Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) (19 page)

“But I didn’t really see him.”

“Yes, but what you tell them might tie into what they’ve already learned or provide enough of a clue that they can continue their investigation.”

He shrugged again. “If ye think it’s important, I will.”

Ashbury offered to have the police come to his home on Park Lane so Patrick didn’t have to attempt to navigate to the police station on his own. He told the boy he’d send word once he’d made arrangements with the police and the boys took their leave.

“It appears as though we’ve just found a witness to Berkmond’s murder,” Ashbury said.

“I haven’t heard of any other lords being murdered in the past two days. It had to be Berkmond.”

“Interesting description of the murderer.”

Michael glanced at his friend. “Because it matches Simmons’ description.”

Ashbury nodded. “Perhaps the professor isn’t the only one who didn’t stay dead.”

~*~

Emma returned to Viscountess Weston’s home after spending the night with her family. Though feeling a bit guilty for abandoning the older woman so abruptly, she’d wanted to allow her mother to have a good night’s rest. Emma had stayed with Tessa in her room, assisting her through the night and helping to calm her restlessness. Her mother looked better for having slept and had promised to send word if she needed anything.

Tessa’s condition appeared to have improved during the night, for which Emma was very grateful. The doctor planned to come by again. While accepting more of Michael’s financial assistance made her uncomfortable, Tessa’s wellbeing was more important. Now she needed to thank him.

Emma found the viscountess in the drawing room with her needlework; a basket of thread sat within reach on the nearby table.

“Good morning, my dear,” the viscountess said with a warmth in her smile that warmed Emma’s heart. “How is your sister?”

Emma sat and closed her eyes for a moment. “She gave us quite a scare.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Is she better now?”

How like the viscountess not to inquire as to what had happened. Good manners won out over curiosity.

Slowly, haltingly, Emma shared her sister’s condition, surprised at how difficult it was to speak about such a personal matter. It was so much easier to keep people at a distance to protect herself and her family.

But the viscountess was different. Emma believed that with all her heart and would be sad to lose contact with her once her time here was over.

As Emma expected, the viscountess showed great concern over Tessa, going so far as to ask, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Viscount Weston was kind enough to assist with the doctor’s bill. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay him back.”

“Sometimes, we need to simply accept the help of those who reach out.”

“I just wish there was some way I could return the favor. For everything.” She rose and looked out the window at the garden for a long moment. “I feel undeserving of his generosity. And of yours.” Emma turned to face the viscountess.

She waved off Emma’s comment with one graceful hand. “I’ve enjoyed every moment of your company. While I hope your mission is a success, I’ll be quite lonely when our time together is over.” There was that warm smile again.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Emma walked forward and took her hand. “You have been so kind and gracious.”

“As have you, my dear. Now, we’ll have some refreshments and discuss our schedule for the coming days. With luck, we’ll find a wonderful husband for you, allowing us to continue our friendship.”

Emma smiled and hoped it might be true.

~*~

Michael heaved a sigh as he entered the Larkby’s home later that evening. Musicals were not among his favorite things. In fact, they didn’t even make the list of events he normally attended. Listening to young ladies attempt to play instruments and sing had proven quite painful in the past. So painful that he made it a point to avoid them.

But the message from his grandmother had made it quite clear that his presence was required. Though he longed to spend more time in Emma’s company, he also knew it would be a mistake. Especially after the other night. Watching her come alive in his arms had been something he’d never forget. She deserved happiness with a man who would treasure her, who could—

He caught himself before his thoughts carried him any further down the path. His priority should be Catherine, not Emma.

A tug of guilt had him shifting. He should’ve inquired as to whether Catherine would be present. He’d been remiss in his obligations to his fiancé of late. It bothered him that he hadn’t missed her in the least. Escorting Emma and chasing after the professor had taken up most of his time.

The footman directed him to the music room where the performers prepared. He remained at the back of the room, searching for his grandmother.

The lovely back of a blonde-haired woman standing across the room caught his eye. Emma looked amazing this evening. The graceful line of her shoulders along with the creamy smoothness of her skin held his gaze. Her hair was upswept, revealing an elegant neck which begged to be nibbled. The deep plum of her gown made her glow with health and vitality. All his senses stirred as he watched her.

