A Secret Surrender Read online

  “Why are you frowning?”

  Harry blinked and turned his head toward Lady Gresham once more. “I didn’t mean to. My sisters can be vexing.”

  “I thought they were quite pleasant. Should I worry about Beatrix going off with them?”

  “Not at all. Your sister will be fine. Tell me, does she have any tendencies toward independence or provocation?”

  “Many.” Her eyes glinted with amusement.

  “Then they’ll all get along quite famously.”

  Lady Gresham laughed softly. “I won’t worry, then, while we’re in the garden.” Her gaze shot to his, and she seemed suddenly hesitant. “That is, if you wish to go.”

  “I would be honored to escort you.” He presented his arm and was surprised to find he wasn’t lying, which he would almost assuredly have been with anyone else.

  She put her hand on his sleeve, and he escorted her through the growing throng in the drawing room to the doors that led to the terrace. From there, they descended to the garden, which was larger than one might have expected, owing to the larger width of the house.

  “What a splendid garden,” she said as they walked toward the path that snaked between the beds of flowers and shrubbery as well as his father’s odd collection of statuary. “Is that a giant rabbit?”

  “Yes. My father likes animals, and he commissioned a sculptor to design statues for the garden. Some of them are much larger than he anticipated—all of them, actually—but he ended up liking them. In addition, he didn’t want to hurt the sculptor’s feelings.”

  Lady Gresham lifted her hand to her mouth, but a giggle escaped nonetheless.

  “You find that amusing?”

  “And endearing. Your father sounds rather wonderful.”

  “He is likely better than most. What is your father like?”

  Her expression, alight with humor a moment before, closed up like a flower retreating for the night. “He died so long ago that I don’t remember him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He was eager to learn more but wouldn’t ask. What the devil was going on with him? He’d never taken an interest in a woman like this before. And she was a lady, definitely not the sort of woman he wanted to attach himself to.

  Now he was thinking about attachment? Get a grip, Harry.

  Yet, perhaps because she was a widow, she had no apparent interest in attachment. Maybe that was why he was intrigued. Yes, that was it. He’d simply never met anyone like her.

  She cast him an uncertain glance. “I hope you don’t think I’m too forward, but I wanted to ask you about your investigations.”

  He was grateful for the change in topic to distract his ridiculous thoughts. “Not at all. I’m happy to discuss my work, provided it doesn’t interfere with an investigation. What do you want to know?”

  “I couldn’t help thinking about this Vicar you mentioned the other day. He sounds perfectly horrid. Do you think you’ll ever find and arrest him?”

  They rounded a corner, and Harry paused. A hedge partially obscured them from the house, and they stood in the shadows with just a hint of light finding its way to her eyes, firing them a brilliant blue.

  “I hope so. In addition to arson, he’s likely guilty of usury at least, given his practice of lending money at exorbitant rates. I suspect he also probably owns receiver shops and maybe even flash houses. We’ll find him—and evidence of his crimes.”

  “I wonder if he would lend to a woman,” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Then I could help you catch him.”

  Harry stared at her. “You would do that?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Why not?”

  “Because he’s dangerous.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that I carry a pistol, Mr. Sheffield?” The corner of her mouth ticked up.

  He laughed. “No, actually.” Yes, he quite liked Lady Gresham. Why couldn’t she just be plain old Mrs. Gresham? And without a sister she was trying to launch into Society? “I assume you know how to shoot it?”

  “Quite well, in fact. My brother taught me years ago.”

  “Remarkable. I’d like to see that some time. Mayhap you’re better than me.”

  She flashed a smile that lit her face to glorious effect. “Given your profession, I would doubt that.”

  A thought suddenly occurred to him. No, he couldn’t ask her. And yet, she’d offered to help him. “While I don’t think it would be wise for you to help with the Vicar, there is a way you could help me. If you’re sure you want to.”

