Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) (17 page)

Michael hadn’t thought of his engagement in that way. He’d been so focused on gaining back the holding, he hadn’t pictured anything beyond that.

“I mean no disrespect,” Ashbury continued after a moment, “but as your friend, I must say, Miss Vandimer is not an especially nice person.”

Michael scoffed. “There’s more truth to that than you know. But I fear I’m too far down this path. There’s my grandmother to consider as well.”

Ashbury nodded. “Family is another complication, isn’t it?”

“I must press on with my plans.” Michael could see no other choice. Allowing Catherine’s father to keep that holding was not an option. It had been in Michael’s family for centuries. Losing it had been the blow that had set his parents’ toward their final destruction. Their arguments had been brutal after his father had lost it in a game of cards.

His great grandfather would come back from the grave for Michael’s head if he failed to gain it back when he had the opportunity. His grandmother had been born there. After all she’d done for him, he would do anything for her. Anything.

Somehow, he needed to set aside the desire he carried for Emma. Never mind that
desire
seemed too tame a word. The feelings he had for her served no purpose. He’d learned that all too well from his parents. But the idea of keeping Emma at arm’s length put him in a dismal mood.

~*~

Emma stood with Viscountess Weston at a ball that evening. She’d already danced several times and now longed for some fresh air. The day had been quite warm and the ballroom seemed to have absorbed the heat.

Her gown this evening was amber and one of her favorites thus far. The ruffles were narrow and made of the same fabric as her gown. They ran along the neckline and sleeves, and in a swirling circular pattern on the skirt. She’d never seen anything like it before. She hoped that meant it was unique rather than out of fashion. With a sigh, she pushed aside her worry. The only thing that mattered was how she felt in the dress and she felt lovely. Based on the amount of attention she’d received from the men here, she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

An uneasy awareness filled her, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Mr. Vandimer standing behind her.

“Good evening, Miss Grisby.” He smiled slyly, as if he knew something she didn’t.

The sensation made her uncomfortable. She took a step back, unable not to, as she returned his greeting. The man made her nervous and not in a pleasant way.

“Would you honor me with this dance?”

She paused, trying to think of any possible reason to refuse. Her face heated as she realized several people nearby turned to stare as she delayed her answer. Left with no choice as she didn’t want to offend him, she smiled politely. “That would be lovely.”

The viscountess frowned as Mr. Vandimer took her hand. “Don’t be long, my dear. I have need of you.”

Grateful that the older woman seemed to have sensed her disquiet, she nodded. “Of course.”

With a deep breath, she allowed Mr. Vandimer to escort her to the dance floor. The strains of a waltz began and she nearly groaned. He smiled knowingly, and it crossed her mind that he had somehow arranged it.

Determined to try to enjoy the dance, she returned his smile and tried to relax, flowing with the music.

“You look lovely this evening, Miss Grisby.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re a beautiful woman.”

“My, you are full of compliments.” But they didn’t make her feel good, not to mention how much his superior smile was beginning to annoy her. “One might worry why.”

He raised his brow. The way he watched her made her feel as though he’d already taken liberties. “Do you wonder if I have an ulterior motive?”

“Surely not.” She held her smile in place, hoping he didn’t. Somehow, she was certain that whatever it might be, it wouldn’t be good.

“I hope spending more time in your company is not considered an ulterior motive.”

“I suppose it depends on why you wish to do so.”

There was that smile again. Rather than continue to look at him, she looked out across the crowd, her gaze automatically searching for Michael. He would not be pleased if he knew the identity of her dance partner.

“I find your intellect quite stimulating. So different from the other silly women here.” Her gaze met his, and the heat she saw there was unmistakable.

“And are you on the hunt for a wife?” What better defense than to make her own intentions clear?

He chuckled. “Heaven forbid. I am most anxious to see my daughter married, but not me. I found a wife quite inconvenient.”

She didn’t want to hazard a guess as to what he meant.

“However,” he squeezed her waist, “I do enjoy more pleasurable pursuits.”

Her mind went blank. She had no idea how to respond to his comments. Would this dance never end? “I confess I love to read and spend time with my family.”

