A Secret Surrender Page 19
His nostrils flared. “You’re a vixen to tempt me. Unfortunately, I need to work. But perhaps I may stop by later this evening.”
She leaned toward him as he started to drive. “Come to the rear of the house, and toss a pebble at the window of the sitting room—I’ll be waiting.”
Selina meant to hold on to this happiness as long as she could.
* * *
For the first time in, well, ever, Harry was eager to get through the weekly dinner at his parents’ house because he had somewhere else to go. More importantly, he had someone to see.
After visiting Selina last night, they’d arranged for him to come again tonight. He wanted to see her every day, and damn if that wasn’t terrifying. What was happening to him?
He took special care to cloak his buoyancy. His family would pounce on it—on him—like starving wolves.
“Good evening, Mr. Sheffield,” Tallent said, taking Harry’s hat and gloves. “Your father has asked that you join him in his study again.”
Harry had expected that. “Is Jeremy by chance here?” Harry had sent him a note pleading with him to come tonight. When they were here together, it was easier to keep the wolves at bay.
Tallent gave him an apologetic look. “I’m afraid not.”
Harry exhaled in disappointment. “Thank you, Tallent.”
Making his way to his father’s study, Harry reviewed in his mind what he intended to say. And braced himself for his father’s anger.
“Harry, pour yourself a glass of brandy and join me,” Father said from his chair by the hearth. The day had been cool, so there was a low fire burning.
Harry fetched his brandy and took the open chair situated across from his father. “I was hoping Jeremy might be here.”
Father grunted in response before sipping his brandy. He looked over at Harry, one eye narrowing. “Your mother is going to that Home for Wayward Children tomorrow with the charlatan. I thought you were working to prove the woman is a fraud.”
“I told you the charity looks to be real. As for the rest, as I said before, is it really so terrible if Mother visits the woman?” Harry thought of his last visit to Madame Sybila. Her reading of his cards had been unsettling—because there’d been a note of truth. But not anymore. No one could call him lonely or a hermit now. Had the fortune-teller somehow pushed Harry to start a liaison with Selina? And if so, should he thank her? The notion stalled his mind for a moment.
“Harry? What say you?”
Harry blinked, realizing he’d missed whatever his father had said first. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”
“I said it is terrible. The woman fills your mother’s head with ridiculous notions about the family increasing, you and Jeremy marrying, and a pile of other nonsense.”
“Does any of it cause harm?” Harry asked.
“It does to me, because I have to listen to it.” He sounded incredibly disgruntled over something that didn’t matter. “And it’s a waste of money! Why can’t she do as other women and buy fripperies?”
Harry was fairly certain his mother did that too. But it wasn’t as if his father couldn’t afford any of this. “If the fortune-teller isn’t stealing money from her, there’s nothing to be done. It’s not a crime for her to sell the services she advertises.”
“What about those tonics?” Father asked. “Didn’t you say she sold tonics that are likely fraudulent?”
Had Harry mentioned that to him? He couldn’t recall. He still hadn’t obtained one to see what it was.
“I’m still looking into the tonics. For now, I think you must accept that this is something Mother will continue to do. Think of it as a hobby.”
Father snorted before tossing back the rest of his brandy.
“Perhaps you should go to the Home for Wayward Children with Mother tomorrow.”
Scowling, Father waved his hand. “I am busy tomorrow. Besides, Rachel’s going with her and will report back. At least she still thinks this entire affair is deplorable.”
“What’s deplorable?” Jeremy walked in and went straight to the brandy, pouring himself a glass.
Father snorted. “This business with the fortune-teller.”
Jeremy turned, brandy in hand. “I thought Harry was taking care of that.”
Harry stood. “I am. However, so far, I haven’t found evidence of a crime. Just an annoying waste of money—according to Father.”
Sipping his brandy, Jeremy nodded. “When I heard Father mention an affair, I thought he was referring to something Harry was doing.” He arched a brow and quirked the barest smile at Harry.
What the hell? Harry stared at him. How could he possibly know about him and Selina? That had just happened the day before yesterday, and he’d been very careful taking her into his house and then seeing her home.
Father turned to look at Harry. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Harry gritted his teeth, then sent a hot, brief glare at his brother. The last thing he needed was his family knowing about his affair with Selina. Their relentless matchmaking would reach an unbearable pitch.
“Ah, well, that’s unfortunate. You could probably use some sort of romantic liaison, according to your mother and sisters.” He stood from the chair and went to put his empty glass on the sideboard. “Let’s join them in the library.”
Father departed the study, and Jeremy came toward Harry. “I was only teasing, but clearly, I hit a nerve. Is there something you want to share, brother?”
Harry scowled at him. “No, and if you mention a goddamned thing to anyone else, I will tell everyone whom you’re shagging.”
Jeremy’s jaw twitched. “I would ask how you know, but you’re the best bloody constable in London, so I would do well to remember you know everything.”