His breath caught as a strange burning sensation spread through his chest.
Christ
. Even from the back, she stirred him. When she turned, providing him with a better view, he nearly moaned. The dress fit her to perfection, hinting at her generous breasts and the curve of her hips.

She was so beautiful and now held herself with confidence. As she stepped to the side, he saw his grandmother in front of her. Emma said something, causing her to laugh. Emma had been wonderful to his grandmother, and for that he was truly grateful.

Movement in his line of sight caught his attention and he realized Catherine had indeed attended. He took the opportunity to watch her for a few moments. Odd, but he felt nothing as he looked at her. She was attractive as well, but in his mind, she held no appeal compared to Emma. At least not to him.

As usual, Catherine was dressed in the height of fashion, though the gown carried far too many striped frills for Michael’s taste. And he feared she might fall out of it if she bent forward. The young lady Catherine spoke with smiled shyly then nodded at something she said. Catherine’s gaze moved up and down the lady’s attire as she spoke again. Suddenly, the smile the young lady wore fell away and her eyes widened with hurt.

Michael grimaced. He could only imagine what rude comment Catherine had made. He was convinced that she said such things to make herself feel better, to feel as though she belonged amongst the nobility since she hadn’t grown up in the
ton
. The comments she’d said to Abigail, Ashbury’s fiancé, on more than one occasion had made him say something to Catherine. But she didn’t seem to understand—or care—if she hurt someone’s feelings. He was coming to realize how very self-centered she was.

Like father like daughter, he thought.

The young lady turned and fled toward the other side of the room, moving past Emma and his grandmother. Emma had apparently witnessed the exchange for she glared at Catherine and caught the young lady’s attention as she neared.

With a smile, Emma greeted her and gestured toward the lady’s gown, offering a compliment if Michael were to hazard a guess. The young lady glanced down, still uncertain. Emma kept her smile firmly in place as she sent one last glare at Catherine who turned away, obviously miffed at Emma’s action. Emma hooked her arm through the young lady’s and turned her toward his grandmother. The three chatted companionably for a few moments before their hostess requested that everyone take their seats.

Doubt filled Michael as he considered what he’d seen. He needed to put aside his personal feelings toward Catherine in order to ensure the future of his family seat, a responsibility he took seriously. However, the idea of aligning himself with her for the rest of his life caused a knot of unease to form in the pit of his stomach. He’d never concerned himself with being overly nice, but Catherine’s behavior was unacceptable. The question was, what was he willing to do about it?

Lord Tagart invited Emma for a ride in Hyde Park the next day. As they left Viscountess Weston’s, Emma eyed the grey clouds which threatened rain.

“I am told by the highest authority that it will not rain,” Lord Tagart said with a smile as he assisted her into her seat.

“That relieves my worries considerably.” She couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked as they settled into his landau with the folding hoods left open so they could take in the sights.

“Quite. Thank you.” Emma held his gaze, waiting and hoping for something—a flutter—anything to prove he would make a wonderful husband.

But she felt nothing other than the start of a friendship. Was that enough? In truth, it was more than many married couples experienced. The problem was that she couldn’t help but compare her feelings for Lord Tagart with her feelings for Michael. And the two were as similar as night and day.

He gave a flick of the reins and the pair of matching blacks with white stockings sped into a trot. A groom was seated behind them. The elegant conveyance was well sprung and the interior lush, making the short journey to Hyde Park enjoyable.

“Might I say you look lovely today?” He glanced at her with his customary smile, his warm brown eyes steady on hers.

“How kind of you.” She returned his smile, determined to enjoy herself.

She relaxed back in the seat, drawing a deep breath of fresh air, or rather, as fresh as London air could be. The park was busy, filled with many on horseback, in carriages, and some even on foot. Emma looked about with curiosity and realized others were staring at her. It was an odd feeling, and she straightened her posture in response.

As they made their way along the path, she struggled to think of an appropriate topic to discuss.

“Did you know that Hyde Park was created by Henry VIII in 1536?” She immediately berated herself. Now he’d definitely think her too bookish.

“Truly? Your knowledge amazes me, Miss Grisby.” He appeared interested in the topic, and she couldn’t help but add one more fact.

“It remained a private hunting ground until 1637.” More than anything, she wanted to inquire as to his family. Was that too personal?

“Have you always lived in London?” she asked, hoping that might bring him to speak of more personal matters.