Another chuckle. “I would hope that you have other interests, perhaps those of a more physical nature?” He raised his brows suggestively.

“Oh. Indeed. Nothing like a brisk walk in the park.” At last, the notes of the waltz faded. Emma wasted no time stepping away. “Thank you.”

He didn’t release her. Instead, he kept his arm about her waist, forcing her to remain at his side unless she wanted to cause a scene.

“I believe the viscountess is in need of me.” She met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated by his outrageous behavior.

“An intelligent woman such as yourself shouldn’t be at the beck and call of an old woman.” He pulled her closer, and she had no choice but to allow it. “You should be covered in jewels, hosting parties more interesting than this one.”

She attempted to remove his hand from her waist without success. Fear curled in her stomach. “What are you suggesting?”

“Good evening.” Michael’s greeting had never been so welcome, but the look he sent her was less so.

“Weston.” Mr. Vandimer nodded. “I was just going to escort Miss Grisby back to your grandmother.”

“No need,” Michael said with a smile as he offered his elbow to her. “I believe you promised me this dance?”

The glitter of anger in his eyes belied his friendly words. She’d prefer his anger over the continued presence of Mr. Vandimer any day. “I’d nearly forgotten.”

With a nod at Mr. Vandimer, Michael led her to the dance floor. “I thought we agreed you’d keep your distance from him.”

“Manners leave me little choice but to accept when he asks me to dance.”

“Invent an excuse.”

“Next time, I’ll try harder.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed as he looked closely at her as though sensing her unease. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing of import.” The movements of the dance prevented them from speaking further. As they floated along, the magic of being in Michael’s arms took over. How could dancing be such a totally different experience with this man than with any other?

With Michael, the rhythm of the music took precedence over the intricacies of the steps. Her focus narrowed to him, to the blue of his eyes, the arch of his brow. Why did he have to be the one who stirred her so? Who made her long for things that could never be? She closed her eyes briefly as she spun, holding back her emotions as best she could.

But wait. She had this moment with him, and maybe, if she was lucky, a few more. Why should she waste them? She wanted to enjoy each one and store them away. No matter what happened in the coming weeks, she’d have these times to remember. No one could take them away from her.

“What is it?” he asked, eyeing her smile warily.

She considered giving him a lighthearted answer, but what came out surprised her. “I’m pleased you’re here.”

He blinked, obviously uncertain how to respond.

That only made her smile more. She set aside her worries and gave herself over to the music, to the feel of being in Michael’s arms, even if it was temporary. The joy of it filled her, and she couldn’t help but laugh when they executed a turn.

“I remember the night your mother taught you to waltz,” Michael said with a smile.

“That was an enjoyable evening.” It had been one of the last light-hearted times she could remember. Soon after that, her uncle had been killed, and their lives had never been the same.

All too soon, the dance ended. Michael tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and moved toward his grandmother.

Emma caught her breath as the Marchioness of Warkshire paused before them.

“Weston.” Her greeting held a distinct chill.

“Dear, Cousin. Lovely to see you, as always.” Michael bowed but didn’t release Emma’s hand.

The marchioness’s gaze shifted to Emma then narrowed. “Have we met?”

Emma could think of nothing to say. If the marchioness remembered interviewing her for the governess position and decided to declare her a fraud—

“Allow me to introduce you to Miss Emma Grisby.”

Emma curtsied, her stomach in knots. With effort she found her voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

The beautiful woman acknowledged the greeting with a simple nod. “Indeed.” With one last glance at Emma, she turned and walked away.

As Emma breathed a sigh of relief, she heard Michael whisper in her ear. “I told you she doesn’t like me.”

Before she could respond, Catherine moved into their path. She spared a glance at Emma though she offered her no greeting. “When did you arrive?” she asked Michael.

Emma did her best to hide her surprise. He’d come to her rescue before finding his fiancé? But no, she couldn’t read anything into that small act.

“A short time ago,” Michael answered.

Catherine’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing more. She turned toward Emma, and Emma knew she searched for a derogatory comment to make.

