“How many meteorites are in the collection?” Michael asked.
“That number is now seventeen.” He heaved a sigh as though saddened to have the number reduced.
“Are there any lunar meteorites here?”
“Not anymore. The only one we had was stolen.” Professor Wattle paused on the landing of the upper floor and turned to frown at Michael. “I say, it’s rather odd that you are asking about the lunar meteorite the day after it was stolen.”
“The article in the paper stated a lunar specimen was taken. I thought perhaps you had others.”
“Humph. Haven’t seen the article. The press can be a nuisance these days. Some news is better left amongst those it concerns.”
Emma thought he had a valid point. While the populace needed to know if their safety was in danger, spreading the details of the rarity of lunar meteorites might raise the interest of more thieves.
The professor crossed the floor to a room on the right. The wood floor creaked under their feet, giving an eerie feel to their tour.
“Not all of our specimens are organized. We are continually working on that, in between giving tours, of course.”
“I’m certain it’s a never ending task.”
“We just received a large donation of stones last week. It takes some time to sort through them, to determine what’s worthless and what should be displayed. Many of the new items end up in this room until we have the opportunity to examine and catalog them.”
Michael made his way down one of the narrow aisles. Boxes sat on tables and on the floor, some overflowing with rocks, others with only one or two inside. Very few had labels. Emma recognized many from what her uncle had shared with her, but others looked no different than ordinary rocks.
“Was the meteorite taken a new addition or had it been in the collection for some time?”
“We’d had that one several years but didn’t realize what it was until recently. We don’t even have a sketch of it though I am going to attempt to draw it from memory. Somewhere we have the measurements and weight of the thing.”
“I’d be interested in seeing that information. Can you send me a message when you have it?”
Professor Wattle seemed grateful to have someone take an interest in his lost meteorite, as if the rock had been one of his favorite children. Again, Emma looked at Michael, wondering at his acute interest in the topic.
As if aware of her curiosity, one side of his mouth turned up in an attempt at a smile. “I find all this quite fascinating.”
Somehow, she didn’t believe that was the only reason for his interest. She continued along the aisle as the men spoke, stopping to examine whatever caught her interest.
Professor Wattle left them on their own after giving a rather vague explanation of what they’d find in some of the other rooms on the top floor.
“Quite the collection, isn’t it?” Michael asked.
“It would be helpful if they were better organized. Providing an explanation of what the stones are and where they were found would make it more interesting.”
“That would certainly draw more visitors. You seem to enjoy looking at the collection.” He drew nearer to peer over her shoulder at what had caught her attention.
“As you may remember, my uncle collected and I often assisted him.” She looked up to find him far too close, studying her. “He searched for lunar meteorites prior to his death.”
“He taught you many things, didn’t he?”
“I’ve learned much more than most women my age. That knowledge is what allowed me to become a governess.”
He frowned, as though hesitant how to respond. “You must miss him.”
She swallowed hard, unwilling to admit just how much. “If it weren’t for Uncle Grisby taking the time to educate me, I’m not certain what would’ve become of us.”
“There is far more to you than your knowledge.”
She considered the idea, but dismissed it. “My education has helped me in more ways than I can count.”
“I’m certain it has, but it’s only one of your qualities. You underestimate yourself.” He reached out as though to touch her, only to draw back. “I still haven’t gotten used to your new appearance. Your transformation is amazing. How did you manage to hide all this,” he allowed his gaze to skim over the length of her, “beneath that grey dress?”
“With great care.”
“You’re clever. More than you credit yourself.”
Her heart skipped a beat as his finger grazed along her cheek. She looked up to find his gaze on her lips. She drew a breath to steady herself only to catch his scent—male, woods, and the outdoors. Something about it made her stomach flutter.
Those blue eyes studied her with a hint of heat in their depths. “You’re beautiful.”
She felt her face flush at his compliment, the warmth spreading through her whole body. In that moment as he looked at her, she felt beautiful for the first time in a very long while.
“Thank you.” The words were difficult to say, for they meant she accepted his compliment—no easy task for her.
His hand cupped her cheek and she couldn’t help but lean into it. Physical contact was rare in her world. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until now.
Slowly, he leaned forward, as though afraid he’d startle her. Anticipation filled her as his lips drew near.
“Emma, are you prepared to enjoy what life has to offer?”
She blinked, unable to answer yet unable to step away. She was firmly caught though he’d barely touched her. Dare she accept his challenge? While she knew it was wrong as he was engaged, she desperately wanted to explore this feeling. What if it never came again?
With the smallest breath, she gave him her answer by easing forward, helpless to resist him.
At last, those firm sculpted lips touched hers.
Magic.
That’s all she could think. How could two pair of lips pressed together create such magic? The sparks igniting in her body couldn’t be described as anything less.
He moved his mouth over hers as though thoroughly enjoying the taste of her. He didn’t draw her into his arms, just held her tethered to him with his hand on her cheek and his lips on hers.
Then she understood.
