As she reached for the door of her solicitor’s office, it flew open. She jumped back, startled, nearly losing her balance.
“Miss Bradford!” Mr. Nesbitt exclaimed. “I’m terribly sorry.” He reached out to take her arm, his hand shaking.
“Whatever is the matter?” Abigail had never seen the calm, collected man so overwrought.
“My office was broken into.”
Abigail’s thoughts immediately jumped to Simmons. The coincidence was too great. It had to have been him. “Have you sent for the police?”
“Yes, yes. I was just looking outside to see if they’d arrived.” His shoulders sagged, and he gestured inside. “Whoever it was left a terrible mess but, please, do come in.”
Abigail entered with Thomas directly behind her.
Though the foyer appeared undisturbed, the door to Mr. Nesbitt’s office stood ajar, the wood near the jam in splinters. Abigail looked into the room and realized what had the solicitor so upset. Papers were strewn everywhere. Shelves had been broken. The desk drawers sat askew, some removed completely. The thief’s search had been destructive, leaving a mess in his wake.
“I can’t imagine who did this or what they were looking for. I keep nothing of true value here.” Mr. Nesbitt shook his head. “I don’t know yet if anything is missing. I didn’t want to go through things until the police have a look.”
Guilt sat heavy on Abigail’s shoulders. Though she knew this was not her fault, she still felt as though she were to blame. Yet another person in her life had been affected by Simmons. “I can’t help but wonder if this has something to do with me.”
Mr. Nesbitt’s eyes went wide. “Whatever do you mean?”
“We have not yet stopped Vincent Simmons. His actions grow rasher each day. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was his doing.”
“Why would he search my office?”
“I don’t know. Looking for information on my family perhaps? It seems too great of a coincidence that you and I both had a break-in of late.” She bit her lip, deciding against telling him of the rock for which Simmons searched.
He took off his glasses and polished them on his handkerchief with shaking hands. “I can assure you there was little here that pertained to your investments. In fact, I had taken your file home with me last night to prepare for our meeting this morning.”
Abigail took some comfort in that. “The less he can find out about us, the better.” She eyed the muddle. “It will take hours to put all your files back together. I’m terribly sorry about this.”
He looked up in surprise. “Miss Bradford, it isn’t your fault. You haven’t done anything.”
“And therein lies my worry.” She’d been so caught up in her personal relationship with Stephen, so intent on avoiding the awkwardness that was sure to come next time she saw him, that she hadn’t told him of Simmons showing up in the park. And now this had happened.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule our meeting. I did complete the documents needed for the investment in the bookstore.” He reached for a pile he’d set on a nearby table and handed them to her. “Those are the only papers of which I know the whereabouts. I hope the police hurry. The chaos is driving me mad.”
“I’m sure they’ll arrive soon. I’ll return the papers at our next meeting.” She turned to leave.
“Miss Bradford, do be careful. You must take all possible precautions in case Vincent Simmons truly is behind this.” Mr. Nesbitt held her gaze. “He’s dangerous.”
“Yes, indeed he is.” Of that she had no doubt. She needed to speak with Stephen about the latest development. If Simmons was growing more aggressive, then they needed to do so as well. Whether Stephen agreed with her or not remained to be seen.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“My lord?”
Stephen looked up from the newspaper he read at his desk in the library. The sparkle in his butler’s eyes was rather alarming. “Yes?”
“Miss Bradford is here to see you.”
He set down the paper, his heart picking up its pace.
His butler’s fondness for Abigail had grown even more since her performance the previous day. Winston’s admiration for her was one more dent in the shield Stephen had built to keep her at a distance. He’d hoped to delay another meeting with her as long as possible. At least until he’d regained some control. Until he could trust himself to be in the same room with her and not make love to her.
But apparently a day could not pass without her visiting him. How could he maintain his defenses? “See her in.”
Before he could rise, she burst into the room.
“You do realize your daily visits will cause people to talk,” he said as he stood.
Those blue eyes stared at him nonplussed. She obviously had other things on her mind. “We have much more important matters to attend to than gossip, my lord. I fear Simmons has struck again.” The tremor in her voice alarmed him.
“What’s happened?”
She sat down in the chair before his desk, much to his relief. He had high hopes of keeping the large piece of furniture between them. Yet he realized the desk was no guard against his growing feelings for her.
The tilt of her head, the dent in her chin, the way she bit her lower lip, all appealed to him in a way he’d never felt before. Even her determination charmed him. He pushed aside his thoughts as she explained the incident at Hyde Park the previous day as well as the visit to her solicitor’s.
“There’s no proof Simmons was behind the break-in,” Stephen felt obligated to point out.
“Please. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“You and Weston.”
“Pardon me?”
“Never mind. I’m relieved to hear your sisters were unharmed.”
She put a gloved hand to her mouth as though to hold back her emotions. “Yes. But the sight of him anywhere near them...”