“Only during the season. I have an estate in the country where I spend much of the year.”

Silence ensued, and she could think of no other way to gain the knowledge she wanted other than to inquire. At least if she asked her questions here with some privacy, no one would be the wiser. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“I’m the eldest with two brothers and two sisters. My mother remains in the country. She doesn’t care for the air in London and most of her friends live near our estate.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “What do you enjoy doing?”

“When in the country I fish and ride, though most of my time is taken with managing the estate. Tenants to see to and all that. What of you, Miss Grisby?”

Her cheeks heated. How honest should she be at this point? “I haven’t had much free time in the past, but I enjoy learning new things.”

“That’s something we have in common,” he said as he negotiated around a halted carriage.

Their conversation moved on to the weather. He pointed out a few of the people they’d spoken with at balls. Her nerves settled as they visited. She realized that not only was he nice, he was amusing. She appreciated that very much.

Yet as the hour continued, she became more convinced that while she truly liked him, her feelings were more brotherly than husbandly.
Was that so wrong?
Some married couples couldn’t even claim that much. Some remained virtual strangers the balance of their lives.

The real question was, would those feelings be enough for her? Would it sustain both her and him in the years ahead, assuming he cared enough to offer her marriage?

Uncertainty filled her, leaving a knot in her stomach she couldn’t ignore. It seemed impossible to separate the pressure she felt to marry quickly and her true feelings. How could she follow her instincts as to whether the marriage would be a success?

What better test would there be for the relationship than to see how he reacted when she spoke of her family? If he didn’t care for what she told him, she’d have her answer. She drew a breath and began. “I have siblings as well. A younger sister and brother. Unfortunately, my sister is quite ill.”

She watched him carefully for his reaction as she continued, relieved when he showed only concern. Perhaps she could find a way to make this work after all.

~*~

Michael entered his grandmother’s drawing room, his gaze automatically sweeping the room for Emma.

But she wasn’t there.

“And here I thought you’d come to visit me.” His grandmother’s dry tone made him smile.

“Never doubt that I did.” Yet he couldn’t help but glance at the mirror, the memory of Emma in his arms making him ache.

“I beg to differ,” his grandmother argued even as he bent to kiss her cheek. “I believe it is my companion whom you seek.”

“Emma? Where is she?” He should’ve known his grandmother would pick up on his interest.

“Lord Tagart invited her for a ride in the park.”

“How nice.” He forced his smile to remain in place, though he’d rather have scowled with displeasure. He didn’t care to examine the reason for it too closely.

“Surely you’re happy for her. Your plan is proceeding as you’d hoped.” Those blue eyes, so much like his, saw far too much; she knew him too well. “I would expect at least two offers by the end of the month.”

Her prediction struck him to the core. He turned away before his grandmother saw more than she should.

“Michael.” Her inflection said it was too late.

Masking his emotions, he turned to face her. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Visiting with you.” He came to sit beside her and squeezed her hand. “One of the finest pleasures in my life.”

“If visiting with an old woman is one of your finest pleasures, we need to talk.”

He scoffed.

“I speak the truth. While I know you love me, and I truly do appreciate that, there should be so much more to your life than that.”

“There is more to my life. I’m engaged, remember?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you marrying Miss Vandimer?”

“She’s the perfect wife for me.”

“How so?”

Michael rose to pace the room, uncertain where his grandmother was going with this conversation. “She’s a good match. Surely you see that.”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

Surprised, he turned to face her. “You don’t approve?”

She leveled him a glare that took him aback. “No.” She rose to stand before him. “Michael, I do not care for her at all. How can you imagine yourself growing old with her?”

He closed his eyes, the image her question presented far from pleasant. But that didn’t change things. “I must marry her.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only way to gain back Langford Hall.” He turned away to pace again. “I’ve made every attempt to buy it from Vandimer, even under a false name. But he won’t accept any offers, no matter how outrageous.”

“That drafty old place? Whatever will you do with it?”

He turned to stare at her, wondering for the first time if her advanced age had affected her mind. “It’s been in our family for centuries. When Father lost it—”

“Your father was a fool.”

Michael raised a brow. Never had she spoken of her only son so poorly.

She shook her head, her eyes sad. “I loved him very much. Perhaps too much. When your grandfather and I first married, I feared for years I would never have a child. And when your father finally came, I wanted to give him everything, anything to make him happy, to make him smile. I have often wondered if I am the one who created the seeds of destruction in him.”