  “I think I do.” She sounded almost as surprised as he’d been by her offer. “What would this assistance entail?”

  “Nothing dangerous, I assure you. In fact, you could leave your pistol at home.”

  Her gorgeous eyes twinkled, and he was suddenly quite aware of her hand on his arm. “Never.”

  His gaze dipped to her reticule. “Not even now?”

  “A lady must protect herself,” she said. “Who else will?”

  Something about the way she asked the question sent a chill down his spine. Had she been unprotected? What sort of man had her husband been? Harry had so many questions, and he wasn’t going to ask a single one of them. Not tonight, anyway.

  “You’re an astonishing woman, Lady Gresham,” he said softly. “What I require is someone of your intelligence—and discretion—to conduct a small investigation. I would like you to make an appointment with a fortune-teller.”

  She blinked at him. “Why?”

  “I believe she’s perpetrating some sort of swindle, but she won’t read fortunes for men.”

  “Which is why you need me.” She nodded once. “Where do I go? Wait, you mentioned a fortune-teller when we met.”

  “I did. She sees clients in a room at the back of The Ardent Rose perfumery. Near where we met on The Strand.”

  “You said swindle. What kind, exactly?” Her hold on his arm shifted, her fingers curling around his sleeve more securely. “I mean, what should I expect?”

  “She sells tonics, apparently, and I suspect they are no more than flavored water. If you’re able to purchase one, I’d like to see it and ascertain its contents. If she mentions any charities, I want to know which ones. Beyond that, she’s probably just filling her clients’ heads with enthralling nonsense so that they will return again and again, eager for her ‘counsel.’” He rolled his eyes.

  “You’re skeptical of the mystic arts, then?”

  He barked out a laugh. “There’s no such thing. Don’t tell me you believe in them?”

  “Honestly, I’ve never given the topic much thought. I think I must now, however.” She straightened. “So I will pay this fortune-teller—”

  “Madame Sybila,” he provided.

  Lady Gresham smiled slyly. “Sybila—I believe that name means prophetess. How charming.”

  Harry snorted, then coughed. “Forgive me.”

  “I will visit Madame Sybila and ask her to read my fortune, and I will try to buy a tonic and ask about charities. Then I’ll report to you what occurred?”

  “Exactly. You are going to be rather adept at this, I see.”

  “Perhaps I’ll start my own inquiry office after Beatrix is wed.”

  “You won’t remarry?” The question leapt from his mouth before he could stop it. “That’s none of my concern. You’re just rather…young.” And beautiful and intelligent. And far too engaging to be alone.

  Who the hell was he to judge whether someone should be alone?

  “I’ve been married, Mr. Sheffield. Once was quite enough, thank you.”

  “You weren’t happy?”

  “I wasn’t unhappy. But I find independence more to my liking.”

  He understood that more than she could know. Though he was content to remain in the shadows with Lady Gresham, he started along the path with her once more.

  “I’ll visit the perfumery to inquire about an appointment on Monday,” she said.

  “Thank you. I shall compensate you for your time.�
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  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “It is, and I insist.” He winced inwardly. She was a lady and likely didn’t need the funds. Furthermore, most people of her rank found working for hire to be beneath them. “If you’ll allow it.”

  “I will,” she said softly.

  He slid a glance toward her and saw a smile teasing her mouth. She continued to surprise him. He suppressed the urge to smile in return.

  They walked for a moment, the sounds of the soiree drifting over the garden, before she asked, “How shall I advise you of my progress?”

  He didn’t want anyone at Bow Street to know he was employing a woman to help him, since some would not approve. “Send word to me at number seventeen Rupert Street.”

  “That is your residence?” she asked.

  “Yes, now you know where I live, should you wish to pay a call.” He steered her along the path back toward the house.

  “Given our alliance, it seems I must.”

  “For propriety’s sake, we should probably meet in public—such as at Gunter’s.”

