A Secret Surrender Page 25

  She opened her reticule, but Luther grabbed her arm and shoved her behind him. He faced Remington. “She won’t tell anyone about you. You have my word.”

  “Unless you plan to cut out her tongue, I can’t believe that won’t happen—your word or not.” His tone was mild as if he threatened people every day. “Stand aside, Frost.”

  “You won’t touch her.” Luther pulled a pistol from his waistband, but before he could raise it, the Runner launched forward, knocking him backward into Selina. They all crashed to the floor.

  It took Selina a moment to regain her breath and her wits. She rolled to the side as the men fought. A loud gasp filled the room, and the commotion stopped.

  “Dammit.” The Runner rose, his chest heaving. He scowled down at Luther’s body. Blood pooled beneath him. “I really didn’t want to kill him. He was a good soldier.” He swiveled his attention to Selina who scrambled to her feet. “Until you.” He advanced on her. “You’re a pretty thing. Did Luther already pay you? I don’t mind paying again, though I can’t see the point when you won’t see morning.”

  At last, she managed to pull her pistol from her reticule. Shaking, she held it up. “Harry will be here at any moment.”

  Remington stopped barely a foot from her. “Harry? You know Harry?”

  Selina nodded.

  There was a beat of silence, and then Remington began to laugh. His eyes crinkled, but that didn’t do a thing to banish the hostility from his gaze. “Harry isn’t coming, dear. He sent me in his stead. How sad for you.” He knocked the gun from her hand before she could fire, sending it skidding across the table. “But happy for me as I will get to have my fun after all. Now be a good girl and stay quiet.”

  He stepped toward her, and all Selina could see was the face of the man who’d said almost the exact same thing to her twelve years earlier.

  * * *

  Harry took the stairs two at a time up to his office so he could complete the damned paperwork. He stopped short at the landing as Maggie stepped in front of him.

  “There you are,” he said. “I thought you’d gone.”

  She shook her head, and he saw fear in her eyes. “That man you were talking to. I recognized him.”

  Harry frowned. “The clerk?”

  “The tall man with the dark hair.”

  The clerk was a shorter fellow with bright blond hair. She had to mean Remy. “Where do you recognize him from?” Likely, she’d seen him around Saffron Hill, particularly since he’d been helping Harry look for Frost. Harry tried to remain patient because she looked scared. But he was anxious to get the paperwork done so he could get to Selina.

  “He’s the man who told us to say the Vicar started the fire. My brother says he visits Mr. Frost.”

  A buzzing sound filled Harry’s ears, and his blood went cold. Remy had gone to talk to Frost. And so had Selina.

  Harry started down the stairs then abruptly stopped. Turning, he looked up at Maggie. “I need to get to Chick Lane right away. I’m sorry.” He flew down the stairs and found the nearest clerk. “I’ll have to take care of this later. Put that girl in my office. And give her tea and some biscuits.” He thrust the paperwork into the clerk’s arms.

  Then he fled the building and broke off at a run toward Saffron Hill, which was over a mile away.

  By the time Harry arrived at the Duck and Swan in Chick Lane, he was overheated and filled with dread. He rushed into the dim interior of the tavern and looked around wildly. No one looked familiar—he didn’t see Selina or Frost or Remy.

  A woman with rouged cheeks and red lips came toward him, swaying her hips. “’Evening, sir. Care for an ale? We can share one.” She put her hand on his chest.

  “I’m looking for Luther Frost or a woman who might be with him. She’s tall, with golden-brown hair. Beautiful.” Harry saw a flicker of something in her eyes and quickly pressed a coin into her hand.

  The prostitute pouted. “She came in a little while ago. There.” She inclined her head toward a door tucked into the front corner of the common room.

  “Thank you.” Harry barely finished speaking before he turned and rushed to the door.

  He flung it open and stepped inside to see Remy towering over Selina, his hand clutching her arm. “Remy?”

