Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) (21 page)

“No, it’s not like that. Well, perhaps I suspected her at first, but who could spend time with Emma and suspect her of anything?”

“I certainly don’t believe it.”

“The coincidence of her appearing on my doorstep within weeks of Ashbury and me suspecting Professor Grisby not only survived but was performing experiments on people with his electromagnetic devices was too much to believe.”

“What experiments?”

Michael shook his head. “We don’t know, but we suspect it’s not for good.”

“You didn’t tell Emma any of this?”

“I’m not certain what is true and what is speculation at this point. I knew how much it would hurt her to hear that her uncle may have survived and hidden himself away, so I hesitated to tell her. How could I advise her before I knew the truth? I didn’t want to put her through any more pain than she’s already experienced.”

“But there are so many items on this paper. Surely you have enough that it warrants speaking to her about it all now.”

“I should’ve. Ashbury and I thought her uncle would attempt to contact Emma and, with her in our midst, we would be able to monitor the situation.” His explanation sounded weak even to his own ears.

“And possibly catch the professor? Were you using her as bait?”

“Yes. No.” Michael put a hand to his suddenly pounding head. “At first, perhaps, but...” He paused, trying to find the words to explain, to quell the panic that he’d lost her. Again. “All of this has been complicated by my...feelings for Emma. You should know that I’ve asked Catherine to call off our engagement.”

“I’m happy to hear that, at least.” The look of approval on his grandmother’s face eased his worry. Though she’d said she didn’t mind losing their country estate, a part of him feared that wasn’t true.

“My feelings for Emma have grown into...something more.” Silence greeted his statement, and he realized she waited for an explanation. But how could he explain what he didn’t yet understand himself?

“Are you going after her?” she asked.

How like her not to ask more than he could answer. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

She rose and took his hands. “Then I’ll wish you luck, for I think you’ll need it. You have much to explain and an apology to offer.”

Equal parts of urgency and worry filled him. “Indeed, I do.” He bent and kissed her soft cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always giving me sound advice. I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Lucky for you, you won’t have to find out for quite some time.”

He smiled and turned for the door.

“Michael?”

“Yes?” He looked back to find a frown on her face.

“Do be careful. The word ‘murder’ appears more than once on that list of yours.”

“All the more reason we need to keep Emma close. With luck, I will convince her to allow me to explain.” But in his heart, he feared she wouldn’t be willing to listen.

~*~

During the long day and night since Emma had returned home, she’d cried until she had no more tears. The most she’d been able to tell her family was that circumstances had changed and she’d decided to search for a new position.

“Are you certain?” her mother had asked. “You seemed so happy at your last visit.”

“I’m quite sure.” How could she even begin to explain the depth of Michael’s deception or that she’d fallen in love with him when he was soon to be married? The only thing she could do was try to put it behind her.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize that it would be even more difficult to forget Michael than she’d expected. He’d sent her family several baskets each week filled with everything from fresh fruit to hair ribbons to a newssheet he thought Tessa might enjoy to some jacks for Patrick. Also included were books and fabric along with tea and biscuits. Fresh meat arrived often as well. Not to mention him taking care of the rent and their account with the doctor.

The improved food had obviously aided her whole family. Gone were the sharp edges to their cheekbones and shoulders. Patrick seemed to have grown even more with proper nutrition. The worry had eased somewhat from her mother’s eyes, though she still watched Tessa carefully. Tessa’s condition had improved as well. The shadows around her eyes had faded, and she seemed to slowly be rebuilding her strength.

Despite everything Michael had kept from her and the fact that he’d used her, she was grateful for his generosity with her and her family.

The knock on the door that afternoon didn’t surprise Emma but still caused a jolt of nerves in her stomach. No one normally called on them, so she knew it had to be Michael. She’d advised her mother that she expected him to call upon her and had asked for some privacy. Now her mother squeezed her hand and joined Tessa in the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Emma drew a deep breath and opened the door.

“Emma,” Michael said, his green eyes seeming to see right through to her very soul.

She blinked, hoping her anger would return to help protect her heart. Upon seeing his tall, handsome form, she realized what a fragile hold she had on her emotions. “Michael.”

“I’d like to explain what you found and apologize, if you’ll allow me.” For the first time since they’d renewed their acquaintance, he appeared uncertain, a far cry from the confident man she knew.