No, not everything. He still didn’t know who was behind saying the Vicar had caused the fire and why they’d sought to pin the crime on him. He also didn’t know if Madame Sybila’s tonics were legitimate. He did, however, know how Selina felt and tasted, and the delightful sounds she made when she came apart in his embrace.
“I pay attention to what my brother is doing,” Harry said with a shrug. “We have to stand together against them.” He gestured toward the library.
“Yes, we do.” Jeremy clapped him on the shoulder, and they walked to the library together.
Mother greeted them with a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you’d both left.” She smiled. “I’m glad to see you didn’t.”
Harry and his brother went to either side of her and bussed her cheeks, causing her to smile even wider.
“Oh, how I love my boys,” she said. “Alas, we are still not quite complete, as Delia and Edward aren’t here. Delia isn’t feeling well. I do hope she’ll be able to join us tomorrow for our excursion to the Home for Wayward Children. Madame Sybila and I have put together quite a group.” Mother’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Harry looked to Rachel. “I understand you’re going too?”
“I am. Someone has to play the skeptic.”
Their mother sent her a sharp glare. “No, they don’t. If you’re just going to be critical, you don’t need to come.”
“I won’t criticize,” Rachel said. “I promise.” She sent a wink toward their father who hid a smile then looked at Harry as if to say, “See, your sister’s being helpful.”
“Everyone listen to me.” Mother’s voice rose above the room in the stern way that never failed to make her children stop whatever misbehavior they were about. “I enjoy Madame Sybila’s company very much, and if I choose to spend my pin money on visiting her, I will do so. She actually helped me find my emerald necklace, which I’d misplaced for a few days after our soiree. Furthermore, she is supporting an excellent cause, which, after I see it for myself, I am inclined to also support rather strenuously.” She looked around at everyone assembled, her gaze settling on her husband, daring him to speak.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
“Unfortunately not. She is otherwise engaged.”
“Pity,” Rachel said. “We shall have to find another event to invite her to. We do like her, Harry.”
“Mrs. Mapleton-Lowther told Mother she saw you at a perfumery. Were you perchance buying something for a lady?” Imogen waggled her brows at him.
Harry looked from Imogen to Rachel to his mother and then at all three of them. “Please just stop. All of you, stop. Lady Gresham is a lovely woman, but neither of us is interested in a match. That’s the end of it. If you persist in trying to force us together, I’ll stop coming to dinner for the rest of the Season.”
“Promise?” Jeremy quipped.
“As if you’re here every week,” Rachel said sardonically. “Our apologies, Harry. We thought there might be something between you and Lady Gresham. Honestly, she seems the perfect match for you—she’s mature, intelligent, and she doesn’t shy away from us at all.”
Add that to all the other ways in which they fit together, and it did seem she was…perfect. Harry finished his brandy, and Tallent thankfully arrived to announce dinner.
As they moved toward the dining room, Harry and Jeremy lagged behind once more. Jeremy set his empty glass down and moved to Harry’s side. “Lady Gresham, eh?”
Harry glowered at him. “Don’t.”
“Your secret is as safe with me as mine is with you. Shall we go in to dinner?”
After dinner, Harry drank port with his father and brother, then took the opportunity of Jeremy’s departure to leave himself. He stole into the small garden behind Selina’s house and crouched behind a shrubbery as he peered into the sitting room.
Selina sat in a chair, while her sister reclined on the settee reading a book. He moved closer and saw that Selina also had a book open on her lap. She looked so lovely, her profile illuminated by a candle flickering on the table beside her chair.
Harry waited until Miss Whitford stood up from the settee and left the sitting room. Before he could toss a pebble, however, Selina rose and left the room. He frowned as he waited for her to return.
The sound of the exterior door opening startled him.
“I know you’re out there, Harry.”
Standing, he took a few steps toward the door, where she stood just outside. “How? I hadn’t yet tossed the pebble.”
“I was expecting you, so I was looking. I must say, for a Bow Street Runner, you’re not very discreet.”
He laughed. “I usually am. However, you’ve quite upended my typical skills.”
She sauntered toward him, her eyes narrowing slightly in a thoroughly provocative manner. “Have I? Your…skills seemed quite adept last night. But perhaps I should reconsider my invitation.” She stopped in front of him and slid her palms up his chest to curl her hands around his neck.
He kissed her, reveling in the soft, delicious touch of her lips against his. “I’d be happy to exhibit any of my abilities—for your consideration.” He angled his mouth over hers and pulled her flush against him as he clasped her waist.
“I think that would be best. For the basis of settling on the truth of your capability.” She took a step back. “Come upstairs.”
He arched his brow at her. “If you insist.”
“I do.” Her lips curved into a seductive smile, and Harry couldn’t refuse. Nor did he want to.
She took his hand and led him into the house. No, he wasn’t a hermit any longer. He just hoped it would last.
Chapter 15
Portraying Madame Sybila outside the confines of her small closet where she could reside in shadow and mostly sit made Selina anxious. To reduce the opportunity for mishap, she’d arranged to meet Lady Aylesbury and her friends at the Home for Wayward Children. That had allowed her to get into her costume at the home and then await their arrival.
