Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) (8 page)

Now he had only to convince Emma.

“Spectacles off,” his grandmother demanded with a wave of her hand.

Emma paused for a moment before complying. Her brown eyes glanced at him before returning to his grandmother. The gentle arch of her brows over those large eyes was quite pleasant. Her features were even, if pale. Her lips formed a narrow line neither happy nor displeased. That seemed to perfectly describe her entire appearance—neutral.

“Michael, don’t you have something else to do? Miss Grisby and I have much to discuss.” The look his grandmother sent him brooked no argument.

He glanced toward Emma, wondering if she felt comfortable being left alone with his suddenly demanding grandmother.

Emma seemed to understand his unspoken question and gave him the barest of nods though her aura still showed nothing. At least she was willing to speak with his grandmother and learn more about the plan.

“All right then, I’ll leave you two to visit.” He glanced between the pair, feeling much like a third wheel. This was not at all how he’d envisioned this meeting.

Emma’s stomach skipped with nerves as Viscountess Weston circled her once again. The reason for her anxiousness escaped her as she hadn’t yet decided if she wanted to proceed with the opportunity. However, being judged by her appearance was nothing she welcomed, not after working so hard to diminish it.

“May I be blunt?” Viscountess Weston’s expression was quite pleasant despite her rude question.

“Of course,” Emma answered. She had no other choice unless she wanted to leave before the conversation started. Besides, she needed to know if the viscountess thought there was any hope of this project succeeding.

“Is your hair truly that particular shade?”

“Pardon me?”

“And your face.” The older woman peered closely at her complexion. “Your skin seems overly pale.”

Emma felt her face heat as she struggled with how best to respond.

“Ah, I believe I understand.” The viscountess stepped back as she studied her further. “This...ensemble is a costume of sorts.”

Emma froze in surprise. No one had ever questioned that her bland attire was anything other than her normal appearance.

At her first governess post, her employer had made her quite uncomfortable with his heated looks, so she’d started to diminish her appearance. As time passed, she’d added another subtle facet to her disguise and then another, attempting to be as nondescript as possible.

The lady’s shrewd blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Did situations arise that made you decide to hide?” Without waiting for a response, she waved her hand in a sweeping gesture from head to toe. “It is quite effective, as I’m sure you know, but I can see it’s not the real you.”

Emma blinked several times, trying to determine what to say. She could think of nothing but the truth without the unsavory details. “My positions required me to live with families, and I found it much easier to appear as plain as possible.”

“That sounds like the decision of an intelligent woman.”

“One does what one must in order to survive.” She swallowed back her bitterness, hoping it wasn’t reflected in her tone.

“And your next endeavor is to find a husband.”

Emma hesitated, filled with doubt. It sounded so mercenary and impossible when put that way. “I’m considering that as a viable option.”

The viscountess continued to study her, the silence lengthening until Emma wanted to squirm.

“I think the best approach would be to introduce you as the granddaughter of a dear friend. We’ll say you’re staying with me for a time while she’s recovering from an illness. Is that acceptable to you?”

Emma released a breath of relief she hadn’t realized she held. Somewhere during the course of the conversation, she’d begun to hope that this plan would be the best course of action for her to help her family. “Yes.”

“My grandson says you’re willing to serve as my companion while we make the necessary arrangements for this endeavor.”

“I would be honored to repay your kindness in any way I can. I am quite good with a needle if you need mending, or—”

“Please.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m sure your company will be sufficient payment for what little I do for you.”

Emma swallowed at the reminder. Michael was the one whom she needed to repay. Finding the means to do so would be much more difficult.

“It will take several days for Madame Drusell, the dressmaker, to prepare the appropriate gowns for you. Perhaps it would be simpler if we had her bring a selection of fabrics here from which you can choose.”

“Whatever you suggest,” Emma agreed despite the burn of nerves simmering in the pit of her stomach.