“I have a few questions for you.” She opened the door wider to allow him entrance. As he removed his hat and stepped in, their flat felt impossibly small. She shoved the thought aside as the words from his note marched through her mind.

“I’m sure you do.” He stepped to the window to look out at the grey day for a long moment before turning to face her, his gaze meeting hers. “I am truly sorry. It was never my intent to hurt you.”

She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. She didn’t want his apology. Not until she understood what was happening. “Do you honestly believe my uncle is alive?” She kept her voice low, hoping her mother and sister couldn’t hear them.

Michael glanced at the closed door, seeming to understand, for his reply was but a whisper. “Yes, I do.”

“You’ve believed this ever since the accident?” Her throat tightened at the thought of him keeping such a secret all that time.

“No.” He shook his head. “Only for a few weeks now.” His eyes closed for a moment before seeking hers again. “Several weeks ago, Lord Ashbury and Miss Bradford were attempting to locate a man who was supposed to have hung for killing her father, yet she’d caught sight of him outside her home. Then Ashbury heard rumors of boys missing from a workhouse. The two problems ended up being connected. Simmons, who we soon discovered was working for your uncle, was gathering the boys to use in an experiment.”

“Experiment?”

“We didn’t understand at first. I started helping Ashbury with the missing boys then Miss Bradford almost became one of the missing.”

“How terrible.” The idea of the lady she knew involved in something so dangerous was frightening.

“I’ll save that story for another time. At any rate, Simmons managed to take Miss Bradford’s two younger sisters along with the boys. In the end, we found their location and were able to free them.”

He shook his head. “Sounds crazed, does it not? I thought so when Ashbury first came to me with all this. As we investigated further, we had some suspicions which came from several different sources that hinted at your uncle. But after we freed the boys, we received a message signed by him. No one saw him, other than describing him as a cloaked man who walked with a cane.”

“What did the message say?”

“Something to the effect that the time has almost come for Stephen, Lucas and I to be rejoined with him.”

“I don’t understand any of this. How could he have survived?”

“I thought the same. Back at university, when we were testing electromagnetism, your uncle thought it might be capable of healing people. But now, from what little we’ve learned, it appears as though he has something else in mind, something much more dangerous.”

“You think he’s become a criminal?” The idea of the man she’d known and loved involved on the wrong side of the law was impossible to believe.

“We have wondered if perhaps the accident changed him.” Michael looked away for a long moment.

“Did it change you?” His expression made her ask even though she told herself she didn’t want to know.

He looked back at her, his gaze narrowing.

“You were injured during the experiment,” she said. “Did you have lasting affects?”

“A scar.” He tapped his stomach. “Headaches, but not as severe as Ashbury’s.” He shrugged. “Too minor to complain about.”

“What else?” In the last fortnight, she’d gotten to know him even better than she’d realized. The look on his face told her there was something he wasn’t telling her. She was certain of it.

“Nothing of import.”

She raised her brow, holding her silence, a tactic she’d often used on her charges with much success.

He heaved a sigh as he glanced at her hair. “I see auras.”

Surprised, she pondered the meaning. “As in the field of energy said to surround some people?”

“I should’ve known you’d be familiar with them,” he said wryly. “The breadth and depth of your knowledge amazes me.”

She refused to acknowledge the warmth that stirred within her at his words. “What do the auras look like?”

He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. “Basically light or dark as I only see success or failure.” At her questioning look, he added, “If someone intends to do something, I can usually tell if they will be successful or not.”

She thought over his words, something niggling at the back of her mind. “That is how you knew I wouldn’t win the position with your cousin.”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.” She studied Michael, additional questions floating through her mind. But now was not the time for that topic. “Has my uncle contacted you?”

“No, but evidence suggests he continues to conduct these experiments.”

“The bodies found in the Thames with burn marks.” The words on that piece of paper had made little sense until now.

“Yes.”

“What do you think happened at the museum? My uncle murdered the guard in order to obtain a meteorite?” That seemed impossible to believe.

“While he has become more ruthless than the man we used to know, I think he remains the same at his core—a man of intellect. The man who serves as his assistant, who murdered Abigail’s father, Vincent Simmons—”

Emma gasped as a memory stirred. “He is a cousin of mine. Always in trouble of one sort or another.”