The tears in her eyes nearly broke his heart. “No. That is simply not true. It was him. He and my mother together were...not good for each other. But none of that matters. In a few months, Langford will be ours again. In our family just as it has always been.”

“Why are you so insistent on picking up the mess he made? Have you ever thought that perhaps what he tore down should remain so?”

“But it’s my responsibility to put the family estate back together. I have the opportunity to make it better than it was before.”

“You already have. I know how hard you’ve worked. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate the excellent care you’ve given me. But I would be happy anywhere. I don’t need a home with more rooms than I have need. As long as I have you and friends and a roof over my head, I would be happy.”

Michael had been so driven to pay off the debts, to attempt to restore honor to the Weston name, had he so misunderstood what his grandmother wanted? “I don’t know what to say. Langford Hall was the home in which you were born. How could you not want to see it returned to Weston hands?”

“Michael, it’s a lovely house. But it’s old. It’s drafty. The roof leaks.”

He raised his brow.

“I have some wonderful recollections of my childhood there. And both you and your father were born there. No one can take those memories from me. I will keep those always. I don’t need to wander the halls of that house to remember.”

Not gain back Langford Hall?
He couldn’t imagine such an idea. Not when that had been his goal for so many years. “I thought it meant more to you. Everyone knows Father lost it in a bet. To restore our family honor, I must—”

She raised her finger in the air to stop him. “No. You’ve already restored our family’s honor threefold. Now you should concentrate on being happy.”

“But it’s within my grasp to gain it back. How can I walk away from the history of our family?”

Anger flared in her eyes. “My son died there. He killed his wife then killed himself there. Why would I want to remember that?”

The images from that terrible night crept over him despite the years that had passed.

His grandmother sighed. “I do not care if you regain Langford Hall. I have no desire to go there again. If that is all that holds you to marrying Miss Vandimer then set it aside. These are modern times. Marriage should be more than a business arrangement.”

Michael glanced away, not certain he could explain why he had to be careful, how treating his life like a business arrangement was so much safer. His ability to read success and failures in auras had made it very easy to keep all of his relationships professional.

“What is it?”

He should’ve known she could tell there was more to his decision to marry Catherine than what he’d revealed thus far. “I think I would be better off if I honored my promise to Catherine.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am my father’s son.” He turned away, unable to meet her eyes for fear he’d see confirmation of his fear there. “How can I possibly allow myself to love? The moment my father did, look what happened. He destroyed himself and my mother. He lost everything, all in the pursuit of
love
.”

“Surely you see what they felt for each other was not love but something much darker. Besides you are not your father.”

He met her gaze, wishing he could believe that was true. Yet those few moments here in this room with Emma had confirmed his worst fears. His passion for her could so easily burn too brightly and turn down a dark path.

“As we’re speaking candidly, I will ask you this point blank.” She stepped forward to grasp both his hands in hers, forcing him to hold her gaze. “Do you have feelings for Emma?”

Nonplussed, he could only stare at her, wondering if his regard for her was so obvious. Yet after all he’d told his grandmother today, why lie now? “Yes. I’m afraid I do.”

“She’s a lovely person.” She paused as though waiting for him to agree.

“Yes, she is.”

“Lovely inside and out.”

He reluctantly nodded, wondering what her point might be.

“I find it impossible to see how loving someone like her could cause you to become as violently jealous as your father. You are not him. Emma is nothing like your mother.” She seemed to realize she had not yet convinced him. “You must decide how you feel about Emma.”

“I don’t know what I feel. I’m not sure I’m prepared to put a label on it.” He released her hands to fiddle with a figurine on the table. “I can say that what I feel for Emma is not comparable to what I feel for Catherine.”

Emma froze at the doorway of the drawing room unable to breathe. The tiny flicker of hope she’d held that Michael felt something for her extinguished, leaving a dark void. She blinked back the tears in her eyes.

Of course, he loved Catherine. She was beautiful and of his world. She would fit in perfectly.

Emma backed up as quietly as she could and made her way up the stairs to her room, the heaviness in her heart making each step an effort. Lord Tagart had proposed. She’d requested time to consider it. Though she’d thought to refuse him when she gave him an answer in a few days’ time, now she was no longer sure.