Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (15 page)

Weston chuckled but
walked faster. “What is Simmons after? Why does he bother Miss Bradford?”

“
He told her he wants ‘the rock’ but hasn’t been descriptive enough for her to know to what he’s referring. Her father had a rather extensive rock collection, so we’re assuming Simmons is after something in that.”

“Interesting.”

“One of the specimens in his collection is a lunar meteorite.”

Weston stopped and grabbed Stephen
’s arm. “Grisby searched for that type of rock prior to his death.”

“Indeed.”

“Do you think it’s the same type Grisby wanted?”

Stephe
n nodded.

“Quite the coincidence,” Weston murmured.

“Isn’t it?”

“That explains why the newspaper article upset you. You
’ve already got the professor on your mind.”

Stephen didn
’t bother to respond, grateful Weston had made the same connection he had. Perhaps he wasn’t losing his mind after all.

They continued on, winding their way through the crowded
, narrow street. Dock workers, clerks, and all manners of people went about their business, paying little heed to them. Carts piled high with goods jammed the lane with their drivers hollering to clear the way. James looked back once or twice to make certain they followed.

“Right over there, my lord.” James stopped
and pointed across the street.

The two-story brick and wood building had seen better days. The high windows were coated in soot and grime. The boards were rotting in places. Two huge doors sealed the front of the building with a large padlock and chain, visi
ble even from where they stood.

“Picking that will be quite the challenge,” Weston observed. “And me without the proper tools. I trust you have yours?”

Stephen smiled, knowing full well Weston didn’t possess such tools. “I do, but I don’t want to risk being seen. Is there another entrance, James?” he asked.

“Yes, around back. There
’s a smaller door on that side.”

“Let
’s take a detour. I don’t want to risk Simmons spotting us.”

The trio backtracked through the muddle of people and buildings and at last drew within forty yards of the rear entrance. They paused to study the area
which was nearly deserted except for two boys.

Stephen recognized Hubert
, another of their associates, who was tucked in the corner of a nearby entryway, munching on a cone of chips. The other boy slouched against a doorway two doors down and seemed oddly familiar. The boy shifted, and something about his stance caught Stephen’s attention.

“Christ!” Shock stole his thoughts.

“What?” Weston asked, looking again at the two street urchins.

“Miss Bradford,” Stephen ground out, anger pouring through him.

“Where? The two boys...” Weston’s voice trailed off as he watched a moment longer. “Impressive. I wouldn’t have looked at her twice if you hadn’t recognized her.”

“Blast the woman! Her impatience is unbelievable.”

As they drew closer, the rear door of the warehouse burst open. Simmons rushed toward Abigail. Apparently he’d recognized her as well.

Stephen
’s heart stopped as he sprinted toward them. His feet felt mired in mud as he watched the scene unfold. He knew he couldn’t reach her in time.

Simmons grabbed Abigail before she had a chance to flee. He started to shake her, but caught sight of Stephen and Weston bearing down on him. He jerked Abigail in front of him so they both faced Stephen. Simmons
’ knife blade gleamed as he pressed it to her throat.

Abigail
’s gaze met Stephen’s, and he could see the fear that gripped her.

“Stay back,” Simmons called out. “Ye don
’t want her hurt.”

Stephen
’s footsteps slowed. “Let her go,” he demanded.

Simmons smiled. “Leave off or I
’ll slit her throat.”

Weston grabbed Stephen
’s arm and brought him to a halt. “Do as he says,” he whispered. “We outnumber him by far so we’ll free her soon enough.”

Abigail’s frightened gaze held Stephen’s as
Simmons backed away. Stephen had never felt so helpless. The pair disappeared around the corner of a narrow alley.

Hubert darted out from the entryway in which he
’d hidden, fright etched in his face. “I’m sorry, my lord. It happened so fast. He had that pig sticker and—”

“No fault lay with you, Hubert,” he reassured the boy. “Stay here with James.”

“No! I want to help.”

“Me too!” James added.

Stephen hesitated for only a moment. He didn’t want anyone else in danger but the more eyes they had looking for Simmons and Abigail, the better. “James, take the far side of the building, and Hubert, take the other. If you see them, follow but keep your distance!”

The two boys dashed
away as Stephen and Weston sprinted toward the alley where Simmons had dragged Abigail.

As they passed the door from which Simmons had emerged, it opened again. Two large men st
epped out, blocking their path.

“Where do ye think ye
’re goin’?” One of the ruffians towered over Stephen, blocking the sky from view.

“You didn
’t mention this part of today’s outing,” Weston muttered from beside him.

“Wasn
’t planning on it myself.”

“You get the bigger one.”

“Of course,” Stephen reluctantly agreed. Hoping to use the element of surprise, he hooked his booted foot behind the large man’s ankle and shoved him back.