“We wondered if that was the case. It appears your uncle created a rather elaborate scheme to free Simmons from prison after he was convicted of killing Abigail’s father.”

“I’m surprised Uncle would do so as he rarely had anything good to say about Vincent. He told us that Vincent was always searching for an easy path through life. He didn’t share our uncle’s love of learning like the rest of us.”

“He did your uncle’s bidding for a time, at least the unsavory side of it. But we were told Simmons died in prison shortly after you came to stay at my grandmother’s. I’d hazard a guess that your uncle found someone else to do his dirty work, but we don’t know who.”

“What of the lord who was killed, Lord Berkmond? How does he fit into all this?”

“You may remember our friend, Lucas. He was with us one of the times we stopped by your home.”

Emma nodded, vaguely remembering the quiet man who’d accompanied Michael and Lord Ashbury.

“Lord Berkmond was his elder brother. Lucas left for Brazil soon after the accident and never returned. Now that he’s inherited, he’ll be forced to return to England.”

“I don’t understand why my uncle would want that. Having a lord murdered with the hope that Lucas would come home seems a bit farfetched.”

“Indeed it does. But that’s not the only piece of this puzzle that’s difficult to believe.”

All of this information made Emma’s head spin. The one question that had no answer was why? Why had her uncle done this? If he was truly alive. Yet how could she believe otherwise with all Michael had told her?

“Emma,” Michael pulled his chair directly in front of hers, knowing he hadn’t yet convinced her of anything. With gentle hands, he clasped hers. Her brown eyes watched him warily, making him wish he knew the secret to gaining her trust. “You have to know I don’t believe for a moment that you have anything to do with all this.”

“But you did.”

“When you appeared so soon after all those events, I couldn’t help but assume you were somehow aiding your uncle.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I know. I determined that in short order.”

Those intelligent eyes narrowed in speculation. “Then why did you do all this for me? For my family?”

He wanted to pour out his heart to her, to tell her how he truly felt. Would she believe him? Would it make a difference? “Because I care for you. I—”

The doorknob shook, rattling the door on its hinges.

“What on earth?” Emma rose with Michael directly beside her.

They took a step toward the door as a young lad burst into the apartment and slammed the door behind him, locking it.

His eyes were wild with fear, his breath coming in great heaves as though he’d been running the breadth of London.

“Patrick, whatever is the matter?” Emma asked.

“Do you know this boy?” Michael asked, unable to believe the very lad who had witnessed Lord Berkmund’s murder was standing in Emma’s home.

“Of course. This is my brother,” Emma put a protective arm around the boy’s shoulders, her back ramrod straight. “Why?”

“Yer one of the lords Markus took me to see.” The boy’s gaze narrowed. “Thanks to ye, I’ve got someone tryin’ to do me in.”

“What?” Michael shared a glance with Emma as they both asked the question.

“Patrick, please explain.” She glared at Michael, who in turn looked at Patrick. It seemed only fair that Patrick be the first one to face his sister’s wrath, at least until Michael understood the facts of the situation.

The boy shifted his feet and glanced at the closed bedroom door. “I didn’t want to upset Ma—”

“Mother,” Emma corrected.

Patrick sent her an impatient glance but repeated the proper term none-the-less. “Mother. So I didn’t tell anyone what happened.” His lips tightened as he stared at Michael. “I didn’t realize the whole bleedin’ country was going to know it was me who saw the murder. How did that come to pass?”

“I have no idea. The police—”

“Can’t be trusted.” Patrick paused as though waiting for Michael to contradict him, but Michael wasn’t sure he could. What other explanation could exist for Patrick being pursued?

Footsteps sounded in the hall, slowing as they passed.

“I don’t think they know which flat I live in,” Patrick whispered.

Michael neared the door, ready to confront whoever it was, but the footsteps didn’t return. “Do you know who they are?”

“I’ve seen the one man around before, but I don’t know his name.” Patrick rubbed his brow as he looked at his sister with worry in his eyes.

“Emma? Is all well?” The soft voice came from behind the closed bedroom door.

Emma walked over to open the door. “Perhaps you should come and hear what Patrick has to tell us.”

“I am coming too,” Tessa pushed back the covers as though to rise.

