Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (12 page)

Her stomach dipped at the very idea of it. To calm herself she picked a book from the shelf before her
and paged through it.

The shop sat on the edge of respectability and, from what she
’d seen, its customers were a mixture of the affluent and the middle class. Based on the interesting collection of books offered for sale, all patrons seemed to share a serious love of reading.

Abigail
returned the book to the shelf and walked through the narrow aisles with their tall shelves and stacks of books. Stephen’s choice of a meeting place was quite clever. The layout offered privacy. They were unlikely to run into anyone they knew here due to the location of the bookstore. And she couldn’t help but be touched at his thoughtfulness of selecting a place she would enjoy browsing. Books were one of her favorite things.

She bit
her lip as her mind returned to thoughts of Stephen.

An affair.

The idea sent shivers down her arms. She’d thought about it from every angle. It made perfect sense. Neither of them wanted to marry, and while she was certainly no expert, they seemed to have a certain spark.

Who was she kidding? A spark?

She’d never felt this deep sense of longing before in her whole life. It was an ache that poured through her entire being from head to toe when she was near him.

Or when she thought of him.

And especially when she dreamed of him.

Somehow, she was certain this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. At the age of
six and twenty, she’d had the chance to meet many men yet had never felt anything like this. She wanted the chance to explore these feelings. Since she didn’t want to marry and neither did Stephen, delving into a passionate affair with him seemed the perfect solution.

She’d spent hours determining the proper way to suggest it, but in the end had decided the words would come to her along with the opportunity. Just the thought of talking to h
im about it made her stomach flutter.

She’d dressed carefully for the occasion in a gown of blue a shade darker than her eyes.
Her hair was twisted into a loose chignon topped with a little hat. She knew she looked her best. Irene had even complimented her as she left the house, supposedly for a meeting with Mr. Nesbitt.

As she paused to study the binding of another book, she
reminded herself she need only convince Stephen of the benefits of her plan. He’d see the logic of her suggestion; she was sure of it.

What on earth was keeping him?

“May I help you find something, miss?” A small mouse of a man stepped forward, his shop apron streaked with dust and ink, and a pleasant smile on his face.

“I
’m only browsing, but I must say, your collection is quite impressive.”

The man beamed with pride. “I try to offer books on every subject a customer has ever inquired about. If I don
’t have it, I find it. If I can’t, I contact an author who I think is capable of writing about a particular subject, and together, we publish a book to answer that need.”

“
What a clever idea.” Her mind flew with the possibilities.

“I realized several years ago that
if one person was interested enough to look for a book on a topic, someone else would be as well. Of course, those books are only available in my shop.”

“
Exclusivity, of course. Brilliant.”

“It
’s worked out well thus far. We recently expanded and need to do so again soon. It’s always a bit of a struggle between wanting to offer a larger selection and having enough revenues to make changes. Can’t do one without the other.”

“
Do you have investors?”

“Good day, Miss Bradford. I see you
’ve met Mr. Larson.”

The sound of Stephen
’s voice so near had her spinning around in surprise, her heart racing at the sight of him. His black morning coat fit his broad shoulders impeccably. A gray silk waistcoat contrasted with his white shirt and black neck scarf.

As always, it was his eyes that drew her
—those green eyes that held more secrets than one person ought to have. She longed to lift the dark depths from them, if only temporarily.

Would he allow her to?

She pulled her thoughts back to the conversation and smiled at the shopkeeper. “Not formally.”

Stephen intr
oduced her and advised Mr. Larson that they wanted to browse. Soon they were left alone to wander among the rows of books.

“So you have news?” she asked, anxious to hear
if anything more had occurred with Simmons. She bit her lip, hoping Stephen would tell her the threat of him harming her family was gone.

“Some,” he said as he took a
book from a shelf and glanced around as though to ensure no one overheard them.

Worry settled in her stomach
, smothering her hope as she studied his serious expression.

“As you know,” he continued, “we found Simmons
’ new lodgings and posted a man to watch it. Oddly enough, it took several days before Simmons showed up.”

“I haven
’t seen him following me or my family either.” She told herself there was no need for the sense of foreboding that filled her.

“We wondered where he
’d been as well. Once he made an appearance, we decided to follow him rather than confront him so we could see what he was about.”

Her unease bloomed. “And?”

“He made several stops, including a baker, an apothecary shop, and a butcher.”

“That doesn
’t seem unusual.”

“At the butcher, he bought
cheap cuts of flank but far more than one man could eat. He purchased a dozen loaves of bread from the baker. At the apothecary, he obtained a large quantity of a sleeping remedy.”

“How odd. Does he have family elsewhere to whom he
’s taking supplies?” Somehow she’d never imagined him with loved ones.

“Not that we
’ve found. Then we followed him to a warehouse near the docks. Not exactly a place where relatives would be living.”

Abigail was silent for several minutes while she thought over the information. “What do you make of this?”

“I think he’s involved in something bigger than harassing you and your family.”

The
idea surprised her. “Such as?”

“I don
’t know, but I intend to find out. I wanted you to be aware of the situation as I’m having him followed until we know more.”