The man didn
’t budge.

All too
aware of time passing and Abigail being taken farther and farther away, Stephen tried again, this time adding his fist into the equation. His opponent staggered but caught his balance.

He glimpsed Weston landing a blow on the smaller man and hope brought him strength. He slapped the man
’s fist away then boxed his ears. The big man staggered back, no doubt distracted by the ringing in his ears. Stephen delivered a quick uppercut to his chin followed by a swinging kick to his abdomen.

The man tottered for a brief moment before crumpling to the ground. Stephen turned to see Weston standing over his adversar
y who showed no sign of moving.

“You’ll have to tell me where you learned to fight like that,” Weston said as he brushed off
the lapel of his jacket.

Stephen
merely nodded, then tore down the alley where Abigail had disappeared. Weston’s booted footsteps pounded right behind him. At the mouth of the alley, Stephen slid to a halt and looked up and down the busy street but could see no sign of them.

“There!” Weston pointed toward the dock
s.

Abigail seemed to have gathered her wits and had become a dead weight, making progress difficult for Simmons.
Stephen nearly smiled at the sight. Simmons had no idea what he was in for if he managed to take her. The lady was a force unto herself.

With Weston behind him, Stephen
darted around workers, carts, and horses, following as closely as he dared. He spotted Hubert approaching Simmons from the other direction. The boy gave Stephen a quick nod to acknowledge he’d seen him, then pulled his hat down low and hurried along. Hubert rammed into Simmons as though he hadn’t been watching where he was going.

Simmons lost his grip on Abigail
, and she slid to the ground. Simmons turned to yell at the boy, threatening him with his knife.

Hubert held up his hands, palms out. But rather than moving out of the way,
the boy turned and stumbled, managing to maneuver himself between Simmons and Abigail.

Simmons grabbed the lad and shook him. Then he stared at the street urchin for a long moment. Simmons
appeared to recognize the lad. Stephen quickened his pace, trying to weave through the crowded thoroughfare to reach them.

Abigail started to crawl away, hat in hand, which caught Simmons
’ attention. He stepped in front of her and shoved her back with his boot while still grasping Hubert’s jacket with one hand, his knife in the other. Hubert lurched forward as though Simmons’ movement had unbalanced him, but the way he put his shoulder into it, Stephen knew it was an act.

“That boy
’s going to get himself killed!” Weston said.

Simmons shoved at Hubert again, obviously desperate to
grab Abigail before she escaped. But the lad didn’t budge. The snarl on Simmons’ face said his patience had come to an end. He stabbed Hubert in the abdomen.

“No!” Stephen yelled, but he was
still too far away to be heard above the din of the street.

Hubert
’s shock at his injury lasted only a moment, then fury took over. The boy punched and kicked to defend himself, landing a solid blow to Simmons’ leg.

A few passersby stopped when the scuffle crossed their path and within seconds a small crowd had gathered, partially obscuring Stephen
’s view. One man cheered for Simmons, while another shouted encouragement to Hubert. No one attempted to stop the madness. The crowd seemed anxious for the fight to continue, making it even more difficult for Stephen and Weston to reach them.

Stephen lost sight of the action as the press of bodies closed around them. “
Save the boy,” he called to Weston. “I’ll find Abigail.”

He waded into the crowd, his heart in his throat, hoping he could save her before Simmons used that knife on her.

Fear
and anger warred inside Abigail. She lashed out at Simmons with her feet, anything to draw his attention from the boy. Her reward was a kick to her thigh. She grunted in pain but didn’t stop.

She
refused to let Simmons harm the lad any further, not when he’d been trying to save her. Using her heavy boot, she struck out again with all her might. Simmons cursed at her as he staggered back. She struggled to her feet, appalled at the cheers from the crowd encircling them. Couldn’t they see the boy had been stabbed?

Desperate to find someone to aid her, she scanned the mob. The crowd parted briefly
, and she caught sight of Stephen elbowing his way toward her. Relief flooded through her. She looked back to the boy and saw Lord Weston approaching him. Tears filled her eyes as she realized help had indeed arrived.

Simmons spotted the two lords as well. His foul language
and knife divided the crowd quickly. Disappointed onlookers booed as he fled the scene.

“Stop him!” Abigail cried out, but no one listened, probably because of the bloody
weapon he waved about. Within moments, he’d disappeared.

“He
’s getting away,” she told Stephen as he reached her.

Another boy
appeared at Stephen’s side, bouncing on his toes, eager to help. “I’ll follow him, my lord.”

“All right,
James, but stay back. Do
not
let him see you.” The lad took off before Stephen had finished speaking.