The choice was hers as to how much she was willing to take.
Heart pounding, she reached up to place her hand on his shoulder not quite sure where the best spot was. Then she lifted her other hand to touch the back of his head where his dark hair lay against his jacket. How she wished she didn’t wear her gloves.
All thoughts fled as she tilted her head to better fit her mouth to his. With a groan he pulled her tight against him and suddenly all felt right with her world. Her body was pressed along his length, the solid strength of him making her feel things in places that she’d never expected.
Magic indeed.
“I do have one other meteorite you might find of interest.” The approaching voice of Professor Wattle brought reality crashing back. Michael pulled away as though coming to his senses.
His blue eyes blazed into hers, the heat there catching her breath.
“I’d be interested in any that you have to show us.” He turned to face the professor, blocking Emma from view which gave her a moment to collect herself.
Only, she needed much longer than that. How was she to protect herself when desire betrayed her?
CHAPTER NINE
Michael berated himself for the tenth time as the carriage made its way back to his grandmother’s. He was engaged yet he couldn’t seem to resist kissing Emma. What was wrong with him, and what made her so different from Catherine?
For one thing, Catherine never would’ve agreed to spend hours in a dusty old building full of rocks. Emma had seemed to enjoy the outing as much as he. With his fiancé, he felt only the smallest stir, but with Emma, his feelings for her nearly overwhelmed him.
Years ago, he’d sworn never to allow passion to control his behavior. Not after witnessing
how it had ruled his parents. Their emotions had ranged from burning passion to raging jealousy to outright disdain, all with him being tugged to and fro in the middle. That was why he’d chosen to view marriage as a business arrangement. He rarely showed Catherine any affection and had convinced himself he preferred it that way.
That was not for him.
He’d thought he’d escaped the seeds of destruction that had ultimately ended his parents’ lives. But something about Emma brought forth a response in him of which he hadn’t thought himself capable.
Was it the bow of her lips? The curve of her jaw? No, his physical attraction to her was only part of it. He genuinely liked and admired her, he realized as he glanced at her. Her intelligent and thoughtful comments were so different from other ladies her age.
The idea that Emma held no hope for the future bothered him. No. Bothered was too light a word. Her resignation touched him somewhere deep inside.
Yet who was he to cast stones? Hadn’t he taken a similar action by treating his entire life as a business? After living with his parents’ volatile relationship, how could he do anything else? He couldn’t—wouldn’t—live the way they had.
The entire ton had known whether things were good or bad between them. They’d made no attempt to hide their feelings from anyone, including him. While their deaths had been a terrible event, the end of the tug-of-war had been a relief. Guilt filled him at the thought. Not even his grandmother knew the depth of his angst.
Now he found himself in a quandary. Part of him wanted to show Emma the lighter side of life. To get her to smile or even better, laugh—something she rarely seemed to do. He well remembered how delightful her laugh had been, and he was determined to hear it again.
That did not mean he needed to touch her. He couldn’t risk allowing passion to overcome him. God only knew what terrible consequences would come of that.
Emma cleared her throat, then glanced at the maid beside her. She looked Michael squarely in the eye. “I must request that there is no repetition of the previous incident in the museum.”
Her ability to speak her mind was one of those things he admired. “My apologies if I offended you.”
“I’m certain your fiancé would object.”
Her emphasis on the term made her meaning clear.
Michael did not appreciate the reminder but couldn’t deny that she was right. “You may trust it won’t happen again.”
She gave a curt nod, looking very much like a governess who knew she did the right thing by reprimanding her charge. Her superior expression annoyed him to no end.
He dearly wanted to shake her poise. “Although I must say it served its purpose.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “How so?”
Michael glanced at the maid, all too aware he should keep his mouth shut. Yet he couldn’t resist teasing Emma. “Enjoyment was had by both parties.”
“Oh.” Her mouth popped open as that lovely shade of pink that he liked so much flooded her cheeks. “Despite that, a reoccurrence would be most unwise.”
He raised a brow, appreciating that she didn’t attempt to deny that she’d liked their kiss. “I can only promise to try if you will do so as well.”
Her gasp caused him to smile. She glanced at the maid who seemed to be trying her best to hide her amusement.
“You, my lord, are incorrigible.” Emma glanced out the window before meeting his gaze once again, a small smile on her lips.
Michael watched her for a long moment, then deliberately dropped his eyes to her lips. Her mouth parted in response, and unless he was mistaken, her chest rose as she drew a quick breath. Surely that meant she was as affected by their mutual attraction as he.
That only made the thought of his engagement even more unwelcome. With a scowl, he turned his attention to the passing scenery.
Emma Grisby did not fit into his carefully laid plans, and he’d best remember that.
~*~
“Ye want me to steal paper?” Vincent shook his head, thoroughly confused at his uncle’s request. “How does that gain us money?”
“Not any paper, Vincent. Bonds. They’re worth a significant sum.”
“If they’re worth so much, then why doesn’t everyone take them?”