“We’ll also need gloves, shoes, hats, and cloaks, of course.” She tapped a finger to her lips as she thought on the list. “I’m certain there will be more items, but Madame Drusell will assist us in acquiring those.”

Emma cleared her throat. That all sounded ridiculously expensive. “Perhaps just one or two gowns—”

“That will never do.”

“The viscount suggested that we could keep this simple with just a few balls...”

“Nonsense. Miss Grisby, if you decide to proceed with this, we must go forth in full. Half measures will never do. You must be certain you’re prepared to think, act, and feel like a young lady of the
ton
.”

Her stomach dropped. There was no way she could attempt to pull off a deceit of this magnitude. Even as she shook her head to disagree, the viscountess raised her hand.

“Just because you haven’t been part of that world doesn’t mean you don’t belong there. You’re an intelligent educated lady with the appropriate pedigree, according to my grandson.”

Somehow, her words didn’t truly comfort Emma. She’d be trading one disguise for another. Would she ever be able to live life as her true self? At the moment, she had no idea who that was.

“Marriage is a long commitment, as I’m sure you know.”

Emma nodded, wondering if the viscountess was trying to talk her out of it.

“Picture the man you select by your side in fifty years and choose carefully.” The lady’s gaze shifted to the window. “I wish my grandson would.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never mind. There’s still hope he’ll come to his senses.”

Emma had no idea of what the viscountess spoke and decided it best not to ask.

Unbidden, an image of Michael filled her mind. His dark hair, blue eyes, even his confidence drew her. Hastily, she shoved the image away. Comparing any man to Michael would be a terrible mistake.

“You must keep an open mind if you want to find a husband.”

Yes, Emma thought. But saying such was so much easier than doing it.

“Do you need the spectacles?”

Emma hesitated as she studied the glasses in her hand. Somehow, letting go of them left her feeling naked and vulnerable. Which was silly. She didn’t wear them at home and was always happy to set them aside when she walked in the door. Silly, indeed. This was merely one step in the process. She drew a breath. “No. I don’t require them.”

“Excellent. You have rather nice eyes.” The viscountess smiled as though she understood how difficult this was. “We just need to ease the worry out of them.”

“That might take a miracle,” Emma murmured.

“Do you believe in miracles, Miss Grisby?”

“Please, call me Emma. And, no, I do not.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never witnessed one.”

“Have you?” Emma had never met anyone who claimed to have done so.

“Once. Long ago.” The viscountess’s eyes grew soft, her smile full of secrets. “They do happen, Emma. But I also know that God helps those who help themselves. So allow us to begin there.”

That was something with which Emma could agree.

“Tell me, Emma. Do you like to read?”

“It’s one of my favorite pastimes.” Not that she actually had the chance to indulge in it very often.

“Excellent. We are going to be good friends. I can tell already. And I do believe we’ll have a little fun during the process. What do you say?”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you.” A lump formed in Emma’s throat as the older woman squeezed her hand, her gaze holding Emma’s. Perhaps there was hope for some sort of miracle after all.

~*~

“Viscount Ashbury to see you, my lord.”

Michael looked up from reading the newssheet two days later to see Ashbury striding into the room as Jeffries closed the door behind him. The seriousness of Ashbury’s expression cut short Michael’s greeting. “What’s happened?”

“Simmons is dead.”

“What? How?” The death of the one man they believed to have contact with Professor Grisby—or at least, the man they suspected was the professor—was a major blow. Though they hadn’t convinced him to talk, without him, they had nothing.

“No one seems to know. He was found dead in his cell yesterday.”

“Christ. Now what?”

Ashbury shook his head as he paced before Michael’s desk. “We watch Emma Grisby even closer.”

“I don’t think she knows anything about her uncle’s survival.”

“Truly?”

Michael remained silent. Somewhere during the last few days, he’d begun to believe she’d been nothing but honest with him. She’d sought him out for the reference. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Don’t allow her to fool you, Weston. Lord knows what tricks her uncle has put her up to.”

