Sophia looked to where Thomas had gone again. “Does this stranger have anything to do with the man whom Thomas is chasing?”
Uncertain how much to tell the girls, Abigail put an arm through each of theirs a
nd started onto the path again. “I’m sure Thomas will be along soon. Let’s return to the carriage to wait for him.”
By the time they returned home, two frustrated guards included, Abigail had recovered from her fright.
Another, stronger emotion had taken its place—anger.
Simmons had eluded them once again. She now knew he was still watching the house. The guards might be keeping him at a distance, but they weren’t preventing him from spying on them and most likely looking for a chance to approach—a very unsettling notion that lay heavy on Abigail’s shoulders.
What if Simmons had done something to the girls?
She couldn’t get the thought out of her mind.
After seeing the girls safely inside, she gave her stepmother a brief update and spent several long minutes reassuring her. By the time Irene calmed, Abigail decided to pay a visit to Stephen.
Her patience had come to an end. Something needed to be done. Now.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Abigail had Thomas take a long route to Park Lane to see if anyone followed. She breathed a sigh of relief when he thumped the roof of the carriage to let her know he’d seen nothing and was proceeding to their destination.
At Stephen’s home, a young footman she’d never seen answered the door. When she asked to see Stephen, a look of panic crossed the man’s face. “I’m sorry, but he’s not receiving.”
She frowned. “I believe he’ll make time to see me.”
The man’s eyes grew wide as though he was trying to think of what else he could say. “I’m sorry, miss, but he’s indisposed.”
“He’s ill?”
Winston entered the hall from the back of the house. The footman seemed quite relieved at his arrival. The butler’s ever-ready smile looked a bit strained. “Good day, Miss Bradford.”
“Hello, Winston. Is Lord Ashbury unwell?”
“He is certainly not feeling his best.” A wary expression crossed the butler’s face, making Abigail wonder what was going on. “I’ll inquire if he’s able to see you. Perhaps you’d like to wait in the drawing room?”
Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) Page 22