Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Williams, Lana

  He’d tried Cambridge as well, but the only thing they’d reluctantly revealed was that the Senate had decided to pay the professor’s pension to his heirs according to his wishes. Knowing Miss Grisby and her family would be taken care of had given Michael some peace. With careful management, the pension should’ve lasted them for quite some time. Obviously, those funds were gone now if she was serving as a governess. Or perhaps she felt a calling for the work.

  He’d intended to continue his search for her family, but within days, his mother and father had been killed. His life had been turned upside down in the aftermath, and he’d had no time to worry about anyone else’s family.

  He shook his head. He had no desire to relive those terrible days when grief and guilt had warred within him all while he’d been adjusting to the lasting effects of the accident. When he’d had to endure the gossip surrounding the events of his parents’ deaths at their country estate. When he’d realized how deeply in debt his father had cast them. When the creditors had come calling before the funeral had been held.

  With a deep breath, he shook off the dark memories to focus on the issue. Evidence had begun to surface three weeks past indicating Professor Grisby hadn’t died in the electromagnetic lab experiment ten years ago at Cambridge. This, despite the fact that Michael and his two friends had seen the professor’s terribly damaged body, attended his funeral and grieved for his loss along with his family—Miss Grisby included.

  The clues had started when one of those friends, Stephen Davenport, Viscount Ashbury, had been attempting to protect the woman who was now his fiancé, Abigail Bradford, from the man who’d murdered her father.

  That man, Vincent Simmons, had attempted to force Abigail to give him a lunar meteorite which had belonged to her father—a stone said to enhance the conduction of electromagnetism. Professor Grisby had been searching for that very stone before his death.

  Then Simmons had captured Abigail and her sisters in an attempt to obtain the meteorite. Michael and Ashbury had succeeded in freeing them and detaining Simmons who they’d turned over to the police. While they were sorting it all out, they’d received a note addressed to ‘Michael, Stephen and Lucas’ that appeared to be from Professor Grisby.

  It seemed impossible that the professor could be alive, that Simmons could somehow be working for him, but evidence was mounting. Unfortunately, Simmons, who now resided in prison, wasn’t speaking.

  In the midst of all this, Ashbury had discovered an article in the paper about a reclusive scientist who claimed to be conducting experiments similar to what Professor Grisby had done. When all the pieces of information were gathered together, it seemed an odd twist of fate—one that Michael could not overlook.

  On top of all that came the visit from Emma. Surely the purpose of her visit hadn’t been merely for a reference letter. She had to know or want something. Perhaps a consultation with Ashbury on this matter would shed some light.

  Being reunited with Ashbury these past few weeks had made Michael realize how much he’d missed his friend. The accident had caused a rift between them that was difficult to explain. Michael knew he was to blame. Between his injuries, the strange phenomena of aura reading, and the awful death of his parents, his world had been turned upside down. He’d placed the fault on everyone else, refusing to accept the part he’d played in the accident.

  As the amount of debt his father had accumulated came to light, Michael had been devastated. It had taken him nine long years to rebuild his life. He hadn’t made any effort to form friendships, only business associates and casual acquaintances. Keeping his distance from Ashbury had made it easier to pretend he was still normal, unburdened by the ability to see auras.

  When his old friend had re-entered his life, he’d realized how stupid that had been.

  Michael couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Ashbury and Abigail, who were now planning a wedding. The two were perfect for each other. Her lightness countered Ashbury’s darkness, and they made each other whole. While on the surface, their match was a good arrangement, they had much more than that. Their obvious love for each other made him reconsider his reason for marrying—but no—he knew he carried the same destructive seeds his father had, making marrying for love impossible.

  Ashbury had been the farthest from the blast the night of the experiment. He saw auras of good and evil, which had nearly driven him crazed. Michael’s ability to read success and failure was bad enough, but to know someone intended to do harm of some sort made Ashbury determined to do whatever he could to stop them. No wonder he suffered from severe headaches and melancholy. Lucky for him, Abigail had come along, for she had truly saved him.

  Lucas remained in Brazil where he’d fled as soon as his injuries had healed. As he was the ‘spare’ heir, his presence in England wasn’t required. They’d heard nothing from him since his departure.

  Angry voices coming from the foyer interrupted his musings. He rose from his desk to find out what the devil was going on.

  “Either open the door or move aside.”

  The feminine tone puzzled him. He couldn’t envision his fiancé, Catherine, speaking in such a manner.

  “I’m sorry, miss. The viscount is not receiving.” Jeffries sounded equally determined to stop the visitor.

  “He’ll see me. Have no doubt,” the angry voice insisted.

  The door flew open to reveal a disheveled Miss Grisby. She glared at him, one hand still on the doorknob. Jeffries stood directly behind her, eyebrows raised, waiting to see if he should bodily remove her.

  Michael eyed her appearance, taking in her crooked hat to the same grey gown as the previous day to the strands of hair dangling along her flushed face. Even her spectacles sat askew. Had she run all the way here?

  “You are a scoundrel of the worst sort,” she proclaimed as she adjusted her spectacles.