“No. You stay there. You’ll be able to hear everything,” Emma reassured her.

The sight of Emma’s sister tugged at Michael. Her pale, thin face spoke of a long illness, but there was a spark in the depth of her eyes that said she was far from giving up.

Emma’s mother gave him a questioning look, but as he wasn’t certain what Emma had told her, he didn’t know how to respond. “Good day, Mrs. Grisby.”

She curtsied. “Lord Weston.” She turned to her two children. “Which of you is going to tell me what’s happened?”

“If you’d allow me?” Michael asked Emma. At her nod, he turned back to her mother. “Patrick may be in danger. He witnessed a murder. If that’s been discovered, your entire family might be in danger as well.”

“Murder? Patrick, what exactly have you been up to?” Mrs. Grisby asked her son then glanced back at Michael and Emma, her eyes wide with fear.

“Might I suggest we discuss the details once we know you are safe? I’d like all of you to stay with my grandmother until this is resolved.”

“But Tessa can’t be moved.”

“Yes I can,” Tessa called from the bedroom.

Michael held Mrs. Grisby’s gaze. “I fear she may need to in order for all of you to remain safe. I’d be pleased if you’d allow me to see to her transport.”

Mrs. Grisby raised a brow at Emma, as though to verify her opinion. When Emma nodded, she looked back to Michael. “If you feel it is truly necessary. We will gather a few things and be on our way.”

Then Mrs. Grisby turned to Patrick. “I expect a full explanation as soon as we are settled, including why you haven’t told us all of this before.”

“Yes, Mother.” Patrick hung his head.

Emma closed her eyes for a brief moment. Michael could only imagine the turmoil going on inside her after all the worries the past twenty-four hours had brought. He wanted to go to her, draw her into his arms and hold her until her worry eased. But he did nothing, hoping that he would soon be able to tell her the depth of his feelings for her. That would have to wait until they had some privacy.

“I’ll send my footman to fetch the coach,” Michael advised. “We’ll have more room for all of you and your things. Patrick, stay out of sight. It’s unfortunate that we don’t have some sort of disguise for you.”

“I have an idea,” Tessa called from the next room, humor evident in her tone.

Patrick groaned. “I don’t think I’ll like whatever suggestion she has.”

Michael patted him on the back. “I’m sure it will be easier than outrunning your pursuers.”

The boy did not look convinced but headed toward the bedroom to hear what his sister had in mind.

“I’ll see if anyone is watching. Somehow, I doubt whoever it is will be looking for me,” Michael said, though he had no intention of drawing attention to himself in this neighborhood. “Do not open the door to anyone else.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed.

He turned to go, but Emma took his arm. “Michael, please be careful.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, noting with both hope and pleasure the way her eyes widened. “I will if you promise to as well.”

~*~

Emma and her family waited for Michael’s coach to arrive, tensing each time they heard footsteps in the hall. Tessa had cleverly suggested they disguise Patrick as a girl in one of her old dresses, complete with a hat.

Though he’d argued heatedly, their mother had given him a stern look. She’d mentioned something about “that was what he got for being in the wrong place at the wrong time when he should’ve been home,” and he’d complied readily enough.

When the coach arrived, Michael carried Tessa with Emma directly behind. Tessa had breathed deeply in the fresh air and looked about in wonder as they’d left the lodging house, making Emma realize with a pang of guilt how long it had been since she’d left their small apartment. Somehow, she needed to determine a way to help Tessa venture outside more often.

Michael had told them all not to look about or act nervous, but instead act as though they were going on an outing. Emma had breathed a sigh of relief when they were all tucked inside the luxurious coach. Michael had the driver take a circuitous route to make certain no one followed them. In a short time, they’d been delivered to the viscountess’s.

As the others alighted, Emma’s mother pulled her aside. “Perhaps we should enter using the servants’ entrance. My attire is more suited to that than pretending to be a guest here.”

“You are a guest here,” Michael added, not looking the least bit embarrassed for having eavesdropped. “My grandmother invited you to stay with her.”

Her mother didn’t look convinced, but when Michael offered his arm to her, she took it with a shy smile, and they led the way up the steps to the front door before Michael returned to carry Tessa inside.