Before she could come up with one, Emma excused herself. “I think the viscountess is in need of me.” With a parting glance at Michael, she left the pair. Between Mr. Vandimer and his daughter, Michael was going to have his hands full in the coming years. She didn’t envy him.

Emma was pleased to find Abigail visiting with the viscountess. She liked the other woman. Abigail seemed so comfortable with who she was and what she wanted. Her interest in financial matters fascinated Emma. She’d never known another woman who did something like that.

The three women chatted about everything from the weather to some of the gowns to the flowers that decorated the room.

Lord Tagart appeared at her elbow. “Good evening, Miss Grisby. May I say how lovely you look this evening?”

She couldn’t help but return his smile. Warmth spread through her as they exchanged pleasantries. But it was far different from the heat she felt in Michael’s presence. Nor was it anything like the rather unpleasant awareness Mr. Vandimer caused. With a sigh, she realized that while she genuinely liked Lord Tagart, the idea of kissing him was unappealing.

Where did that leave her in her quest for marriage? As they continued to visit, she glanced about the room for the other men she’d met of late. Some had seemed nice enough, others she hadn’t cared for at all. Should she try to meet others to see where that led? Or should she spend more time with Lord Tagart and see if her feelings for him grew into something more?

“Is all well?” Lord Tagart asked, his brown eyes filled with concern. “I hope nothing is troubling you.”

She had to restrain herself from sighing again. He was so nice. Surely he would make a good husband. Surely he would care for her family as much as she did.

“I enjoyed our discussion earlier,” she said, hoping he’d resume the conversation. Perhaps if she tried harder, she’d grow to care more. That would have to be enough.

Michael stood visiting with Catherine, her father, and one of Catherine’s friends after Emma took her leave. Why was he filled with regret that he couldn’t go after her? Catherine and Adolphus Vandimer would soon be part of his family. He should enjoy spending time with them.

In truth, he didn’t.

Catherine was involved in a discussion about a new dressmaker with her companion. From the look on the other lady’s face, he assumed she didn’t appreciate Catherine’s remarks. That happened far too often. Michael sighed. Catherine seemed to have no idea how much her comments annoyed others.

He glanced at her father, wondering why he did not curtail his daughter’s behavior. But as he looked at the older man, he realized he wasn’t paying any attention to Catherine. Instead, Vandimer stared across the room.

At Emma.

Anger flickered through Michael before he tamped it down. While he needed to be prepared for Emma to marry, the idea of Adolphus being interested in her infuriated Michael. From what he’d garnered from his conversations with the man, he had no intention of marrying again. So why was he interested in Emma?

Michael nearly shook his head at his own stupidity.

One look at her was enough to answer that. She was intelligent, beautiful, and radiated something special. Something unique.

Lord Tagart stood next to her, but he wasn’t the only lord nearby. Yet she seemed unaware of the stir she caused. That only added to her charm. Rather than batting her eyes and acting coy, she took the time to genuinely engage with each person who spoke to her.

Who was Michael kidding? He at least needed to be honest with himself. It didn’t matter in whom she was interested. Michael wouldn’t like it.

But at the top of that list was Adolphus Vandimer. Michael would be damned before he’d allow the older man to charm Emma into becoming his mistress.

His thoughts on how he might manage that were interrupted when Ashbury appeared at his elbow.

“I have terrible news,” Ashbury said, his face grim.

“What is it?”

“Lord Berkmond was killed last night.”

Michael stilled. While he hadn’t known Lucas’s older brother well, his death came as a shock. “That’s terrible. What happened?”

“He was shot on his way home from a ball.”

“Here in town?”

Ashbury nodded.

“I just spoke with him a few days past. He said he hadn’t heard from Lucas in months.” His younger brother’s choice to move to Brazil had never set well with Berkmond. Michael imagined that Lucas had never shared the full extent of his injuries from the electromagnetic accident. Hell, he hadn’t even told Michael and Ashbury how it had truly affected him.

“Did they catch the culprit?” Michael asked.

“Not as of earlier today.”

