Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Williams, Lana

  “First, I’d like to put some money on our account.”

  The doctor’s brows rose with surprise at the notes she held out. “Thank you.”

  “I realize this isn’t enough, but I hope it will allow you to pay a visit to Tessa. She had a difficult night.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Soon they agreed on a time and Emma showed herself out.

  She hurried back home, trying to figure a way to repay Michael for his kindness. The man seemed to lack for nothing, but somehow there had to be a way for her to return the favor.

  Patrick had returned home by the time she arrived and Tessa had awakened. They spent an enjoyable time together catching up. Emma shared as much as she could of the balls and even the contents of the museum.

  “You went to the museum with the viscount?” her mother asked.

  “Yes. He was kind enough to offer.”

  “But what of the viscountess? Didn’t she go with you?”

  “She said she had no interest in rocks and minerals.”

  “But I thought you were her companion?” Patrick asked with a frown.

  Heat filled Emma’s cheeks. That was the problem with lying. It created all sorts of tangles that could be avoided with the truth. Yet how could she tell them the truth now? The only thing she could do was downplay the outing.

  “The viscountess had heard me speak of Uncle Grisby and how he liked to show us interesting rocks and things. So she thought I might enjoy the outing. We weren’t gone very long, and I was properly chaperoned of course.”

  “Of course,” her mother agreed, though she frowned as she watched Emma.

  “Remember when Uncle Grisby took us to the park and had us dig for rocks and a constable interrupted us and insisted we put them all back?” Tessa chuckled at the memory.

  Emma laughed as well, partly from relief at the change in subject and partly at the memory.

  Patrick still looked none too pleased. “I don’t remember that. Was I there?”

  “Yes, but you were quite young at the time.” Emma tousled his dark hair, sad that he had so few memories of better times. He seemed to have grown even more in the short time she’d been gone.

  “I don’t remember him.”

  “No, you were quite young when we lost him. You would’ve loved him just as much as we did.” Emma shared a look with Tessa.

  She hated that he had to work at such a young age. He should be in school. Though their mother had told him she’d rather he attend school, Patrick had flatly refused, insisting he was the man of the house and needed to help put food on the table.

  Everything would’ve been so much different if that terrible accident hadn’t taken Uncle Grisby. They would’ve had a decent home, food on the table, money to pay for Tessa’s doctor, and Patrick would’ve been in school.

  Emma’s heart ached with the loss.

  But no. She couldn’t allow herself to wish for things that weren’t—that couldn’t be. All she could do was continue with her plan. If she married, they could have all that. At least she hoped they could.

  Michael was right in one respect. Finding another job as a governess would do no good. It would solve nothing. She couldn’t turn back from her plan now.

  ~*~

  Michael waited in the library of the red-brick house on Villiers Street. He’d told the servant he had a business matter to discuss with the doctor.

  In reality, he wanted to discover what the doctor would tell him about Emma. She’d come to see him twice now. He assumed it had to do with her ill sister, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if the doctor had a connection to the professor. Somehow, Michael doubted it, but he had to know for certain.

  “Lord Weston. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Dr. Barnes had a thick grey mustache and long sideburns, both a shade darker than the hair on his head.

  “I wonder if I might inquire as to your acquaintance with Emma Grisby.”

  The man frowned and took a seat behind his desk. “Why do you ask?”

  “She’s been serving as companion to my grandmother, and I’ve grown to care for her.” He refused to consider how true that statement was. “I want to be certain all is well.”

  “Emma Grisby is fine. I’m afraid it’s her younger sister who is ill.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “Very serious. Consumption. Terrible thing.”

  Michael nearly groaned with dismay. The disease was serious and chances of surviving it were slim. Poor Emma. He knew all too well how important her family was to her.

  “I fear her prognosis isn’t good, but Emma is quite determined to see her better.”

  Michael nearly smiled. That sounded just like Emma. “I hope you’re able to help.”

  “With the family’s limited resources, there is little I can do.” Doctor Barnes shook his head. “Unless their situation changes and the young lady can receive improved nutrition and even more critical, clean air, her survival is doubtful.”

  Here was something he could do, a way he could help Emma. With luck, she’d never know. He made arrangements to pay the balance on their account and advanced the doctor enough to see them through the coming months.

  “I’ll be paying a visit to the younger Miss Grisby today and will do all I can to aid her.” He shook his head. “I can’t say it will make a difference, but I’ll try. What has helped many is spending a few months in a sanatorium, but that is not an option for Miss Grisby.”

  Michael couldn’t help but wonder if Emma would allow him to make arrangements for such a trip. He’d have to wait until he further gained her trust before he broached that subject with her. He moved toward the door. “I’d rather you didn’t say that I assisted in any way.”

  “As you wish,” Doctor Barnes agreed and Michael took his leave.

