Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (25 page)

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 c
urtain.

“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.

“
Are ye waitin’ for a gentleman?” asked the stranger.

“Maybe even t
wo.” Thomas flipped him a coin.

“They
’re in that buildin’ over there.” He pointed to a lodging house two doors down.

“Who lives there?” Thomas held another coin between his fingers.

“Sorry, mate. No one I know. Can’t help ye with that.” He pocketed the coin Thomas had given him and strolled away, whistling between his teeth as he returned to his post.

Thomas edged closer to the carriage window but his gaze scanned the street. “Now what, miss?”

“Let us go before our presence draws more attention.”

A large thump sounded on the roof of the carriage, causing it to rock. Abigail
’s heart pounded in fear. “What on earth?”

“How can we help ye?” A deep, gruff voice asked from above.

“You can start by getting off the carriage,” Thomas answered angrily.

“Me and me mates fancy a ride,” the voice answered. “How about ye give us one?”

Several rough looking men gathered around the carriage. Abigail’s heart pounded. What had she been thinking? If Thomas was hurt because of her foolish actions, she wouldn’t forgive herself.

She kept as quiet as possible, not wanting the men to know she was inside. Somehow she was sure that wouldn
’t help the situation.

“
Come on. Give us a ride,” one of the other men chimed in.

“No. Can
’t be missing my duties. The lord will have my head if he comes out to find me gone.”

“Well then, how
’bout we leave ye here and take the carriage?”

The men laughed.

Abigail tensed further, realizing just how many had gathered around.

“Ye helped Willy
over there. Throw a few coins our way.”

“That was a legitimate transaction. He offered me information and I paid him for it. What do you blokes have to offer?” Thomas
asked.

The carriage rocked again. Abigail
braced herself to keep from being thrown to the floor. Panic shot through her. She couldn’t think of any way for her and Thomas to escape.

“
Tell us what yer lookin’ for.” The deep voice came from above.

“I
’m waitin’ on my master. He’s in that building over there.”

From the narrow part in the curtain, Abigail could see he pointed to the opposite side of the street. Well done, Thomas, she thought. The last thing Stephen and Weston needed was to exit the building to find a group of thugs
awaiting them.

“
Enough with this. Hand over yer money.”

“I don’t have much.”

In her narrow field of vision, Abigail saw the man Thomas had paid earlier slink into the very building in which he’d said Stephen and Weston were. How naïve of her to think he’d told them the truth. Stephen and Weston probably weren’t anywhere near here.

She and Thomas
were in serious trouble and she was to blame. She shouldn’t have risked following Stephen and Lord Weston.

“
He’s lyin’. Boys, empty his pockets!” They rushed forward.

Thomas threw a solid punch at the first man who
grabbed him but another took his place. From her narrow line of vision, Abigail flinched as he plowed his fist into Thomas’s stomach. The footman bent over from the blow, groaning in pain.

Abigail
searched frantically around the carriage for something to use as a weapon and came up with a parasol. She shoved open the carriage door, catching one of the ruffians in the back and sending him flying.

“Enough! All of you get back.” She stepped down, keeping the sharp tip of the parasol pointed out
as she moved to defend Thomas.

“What do we have here?” A burly man jumped down from the top of the
carriage.

“A lady by the look of her,” added another.

“A pretty lady, ye mean.” The man whistled as he elbowed one of his cohorts in the ribs.

Six in total surrounded the carriage. Abigail kept one arm on Thoma
s and her back to the carriage. Fear made her limbs tremble, but she refused to leave Thomas to fend for himself.

Thomas straightened and looked at her in disbelief. “Please get back in the carriage, miss.”

“I’m not leaving you out here by yourself,” she whispered.

The footman shook his head and reached for the handle of the door. “Please do. I beg your pardon, but you
’re not helping matters.”

“Don
’t be ridiculous.” She turned to look each man in the eye. “Now then, I’m going to ask you politely to please depart. Go on about your business and leave us alone.”