Viscountess Weston awaited them in the foyer and greeted them with a warm welcome. “Do come in. I’m so pleased you’re all here.” She smiled at Tessa whom Michael held. “Would you prefer to settle in your room or do you feel well enough to have tea with us in the drawing room?”

Tears filled Tessa’s eyes as she shared a look with Emma. “I would love to visit with you and have tea, my lady. Thank you.”

For once, Tessa would partake instead of merely listening to Emma’s description of an event. While it seemed a simple thing, Emma knew how much it meant to Tessa.

“Tea sounds lovely,” Michael said as he carried her sister into the drawing room ahead of them.

The viscountess peered over Emma’s shoulder and caught sight of Patrick’s odd looking attire. “Lovely dress, my dear.”

“We thought—that is—I had to disguise—” His face turned red as he tried to explain, tugging at the ribbon that kept the hat in place.

“No need to explain, Patrick,” she said with a smile. “Do you want to change before you help yourself to the sandwiches and biscuits cook has for us?”

Emma chuckled. Her brother looked torn. “You can change first,” she told him as she shared a smile with the viscountess. “We’ll hold tea until you return.”

They gathered in the drawing room, the viscountess asking many questions. Apparently, Michael had sent her a note with only the briefest of information. Michael soon took his leave, saying he had several things he needed to see to. Emma could only hope he’d be careful with whatever he was doing.

Patrick had quickly returned in his normal clothes, declared himself to be starving, and eyed the food hungrily. When wasn’t he hungry?

“Please help yourself, Patrick,” the viscountess directed him with a wave of her hand.

Emma was relieved to see him take modest portions and eat with some manners. As Emma had hoped, her mother and the viscountess already seemed to enjoy each other’s company. While Emma could tell her mother felt self-conscious as she continued to glance at both the viscountess’s elegant attire then her own well-mended gown, then around the room, she seemed to relax as the conversation continued.

When Tessa began to wilt, Emma excused them and accompanied her to her room with one of the footman carrying her. He set her on the bed, leaving them with a smile and a bow.

“Oh, my,” Tessa said as she looked around the room. The entire room was done in shades of yellow, from the pale shade on the walls, to the deeper shade on overstuffed settee and stool, to the medium shade on the bedding. Pillows, a lamp shade, and the bottles on the dresser carried touches of robin’s egg blue that accented the room.

Emma smiled as she sat on the bed beside her. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“How can I possibly sleep here?”

Emma leaned forward and whispered, “I had the same exact thought when I first stepped into my room. I didn’t want to disturb it.”

“The viscountess is very kind.”

“Yes, she is.” Guilt struck Emma as she remembered the brief note she’d left. Yet despite that, the viscountess had taken them all in with open arms.

Tessa touched the satin coverlet on the bed. “It’s so smooth.”

“Let’s settle you beneath it so you can rest.” Emma moved to the wardrobe and found Tessa’s few things had already been unpacked.

“How can I possibly stay in my room with all that is happening? What if I miss something?” Emotion thickened Tessa’s voice.

“I’ll keep you up-to-date on all events,” Emma promised as she helped Tessa unfasten her gown.

“The way you have been of late?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma protested even as guilt seeped through her. The news of their uncle’s survival jumped to mind. But Emma had already decided not to tell her family quite yet. Didn’t Tessa realize the reason Emma didn’t share everything was to protect her? In her fragile state, Emma wasn’t certain what news she could handle.

“For one thing, what is going on between you and the viscount?”

Shock paused Emma’s hands. “Why do you think anything is happening?”

“’Tis obvious.” Tessa’s voice was muffled through the gown Emma drew over her head.

“You’re mistaken. He has been very kind to me. That is all. He’s engaged, you know.”

Tessa pulled her gown off her head to stare at Emma. “No.”

“Yes,” Emma said, as much to confirm it to Tessa as to remind herself. “To Miss Catherine Vandimer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?” Emma asked, suddenly impatient with her sister. This was not a subject she cared to dwell on, not when it made her heart ache so.

“I was so sure he cared for you.”

Oh, the pain!
It came in waves and tightened her throat. But she couldn’t allow anyone to see how deep her feelings for Michael were. “I’m sure he does, but as an acquaintance, or perhaps a distant cousin.”

Tessa scowled but said nothing more.