  No wonder Emma had so desperately needed that governess position with his cousin. Consumption was a nasty disease which slowly drained the life out of its victim. He would do everything in his power to make certain that didn’t happen to Emma’s sister.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Lord Tagart to see Miss Grisby,” the footman announced, surprising Emma as she and Viscountess Weston chatted in the drawing room the next afternoon.

  Emma looked at the older woman, uncertain what to do.

  The viscountess smiled in delight. “Isn’t that lovely? Show him in.”

  Though flowers had arrived over the past few days, including a lovely bouquet from Lord Tagart, he was her first official caller.

  “Good day to you, my lady, Miss Grisby.” The man had his usual smile in place and a sparkle in his brown eyes. He seemed to have a permanent sunny disposition.

  “Please join us.” The viscountess gestured toward a chair. “How are you this fine day?”

  Though flattered, Emma wasn’t certain what to say or do. She’d never had a gentleman call on her.

  Viscountess Weston glanced at her with a raised brow, making her realize she needed to join the conversation. Unfortunately, no topic came to mind.

  She could hardly share the events of the previous day, nor did she care to discuss her family. Not yet anyway. What did that leave her with? The exchange of niceties had ended, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

  “Did you happen to read the article in this morning’s paper regarding the continuing unrest in Egypt?” she asked.

  Both Lord Tagart and the viscountess looked rather surprised at her question. “Indeed,” Lord Tagart replied. “The Suez Canal is of great importance to England. British troops may have to intervene. I didn’t realize you were interested in world events.”

  Though worried she should’ve chosen to speak of the weather instead, she soon relaxed as Lord Tagart shared his views on the problems in Egypt, and an entertaining conversation followed.

  Emma genuinely liked Lord Tagart. He didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. He didn’t stare at her as if he intended to devour her. Instead, he spoke with
her as though he enjoyed hearing her opinion.

  He was in the middle of an amusing story when Michael arrived. His brow rose as he caught sight of Lord Tagart occupying what she’d discovered was his favorite chair.

  Emma didn’t appreciate the scowl on his face. The last thing she wanted was for Michael to discourage Lord Tagart.

  Michael caught her glare and gave her a questioning look. Surely he understood her meaning. He was just being deliberately obtuse.

  Lord Tagart cleared his throat and paused, obviously uncomfortable now that Michael had joined them.

  “Please do finish your story,” Emma urged him with another pointed look at Michael.

  “Yes, don’t allow me to interrupt,” Michael added.

  The lord haltingly finished what he was saying, then stood and quickly said his goodbyes. Emma placed the reason for his quick departure directly on Michael.

  “Wonderful that Lord Tagart called on you, Emma. That is a very good sign indeed.” The viscountess seemed to notice her grandson’s scowl at her words. “Lovely of you to call on us as well, my dear.” She rose from her seat. “Excuse me while I speak with the cook about this evening’s meal.”

  As soon as she departed, Emma moved to stand before him. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Chase away Lord Tagart.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “I beg to differ.” Emma knew she was acting like a shrew but couldn’t help herself. “Didn’t you notice how quickly the conversation ended once you arrived?”

  “That is hardly my fault.” Michael stepped closer, his gaze narrowing.

  “I’m attempting to find a husband. Having you chase off a potential one defeats the whole purpose of my efforts.”

  “I am not chasing away anyone. Perhaps you should consider that the fault might lay with you.”

  Emma’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “You have erected a barrier to keep the rest of the world at bay.”

  “I have done no such thing!”

  “Oh, please. You might as well have a notice posted that you think yourself far superior to everyone else.”

  Emma couldn’t believe he’d said such a thing. “That is not true.”

  He drew even closer, causing her to tip her head back in order to continue meeting his eyes. “You’ve had that particular attitude since I found you sitting in my library, asking for a reference.”

  “I have not.” Heat speared through her at his proximity. How was she to think when he was so close? When she could see the dark flecks in his blue eyes? When the scent of the woods and bay rum that was uniquely his curled through her?

  “In fact, there has been only one time since we renewed our acquaintance when you did not portray that attitude.”

  “When?”

  “When I kissed you.”

  “Which time?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone.

  He looked taken aback for a moment. That was all the invitation she needed to prove she did not put up a barrier. Two could play at this game.

  She lifted up on her toes and kissed him. His body went rigid with surprise. Good, she thought briefly. Now he knew what it was like to have astonishment steal his breath.

  Her thoughts fled as she felt the firmness of his lips beneath hers. His hands cupped her elbows, whether to hold her back or bring her closer, she couldn’t tell. Determined for it to be the latter, she tilted her head ever so slightly to better fit his mouth to hers.

  Yes.

  Desire speared through her, casting a glow deep inside her that spread.

  He released her elbows and her heart stopped, afraid he intended to push her away. But no. Instead, he drew her into his arms, deepening their kiss. He held her as though she were precious, as though nothing else in the world mattered. His tongue swirled with hers and increased her desire with each pass. He pulled back only to murmur her name and wrap her in his arms. “Emma.”

