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  Shattered Secrets

  Book 3 of The Secret Trilogy

  Lana Williams

  Victorian Romance

  Lucas Stanby swore never to return to England. But his brother’s murder forces him home ten years later as the new Earl of Berkmond and guardian of his two young nieces.

  As the local vicar’s daughter and a childhood friend, Moira Dorsey naturally set aside her hopes of a family of her own to care for the earl’s daughters. Lucas’s return makes it impossible for her to remain since he broke Moira’s heart years ago, but the girls have other ideas.

  Lucas realizes he needs Moira to keep his personal demons at bay as well as deal with two rambunctious girls. He offers Moira a marriage of convenience, hoping to keep his dark secret, aware he’s too broken to be the husband she deserves.

  Moira discovers Lucas’s cold demeanor hides deep scars but glimpses of the boy she loved give her hope. She counters his proposal, asking for a babe of her own, wanting Lucas to see he’s not the monster he believes.

  Unable to deny his growing feelings, Lucas agrees, but his past disrupts their second chance at love, dragging Moira and the girls into danger. He soon realizes he must share his terrible secret with Moira and risk losing her forever in order to stop the villain who threatens them all.

  To Michelle Major, for without you,

  this book wouldn’t be what it is.

  Thank you for your unwavering support,

  for your invaluable comments,

  and most of all,

  for your friendship.

  Couldn’t do this without you.

  *

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER ONE

  October, 1882

  Moira Dorsey held onto her sanity with the finest of threads, unable to believe the disaster spread before her. A mess of this magnitude could only be the work of two she knew all too well. She blinked again, in terrible awe at the chaos they had created in the governess’s room.

  Dresses, hats, and linens were strewn about the bedroom along with a skipping rope, a miniature tea set, and a hoop. Fine white dust coated every flat surface in sight. A dark brown substance—perhaps mud from the pond?—smeared the pillows. A frog—make that three—jumped over the mess, croaking as they went.

  If there was one thing their new governess, Mrs. Sutfin, detested, it was chaos. Not to mention frogs.

  “Oh, dear.” Moira’s breath caught in her throat as the ramifications of the situation struck her in full. “Mrs. Sutfin!” She spun and rushed from the room, praying the woman hadn’t already fled. Not now. Not today. “Mrs. Sutfin?”

  The sound of the front door creaking open quickened Moira’s pace. As she flew down the stairs, she caught sight of the governess storming out the door, her suitcase in hand. “Wait, please,” Moira called as she hurried into the foyer.

  The older woman turned to glare at her. “Nothing you can say will convince me to remain, Miss Dorsey. Did you see my room?”

  “Yes, I did. I’m terribly sorry. It will be cleaned immediately.” Moira paused, trying to think of some way to convince the woman to stay. “We will double your pay for the next three months of your employment. The twins need more time to adjust.”

  “No.” Her lips firmed into a thin, unwavering line. “Those girls might look precious, but their behavior is appalling.”

  “I’ll speak to them. I promise this won’t happen again.”

  “I believe you’ve already spoken with them several times since my arrival five days past and it did no good. The little heathens.”

  Moira stiffened at the heated anger of the last statement. She loved Amelia and Addie with her heart and soul. She would protect them with her life. Granted, their recent actions were unacceptable, but heathens? That was too much. “The grief over their father’s death nearly three months ago—”

  “I’m sorry but their behavior removes any sympathy I might have had for them.” The older woman shuddered. “The things they’ve done in the brief time I’ve been here are insufferable. In all honesty, I fear for my safety. Good luck in finding someone who will tolerate their deplorable conduct.”

  Moira scowled. “I’ll wish you good day then.” No one spoke about the twins in that manner. Except her. But she couldn’t hold back the pang of regret as the woman marched down the steps along with all of Moira’s well laid plans to leave Traverston Manor this very day.

  “That’s the fourth one.” Mrs. Tollers, the housekeeper moved to stand beside her. “Mayhap she’s right to call them heathens.”

  “What on earth has gotten into those girls?” Moira scowled as she watched the footman hand Mrs. Sutfin into the carriage.

  “They don’t want you to leave, Miss Dorsey.” The housekeeper smiled up at her. With a round face, a warmth in her blue eyes, and a wide girth, Mrs. Tollers, along with her husband who served as the butler, had held the Berkmond family home together for as long as Moira could remember. The older woman loved the little girls as much as Moira.

  “I’m only moving back home across the meadow for goodness sake, not to the other end of the country. My stay here was always supposed to be temporary.” Moira had moved in to help several years ago when the girls’ governess had left, but remaining here was not an option. Exasperated, she shook her head. “Lucas—er—Lord Berkmond might arrive this very day. I wanted the girls settled with their new governess before then. Now I’ll have to begin all over again.”

  “I’m not certain you’ll have time.”