“We shall see soon enough, but based on the hovel they’re living in, I have a difficult time accepting that she wants anything other than what she’s said.”

“Did you convince her to allow you to give her a season?”

“I have no idea.” He had yet to hear anything from Emma or his grandmother.

“What is taking so long? Why is she hesitating if she is in such desperate circumstances?” Ashbury paced again. “You must speak with her and insist. Tell her—”

“If I push her, it will only make her suspicious. And she is already distrustful.” The sigh Ashbury released made Michael shake his head. “If the professor contacts her, we’ll know. We’re watching her home and her movements. With luck, she’ll agree to the crazed plan you concocted. Then she’ll be under my grandmother’s roof.”

Ashbury paused to glance at Michael. “I never meant to put your grandmother in danger.”

“You’d better hope she’s not.” While that worry had crossed Michael’s mind as well, he had to believe that Grisby would never hurt his niece and therefore, his grandmother would not be in any danger.

“What do you think Grisby wants—that is, if he lives?”

“I can’t imagine. Do you think he also has some sort of...ability?” Ashbury stared out the window as though hoping to catch a glimpse of him on the street.

“He came back from the dead. Who knows what ability that gave him?”

“I swear he had no pulse. I checked it myself. One half of his face was damaged beyond repair.”

Michael remembered that all too well. When he’d recovered consciousness, he’d stumbled over to where Ashbury had been kneeling beside the professor. The sight was burned in his memory. Later, the doctor had told them that it had been a good thing the professor hadn’t lived. His injuries would’ve made life miserable and he never would’ve recovered fully.

But some detail of that night tugged at his memory. What was it?

“Who was the man who helped us afterward?” Michael asked.

Ashbury paused, eyes narrowed as he tried to remember. “I’m not certain I knew him. I went to the door, hoping to find someone to aid us. A man was just walking toward the laboratory. I assumed he’d heard the blast and had come to investigate. He asked me what happened then followed me into the laboratory to help me check on the professor.”

“Did you know him?”

“Bloody hell.” Ashbury spun to face Michael. “Vincent Simmons.”

“No!”

“I’m sure of it. I never thought of it until just now. He is the one who fetched the doctor.”

“So he was aiding the professor back then.” Michael rubbed his hand over his face. “Damn. The professor truly is alive.”

“I can hardly believe it. Simmons must’ve been arrested soon after that for the murder of Abigail’s father. The professor had to be the one who arranged for Simmons’ release from prison prematurely.” Ashbury sank into the chair before Michael’s desk.

“Simmons must have been important enough to the professor that he made the arrangements for the switch.”

“Can you discover if Miss Grisby knew Vincent Simmons?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m not sure how. Not unless we’re willing to rouse her suspicions.”

“Surely one question will not do so.”

“She is the most prickly, wary, suspicious person you’ll ever meet. I’ll see what I can do, but I’d rather wait to see if the professor contacts her.”

“I still can’t believe he hasn’t already.”

“I’m not certain how she’d react to learn her uncle is alive after all these years. He’d better have a good reason for it as he left his family in dire straits.” Michael thought back to what Emma had said earlier—that she had no desire for a husband. Men had not played a stable role in her life thus far.

“Perhaps we could make inquiries with some of his former acquaintances and colleagues. Surely there is someone with whom he remained in touch.” Michael tapped his fingers on his desk. “I think it might be useful to find out who that doctor was as well. Where was the professor’s body taken?”

“Excellent ideas. I’m not certain if we can still discover the answers, but it’s worth trying.”

Ashbury’s gaze held steady on Michael. “There’s something I’ve wanted to say...”

Michael frowned at the seriousness of his friend’s tone. “What is it?”

“I owe you an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

Ashbury rubbed his temple, and Michael had to wonder if he had another headache brewing. “I should’ve stopped the experiment that night.”

“Why?”

“I was certain the power was not sustainable. But despite my doubts, I said nothing. If I—”