He
turned back to Abigail and pulled her into his arms for a long moment. She felt him draw a deep breath, making her realize how worried he’d been. At last he eased back to study her face. “Are you all right?”

“
‘Tis the boy who was stabbed.”

“But are you hurt?”

“Only bruised.” She raised a hand to straighten her cap only to realize how much she was shaking. Now that Stephen had arrived, her racing heart started to slow, the knot of fear in her stomach loosened, but her leg throbbed from Simmons’ kick.

“Get back,” Lord Weston called out to the crowd
, and people began to disperse. “Go on about your business!”

“Let us get you and Hubert to safety,” Stephen said, his arm still around her as he guided her forward.

Hubert’s pale face shook Abigail to the core. She watched in dismay as he put a hand to his stomach and his fingers turned red with blood. When he caught sight of it, his breath came in shaky gasps. Lord Weston supported him as he faltered.

Images from her father
’s death mingled with the sight of Hubert, bringing tears to her eyes. She started toward him, fear coiling inside her once again.

Stephen stopped her
, those green eyes steady on hers. “Abigail, you must be strong. If Hubert sees you upset, he’ll think his injury is worse than it is. Stay strong for me, all right?”

She bl
inked through her tears, holding Stephen’s gaze as she attempted to calm down. After another deep breath, she glanced at Hubert, and the sight of his shaky smile helped clear her mind. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Had to be the hero, didn
’t you?” Stephen patted the boy’s shoulder in a show of affection once they reached him. “I suppose you’ll want extra pay for this.”

Herbert’s face
flushed as he smiled up at Stephen. “All in a day’s work.”

“I can
’t thank you enough for saving me,” Abigail said, doing her best to keep her composure and not stare at the blood staining his shirt.

“It was nothin
’, miss. Didn’t really think he’d use that poker. Least not on me.” He pressed the handkerchief Weston had given him on his injury.

“Hubert, I believe I told you to stay back.
You’re only supposed to gather information, remember?” Stephen asked. “Not put yourself in danger.”

“I
’ll remember that from now on, my lord,” Hubert said, his smile still in place.

“Can you walk?” Stephen asked the pair of them.

Hubert nodded.

Abigail
did so as well, hoping her legs would hold her. Now that everything had quieted, she realized her entire body ached. But she was grateful to be alive and out of Simmons’ clutches.

“Keep your hat on and your head down,”
Stephen told her. “I’d rather polite society didn’t hear of one of its own brawling in the street.” He looked at Hubert. “Let us take you to my home and send for the doctor.”

“Excellent notion,” Lord Weston said, then supported Hubert
’s elbow and led the way toward the carriage. “You’ll have quite the story to tell the other lads, won’t you? Say, what is that building over there?”

Lord Weston continued to chat about random topics Abigail
thought strange until she realized he was trying to keep Hubert’s mind off his wound.

Luckily for Abigail
, it worked for her as well.

“You and I are going to have a long discussion
once we see to Hubert.” The grim set of Stephen’s mouth filled her with dread.

“
Ah...I believe my stepmother is expecting me soon.” Abigail latched onto the excuse, certain the conversation would not be a pleasant one.

“Very well. I
’ll escort you home and we can talk there. Perhaps Lady Bradford could join us.”

Abigail
blanched. “You’re right. We can visit at your residence.” The last thing she needed was to have her recent activities revealed to her stepmother. She felt bad enough as it was.

“I thought so.” He watched her limp for a long moment, a scowl on his face. “Are you quite certain you
’re all right?”

“More so than Hubert.”

“Simmons could’ve very well stabbed you, too.”

“I
’m extremely grateful he didn’t.” She resisted the urge to put her hand to her throat where Simmons’ knife had cut her. In truth it hurt, both from the blade and his arm. Her thigh held a bone-deep ache where he’d kicked her. She could only hope he had a limp as well.

She
’d thought luck had been with her when she’d spotted Simmons near the address Stephen had mentioned. She’d followed Simmons to the warehouse and decided to watch the entrance to see what he was up to. It hadn’t taken her long to realize she wasn’t the only one watching the building. Knowing Stephen already had someone in place made her realize how stupid she’d been to doubt him. Of course he was on top of the situation. Why had she worried about it?

She
’d been careful to remain hidden from view. At least she’d thought she had. When Simmons had come running out of the entrance straight toward her, she’d frozen with fright. Obviously, she was not well equipped to deal with that sort of situation. Her trembling body attested to that fact.

As they walked toward Stephen
’s carriage, she couldn’t help but continue to look for Simmons, fearful he’d sneak up behind them or jump out from a building they passed. She was grateful when they were safely ensconced in the carriage.

Hubert winc
ed from pain as the carriage swayed, and Abigail’s guilt mounted. She was well aware his injury was her fault. Her reckless actions had put him in danger. The boy’s pallor increased; his breathing was shallow, and sweat beaded on his brow. All caused her worry to deepen.