  Realizing he felt the same desire for her that she had for him was a wondrous thing and gave her a feminine sense of power. Yet she dare not risk too much. His engagement stood between them. With luck, she soon would be engaged as well.

  Immediately she regretted her impulsive behavior and, with much regret, pulled back.

  But Michael didn’t let go. His eyes held hers, their darkness evidence of his passion for her. That made this all the more difficult. “Emma,” he said again, this time in protest.

  She shifted, suddenly anxious to remove his hands, unable to bear his touch when he couldn’t be hers. “No. You are engaged, and I soon will be.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “That is an obligation, something I cannot change.” He turned away briefly only to turn back. “You do things to me. Make me feel things that I thought— That are better left buried. For me, marriage is merely a business agreement. I cannot follow the path of my parents.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He was quiet for so long she didn’t think he’d answer. “Their passion for each other was their undoing. They couldn’t live together, nor could they live apart.”

  Emma frowned, uncertain what he meant. She’d never known anyone like that. The only thing she could compare it to was how she felt about Michael. And that was no comparison at all. Surely she didn’t love this man. In truth, she barely knew him.

  Besides, love wasn’t something she could afford. It had no place in her world. The only thing she could hope for was to marry someone whom she could like and respect.

  With a heavy sigh, Michael continued. “My father loved my mother deeply. He grew wildly jealous if she even looked at another man, and she used that to manipulate Father. If he displeased her, she flirted simply to enrage him. Their fights became legendary as they didn’t wait to have them in the privacy of their home.” He shook his head. “They fought in ballrooms, at the theater, it didn’t matter where they were. Those arguments grew more and more physical. They would strike each other violently then kiss in the same manner.”

  Emma gasped at the image of a young Michael witnessing such a heated exchange.

  “Weeks might pass when they refused to speak to one another. Instead, they used me to pass each other messages, all while attempting to persuade me they were in the right. I was never sure whether it was better when they weren’t speaking to each other but spoke to me, or when they ignored me completely.”

  He met her gaze for a long moment, allowing her to see the depth of his pain. “One evening, not long after your uncle’s death, my father shot my mother before taking his own life.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I discovered their bodies in the library, holding each other. Ironic.”

  The bitterness in his voice squeezed her heart. “I am so sorry, Michael.”

  “As am I. That is why my marriage will be a business agreement and nothing more. The arrangement is done and I cannot change it.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I only hope you’ll be happy with your plans.” Perhaps she needed to follow Michael’s example and consider marriage as a business agreement. The thought only made her heart hurt more.

  ~*~

  “Women are complicated creatures.” Michael couldn’t remove Emma or their kiss...or rather, kisses...out of his mind.

  Ashbury snorted. “You’re just now realizing this?”

  They walked along one of the busy streets near the docks the next morning. Another lead had surfaced as to a location rented to Leon Smith, the name that had been used to lease several locations they believed the professor had used. Unfortunately, they’d missed him each time.

  This morning, Michael’s man of business had discovered another lease agreement in a variation of the name, and they’d wasted no time in going to investigate the location.

  “Are things not going well with Miss Vandimer?” Ashbury asked.

  Michael wasn’t certain how his relationship was progressing with Catherine. In truth, it didn’t really matter. And that was the problem. She didn�
�t matter. At least not to him.

  “My engagement is merely a business arrangement.”

  “Are you telling me that, or yourself?”

  Michael didn’t answer, uncertain what was wrong with him.

  At his long silence, Ashbury tried again. “So if it isn’t your fiancé, of whom are you speaking?” He glanced at Michael. “Ah, you’re referring to Miss Grisby. How interesting.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. I simply find it interesting that she is the one who occupies your thoughts rather than Catherine.”

  “She kissed me.”

  “Catherine?”

  “No. Emma.”

  Ashbury chuckled. “She has more fortitude than I had thought. The question is, did you like it?”

  “Well, I—” Michael stopped as he realized he was about to lie to his best friend. Why bother? Ashbury knew him well enough to ferret out the truth, most likely before they arrived at their destination. “Far too much, I’m afraid.”

  “And?” The interested expression on Ashbury’s face surprised him. No judgment. Just interest.

  “Emma Grisby turns me inside out quicker than...” He paused, unable to think of an appropriate comparison. He shook his head. “None of that matters. I am engaged. Soon to be married. I should not be kissing any other woman, let alone the one staying in my grandmother’s home.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “As I said.” Michael was grateful his friend understood. “Much too complicated to allow any involvement.”

  “With who?”

  “Emma. Keep up with the conversation.”

  “I merely wanted to clarify who was the problem.”

  “She’s not a problem. It’s me, or rather, our relationship that’s the problem.”

  “Do you have a relationship?”

  Michael came to a halt. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Squarely on yours. Merely clarifying the details of the—er—issue.”

  “Right.” Michael continued, his pace slow as his mind churned. “In truth, it’s a business arrangement. Nothing more.”