  She laughed. “Despite what you say, you are better at Society rules than I am. I don’t give a fig about propriety, but I suppose I should for Beatrix’s sake. I’ll send word, and then we can meet.”

  He paused near the house. “Name the place and the time, and I’ll be there.”

  Their gazes held for a moment, and he had the distinct impression they’d just been flirting. His sisters would be positively giddy if they knew. Hopefully, they never would.

  “I hope I am able to be of assistance, Mr. Sheffield.”

  “I am certain of it, Lady Gresham, and I am most grateful.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her glove. “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “The pleasure is mine.” She dipped a brief curtsey, which only emphasized the fact that she didn’t really understand the rules at all, and turned to climb the stairs to the terrace.

  Harry watched her go and wondered just where this partnership would take them.

  Chapter 5

  At least four of Madame Sybila’s clients were at the Aylesbury soiree, an occurrence Selina found far too amusing. She’d just “met” Lady Rockbourne, whom she’d seen five or six times in the last month. Petite, with pale blonde hair and light blue eyes, she looked like an angel. However, she had the disposition of a demon. Her appointments with Madame Sybila were full of complaints about her husband and her lust for another man with whom she hoped to begin an affair.

  It was a situation in which Selina strove not to provide an answer but to guide the client, in this case Lady Rockbourne, to reach her own decision. She was fairly certain the viscountess had engaged in the liaison, and having met Lord Rockbourne earlier, Selina hoped she would have the chance to counsel the woman to be faithful to her husband. The viscount had been charming and witty, and Selina didn’t like thinking of the woman’s betrayal.

  Which was odd given that Selina betrayed people all the time. The hypocrisy stung, particularly in the case of Mr. Sheffield, whom she liked very much. He reminded her of Sir Barnabus Gresham, the man whom she’d tried to swindle, but who had found her out and still allowed her to “borrow” his name. She’d grown to like him and regretted her efforts to cheat him. Then he’d been kind and unbelievably generous. That had happened eighteen months ago, and since then, Selina had been slowly losing her ability to remain detached from her marks.

  However, she didn’t know how to support herself and Beatrix without their schemes. Hopefully, Beatrix would secure her father’s support, and Selina would earn enough money during the Season to give up this life and live modestly somewhere. Legitimacy and security were so very close.

  Her gaze fell on Harry’s trio of sisters, who were once again squiring Beatrix about. They’d started the evening that way, and it appeared they’d end it in the same manner. In between, Beatrix had danced and conversed and seemed to have a wonderful time.

  Good. That was the entire point of being here. She was well on her way to becoming precisely what she wanted: the toast of London.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Gresham?”

  Selina turned, and her pulse instantly quickened. But only for a moment, which was how long it took her to realize it wasn’t Mr. Sheffield who’d spoken to her, but his brother, Lord Northwood. They were identical, and if it hadn’t been for the difference in their attire, Selina wondered if she could tell them apart at all.

  “I am, thank you. And you?”

  “I always enjoy the parties my parents host. There is an advantage.” He lowered his voice. “Because I can sneak away quite easily if I feel the need.”

  “I see. Does such a need arise for you frequently?”

  “Not as much as it does for my brother. You’re aware he left some time ago?”

  At least two hours. After their stroll in the garden, he’d come back up to the drawing room, where he’d spoken to a few people. Then he’d come to tell Selina he was leaving, an event that still had her puzzled. It was as if they’d formed some sort of…attachment. But then, she supposed they had. She was working for him. To help him investigate herself. The thought made her simultaneously giddy with satisfaction and nervous with apprehension.

  But it was perhaps more than business. There was something in the way he looked at her, the way he felt beneath her palm as they’d promenaded, the way he’d kissed her hand.

  They way they’d almost flirted.

  That’s nothing new, she reminded herself. You flirt when you have to.

  And given how things were working out with the Bow Street Runner, it had clearly been beneficial. Yet, she hadn’t done it on purpose.