The ride to Stephen
’s residence on Park Lane passed in a blur as she watched the red stain growing on the white handkerchief Hubert pressed against his wound. Stephen and Lord Weston spoke of mundane matters, but their conversation no longer distracted her.

When they arrived, a flurry of activity ensued. A doctor was sent for while Hubert was made comfortable in a guest room. Lord Weston departed with the promise to see what additional information he could discover. Stephen disappeared into his library with two of
the other lads who worked for him to apprise them of what had happened. Apparently they were friends of Hubert’s and concerned over his injury. In short order, the doctor arrived, seeming to be a very capable man. He hardly batted an eye at Abigail’s attire.

Then the activity halted, leaving Abigail to wait in the drawing room alone, anxious for word of Hubert
’s prognosis. She paced awkwardly, her injured leg complaining with each step, but the pain seemed a minor penance for what she’d done.

How could she possibly live with herself if her rash action of investigating the warehouse caused the boy
’s death? The longer she waited, the more convinced she became that his injuries were life-threatening.

At last she collapsed in a chair, her hands covering her face as she tried to hold back her tears.

The door to the drawing room opened and she looked up, hoping with all heart the doctor had arrived with good news.

Her chest tightened when she saw Stephen, his brow
creased with worry.

She put her hand to her heart, wishing she could somehow change the events of the day. “Is Hubert all right? Please, just tell me. Will he live?”

“Of course he will.” Stephen closed the door behind him and knelt before her to gather her into his arms as she started to cry. He should’ve realized how worried she’d be as she waited here alone.

But even as he held her, he tried to shore up his
guard against her anguish. How was he to maintain any sort of distance when she was crying? Watching Simmons drag her away at knife point had taken years off his life. Even the memory of it had his heart squeezing.

He pushed aside the image and attempted to reassure her.
“The doctor says he’ll be fine in a few days. The blade didn’t penetrate any vital organs.”

Rather than reassuring her, the news seemed to break the fragile hold she had on her emotions. She burst into sobs, her slim body shaking with them.

Defenseless, Stephen held her tighter. “Shh. He’s going to be fine. Didn’t you hear me?” His words only seemed to make her cry harder.

“I
—I’m—so—rry!” She clung to him for dear life, as though she’d never let him go.

He drew a deep breath to keep his thoughts focused on consoling her
, but her sweet lavender scent filled him. Traitorous desire curled through him.

Ruthlessly s
hoving it back, he simply held her, rubbing her back through the coarse men’s jacket she still wore. He did his best to give her the comfort she sought. His fingers strayed to the curls that had come free of the knot at the back of her head, then to the delicate skin at the back of her neck. Somehow that seemed to soothe them both.

When her sobs subsided to shudders, she pulled back to look at him
, her blue eyes luminous. “You’re certain Hubert will be all right?”

“Yes. He
’s resting comfortably.”

“I never meant for any harm to come to
him. Truly.”

“I know.”
He shook his head. “But you mustn’t take such risks with yourself or others. What possessed you to go down to that warehouse?”

She closed her eyes, regret etched in her face. “I wanted to know what was going on. Why it was taking so long. What Simmons could possibly be up to in that building.”

“Didn’t you receive my message?”

“
Two days ago.”

“I told you I
’d let you know when I discovered more.” He gave her a little shake. The day could’ve ended in tragedy. He could be mourning the loss of her right now. Anger pulsed back through him at the thought. “We can’t simply barge in and ask what they’re up to. These things take time.”

She lowered her
damp lashes. “I fear patience is not one of my strengths.”

He placed his finger over her lips to stop her from saying more. “You nearly lost your life today. Never will you take such a risk again.”

Her blue eyes reflected distress as she looked up at him but he held firm. “Promise me,” he demanded.

At last she nodded
, and he removed his finger. “Don’t underestimate Simmons. Remember, he’s capable of killing and may do so again. I’ll post a guard outside your home.”

“That
’s not necessary. We’ll—”

“You
’ll what? You haven’t even told your family of the danger you’re in, have you?”

“I
won’t unless I absolutely have to. It took years after Father’s death for us to feel safe. I vowed we’d never live with that sort of fear again.”

“Abigail, you don
’t have to protect your family alone. Let me help you.”

Her breath hitched as tears once again filled her eyes. “I can
’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Her
strength, intelligence, determination to protect her loved ones, and even her blasted independence all combined to create this beautiful woman whom he admired and respected.

But what he felt for
her was so much more than that.

E
motion swelled through him, and he was helpless beneath the onslaught. His gaze dropped to her lips and the lure of them proved too much. He took her mouth with his.