The leader
held the lapels of his jacket. “Not until ye give us yer valuables.”

“In exchange for what?” Abigail asked. The longer she could prolong conversation, the better. She needed time to think of a way out of this.

“In exchange for us lettin’ ye live,” a man proclaimed.

She hid her fear, determined to keep some fragile hold over the situation. “You
’ll have to do better than that.”

“Ain
’t ye a bold one,” the leader said as he licked his lips. “I like ’em like that.”

He stepped forward, and Abigail shoved the umbrella tip into his chest w
ith all her might. “Back. Away.”

The man yelped in pain, rubbing his chest as his face turned red with anger. “Enough of this. Get
’em!”

Thomas immediately lunged for the leader, landing blows on the others blocking his path.

Abigail swung and poked her parasol, determined to inflict as much damage as possible. A hand gripped her wrist. She stomped on the offender’s foot. Someone grabbed the parasol and, though she struggled, he wrenched it from her grasp, twisting her arm painfully in the process.

Thomas fought like a mad man, but their opponents were too many. Both she and Thomas were soon held fast, the leader of the group chortling in glee.

“I believe I mentioned you shouldn’t get out of the carriage, miss,” Thomas muttered, his eye swelling and his lip bleeding.

Abigail said nothing
, swallowing down her panic. How could she have possibly sat in the carriage while Thomas was beaten? She had to stay calm and try to remove them from this situation, but how?

Stephen shook his head with frustration. He
’d held high hopes that finding Simmons’ new lodging would provide them with a lead. “This seems to be another dead end.”

Weston nodded. “You
’re right. There’s nothing here.”

The narrow room was stark and filthy and could hardly be called lodging. The thin walls were covered with mold and didn
’t hold back the noise of the neighbors let alone the weather. The only furnishings were an iron bedstead with a dirty mattress and a table with one broken chair. A tattered jacket and cap hung on a peg by the door. The place was dismal. No wonder Simmons spent little time here.

“Unless you count the rats,” Stephen added
as he took note of one scuttling out of sight.

Weston gave a mock shudder. “I don
’t.”

“Nor do I.” He lifted the mattress on one end, then the other, to see if anything was hidden there. A filthy wad of cloth was tuck
ed at one end of the bed frame.

“What is that?” Weston asked as he drew near.

“Most likely nothing,” Stephen said as he felt something hard in the center and unrolled the bundle.

“A rock?”

“A very unusual rock,” he added, holding up the dark red discovery. “Simmons is quite the collector.”

“Do you recognize this type
?” Weston took it from Stephen to examine it.

“No.”

“This gives us another puzzle to solve.”

“Why would Simmons have a rock hidden under his mattress? Not to mention that he continues to ask Miss Bradford for
hers.” Stephen’s frustration mounted. They seemed to discover one unrelated clue after another. “What is Simmons involved in?”

“Something that
entails an empty warehouse with circles on the floor and rocks. That’s not much information with which to make any connections,” Weston said.

“
Our clues are growing but not our solutions. We’ll take it with us.”

He moved toward the door, but stopped to examine the jacket that hung there. A quick search revealed nothing in the pockets. He knocked
off the cap as he replaced the jacket. “Rather small cap.”

“More like a boy
’s size, wouldn’t you say?”

Stephen
examined it closer. “First the jacks in the warehouse and now this cap. You don’t think the missing boys and Simmons are related, do you?”

“
I’m starting to wonder,” Weston said.

“Let us be done with this place.” Stephen
replaced the cap and led the way out the door only to stop abruptly at the sight of a man lurking in the hall.

“Excuse me.
” He wrung his hands as he approached.

“Yes,” Stephen said, dread filling him for no reason. He could tell the
man meant no harm by his aura.

“Ah...” The man licked his lips nervously. “There
’s a carriage outside.”

“Yes. Go on.”
Had something happened to Weston’s carriage?

“A lady and her servant are out there. I think they might be waitin
’ for ye. They’re in trouble. Serious trouble.”