  “Normally, it takes ladies much longer to realize that.” He nodded to Jeffries and the butler backed away and closed the door.

  The heated glare she sent him would’ve reduced a lesser man to ashes. “How dare you provide a letter of reference that would prevent me from obtaining the position with your cousin.”

  “Whatever are you speaking about?”

  She folded her arms over her middle, disapproval in every line of her rigid stance. “I’ve just come from my interview and things were going well.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.”

  “Until she read your letter.”

  Puzzled, he could only frown at her. “I assure you, there was nothing in the letter that could’ve caused her to change her mind.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you. You told me when you handed it to me that you thought it would do no good.”

  He hesitated, remembering her dim aura and his certainty that she wouldn’t win the post.

  “Only because she holds little regard for me.” He latched on to the explanation with relief. At her obvious disbelief, he explained further. “I fear I teased her relentlessly when we were young. She’s never forgiven me for it.”

  When she continued to glare at him, he added, “My letter described you in the highest regard. I promise.”

  Miss Grisby seemed to deflate at his words. Her shoulders slumped as she dropped his gaze. The fiery woman before him returned to a grey mouse. Though he didn’t care to be the target of her ire, he preferred her anger to this. Surely those weren’t tears glistening in her eyes.

  Her silence made him even more uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you didn’t receive the position. Did she say why?”

  She shook her head.

  “Should I ask her?” He could see how important the post was to her and felt responsible. “Perhaps I could speak with her in person,” he found himself offering, much to his dismay.

  “No.” Miss Grisby shook her head. “Never mind. I’m just...disappointed.” She met his gaze, her chin held high. “My apologies for barging in on you. Thank you again for the letter.” She bobbed a curtsy and
turned to go.

  “Do you have other...prospects?” Despite his suspicion of her, he couldn’t allow her to leave like this. Not when she was so obviously distraught. Not when memories of better days floated in the back of his mind.

  She turned back reluctantly. “Not yet. I’m certain I’ll be able to find something soon.”

  He might’ve believed her if she’d said it with more confidence. Apparently she had no additional openings to apply for as her aura showed him nothing. He could only see auras when a person had an immediate intent.

  “This position was very important to you, wasn’t it?”

  She sighed and gave a small shake of her head, making him feel as if she thought he couldn’t possibly understand what it had meant to her. “It was a promising opportunity with generous compensation.”

  Michael hesitated, considering the meager information he’d been provided along with her address. Based on the location of her family’s flat, it seemed they were in dire need of income. The neighborhood was rough, many of the residents one step away from a workhouse.

  “If it’s money you need—”

  Her pale cheeks flushed as the spark returned to her eyes. “I did not come here to beg for money.”

  He held up his hand, amazed at her prickliness. “I’m well aware of that. You came here to call in a nonexistent debt.” He couldn’t help but remind her of the small deceit.

  Her gaze dropped at his rebuke. “I only—”

  “May I make some inquiries to see if any of my acquaintances are in need of a governess?” This was the perfect excuse for him to keep an eye on her and contact her again. He told himself he needed to remain in touch for no other reason than to see exactly what she and her uncle were up to.

  “That is kind of you. Thank you.” Her expression held little hope that he’d come through with his offer.

  Had so many let her down that she no longer took people at their word? It seemed he’d struck upon one thing they had in common.

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” she said.

  For one brief moment, those large brown eyes looked up at him, holding him with their intensity. Everything else fell away as he held her gaze. His breath caught as awareness sizzled through him like an electric current.

  Her lips parted as she gave a tiny gasp before dropping his gaze, the glare of spectacles preventing him from seeing her eyes. “I must be on my way,” she mumbled and spun away.

  “Wait!” He had the strangest urge to keep her with him, to see where that sizzle might lead.

  She paused in the doorway but didn’t look at him. “Yes?”

  He gave himself a mental shake. What on earth was wrong with him? He was allowing memories of better times to affect his thinking. She might be concocting some scheme with her uncle at this very moment.

  “How will I reach you if I find a suitable position?” he asked, wondering if she’d tell him the truth.

  Still, she didn’t look at him. “I’ll leave my address with your butler.” Then she closed the door behind her.

  He stood there until he heard the front door shut then walked to the window where he watched her hurry away as though hounds snapped at her heels.

  Surely it was only simple curiosity that caught his interest.

  ~*~

  Emma stabbed at the broadcloth with her needle, wishing she had a better outlet for her frustration.

  “Dear, perhaps you should allow me to finish that.” Her mother’s soft words made her feel even worse.

  She closed her eyes, attempting to calm her roiling emotions. What she really wanted to do was throw herself on her bed and have a good cry. But with no bed to call her own, she couldn’t even have that small indulgence. Instead, she sat in the meager light of the window, trying to assist her mother with the pile of mending she’d taken in. Every pence they gained was precious right now.

  “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m more disappointed that I didn’t obtain the position than I realized,” she murmured. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ripped out the uneven stitches in the seam of the jacket determined to try again.