She’d augmented her usual disguise by applying heavy cosmetics under the veil, including the addition of a larger nose. Over the years, she and Beatrix had accumulated a variety of implements to change their appearance. Her veil wasn’t quite as thick as usual—she needed to see where she was going—but she also wore a hat with a wide brim to further shadow her face. Finally, she’d added a walking stick, which Luther had procured for her, both to help with navigation and to complete the disguise.
“I can’t even tell if you’re a woman beneath that,” Luther remarked as Selina emerged from one of the upstairs chambers in her full disguise.
She tapped her walking stick. “Good, that’s entirely the point.”
“That I should think you’re a man?” He grinned.
Selina flipped up the veil so she could find her way down the stairs—and so she could ask him about what Harry had told her. Because Luther’s real last name was Frost.
“Luther, what business do you have in Saffron Hill?”
His smile faded. “If you want to lecture me about changing my life again, don’t bother.”
“Did you take over Partridge’s interests?” She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask if he’d started the fire, knowing it had killed innocent people.
“Not entirely, no.” He moved toward her, his features dark. “We all do what we must to survive, Lina. You know that.”
Yes, she did. Just as she knew she was struggling with that more than ever.
“Come on, you need to get downstairs.” Surprisingly, he didn’t offer her his arm. Good, because she didn’t want his help. After his flirtation the other day and now this…tension, she felt awkward being around him.
Adding to the apprehension caused by both her disguise and Luther was the fact that Beatrix was probably even now pilfering something from Mrs. Mapleton-Lowther’s house. Since the woman was about to arrive here, Beatrix had convinced Selina that it would be a good time to sneak into her home and remove the very spectacular brooch she’d told Madame Sybila about during their last meeting.
It was a risky endeavor, but opportunity didn’t always provide for the most lucrative results. This brooch would earn a hefty price that would bring them much closer to their goal so that they wouldn’t have to worry about how to fund the rest of Beatrix’s Season.
Selina descended the stairs, and as she reached the entry, she heard voices outside. She quickly brought the veil down over her face. Turning, she asked Luther if he was ready.
“I am, and so is everyone else.”
Except Theresa. She’d been drunk again today, and Selina had made Luther take her somewhere else lest she ruin the entire enterprise.
There was a rap on the door, and Luther answered it promptly. “Good afternoon. Welcome to the Home for Wayward Children.” He held the door wide as more than a half dozen women filed in.
Selina couldn’t really make anyone out, but she knew the attendees included Harry’s mother and sisters—though how many or which ones, she didn’t know—Lady Balcombe, and Mrs. Mapleton-Lowther. At least she hoped Mrs. Mapleton-Lowther was there. If she’d stayed home, it would likely wreak merry hell on Beatrix’s plan.
“Madame Sybila, you’re here,” Lady Aylesbury said. She came close enough that Selina was certain it was her. “Do you need assistance?” She seemed to glance at Selina’s walking stick.
“No, thank you,” Selina said in her French accent. She hunched her shoulders slightly to change her stature.
“Welcome to the Home for Wayward Children,” Luther said again, this time more loudly. “Let us gather in the parlor.” He motioned for everyone to move into the front room that looked out to Ivy Lane.
Selina took up a position near the door, moving as little as possible, and listened to Luther deliver his address.
“My wife and I started this home by accident.” He smiled self-deprecatingly, or so Selina imagined. She could picture his expression in her mind. With his
good looks and charm, he would win these ladies over without much effort.
“Unfortunately, Mrs. Winter is not here at the moment. She’s on an errand for one of the children, who is sick.” He paused for a moment. “Mrs. Winter and I were not blessed with children of our own, so it just made sense that we take in children who no longer have parents.”
“Are all the children here orphans, then?” someone asked. Mrs. Mapelton-Lowther, Selina thought.
“Most of them,” Luther answered. “There are a few who have a parent who is no longer caring for them. These are children who need love and guidance. As well as food and clothing.”
Selina heard the smile in his voice. He wanted them to know they were in need, hence the women should donate money. He was really very good at this.
“Would you like to meet some of the children?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Lady Aylesbury said.
“I’ll be just a moment.” Luther left.
Almost immediately, Selina heard Rachel speaking quietly to Lady Aylesbury—they stood nearby.
“Mama, how can you be sure Mr. Winter will use the money you donate for the children? Perhaps he will take the money and gamble or drink it away.”
“I am reserving my opinion, Rachel, and I am not inclined to think the worst. Unlike you.”
Selina heard the irritation and disappointment in the countess’s voice and almost felt sorry for Harry’s sister.
A moment later, Luther returned with several of the children. Over the next few minutes, the women asked questions of the children, who responded as if what they were saying were true. That they were lucky to be here, that they were well cared for, that they felt like they were finally part of a family, that they had hope for the future.
Their comments pulled at Selina’s heartstrings. What she wouldn’t give to have felt that way, both when she’d lived in London with Rafe and after, when she’d gone to school. That these children were playing a part also tugged at her emotions—and not in a good way. She shoved the sensation away.