  Remy looked at Harry over Selina’s head. “Harry, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to meet her.”

  She turned and jerked her arm from Remy’s grasp. “Harry, he killed Luther.” She glanced toward the floor.

  Harry followed her gaze and saw Frost’s prone form. He also saw blood. Returning his attention to his friend, Harry took a cautious step toward them. “What happened, Remy?”

  Selina answered. “He paid Luther to start the fire.”

  Remy struck Selina, and she fell against the wall with a soft groan.

  Harry pulled his pistol from his coat, but Remy dove under the table. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s legs before Harry could reposition himself and knocked Harry off-balance.

  Falling to the floor, Harry kept ahold of his gun, but he couldn’t get a good shot. Remy reached for it, his hand closing around Harry’s as he struggled to wrest the weapon away.

  “Get off him!” Selina cried.

  Harry looked up to see her standing a few feet away holding a pistol. Likely hers. Thank God she carried one. Still, he wanted her far away from here. “Selina, go. I can take care of this.”

  His distraction was all Remy needed. He managed to knock Harry’s pistol away, sending it sliding across the floor.

  Harry pushed at Remy, but when he didn’t fight back, Harry chilled.

  “He has a knife!” Selina’s warning came as the blade flashed in the lantern light.

  Harry grabbed Remy’s wrist just before the knife came down. The blade was still precariously close to his chest.

  Something moved over the back of Remy’s head, followed by a crash. Remy let out a low sound, then slumped over Harry. Thankfully, Remy’s hand went limp, otherwise, the knife might have pierced Harry’s breast.

  Harry shoved him to the side, breathing heavily. He stared up at Selina. “What did you do?”

  “I hit him with a pitcher.”

  Pieces of pottery littered the floor. Remy groaned.

  Harry scrambled to his feet. “Can you go out and find some rope? I need to bind his hands.”

  She nodded and hurried from the room.

  Working quickly, Harry found Remy’s pistol and checked him for any other weapons besides the knife. He took both and set them in the middle of the table. He caught sight of Luther on the floor, his face ashen and still in death.

  Selina returned with a length of rope. “Will this do?”

  Harry took it from her with a nod, then knelt to bind Remy’s hands behind his back. He tied them tightly with the best knot he knew.

  “I was afraid to shoot him. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  Harry looked up at Selina and saw the fear in her eyes. He rose and went to her. A red mark from Remy’s hand had begun to brighten her cheek. Harry wanted to kill him. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, but a tear leaked from her eye. He caressed her face. “You’re safe now.”

  He went to the doorway, keeping his focus on Remy, and called out, “I need someone to run to Bow Street. Fast. Ten shillings.”

  A boy dashed to the doorway. “I can do it, sir.”

  Harry gave him five shillings. “The rest when you return with at least two constables. Tell them Harry Sheffield needs assistance and a cart. And hurry.”

  The boy nodded and took himself off.

  Remy groaned louder, and Harry bent to turn him over. Then Harry dragged him to the wall and propped him up to sit against it.

  Harry glanced at Selina. “What happened?”

  “I arrived and met Luther in here. He told me a Runner paid him to start the fire. Then Remington showed up and asked for a payment that was due.”

  Harry fixed a furious stare on his fr
iend—former friend. “What was the payment for?”

  Blood trickled down Remy’s head from the wound Selina had inflicted with the pottery. “Everything she says is a lie.”

  Many things, but not everything, Harry had learned. “You’d have me believe that she killed Frost?”

  Remy winced, then lowered his gaze. He didn’t say anything.

  “Why were you holding her when I arrived?” Harry asked.

  “Because he intended to rape me.” Selina wouldn’t lie about that. But Harry didn’t think she was lying about any of this. Now he really wanted to kill Remy.

  Harry crouched down and grabbed the top of Remy’s hair. He pulled Remy’s head back, forcing him to look up. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you piece of filth.”

  Remy sneered. “I did offer to pay her.”