  “Well, of course you are,” her mother said in a no-nonsense voice. “Who wouldn’t be? The trick is to cast your thoughts toward your next endeavor.”

  Emma knew she treaded a fine line between being truthful to both herself and her family about their situation and hopeful that everything would work out. She studied her mother’s calm countenance. Did she know Tessa was coughing up blood? Emma knew Tessa would make every effort to hide it from their mother. Even as she opened her mouth to ask, a soft moan from the bedroom caught her attention.

  Her mother’s worried gaze slid to hers. Emma ventured to guess that at the very least, she knew Tessa’s condition was worsening.

  Emma set aside her mending and rushed into the bedroom. “Tessa?”

  Her sister lay on her side and opened weary eyes to look at her. Her breathing sounded raspy, her face pale.

  “Is it bad?” she whispered. But Emma saw Tessa’s answer in her frightened eyes.

  Tessa didn’t respond. Her attention seemed completely taken by drawing her next breath.

  Emma swallowed hard. She ran her hand along Tessa’s brow, wishing she could take this burden from her, that she was the one ill.

  “I’m fetching the doctor, Tess,” she told her and pressed a kiss upon her cheek.

  Tessa shook her head, but Emma hushed her. “It will be fine.”

  Emma would convince him to come, no matter the cost.

  ~*~

  Michael paused in the doorway of the drawing room at Ashbury’s home on Park Lane, a short carriage ride from his own residence. He studied the flushed faces of its two occupants with amusement. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were dallying.”

  Ashbury’s slow grin was all the confirmation he needed.

  Abigail shook her head at her fiancé’s smile. “How are you, Weston?”

  “Not as well as you, I’d venture to guess.” He couldn’t help but tease her. She made it far too easy. Her embarrassed smile was his reward.

  “What brings you here?” Ashbury asked.

  “You’ll never guess who paid me a visit.”

  Ashbury arched a brow. “If I’ll never guess then I suppose you must tell me.”

  “Emma Grisby.”

  Shock froze Ashbury for a moment followed quickly by anger. “What did she say? That her uncle is alive and well? That he fooled us all?”

  “Nothing of the sort.” Michael sat in the chair opposite them. “She requested a reference letter as she was interviewing for a governess post with my cousin.”

  “Oh, please.” Ashbury rose to pace the room. “Surely you didn’t believe that flimsy excuse?”

  “Not at first—”

  Ashbury spun to face him, his green eyes accusatory. “You helped her?”

  “Yes. I paid a visit to my cousin and learned that Miss Grisby truly did interview for the position. However, my cousin had another applicant who’d served as governess for an earl, so she chose her over Miss Grisby.”

  “We need to speak with her. No, we’ll follow her until we find out—”

  Michael held up his hand to stave the tide of Ashbury’s plan. “I’m having her followed. I have her address.”

  “Who is she?” Abigail asked curiously.

  Ashbury returned to his seat. “Professor Grisby’s niece. It’s a shame to think he’s using her.”

  “We don’t yet know that,” Michael argued. Why he felt the need to defend her eluded him. Hadn’t he had the same suspicions?

  The bland look Ashbury gave him made him feel as though he’d been taken in by her. Perhaps he had. At the very least, he had to admit she’d caught his sympathies.

  “So you have a plan to keep her under watch?” Ashbury asked.

  “Not exactly. I have one of the runners following her.”

  As part of his effort to prevent harm coming from those he saw with criminal intentions, Ashbury em
ployed people to assist him in gathering information, running errands or even following someone. Their nondescript attire and knowledge of the seedier parts of London often came in handy. Michael had joined him in his efforts. Few people noticed a street urchin lingering about, including Miss Grisby.

  “How does she seem?” Ashbury asked.

  “Rather desperate to be honest. I’m still trying to determine what’s going on, but their flat is in one of the poorest areas. Her clothing had been mended several times over.” He shook his head as he pictured the mended cuff she’d continually tried to hide. “It seems she genuinely needs a position of some sort. I told her I’d ask my acquaintances if they knew of anything.”

  Ashbury’s eyes narrowed. “You have been taken in by her. You always had a soft spot for her.”

  Michael scoffed even as a vision of a younger, happier Emma danced through his mind. “I hardly think trying to help her find a position means I’ve been duped.”

  “If she’s so desperate for funds, a governess post won’t fulfill her needs,” Abigail added.

  Ashbury turned to his fiancé. “Few other options are available to her. Other than making a good match.” Ashbury turned to Michael. “That’s it!”

  Abigail blinked, obviously as confused as Michael. “What is?”

  “She needs to find a husband. And, if Weston assisted her in finding one, he’d have an excuse to stay near her.”

  “Have you gone mad?” Michael asked.

  “We’ve already discussed that possibility, remember?”

  Michael shook his head, exasperated with his friend. “Might I remind you that I’m engaged?”

  “I’m still not certain you’re making a wise decision, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  Michael chose to ignore Ashbury’s comment. “I can hardly escort Miss Grisby about while planning my own wedding. My fiancé will not approve.”