She sighed as disappointment seeped through her. She
’d been afraid that had been the point he was making, but she knew he was right. If Simmons was involving others, they needed to discover his plan and with whom he was working.

“I don
’t think Simmons has the wherewithal to mastermind a grand scheme on his own,” added Stephen, watching her closely.

“Which means he
’s under the direction of someone else.”

“Yes, and I want to know who.”

“How long do you expect it will take before you can put an end to all this?” The stress of constantly being on watch for Simmons was wearing on her. She was ready to move forward with her life, and she’d hoped to begin today.

“I wouldn
’t think long now that we’ve found him. The good news is that since we’re following him, there’s little risk of him bothering you without us knowing about it.”

“Unless you lose him.”

“Unlikely, but yes,” he admitted. “We know where he’s staying at least part of the time, and where he’s purchasing supplies. Whatever he’s doing, I’m certain he’s up to no good. With a bit more time, we’ll know what it is and stop him. Consider the delay a way to help others.”

“I
can’t help but worry he’ll approach us again.”

“We
’ll do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He paused, his gaze resting above her head for a long moment.

She opened her mouth to ask if her hat was crooked when he
set down the book, took her elbow and escorted her to the rear of the store. He glanced around to make sure they were alone.

“I
realize I’m asking much of you, but it might help if we knew more about what happened the day your father was killed.”

Abigail
’s heart squeezed. While time had eased the raw edges of her grief, it hadn’t truly faded. Witnessing her father’s violent death at the age of sixteen had forever changed her life. She still found it difficult to discuss. However, if recounting the events could help in any way, she’d tell Stephen all she could.

“Father and I were at our country estate in Kent. Mother had remained in London with the twins. We
’d been visiting a local squire that afternoon, and when we returned, we went into the library so Father could retrieve some papers.” Abigail shivered as the memories of that day flooded her mind and heart.

“Simmons stood
near the desk with papers and books strewn all over, the room torn apart. Father demanded to know what he was about.”

She folded her arms across her middle to hold the pain inside. “The police said later he
’d broken a window pane and unlatched a door.” Her gaze met Stephen’s to see if he wanted her to continue.

His expression held sympathy and concern. “
Then what happened?”

“Simmons drew a knife as Father charged toward him.” She could still see the bright flash of it and feel the fear that had shot through her. “Simmons demanded he back
away. Father told him to drop the knife. Neither complied. Then Father grabbed for the knife. They struggled, yelling and knocking things over. Simmons gained the upper hand and stabbed Father. Simmons ran when one of our servants came in.”

The picture was so vivid in her mind that she had to fight the burning lump in her throat. “Father staggered and fell to the floor. I couldn
’t stop the blood. So much of it.” She stared at her gloved hands, still able to see the crimson soaking his white shirt, coating her hands as she tried to make it stop.

Stephen took her hands and held them tight. “How terrible.”

“Father must’ve realized how badly he was injured, for he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. He...” she closed her eyes as tears choked her, “he said I was to take good care of Mother and the girls. Then the light in his eyes went out. I shook him and pleaded with him, but he didn’t come back.”

“I can only imagine how difficult it is to remember that day
. Did you determine what Simmons was after?”

She swallowed and drew a shaky breath. “
No. The police thought it was just a burglary.”

“Can you think back to when you first saw Simmons?
Was he searching a particular area or looking at something specific?”

Abigail tried to picture the room. “Books and papers were scattered about. The drawers had been pulled from the desk and upended.”

Stephen put his arm around her and drew her close. His presence comforted her in ways she hadn’t imagined, soothing her grief. With the calmness came the memory of Simmons standing at the desk, several rocks from her father’s collection in his hands. That image brought a reminder of Simmons’ words.

“He wants a rock! He told me so the night I confronted him in the alley. That
’s what he was holding when we came into the library that day.”

“A rock?”

“Collecting them was a hobby of my father’s.”

Stephen frowned. “Did his collection contain anything of value?”

“I’ve no idea. He enjoyed gathering specimens and speaking with fellow collectors. I know he had several from other countries and all different types.”

“Do you still have the collection?”

“Most of it. We had to sell a few of his things when he died. The rest of the collection is in our library. That must be why Simmons broke in—to continue his search.”

“Interesting that upon being released from prison, Simmons immediately comes to look for this rock. May I see the collection?”

“Certainly.”

Stephen touched her cheek gently and she wanted nothing more than to
lose herself into his arms, to ease the pain of her memories with the passion she was certain she could find in his embrace.

But the time had not yet come to propose the idea of an affair to him, much to her disappointment. Her enthusiasm
for the idea had been diminished by memories of her father. With a deep breath, she pulled back her emotions and her memories.

“Are you all right?” Stephen asked as he trailed a finger along her cheek, his gentleness disarming her meager defense
s.

“I
’m fine,” she said, nearly meaning it. His tender regard made her heart squeeze. Perhaps the moment wasn’t right today, but soon, she’d convince him to have an affair with her. Her blossoming feelings for him demanded no less. “You’re right. We should try to discover what else Simmons is involved in. Other people’s lives may depend upon it.”