  Moira frowned, hoping that wasn’t true. “One of the other governesses we interviewed might still be available. Travelling by ship from Brazil is not the most reliable method. We might have another day or two before—”

  Mrs. Tollers pointed to the drive where a big black coach rumbled down the lane, past the carriage, headed directly for the house. “I’d say his lordship is here.”

  “Oh, no.” Moira’s stomach dropped at the sight. She’d planned his arrival to coincide with her departure with such care. Certainly, she’d allowed for some trials and tribulations, but it seemed she’d underestimated the twins. Now she was about to face the one person she’d prefer never to lay eyes on again.

  Lucas Stanby, the new Earl of Berkmond.

  The large, stately coach drew to a halt in the drive. Moira couldn’t tear her gaze away, not when she knew Lucas was inside. Ten long years had passed since she’d last seen him in this house. When he’d tossed her heart back at her with the same carelessness he might’ve refused dessert at the dinner table.

  They’d been friends and playmates forever, as far back as she could remember. Her father was the local vicar and as their house resided near Traverston Manor, it had been natural that she’d become fast friends with the younger brother. His older brother had been far too busy following in his father’s footsteps to join in
Moira and Lucas’s fun.

  As Lucas had grown, her feelings for him had changed. A new awareness had come into their relationship, unwelcome at first. They’d spent less and less time together as they’d aged, and when Lucas had returned to the country for Christmas one year, Moira had been stunned.

  Gone was the boy from her youth. In his place was a handsome, charming young man with a smile that had stolen her breath. How could she have suppressed her feelings for him? She’d mistakenly thought he’d cared for her as well. Why else would he have kissed her? And, oh, what a kiss that had been.

  She shoved aside the memories as she had so many times over the years while the footman hurried forward to open the coach door.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t bear it. Waiting for Lucas to come home was something she’d done far too often in her youth. Waiting and hoping that each time would bring them closer.

  No more. She’d promised herself that when she’d said goodbye ten years ago. She’d be damned if she’d stand here waiting for him again.

  She forced a smile to her lips for Mrs. Toller. “You greet Lu—Lord Berkmond while I find the girls and send them down.”

  As the housekeeper sputtered in protest, Moira lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs, wishing she could escape out the back door instead. The new Lord Berkmond did not want her here. He’d made that abundantly clear the last time she’d seen him. She didn’t expect his feelings on the matter to have changed in the time he’d been gone.

  Unfortunately, neither had hers. She feared she loved him still.

  *

  Lucas stepped down from the coach, pausing with his hand on the door, reluctant to release it and face the demons of his past. He felt off balance, as he had since reaching England’s shores. Whether it was from returning home after all these years or the nearly two weeks he’d spent on a ship to arrive here, he wasn’t certain.

  He’d sworn never to come back home, yet here he was. The mix of emotions that had rolled through him since he’d received word of his brother’s death threatened to drown him once again.

  The footman cleared his throat as though to remind Lucas to release the door, but Lucas continued to hold it tight. The man would have to wait until Lucas was good and ready.

  He reached up to adjust the black eye patch that covered his left eye—to be certain it was in place, a self-conscious habit he had yet to break. He would never grow used to the blasted thing.

  His brother was dead. Murdered, no less. It was still so difficult to believe though he’d received the news two months ago. Markus had been bigger than life, the perfect eldest son for an earl. He’d been born to inherit—a natural leader, intelligent, logical, active in the House of Lords. He’d made a very good marriage, but his wife had died giving birth to twin girls.

  Lucas had always assumed his brother would remarry and provide a male heir. Neither Markus nor their father would’ve wanted him to inherit. Their father must be cursing from his place in the afterlife, wherever that might be. He’d never thought Lucas good for anything, certainly not for leading the Berkmond family.

  He released the coach door at last. With everyone in his family gone, at least his bloody ability to read auras, a terrible side affect from the accident at Cambridge ten years ago, wouldn’t be such a worry. Well, two members of his family remained—Markus’s twin daughters. But they were strangers after all.

  As he walked toward the steps of the house that had originally been built in the eighteenth century, he noted the changes Markus had made. At a glance, the sprawling thirty-two room manor appeared almost exactly as he’d remembered it. However, two new wings had been tucked on either end, angled in such a way as to be barely noticeable from the front. Autumn leaves added a touch of color here and there, something he realized he’d missed during his years in Brazil. The private grounds were well taken care of, as were the stables and the outbuildings. Considering the agricultural depression England had suffered in the past ten years, Lucas was a bit surprised. His brother must’ve had multiple sources of income to maintain the property so well.

  The butler and housekeeper stepped out on the landing as he approached, and he nearly groaned. How could the Tollers possibly still be alive? He’d hoped—prayed even—that he no longer knew anyone here.

  “Good day, Lord Berkmond,” Tollers greeted him with a proper bow. He appeared rather startled at the eye patch but the twinkle in his eye spoke of fond memories and how pleased he was at Lucas’s return.