  “Before you promised to kill me,” Selina said.

  Harry knocked his head back against the wall, drawing a yelp of pain from Remy. “Speak of her again, and I’ll finish what she started.” He kept his hand tangled in Remy’s hair. “Why did you pay Frost to start the fire?”

  Selina answered. “Because Luther agreed to pay Remington a protection fee when he took over Partridge’s gang.”

  Harry stared at the man he thought he knew. “You took money?”

  “You shouldn’t have cared about the damn fire. About any of it.” Remy’s lip curled. “But you’ve such a soft heart. What did it matter that there were a few less whores and thieving brats? That was a good thing. Partridge refused to pay me. Frost didn’t. We turn our heads and let them rule over their little kingdoms. They should pay for our ignorance—and our protection.”

  Harry despised corruption. He tugged on Remy’s hair, causing him to flinch as he met Harry’s gaze. “Did you really threaten to kill her?”

  Remy spit to his right toward Selina and glanced up at her. “Fucking whore.”

  Fury exploded in Harry, and he hit Remy’s head against the wall once more. This time, Remy slumped to the side, unconscious.

  “Harry!” Selina came toward him and touched his shoulder.

  Standing, Harry swore. “He’s fine. For now.”

  He turned to her. “I want to see you home, but you should go before the constables get here. I don’t want to involve you in this.”

  “But I’m a witness. I can say what happened.”

  “Then you’ll have to explain why you were here. That won’t reflect well on Lady Gresham. Or Miss Whitford. I have his knife and can prove he used it to kill Frost. Remember, I used to be a barrister. Remy won’t go free.”

  “You’re rather brilliant.” She gave him a small smile that made his heart trip. “I can make my way home.”

  “You have your pistol?”

  She went and found it on the other side of the table, freezing for a moment as she looked down at Luther. A sob escaped her lips before she clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Harry reached for her without thinking. He pulled her against him and pressed his lips to her temple beneath the brim of her bonnet. “I’m so sorry. I know he was your friend.”

  She held him tightly as she buried her face in his chest.

  He brushed his lips against the edge of her ear. “You need to go. I’ll come see you later.”

  She stood back and looked up at him in surprise. “You will?”

  “There are things to say. Aren’t there?”

  “I’ve said everything important.” She brushed at the wetness on her cheeks. “I love you.”

  Impossibly, a smile broke over his mouth. “I know.”

  She smiled back, and his breath hitched.

  “I have things to say,” he clarified. “Go now. I’ll see you soon.”

  She tucked the pistol into her reticule. “You’ll take care of Luther?”

  “I will.” He stepped aside so she could pass.

  She had to step over Remy’s sprawled legs on her way to the door. Pausing at the threshold, she turned her head. “Thank you.”

  And then she was gone.

  Harry looked down at the man he’d called friend. Nothing was as it seemed. Good people were bad, and bad people were good. Or something. He wiped his hand over his face and contemplated just what things he was going to say to her.

  Chapter 21

  The clock chimed once, prompting Selina to get up again and pace the sitting room.

  Beatrix glanced up from her book. “If you keep doing that every quarter hour, you’re going to wear a hole in that carpet.”

  “He should be here by now.” A thousand scenarios had run through Selina’s mind, and she kept landing on the worst one. “What if Remington escaped his binding and attacked Harry? What if he killed him? I shouldn’t have left.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I’m going to Bow Street.” Selina strode from the sitting room, then stopped short as she heard a knock on the front door.

  She raced forward and threw the door open. Harry stood on the doorstep, his handsome features exhausted.

  “You’re here.” Those were the only words she could seem to manage.

  “I’m here.” He glanced past her. “May I come in?”

  Selina shook her head briskly to clear it of her idiocy. “Of course.” She held the door as he walked into the hall, then closed it firmly.

  Beatrix stepped out of the sitting room. “Good evening, Mr. Sheffield.”

  “Good evening, Miss Whitford.”