  “Yes, he was kind enough to bid me good evening before he left,” Selina said, answering the viscount.

  Northwood’s brows arched. “Did he? How fascinating. How is it you two met?”

  Mr. Sheffield hadn’t told him? “I tripped in front of him, actually. On The Strand. He caught me before I fell.”

  “How dashing.” Northwood chuckled. “No wonder he didn’t tell us. Delia will be delighted to hear the tale, unless she was able to pry it from him before he left. Somehow, I think she didn’t. Harry is notoriously closemouthed.”

  “About everything?”

  “Most things. Our family can be rather, ah, boisterous. Harry is probably the least so.” He shook his head. “Not probably, definitely. Which isn’t to say he doesn’t get up to mischief. He’s just incredibly subtle about it. What is your family like, Lady Gresham?”

  “Small. It’s only me and Beatrix.” Her gaze went to where she stood with Northwood’s sisters. “Your sisters have been very kind to her this evening.”

  “They love to help people, particularly young ladies trying to navigate London. And find husbands.”

  It seemed to Selina that Mr. Sheffield’s family was perhaps playing matchmaker. She knew Lady Aylesbury wanted him—and his brother Northwood—to wed. It was almost all she talked about when she came to see Madame Sybila to discuss the future.

  Selina was glad to see Beatrix, escorted by the sisters, coming toward her. After thanking Mr. Sheffield’s siblings for a wonderful evening, Selina and Beatrix departed.

  Once they were ensconced in the vehicle Selina had hired for the evening, she removed the ostrich feathers from her hair so she could sit without bowing her head. “That went well.”

  “It was better than well. It was marvelous.” Beatrix positively beamed.

  “You were quite popular this evening,” Selina said.

  “I was, wasn’t I? I do think Mr. Sheffield’s sisters will help me with a voucher for Almack’s.”

  “That would be lovely. However, don’t place all your faith in them. We must still cultivate other connections. Identifying such people is part of what I’m doing as Madame Sybila.”

  “I know it’s your nature never to trust anyone, but I do believe they are earnest in their pledge to help. You should relax a bit, like you did around Mr. Sheffield.�
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  Selina turned her head to stare at Beatrix. “What makes you say that?”

  Beatrix shrugged. “Just something I noticed. And don’t try to say I couldn’t know. Of course I could. I know you better than anyone.”

  That was true. “I find it necessary to be as relaxed as possible around Mr. Sheffield. He is a means to an end—launching you successfully—and we are now working together.”

  Angling her body toward Selina, Beatrix gaped at her. “You’re what?”

  “I’m helping him investigate Madame Sybila.”

  Beatrix blinked. “You’re helping him…investigate…you.” She began to laugh, softly at first, and then her guffaws filled the coach.

  Selina couldn’t help but join in, even as she felt a slight discomfort. After a moment, she said, “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

  “How can I not? It’s too perfect. However did you manage it?”

  “Quite easily, actually.”

  Beatrix settled back against the seat. “I’m sure. You could talk the devil into handing you hell. How do you plan to work this situation?”

  “I’ll meet with Madame Sybila and then tell Mr. Sheffield what I’ve learned. I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed to learn she’s incredibly harmless.” Selina ran her fingertips along one of the ostrich feathers. “We need to create the appearance of the charity for wayward children, as we’ve done in the past. Sheffield mentioned charities tonight in reference to Madame Sybila.”

  In the past, they’d collected funds for charities as a means of income. On occasion, they had to make the fake charity look real, and they hired someone to act as the proprietor of whatever endeavor they were “supporting.” In this case, it was a home for wayward children.

  “You already have someone in mind to help us.”

  “I do, and I’ll visit him tomorrow.” Selina didn’t have very many connections in London after so much time away, but she had Mrs. Kinnon and a boy who’d been a good friend to her and Rafe. Of course, Luther was no longer a boy.