“Christ. I suppose this means Lucas will return to England.” Michael remained quiet as he thought over his last conversation with Berkmond. He’d seemed so hale and hearty. “Life as we know it can change at any given moment.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with...recent events?”

Michael ran his hand through his hair. Though the idea was terrible to consider, it would be naive of them not to. “You know I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“That means we have a lead the police do not.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think they’d consider it much of a lead.”

“Perhaps we need to make some inquiries of our own.”

“Can you request your associates to see if any rumors are circulating?” The effectiveness of Ashbury’s network never ceased to amaze Michael. Though some were only children, they often learned more than a detective from Scotland Yard could.

“Yes. Someone has to know something.”

“If I remember correctly, Berkmond’s wife died in childbirth several years ago. The twin girls will be alone now.”

“Terrible to lose both your parents at such a young age. Lucas will return to a ready-made family.”

“Perhaps he already has a family of his own.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“His life is about to become much more complicated.”

“Surely he will return from Brazil when he receives the news. Those two little girls will need him.” The doubt in Ashbury’s voice echoed Michael’s thoughts. “Though he held little regard for his father or his brother, Lucas was never one to shirk his duties.”

“True, but he may have changed. Living abroad can do that.” Michael shook his head. “The least we can do is attempt to find his brother’s murderer.”

~*~

“I believe we agreed you would make it look like an accident.”

The disapproval in his uncle’s voice grated on Vincent. “I told ye ’twas a bad idea in the first place.”

“And I told you it had to be done. There was no other way to force Lucas to return from Brazil unless we did away with his brother.”

“I still don’t understand why ye need all three of them here. The two lords are enough trouble as it is. A man can hardly walk the streets without one of their spies followin’.”

“The number three holds magic. That’s been proven since ancient times. The three of them together might produce a vortex of sorts.”

Simmons turned away to roll his eyes. “Here I thought you were a man of science.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “What’s done is done. I can’t very well undo it.”

“It would’ve been much simpler if you’d at least made it appear as if the man took his own life.”

“I tried. The bloody man wouldn’t cooperate. You’d think that being the one with the weapon would give me the upper hand. Funny how some men don’t think that way.” He couldn’t help but think back to the other time he’d killed a lord. That one hadn’t cooperated either. Some men refused to back down. That cost them their lives.

“Are you certain no one saw you?”

Vincent hesitated as he ran the events through his mind again. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d thought he’d seen someone...a boy perhaps? But when he’d turned to look, the figure was gone. If he’d been there at all.

What harm could one boy cause?

“No. No one saw me.”

“Very well then. Soon everything we need will be in place. We’ll proceed with the next step of our plan while we wait for Lucas to return.” Uncle Grisby chuckled.

The eerie sound caused a chill to creep down Vincent’s back.

“The devices need to be tested again. See if you can find some subjects willing to spend some time with us. Though we need more meteorites to provide consistent power, we’ll continue testing with what we have. A few more experiments and we will know if it’s successful. Then the world will bow at our feet. We’ll have more riches than we ever dreamed possible.”

Vincent sighed as he looked around the new hovel they currently called home. Despite the money they’d recently gained and his uncle’s positive words, he wasn’t so sure they were any closer to accomplishing what Uncle Grisby thought they were. Now he was supposed to find more ‘volunteers’. Involving others is what had gotten them in trouble last time.

Good thing he didn’t have a conscience. Else he’d be tortured by all the harm they’d caused thus far.

~*~

Emma felt the weight of Michael’s gaze all the way home. While she wasn’t quite clear on why he’d decided to escort them home from the ball, she could hazard a guess. Somehow he thought she’d encouraged Mr. Vandimer’s interest in her and decided he must speak to her about it.

She sighed. While she had no intention of encouraging the man, she wasn’t comfortable being rude either. Where was the line between those two options?

The viscountess chatted about several people Emma didn’t know, remarking on this person and their ridiculous attire and that person and their clever grandson. She seemed to require little if any response, so Emma allowed the conversation to continue without commenting. Determined not to look at Michael again, she kept her gaze on the passing buildings as they made their way through the dark, quiet streets.