  “You look as if you need a brandy,” Selina said.

  He gave her a single nod. “Yes, please.”

  She preceded him into the sitting room and went straight to pour him a drink. Turning, she saw that he’d come inside, and Beatrix had followed him.

  Selina took him the glass and ignored the pull she felt toward him as their fingers brushed. She wanted to take him in her arms and soothe the anguished lines in his face.

  “I’m sorry,” Beatrix blurted. “About stealing things. I can’t help myself, but I do try.”

  Harry swallowed a drink of brandy, then arched a brow at Beatrix. “You’re telling me the only reason you stole that jewelry was because you were compelled to do so?”

  His sardonic tone gave Selina a rush of hope.

  Beatrix grimaced. “No. We needed the money. Sorry.”

  “Beatrix, I don’t think you’re helping,” Selina said softly.

  “She’s not harming matters,” Harry said. “You’re both thieves. But you’ve returned the jewelry. And, apparently, the money. My mother sent a note earlier that she’d received a letter from Madame Sybila returning the money she’d donated to the Home for Wayward Children after learning it was a fraud.”

  Selina wrung her hands. “I considered telling her the full truth, that I’m Madame Sybila, but if I did that…”

  Harry finished for her. “If you did that, there would be no possibility of a future between us.”

  “And this is where I take my leave.” Beatrix looked between them. “I know you love each other. I also know this didn’t start as it should have. Please make sure it ends that way.” She pursed her lips before spinning about and leaving the sitting room, closing the door as she went.

  “Your ‘sister’ is impertinent.”

  Selina couldn’t draw a deep breath. Hope filled her chest, silly as it was. “Exceedingly.”

  “She’s also right. I know you love me.” He glanced down at the brandy in his hand. “And, as it happens, I love you too.”

  Selina slapped her hand over her mouth before a sob escaped. But Harry noticed anyway.

  He set his glass down on a table and walked toward her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “It’s been a terrible week.”

  “Yes, it has.” He pressed his lips together, and she braced herself for whatever he might say next. “I wanted to despise you. And then I despised myself because I couldn’t. Nor could I even arrest you as I should have. What kind of constable does that?”

  Oh, she’d ruined him. Selina’s heart
cleaved in two. “I’m so sorry, Harry. Please, arrest me. I should pay for my crimes.”

  “I think you already have,” he said softly, eliminating the space between them and taking her hand. “When I think of your childhood, of the dangers and hardships you’ve faced, I am torn between a furious anger and a deep despair.” He gave her a weak smile. “How you didn’t succumb to your circumstances, I don’t know. But then I suppose you did. You became what you had to in order to survive.”

  He understood. Dear God, he understood. Selina started to collapse, but he caught her, putting his arms around her waist. “I’ve got you, my love.”

  Harry pulled her against him, and the solid warmth of his chest calmed her like nothing else could.

  “What happened with Remington?” she asked.

  He stroked her back. “He’ll be charged with Frost’s murder tomorrow.”

  She tipped her head to look up at him. “You took care of Luther?”

  “I did. Does he have family we should notify?”

  “No, but I will tell those who need to know.” She sucked in a breath. “Rafe.”

  “Ah yes, I presume your brother knew him, since you were children together.”

  Selina pulled back from him. “I should tell you something else—the last revelation. I think.” Her life had been so twisted with lies that she wasn’t sure she’d uncovered them all, including the ones she told herself.

  His eye twitched. “I don’t know if I can take anything else.”

  “It’s not about me. My brother—oh dear, you aren’t going to like this.” She took a deep breath. “Rafe is the Vicar.”

  Harry’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What?”

  “I didn’t know. At least not at first. When I returned to London two months ago, I learned my brother had died—in that fire on Saffron Hill that the Vicar had supposedly started. When I met you, and you were looking for the Vicar, I thought you could help me find him. I’m horrified to admit I wanted revenge.” She wiped her hand over her forehead. “I suppose this was about me after all.”