Weston came up behind Stephen. “What
’s this?”

“My worst nightmare,” Stephen replied. He tore through the hall and down the stairs as fast as humanly possible
, fear stealing his breath. He burst out of the building to see the man had not exaggerated the situation.

“Good Lord. What
is Miss Bradford doing here?” Weston asked breathlessly from behind him.

Stephen didn
’t bother to answer as he watched the lady in question thrust and parry her parasol before it was jerked out of her hand. His heart leapt to his throat as one of the men grabbed her. Rage filled his vision.

“Release them,” he demanded as he approached the group surrounding Abigail and her footman.

Abigail’s face was pale and pinched with fear. The sleeve of her gown was torn. Thomas looked angry, his face bruised and swollen.

“Release them at once,” he repeated as he strode forward, taking comfort in the knowledge that Weston had his back.

The man with the parasol in his hand spun to face him, his aura black as night. “Mind your own business. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, but it does,” Stephen disagreed. Two of the larger men moved to block his path. Without hesitating, Stephen struck one with his elbow then spun to
kick the other in the stomach.

“Watch out!” Abigail
’s shout had him turning in time to see his first opponent draw a knife.

Without pause, he struck the knife out of the ruffian
’s hand with the heel of his hand and followed with a low sweeping kick to knock the man off his feet. He looked behind him to see Weston overcoming one of the other men.

Those
holding Abigail and Thomas glanced at each other then released their captives abruptly. One ran off. The other moved behind the man with the parasol, whether to lend support or hide, Stephen wasn’t sure.

Abigail stepped forward to wrest the parasol out of man
’s hand. “I’ll take that.”

“Here now. No need to get rough. We were just havin
’ ourselves a bit of fun.” The man eased back, his palms outstretched before him. “No harm done.”

“No harm?” Abigail was obviously outraged by the man
’s words despite the tremble in her voice. “Look at my footman! And you broke my parasol.” Her hands shook as she held up the drooping canopy to prove her claim.

“
Sorry.” He kept a wary eye on Stephen and Weston then hurried away with the remaining men.

Weston raised a brow in inquiry, but Stephen shook his head. He had no desire to chase them down and leave Abigail and Thomas alone.

Within moments, Stephen, Weston and Abigail were safely ensconced in her carriage. Thomas insisted on driving despite his injuries. Weston’s carriage followed behind, his coachman disappointed to have missed all the action.

The silence was thick with tension. Stephen knew he needed to calm down before he spoke to Abigail. No doubt she
’d have some logical explanation for her outrageous behavior. The way she continued to put herself at risk made him crazed. What if they hadn’t been there to save her? He pressed his hand to his chest at the growing ache there.

“So,” Weston said, looking briefly at Stephen before turning his attention to Abigail, “fancy meeting you in this neighborhood.”

Abigail tightened her lips, and for a long moment, Stephen held hope that she’d remain silent.

If she knew what was good for her.

She heaved a sigh and he closed his eyes, knowing his hope was about to be dashed.

“I had Thomas follow you because it seemed unlikely that Stephen would share the results of your investigation with me.”

Stephen opened his eyes to glare at her. “When I have something of interest to tell you, I will share it.”

“Your definition of what’s interesting seems to differ from mine.”

“Given that you are here,” Weston offered, “we’ll share what we learned.”

Abigail
’s expression turned to a mix of hope and curiosity. She leaned forward. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Stephen said.

“What?”

“He speaks the truth. That was supposed to be Simmons
’ new lodging house, but nothing of interest was there,” Weston said, “unless you count the rats.” He pulled the curtain aside to look out.

“Seven,” Stephen
added, just to be difficult.

“Excuse me?” Abigail stared at him as though he
’d grown two heads.

“Seven rats in the room,” Weston clarified.

“That’s it? That’s all you found?” She sounded appalled.

Stephen guessed
that it was the lack of findings rather than the mention of rats that caused her reaction.

