A Secret Surrender Read online

  At last, the hack arrived at Ivy Lane. Harry paid the driver and turned to look at the Home for Wayward Children. The misspelled sign was gone from the window.

  With leaden feet, Harry went to the door and knocked loudly. He was surprised when someone answered. It wasn’t Mr. or Mrs. Winter or a child. Instead, an older man with a balding pate and a substantial girth greeted him.

  “May I help you?” he asked pleasantly.

  “This was a Home for Wayward Children last week. Where are the Winters?”

  “Oh, they moved on. Said they had too many children for my house.”

  “Where did they go?” Harry asked, anger curdling in his gut.

  The man shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Not my concern, though I am sorry to lose their rent.”

  Harry felt as though he might explode. “You must know that this home they were running for children was a fraud.”

  The man blinked and acted as though he was surprised to hear it, but Harry knew better. “Was it?”

  “I work for Bow Street. Perhaps you would like to come to the Magistrates’ Court to answer questions.” Seeing the man blanch, Harry pressed his advantage. “Or you could answer my questions here.”

  “I swear I didn’t know it was a fraud,” the man said, his voice climbing. “A friend asked me to do a favor.”

  Harry clenched his jaw. “What friend?”

  “Josie—we go way back.”

  “Where can I find Josie?”

  The man shook his head. “I don’t know. She used to live in Whitechapel, but she doesn’t anymore. Not for a long time.”

  Dammit! “If you think of where she might be or where the Winters might have gone, you will come to Bow Street and tell me.”

  “Please, sir, I’ve told you all I know.”

  “They preyed on innocent people, lying to them and stealing their money.” That they’d used the plight of children to run their scam made Harry sick.

  The man looked stricken. “I swear I didn’t know. I thought they were helping those children in earnest. Were they not?”

  There was no way the fortune-teller had left town and the Winters had decided to move on at the same time. Harry didn’t believe in such coincidence.

  He pulled his small notebook from his coat. “Tell me your name and everything else you know about the Winters and your friend Josie.”

  A short time later, Harry climbed into another hack, his anger mounting. Innes, the man who owned the house on Ivy Lane, hadn’t given him much to go on. He could only remember Josie’s name from when they were young—before she was married. Since he didn’t know where she currently resided, Harry had little hope of finding her.

  He’d probably have better luck finding the Winters. Maybe. He considered asking his friend, the Marquess of Ripley, to draw their portraits from Harry’s descriptions. But Ripley was a newlywed, and Harry wouldn’t trouble him.

  The hack let him out on the corner of Queen Anne Street. It was a short walk to Selina’s house where he knocked on the door. He expected to see the housekeeper and was surprised when Selina herself answered.

  “Harry,” she said, her eyes instantly lighting with pleasure. It was that look, along with the subtle curve of her mouth, that drove him forward.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then took Selina in his arms and kissed her. The anger and frustration poured out of him into the kiss. She put her hands on his head, holding him as she kissed him back, meeting the desperate stroke of his tongue with her own.

  He pulled back. “Where’s your housekeeper?”

  “Out.”

  He briefly claimed her mouth again. “Your sister?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Good.” He tossed his hat onto a table near the door, then stripped his gloves away before sailing them toward the table and missing.

  He put his hands on her again, clasping her waist and drawing her against him. Selina cupped his head again, pressing her fingers into his scalp. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just—” He couldn’t form the words. “I need you.” He kissed her again and began steering her backward.

  She stepped back and took his hand, then led him into the sitting room, where she closed the door. Her bright blue gaze was dark and steady. “What do you need?”

  Harry stroked his fingertips down her face, then brushed his thumb across her lower lip. “You.”

  Her tongue darted out and licked his thumb. He pressed the digit into her mouth, and she sucked. Harry’s cock hardened completely. “Selina,” he breathed, closing his eyes briefly.

  Her hands came between them and unbuttoned his fall. Then she reached into his smallclothes, her fingers wrapping around his cock. He sucked in a breath, need raging through him.

  She gently pushed him backward, as he’d done with her in the entry, until the backs of his legs hit the settee. She pressed him down, and he sat. Lifting her skirts to her waist, she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips. He took the slippers from her feet and cupped her soles as he kissed her.

  Pressing down, her sex met his, and a rush of desire shook his body. No woman had ever affected him this way. He couldn’t get enough of her. The more time he spent with her, the more she gave him, the more he wanted.

  Harry scooted forward so he was on the edge of the settee, then curled her legs around his waist. He slipped his hand between them and guided his cock into her warm, wet sheath.

  She clasped his shoulder and cupped his head, her lips meeting his again and again as they moved together, slowly, rhythmically at first, their bodies gliding in perfect harmony.

  He grasped her waist and back as he held her, his hips moving with hers. She felt like heaven, her muscles gripping his cock while her hands twined through his hair and her fingers stroked his neck and shoulders.

  Pleasure built, and he quickened the pace, twitching his hips faster as he thrust into her. Her sex clenched around him as she orgasmed. Harry’s balls tightened as his neared. He needed to pull out, but fuck, he didn’t want to. He held off as long as he could, relishing the feel of her around him. Her touch was a balm and a joy.

  Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her up just before he came. He spent himself as he held her tight, gasping her name.

  She brushed her lips against his temple, then pulled her leg over him as she settled beside him. Harry leaned back against the settee, his eyes closed as he took deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

  As he came back to himself, his mind returned to coherent thought. “Madame Sybila was a fraud. She’s gone. The Home for Wayward Children is gone. She stole from my mother and her friends.” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. “And you.”

  Selina had lowered her skirt and was wiping a hand across her forehead. She didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t blame her. She’d been defrauded just like the rest of them.

  He realized he hadn’t come here to tell her they’d been duped—well, he had, but that wasn’t the primary reason. In his moment of defeat, he’d sought comfort in Selina’s arms.

  There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

  * * *

  Selina hoped Harry couldn’t see her hands shaking. Standing, she sought to put distance between them.

  What would that accomplish? Was she going to feel less awful across the room? What about two days from now? Of course she wouldn’t. The pain and regret, she suspected, would remain for some time, if not forever. She should end things with him right now. There was no reason for her to continue their association.

  Except for what had just transpired. She’d seen the anguish in his face when he’d arrived, responded to the need in his embrace, reveled in the mutual surrender they’d shared. Never in her life had she felt more wanted or…right.

  “The shopkeeper at The Ardent Rose said she left town to take care of family, and the man who owns the house on Ivy Lane said the Winters moved on with their children. I don’t believe any of it.”

  Selina ha
d walked to the window and now turned to see him staring up at the ceiling. He’d buttoned his fall, putting himself back together, at least externally. Internally was another matter. He sounded angry and almost helpless.

  “What am I going to tell my mother?”

  Selina’s chest tightened. There was nothing she could say. Guilt and shame nearly overwhelmed her. She’d swindled so many people, for good reason, she’d thought, but in this moment, it all felt so horribly wrong. “I’m so sorry, Harry.” Her voice sounded small and quiet.

  He sat up straight and looked at her. “Why should you be sorry?”

  She’d imagined stealing away after ending her schemes, just as she’d done every other time before, even with Barney. But this was wholly different. She couldn’t just leave. Not without telling Harry the truth.

  “I have to tell you something.” She licked her lips, which had gone dry as a desert. “There is no good way—” Desperate for air, she sucked in a breath and blew it out. The words were so hard. Not the ones about her crimes, but about where she’d come from. When he learned what she’d been, he would be awash with disgust. She forced herself to speak. “I know you’ve wondered about my past. The truth is that I was very poor, so poor that I was forced to steal in order to eat. I’ve had to do things I am not proud of.”

  Harry stared at her, seemingly frozen. Then he got slowly to his feet. “You stole.” It wasn’t a question, but she could see the confusion—and emotion—scrambling his features. “My mother’s necklace was stolen. It went missing during the soiree. You were there.” He looked directly at her. “But she found it. After you came to dinner.” He went quiet, and Selina simply couldn’t speak. “The woman at Spring Hollow. You and Beatrix were there too.”

  Watching him put the pieces together tore Selina apart. She should say something. But nothing would come.

  He paced away from the settee. “Other jewelry has gone missing from Mayfair, stolen from my mother’s friends. Like her, they saw Madame Sybila. A brooch was stolen from Mrs. Mapleton-Lowther’s house on the afternoon my mother and the others visited the Home for Wayward Children. With Madame Sybila.”

  He stopped cold and pivoted to face her once more. His gaze slowly raked her. She could see his mind working, calculating all he knew. The facts were all there.

  “Harry—”

  He cut her off, his voice ragged. “Your scent. Orange-honeysuckle. Madame Sybila smelled like that too, as did her room when I searched it earlier.”

  Her knees wobbled as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. “I can see you already know. I never meant to hurt you. I’ve done what I must—”

  He held up his hand. “Selina, do you think I’m a hermit?”

  She lifted her hand to her mouth, tears stinging her eyes.

  “You walked beside me,” he whispered. “And tripped beside me when I told you about Anne Turner, the fortune-teller. You helped me. You shared your body with me.”

  The truth flayed her as surely as a physical lash. “I lied about who I was, but everything between us, everything we shared was true.”

  “Don’t.” He bared his teeth. “Just tell me.”

  Her heart, which she’d long thought broken, shattered. “Yes, I am Madame Sybila.”

  Chapter 18

  It was as if the world around him had slowed, like a dream.

  Or a nightmare.

  Thoughts assaulted his brain: Selina leaving the Home for Wayward Children when he’d gone to check on it. The two young women—one tall and one short—who’d visited Madame Sybila on Finch Lane. His father had sent him a note the other day saying Rachel had witnessed bizarre behavior by Mrs. Winter and the fortune-teller during her visit to the house on Ivy Lane.

  The regret in her eyes told him everything he needed to know but never wanted to.