“I understand.” It tore at his heart to see her upset. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustration mounting at the situation. “What of Mr. Nesbitt’s office. Was anything missing?”
“He’s still checking and has promised to let me know as quickly as possible.” She took a deep breath. “You must see that the time has come to take action. This can’t continue.”
“We have been taking action. With a little more time, we’ll be able to resolve the entire situation.” Dread coursed through him as he saw her golden aura dim.
“Are you reading my aura?” she asked.
He blinked, realizing he’d given himself away. “I was simply admiring your hair.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. At least he’d succeeded in distracting her, if only momentarily.
“As I was saying,” she continued as she glared at him, “More aggressive action is needed. Simmons is running rampant. I cannot allow him to hurt the people for whom I care.”
Stephen leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, hoping he could instill some caution and reason in her. “Abigail, I realize you’re frustrated by what you see as a lack of progress, but I’d remind you of how much we’ve learned already. A slow and steady path—”
Abigail bolted to her feet. “Slow and steady has gotten us nothing!” Her chest rose and fell with her upset. “We must do something more else Simmons will be knocking on my door, knife in hand, to take what he wants by force.”
Stephen couldn’t deny what she said. He wanted nothing more than to remove the threat to her and her family. Yet his instinct told him they needed more information—who Simmons worked with, what they intended. But how to keep Abigail and her family safe and stop the wheels Simmons had set in motion?
Knowing he might regret the question, he asked, “Do you have something in mind?”
She drew a deep breath. “We lure him to a place and time of our choosing.”
“How?”
Another dark surge flar
ed in her aura, making his insides twist. “By using me. We’ll get a message to him that I’ll give him the stone he seeks in exchange for his promise to leave us alone.”
“His promise?” He let doubt shade his tone.
She nodded but her confidence faltered.
“You’d accept the promise of the man who killed your father?” Though he didn’t want to hurt her, he had to make her see the truth in order to keep her safe. “You’d trust him to keep his word?”
Her chin lifted. “If the only reason he bothers my family and friends is because of the bloody rock, then yes. I suggest we give it to him.”
“And if he doesn’t keep his word?”
“I don’t believe it will come to that.” Her back was ramrod straight, her shoulders stiff.
He could see he wouldn’t reach her this way. A new tactic was needed. He leaned back in his chair. “What do you think he wants with the rock?”
“I’ve no idea, nor do I care.”
“Surely you’re curious.”
She blinked several times. “In truth, I haven’t thought about it overmuch.”
“A murderer,” Stephen said, noting her flinch at the term, “works for someone who bribes officials at Newgate to allow him to switch places with another criminal. He then serves ten years in prison, and upon his release, one of the first things he does is seek out a rock he claims to be in your possession.”
With a huff, she sat back in her chair. “All I want is for him to go away. For my stepmother and sisters never to be confronted by him. If giving him the rock will protect them, so be it.”
“But why does he want that particular one?” He stepped around the desk despite his good intentions to keep away. How could he when he only wanted to gather her in his arms and reassure her?
“I assume because it’s valuable. Perhaps it contains some rare ore or something. I don’t really care why.”
Stephen leaned down, putting his hands on the arms of her chair, his ire rising at her obstinacy. “What if he somehow uses it to hurt others?”
Her gaze lifted to his, not backing down. “How? How can a rock hurt anyone?”
“If it’s used as part of something else.”
“Such as what?” The disbelief in her tone made him realize how outlandish the whole scenario sounded.
He stepped back, berating himself for not being more forthright with her, for not sharing his suspicions about the scientist involved in electromagnetism. But he feared that if he told her everything, this determined, impulsive woman would seek her own solution to the problem. That would place her in even more danger. The best he could do was offer the tip of the iceberg. “I think the rock Simmons wants is a rare lunar meteorite said to possess qualities useful in science.”
Abigail scoffed. “I have a difficult time believing Simmons is interested in science.” She held up her hand as Stephen opened his mouth to protest. “And, yes, I do remember the prison warder telling us Simmons bragged that he had ties to a scientist.”
“I’m not saying Simmons is the one who’s involved in science. But it appears the person he’s working for is,” Stephen argued.
The scowl on her face spoke volumes and nearly made him smile.
“Weston is helping me track down the true name of the person who leased the warehouse Simmons was at. We hope to unearth additional information in the coming days.”
“That may be too late.” She rose and moved to stand before him. “What if we give him the rock and then follow him? We could see where he takes it.”
Stephen shook his head. The thought of her anywhere near Simmons again made his stomach turn. “That carries far too much risk. Simmons has already proven his ability to disappear on the streets. Abigail, we have plans in place to lure out Simmons, but we need more time to ensure he doesn’t slip through the trap we set.”
“I still think—”
A knock sounded at the door and Winston appeared. “Lord Weston is waiting outside in his carriage. He says it’s urgent that you join him.”