“I realize you think I don
’t tell you of our discoveries because I wish to keep them to myself.” Stephen couldn’t help his sarcasm. He was so angry with her. He swore he’d never recover from seeing her surrounded by those men, from the thought of what they might’ve done to her.

“I fear Ashbury has a point.” Weston turned to study Abigail. “Many leads turn out to be of little consequence. Hence no report.”

She scoffed. “Then I’d like that information as well. That’s all I’m asking. Communication does not seem to be a strong suit for either of you.”

Weston
smiled. “Did you hear that, Ashbury? It seems we are not good communicators.”

“Nor is the other person inside this carriage.”

Abigail’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “How can you say that?”

“Let
’s take an example, shall we? Perhaps the situation you were just in!” He couldn’t help but raise his voice.

She sat back at his shout, her
lips pursed.

He drew a slow breath, trying to rein in his temper. “I
’m certain I asked you to return home.”

“No. You
ordered
me to go home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stephen saw Weston smother
a smile.

“And you agreed to my request,” he continued, pretending she hadn
’t corrected him.

Her belligerent expression made him picture her as a young, stubborn girl. “I changed my mind.”

“Which you did not
communicate
with me.” He enunciated the word with care.

“There wasn
’t time.”

Weston held up his hand. “I can see we
’re at an impasse, so let me just add this. You’re both right.”

Stephen closed his eyes again, hoping it would give him patience. But when he opened them, the urge to hit something remained.

“Miss Bradford,” Weston began, “surely you can see that it is not wise, nor healthy, for you to place yourself in danger. Not only are you at risk, but you put us at risk as well, not to mention the investigation itself. I’m sure that within hours, Simmons will hear all about the ruckus outside his lodging.”

Abigail
’s expression fell at Weston’s lecture. “I didn’t think of that. Nor have I forgotten what those ruffians did to Thomas.”

“
True. Your footman bore the brunt of the injuries today.” He turned to Stephen. “Ashbury, I’m sure you can concede Miss Bradford does indeed have a valid point.”

Stephen gave Weston a bland look.

“You’re not a very good communicator. Never have been.”

“But you are?” Stephen asked, incredulous that Weston would find fault with him.

“
I
am not under discussion at the moment.”

Stephen snorted. Why had he thought he wanted Weston back in his life?

“At any rate, I think it’s important to Miss Bradford that you see the error of your ways.”

Abigail gave Stephen a challenging look. Did she think he wouldn
’t admit to it?

“I would consider being more forthcoming if Miss Bradford would better consider her personal safety as well as those of others,” Stephen relented. Anything to have Weston shut up.

“Excellent. I believe we’re making progress. Miss Bradford? Are you willing to change your behavior as Ashbury requests?”

She opened her mouth to disagree, Stephen was sure, but then promptly closed it as she
thought better of whatever argument she’d been about to deliver. “I never meant to put anyone in danger. Certainly not Thomas nor either of you.”

Stephen waited. She hadn
’t answered the question. Weston waited as well. Their combined silence seemed to get the better of her.

“Yes, yes. I will avoid any rash action in the future.” She folded her hands in her lap demurely.

Weston didn’t seem satisfied. “Perhaps we should define the term ‘rash action’.”

“Oh, for heaven
’s sake.” The scowl on her face spoke of her frustration.

Stephen remained silent, for he wholly agreed with Weston. Her definition and his did not seem to agree
on this term either.

They regarded her until she let out a huff. “I will not take action
with which either of you might find fault.” She pondered her words for a long moment. “As regards this investigation or Simmons.”

Stephen was certain her qualification held a loophole of some sort
, and she would use it at the first opportunity.

“Very good.” Weston smiled with satisfaction. “I believe we
’ve resolved the chance of any future encounters such as the one we just survived.”

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of Abigail
’s home.

Weston smiled at both of them. “My work here is done, so I
’ll leave you to attend some business of my own. I assume you’ll keep me apprised of any further developments?” His mouth curved in a small smile as he watched Stephen. “Since you’ve recently improved your communication skills.”