  Lucas nodded briefly at him then at his wife, the housekeeper, who used to sneak him biscuits from the cook. She curtsied with hardly a second glance at his patch or the scar that showed just below it. He scowled though relief filled him at the sight of their bright auras.

  He’d been certain they’d be dead by now. Their presence gave him one more—make that two—problems with which to be concerned.

  “How was your journey from Brazil, my lord?” Mrs. Tollers asked.

  Many words came to mind: endless, horrendous, awful. Being trapped in a small space with a crowd of people had been unbearable. But he shared none of that. He had no desire to reconnect with these two on a personal level. That would only lead to pain, and he simply could not endure anymore. “Fine, thank you.”

  “We would be pleased to assemble the staff for you to meet,” Tollers offered.

  “That won’t be necessary. I won’t be staying long.”

  “Oh? Shall we send word to ready the townhouse in London?” the butler asked.

  “No. I’ll be returning to Brazil as soon as arrangements can be made for the girls.” He caught the stiffening of the housekeeper’s shoulders. Did that mean she cared for the twins? Excellent. She could serve as a resource for what arrangements might be acceptable for girls their age. He certainly had no experience in such matters.

  He paused at the door, allowing his gaze to scan the foyer as he analyzed the emotions that washed through him, hoping for some objectivity in this bizarre situation. So many memories were held here. To his surprise, he felt more fondness for them than he’d expected. Not all of his past was bad. Some of it had been quite pleasant.

  “Where am I placing these?” The accented voice made Lucas realize he’d nearly forgotten his traveling companion.

  Part servant, part friend, Tiago had been at his side for the past seven years. Lucas had saved his life one night, something he’d often regretted because Tiago now insisted that he owed Lucas his own. The last thing Lucas had wanted was a companion, and he certainly didn’t need another servant. But Tiago wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  In truth, his presence had been helpful many times over the past years. Tiago shared Lucas’s passion for both botany and geology. When Lucas had no desire to deal with the world outside his Brazilian compound, Tiago acted as his representative.

  The man was big, broad, and dark, revealing his mixed ancestry. His black hair was bound with a leather thong and he looked part pirate, part caballero. While his appearance was not so unusual in Brazil, he’d been gawked at since they’d docked in England. Between Lucas’s eye patch and Tiago’s exotic appearance, they made an odd pair.

  Lucas introduced Tiago to the Tollers then let the butler show Tiago upstairs to whatever rooms Tollers thought acceptable. Lucas wasn’t certain what his companion was going to do with himself while they were in England, but the man had refused to stay behind.

  “Shall I send for the girls?” Mrs. Tollers asked.

  Lucas hesitated. He knew he couldn’t avoid them, but he’d prefer not to become involved with them. Yet how could he make proper arrangements for his brother’s daughters if he had never met them? “I suppose.”

  He ignored the odd look the housekeeper sent him. “Do they have some sort of nanny or governess?”

  Mrs. Toller’s gaze suddenly shifted toward the ornately carved table that stood in the corner of the hall. “Well, yes and no.”

  “I believe the proper response would be either yes or no, not both.”

 
; “Yes, well, ’tis complicated, my lord.”

  Lucas froze. Those exact words were ones he’d shoved to the back of his mind, hoping to forget.

  Moira.

  She had used that phrase in response to many questions, mostly to avoid answering. She’d said it to her father, to his father, to Mrs. Tollers even. And to him. He hadn’t permitted himself to think of her in years, at least not while awake. He lifted a hand to rub his chest where a sudden ache stirred.

  Surely it was just some sort of odd coincidence that Mrs. Tollers had said that same phrase.

  “Perhaps you’d care to explain,” Lucas suggested as he removed his thin, black leather gloves and tapped them against his thigh.

  “I believe you passed the governess leaving in the carriage as you came down the drive.”

  “Leaving with the girls?”

  “No. Just leaving.”

  “Leaving for her day off?”

  “No. Leaving for good.”

  “You dismissed her?”

  Mrs. Tollers sighed. “No. She quit of her own accord.”

  “With no notice?”

  “You might say there were extenuating circumstances.”

  “Mrs. Toller, explain.” His limited patience was coming to an end.

  The older woman pursed her lips. “I believe the girls are the ones who should provide you with an explanation as to why the governess left so abruptly.”

  “Who is with them now?”

  Mrs. Tollers glanced up the curved mahogany staircase.

  Lucas turned to see what she was looking at, and his breath caught in his throat.

  Midway down the stairs stood two dark haired, pretty little girls in black crepe dresses as mourning requirements dictated, a visible reminder of why he was here. But it was the person who stood behind them who caught his full attention.

  Moira.

  Unable not to look, his gaze drank in the golden aura that surrounded her, making him release a relieved breath.

  A strange mix of emotions swirled through him as he stared at her. Memories of her laughing, crying, of tenderness in her eyes, and even anger, mostly at him, flew through his mind.