“Of course. I’ll be right there.” Stephen’s excitement rose. “With luck, this will lead us to the true mastermind of the plan.”
“I want to come with you.”
Stephen took hold of Abigail’s arms. “No. It’s too dangerous. I want you somewhere safe. Return home and I’ll send word if anything arises.”
“But—”
“Have patience, Abigail. We’re nearly there.” Without a second thought, he pressed his lips to hers for a quick goodbye. The sweetness of her mouth ignited a flame before he could pull away. With a groan, he plundered for a brief moment, stunned at the passion that arose when he touched her.
He drew back, wanting nothing more than to stay. Yet the desperate desire he had for her was exactly why he had to go. “I’ll let you know if we find anything.”
A dark surge showed in her aura, giving him pause. “You’ll go home?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. But she didn’t meet his gaze.
“Abigail, I promise to advise you of what we find as soon as I can.” Guilt shot through him, for he knew he couldn’t tell her everything. He reminded himself it was for her own safety.
She nodded.
Somehow, her agreement didn’t reassure him in the least.
***
“He’s not going to like this, miss.” Thomas shook his head as Abigail explained what she wanted.
“With luck, he won’t know. We’re only going to follow them long enough to find out where they’re going.” She stepped into the carriage and took a seat. “Hurry. We don’t want to lose them.”
“He’ll have my head,” Thomas muttered as he secured the carriage door.
“In whose employ are you?” For heaven’s sake, how had Stephen become such a big part of their lives that her servant worried what he’d think?
“Yours, miss,” came his muffled response.
Thomas’s lack of enthusiasm for their task did not help her nerves. In truth, he was right. Stephen would be furious if he found out. She hesitated, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that Stephen wasn’t telling her the full truth of the matter. How could she determine how best to protect her family if she didn’t have all the facts?
She only wanted to see where they were going. That should be enough to tell her the type of information they’d discovered. She and Thomas would follow at a safe distance. There shouldn’t be any harm in that.
The carriage jerked forward, leaving her to wonder if Thomas had done so on purpose.
If Stephen had been more forthcoming, perhaps she’d be content to wait for word from him, but that hadn’t been the case. A more secretive man she’d never met.
She touched her gloved hand to her lips, remembering the way his kiss had sent her head spinning. Maybe she could blame her impetuous behavior on temporary insanity. She shook her head. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that her feelings were more than temporary. Much more.
So many things about Stephen appealed to her. The way he smiled with his eyes before amusement curved the corner of his mouth. The way he gave her his complete attention when they spoke as though what she said was truly important to him. His many acts of kindness for the children who crossed his path. He was a complicated man full of secrets and layers which both fascinated and maddened her.
She closed her eyes and admitted the truth—she’d become far too dependent on him. That needed to come to an end. Though she could no longer envision her life without him, he seemed intent on keeping a wall between them.
A glance out the curtained window of the carriage told her they were once again moving toward the East End. The hard look of the streets gave her pause. The risks of this neighborhood were nothing with which to be trifled. Their carriage, while understated, would still draw unwanted attention.
Torn, she tried to weigh the danger against the benefits as the carriage slowed and drew to a halt, taking the choice out of her hand
s.
Rows of soot-blackened brick buildings stood on both sides of the street. Some boasted curtains while others lacked even that small touch of home. Laundry stretched across lines outside the upper stories of the buildings. The street was nearly deserted except for an old woman who walked by at a slow gait, her back bent with age. Two young men hurried past the carriage, laughing as they went and giving them sidelong glances.
Was this Stephen’s destination? If so, who lived here? She looked for Stephen’s tall form but could see little from her window.
Thomas jumped down from his seat and came to the window. “Lord Weston’s carriage dropped them off near here before continuing on. I don’t know which building they went in. Somewhere on the right I think.”
“I wonder who lives here.”
“I’m not sure, but we can’t stay. Trouble will come looking for us if we do.” He glanced about nervously as he spoke.
A man leaned against a nearby building, watching them from beneath the brim of his hat, hands stuffed in his pockets. As Abigail watched, he pushed himself upright and started their way.
“Oh, dear.” She’d taken a gamble out of desperation to protect her family, and now they’d have to pay the price.
Thomas sighed and moved to block the carriage door. Abigail eased back and narrowed the opening of the curtain.
“What’s the likes of you doin’ round here?” The stranger asked Thomas.
“Waiting for someone.”
“And who would that be? An earl?” He gestured toward their elegant carriage and then laughed at his jest.
“Never you mind. We’ll be gone soon enough,” Thomas advised the man.
“Perhaps I can help ye find who yer lookin’ for.” The man rocked back and forth on his heels. “For a price of course.”
“Sure. A man’s got to earn a living, doesn’t he?” Thomas’s accent had changed to one more suited to the streets.
Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) Page 24