Soon they arrived home and entered the drawing room. The viscountess dismissed the yawning footman and requested that Michael pour them each a libation. Emma breathed a sigh of relief as the viscountess sat in her favorite chair. At least she wouldn’t be left to defend her actions to Michael. He could hardly raise the topic when his grandmother was here.

“I don’t care for Miss Vandimer’s father. His behavior is odd, don’t you think?” The viscountess looked up at Michael.

Emma nearly groaned.

“Perhaps we could ask Miss Grisby her opinion of him. She spent quite a bit of time with him this evening.” Michael raised a brow at her.

“I danced with him, we spoke for a few moments afterward, and then you arrived. That’s hardly enough time for me to form an opinion.” She took a long sip of sherry, hoping the topic was now closed.

“What did he speak to you about?” the viscountess asked.

All too aware of the heat filling her face, she took another sip before answering. She had no desire to tell them that he’d told her she deserved more than to be the viscountess’s companion. Never would she hurt her feelings. “Nothing of importance. Odd comments, really.”

Michael’s gaze narrowed as he studied her. “I’d prefer you stay away from him.”

She could only guess how angry he’d be if he knew exactly what Mr. Vandimer had said. “Would you have me refuse next time he asks me to dance?”

“She can hardly do that, Michael. What would you have her do?”

Emma looked at him expectantly. “Yes, what would you have me do?” She knew she had the sherry to thank for her false bravado along with the presence of his grandmother, but why not take advantage of both while she had the chance?

“I don’t think he is on your list of potential suitors, so do not seek him out.”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

“Excellent. Now that we’re in agreement, I’m going to retire for the evening,” the viscountess announced and rose to her feet.

Emma stood as well, relieved the conversation was over. “Perhaps you’d like to read some more of our novel?”

“Not this evening, my dear. You keep Michael company while he finishes his drink. I’m so tired I believe I’ll sleep the moment my eyes close.” She moved to Michael and offered her cheek.

The tenderness Michael always showed her squeezed Emma’s heart. He really was a good man, despite what he seemed to think of her.

“Good night,” Emma said as she kissed the viscountess’s cheek as well.

The older woman patted her arm and winked. Emma stared at her, wondering what that was all about.

She left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

An awkward silence descended as Michael stared at the amber liquid in his glass, and Emma continued sipping her sherry.

“May I ask what he said to you?” Michael came over to sit beside her on the settee, glass dangling from his fingers.

“What am I supposed to do when he speaks to me? Turn away? I thought it unwise to be rude to your fiancé’s father.”

He set down his glass. “I realize that. I’m sorry I suggested otherwise. Will you tell me what he said?”

She told him, feeling as though somehow it was her fault. After all, Mr. Vandimer wasn’t the first man to make inappropriate comments to her. Life had been easier when she’d worn her governess disguise, though that hadn’t always been completely effective either.

Michael shook his head as he leaned back and rested his arm along the edge of the settee behind her. “Do be careful. He is not someone to be crossed. The less you engage with him the better. As I said, he’s not searching for a wife.”

“Do you think he’s showing interest in me because of my association with you?”

Michael smiled. “No, I don’t.”

“Then what?”

Michael rose and offered his hand.

Uncertain what he intended, she set down her empty glass and put her hand in his, her stomach leaping as he pulled her up to stand before him. “What?” she asked as he continued to look down at her.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you. As others see you. You are a very attractive woman.”

Embarrassed, she shook her head as she tried to tug her hand from his.

“Come here.” He kept a tight hold on her hand and led her to the large mirror that hung on one wall of the drawing room. He positioned her in front of him and stood directly behind her, looking at her reflection with her. “See?”

“See what?” She could only see the handsome man behind her, the dim light glittering in the blue of his eyes.

“How stunning you are.” He trailed his finger along the line of her jaw.

She caught her breath, fascinated by the sight of him touching her in the mirror.

“Skin like alabaster. Hair as soft as satin.” He traced the arch of her brow, the hollow of her cheek.

Her mouth parted in response. She was no longer sure if it was the sherry she’d had or the feel of his fingers on her skin that heated her. No. That wasn’t true. It was him. Of that she had no doubt.