“Not everyone is smart enough to know how to make this work. Luckily for you, I am.”
“So ye’re sayin’ I just take the paper from the man who’s carryin’ them and then these papers are ours for the keepin’?”
“Basically. The advantage of these particular bonds is that they are unregistered as the parties involved prefer to remain anonymous. In this case, a certain Italian gentleman involved in an unsavory business. Whoever carries the bonds is considered the owner. Now if they were a registered bond, we would not be able to collect.”
Vincent could only stare at his uncle, hoping the old man didn’t expect him to understand any of this nonsense.
His uncle sighed. “All you need to do is watch for a man walking along Clerkenwell Road. My sources have advised that the clerk who will be carrying these bonds lives there. He’s to carry the documents to a bank on Tuesday morn, but as I mentioned, we do not know a specific time. You’ll arrive on Clerkenwell Road shortly after dawn and watch until you see him. You will relieve the man of the bonds by whatever means necessary and return here where I will verify the documents. Then we’ll determine our method of cashing them in at the bank.”
“Ye’re sure it wouldn’t be easier to steal some money from the bank directly?” The whole thing seemed far too complicated to him. What good was paper? You couldn’t use it to buy a pint.
“These will provide us with a non-traceable method of obtaining significant funds. We need those funds to obtain the rhodite which will grant us an alternative method of maintaining the power of the electromagnetic devices since you haven’t obtained another meteorite.”
Vincent shook his head. Of course all this was his fault. “I thought the one I took from the museum would help.”
“Help, yes. But we need more, which is why we still need the one Ashbury has.” His uncle waved his gloved hand in dismissal. “Now then, please do your best not to be seen, especially not by the man carrying the bonds. We cannot afford any loose ends.”
“Should I kill him?”
“Only if he sees you. As I said, we cannot afford any loose ends.”
~*~
Emma readied for the ball that evening with the grim determination of a soldier preparing for battle.
Her pale pink gown was trimmed in a dark wine piping. The bodice was fitted, and the neckline more daring than anything she’d dreamed of wearing. She could picture her mother’s frown as well as Tessa’s grin of approval.
If she wanted to catch a man, she needed to throw out the proper bait. Apparently that had something to do with displaying her breasts.
Keeping Tessa in mind, she eyed herself critically in the mirror. “I’d like my hair to look different than last night.”
“Excellent idea, miss. Perhaps one curl over your shoulder with the rest swept up in back?” The maid held Emma’s hair in place for her approval.
“Yes, that will do nicely.”
She had to remember the purpose of her time here. Her goal was to find a wealthy husband who would care for her and her family. He didn’t need to be immensely rich, but he did need to be pleasant and kind. Marrying a mean-hearted man would not do. She wouldn’t allow such a person near her family. Plus she didn’t think he’d be as willing to help pay for her sister’s medical bills.
Michael flew to her mind, but she immediately thrust him aside. Spending time with him was a waste. It served no point. His suggestion of learning to enjoy herself was nonsense. How could she while her family was in such dire straits?
The sooner she found a husband, the better. Lord Tagart might be a potential candidate. He seemed quite nice and rather handsome. Perhaps she needed to inquire of the viscountess what she knew of his wealth.
She hadn’t
cared overmuch for Lord Calverton but wondered if she’d judged him too quickly.
Why did the thought of all this make her feel so tired?
“How does that look, miss?”
Emma hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. She closed her eyes. “Very nice. Thank you, Louise.”
Before nerves could catch up with her, she rose, collected her gloves and cloak and made her way to the drawing room.
The viscountess already sat in her favorite chair, sipping a glass of sherry. Her face lit with a smile as she caught sight of Emma. “You look delightful.”
“Thank you. May I say you look wonderful as well? That color is very becoming on you.”
The viscountess smoothed the fabric of her vivid coral evening gown. “This is one of my favorites.” She gestured toward the decanter and glasses. “Have a glass of sherry with me.”
Emma poured herself a small measure and sipped, grateful for the false courage it would provide.
“The ball will be an even larger affair than the previous night.”
Viscountess Weston’s words did nothing to calm Emma’s nerves. Some of her worry must’ve shown on her face, for the viscountess added, “That’s nothing to fret over. It simply means you’ll have more options from which to choose.”
“And that there’s a bigger chance of someone realizing that I am pretending to be something I’m not.”
“Nonsense. You’re Emma Grisby. You’re not pretending to be anyone else. Just because you’re wearing a different gown than you wore last week doesn’t make you a fraud.” She set her empty glass on the table and rose. “Besides, you’re far too young to have determined exactly who you are. Isn’t that part of why you’re here?”
Emma pondered the viscountess’s words, realizing she was right. The past few years had been spent putting others needs first. She wasn’t sure who she was any more. Perhaps the next week or two would allow her to discover more.
The viscountess made no mention of Michael, much to Emma’s disappointment. She reminded herself that his absence would make it easier for her to focus on her goal. Odd how she couldn’t quite convince herself of that.
Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 12