  “When I—Madame Sybila—told you I was a lost child, it was the truth. I lived on the streets of East London until my brother sent me away to boarding school. There, I met Beatrix—she isn’t really my sister.” Selina twisted her hands together. “Not by blood. We had only each other, and ever since then, I’ve done whatever I had to in order to care for her. Would it help you to know that I actually do give money to charities, particularly those that help children?” The truth, if that was what it was, tumbled from her mouth like an avalanche.

  “No.” The word came cold and hard, like one of the rocks from the avalanche striking the ground and leaving a crater. “You’re a thief and a fraud. You stole from my mother. And her friends.” He wanted to rail at her. More than that, he wanted details. “Tell me about the Home for Wayward Children.”

  “It was a fraud, as you presumed. Winter is an old friend, and his wife… I didn’t know her at all. He hired her to help.”

  Everything had been carefully constructed. She’d done this before. “The children?”

  “Also hired. I gave them extra money when I sent them home.”

  Harry stared at her. “Your ruthlessness knows no bounds.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand. You couldn’t. You’re the son of an earl. You’ve never wanted for anything.” Her voice rose in anguish, but he was unmoved.

  “That excuses nothing. You’re a liar and a thief. Tell me about the jewelry you stole.”

  She stiffened. “Madame Sybila doesn’t earn enough to pay for a successful Season. Beatrix has a—a problem with taking things, which, in times of need, has proven helpful.”

  “So you take advantage of her problem?” He realized he shouted the question. Taking a breath, he worked to calm his anger. “Where is the jewelry now?”

  Her features were impassive. “Gone. I fenced it all.”

  He swore under his breath. “I want an accounting of where and when. You will hope that I can recover it. Send it to me at Bow Street as soon as possible.”

  “Are you going to arrest us?”

  Harry wiped his hand over his face. “I should.” There was so much more he wanted to ask, to say, but he couldn’t think past his fury and humiliation. She’d completely deceived him. He was an utter fool. Heart hammering, he pinned her with a dark stare. “Don’t run—I’ll find you.” Anguish cut through him, a knife cleaving his flesh. “Damn you, Selina.”

  To think, he’d not only believed her, he’d been captivated by her. She was the first woman he’d imagined spending his life with. What did that say about him?

  Reeling with self-disgust, he spun on his heel and stalked from the sitting room.

  * * *

  Selina stood frozen, unable to move. The sound of the front door slamming made her twitch. The room closed in around her, making her feel as if she were already in a jail. But hadn’t she been for some time? She thought she had control, choice, the ability to forge her own future.

  Instead, she was trapped by her past. At least in her mind.

  A sob rose in her throat, and her eyes burned. No, no, no. After all this time, all this hurt… Now, she would cry?

  Selina went back to the settee, where the memory of his hands and mouth on her provoked a profound emptiness. She’d never know that sense of belonging, that bone-deep joy she’d shared with him again. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the cushion.

  Hot tears snaked down her cheeks. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Selina?”

  Beatrix’s soft voice somehow broke through Selina’s pain. Then Beatrix was beside her on the settee, her hand on Selina’s back, gently stroking as she laid her head on Selina’s shoulder.

  “What happened?”

  Selina didn’t want to say. No, she couldn’t. That was different. So she wiped her face and turned her head to look at Beatrix. “Where were you?” She’d told Harry that Beatrix was upstairs, but that, like so many things she’d said to him, was a lie.

  Beatrix lifted a shoulder. “Just out.”

  “Were you spying on your father again?”

  Beatrix had taken to stealing into the garden next t
o her father’s house so she could see into his study.

  “No.”

  Selina stared at her in frank disbelief. “You’re wearing breeches, and your hair is pinned so that you could hide it beneath a hat.”

  “Fine, yes. Why are you asking me about that when you’re crying? I’ve never seen you cry. Not once.” Beatrix’s eyes were wide with deep concern. “Tell me what happened.”

  Selina stood and walked to the windows. Her body felt as if it were carved of wood. “I told Harry the truth.”

  “What truth?” Beatrix’s question was sharp and apprehensive.

  Turning, Selina saw that Beatrix had risen also. “Everything. That I’m Madame Sybila. That we stole the jewelry.”

  “I stole the jewelry,” Beatrix said fiercely.

  “I fenced it. Harry wants a list of where and when I sold the pieces.”

  “That’s easy.”

  “I can’t do it.” She’d sold all of it to the Golden Lion. “Rafe likely owns the shop, and I don’t want to involve him.”

  “You’d rather go to jail?”

  “Beatrix, we may go to jail anyway.” Selina pressed a hand to her suddenly throbbing temple. “No, I won’t allow that. I told him you had a problem with taking things. You aren’t going to jail.”

  “Stop trying to protect me.” Beatrix pinned her with a dark stare. “I knew what I was doing. As I always remind you, we do this together. We always have. You have always protected me, even when I am foolish and unable to control my impulses. Especially at those times.”

  Love for Beatrix swelled in Selina’s heart. “I’ll go to the Golden Lion first thing tomorrow and retrieve the items.”

  “They’ll charge you more than what you sold them for.”

  “I know. But it has to be done.” Selina actually felt a weight lifting from her. She hated that she’d stolen from the women who’d trusted her. Particularly Harry’s mother. “I have to return the donations too.”