A Secret Surrender, page 20
“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.
Imogen looked up at their mother from the settee where she sat with her husband. “Will Lady Gresham be joining us?” She darted a look toward Harry, which told him they’d continued their matchmaking efforts—at least among themselves.
“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.
“Mr. Winter, what sorts of things do you need?”
“Clothing, books, money for food, and the other items I mentioned. Also for medicine. Mrs. Winter is now fetching a tonic, which is an extra expense.”
“And you manage all this yourself, all these children—how many are there again?” Rachel asked.
“Fourteen today,” Luther said. “The number varies. Some children don’t stay. They don’t believe they will be cared for here.” His tone was sad and appropriately heart wrenching.
“So they leave?” someone asked, sounding aghast. “How can we stop that?”
“I’m not sure.” Luther gave the woman a bright smile. “We do our best. Any funds you donate go entirely to the children. I work as a blacksmith. However, it’s becoming more difficult to maintain that work while I help Mrs. Winter care for the children. And we do hope to train them for domestic service.”
“You can’t keep working at the smithy,” Lady Aylesbury said. “We must start a subscription so you will have a steady income. Then you can focus your efforts entirely on the children. I wonder if we might take a tour of the home to see what we could do to improve your situation?”
“Yes, of course. I can answer any of your questions, as can Millie.” Luther gestured to the girl next to him. She was one of the oldest, maybe twelve.
Selina had said they didn’t want to accept a subscription—because this wasn’t real. But what if it was? What if she truly started a home for wayward children? The idea seeded in her mind.
Luther left the parlor, and most of the women filed out after him before the loud slam of a door crashed from the back of the house.
Selina hoped that was just one of the children. “Would you like me to check on that, Mr. Winter?”
“Yes, please,” he called from halfway up the stairs. The women following him continued on their way. However, the two that had not—Harry’s sisters, Rachel and Imogen—stayed behind with Selina.
“You go on ahead,” Selina urged. “I’ve seen the home before.”
“Are you sure you don’t need assistance?” Imogen asked.
“No, thank—”
Selina was interrupted by the arrival of Theresa, who’d swept in from the back of the house. Her dark hair was partially up, but lank strands hung around her face and neck. She looked pale except for the dark purple circles under her bloodshot eyes. “I forgot ’tis fancy lady day!”
She was still drunk. Blast it all! Selina rushed toward her, making sure to use the walking stick and maintain her slight hunch. “Mrs. Winter, my goodness, you look as if you’ve become ill yourself. Likely from tending to the sick child. Let me help you upstairs.”
“We can help her,” Rachel offered, coming toward them.
Theresa turned on Selina. “I don’t want your ’elp. Luther’s always going on ’bout you. ’Ow smart you are, ’ow pretty you are, ’ow—”
Selina took her walking stick and moved it atop Theresa’s foot, pressing gently—for now. “Mrs. Winter, you sound as if you’re feverish. Best to be quiet and go get some rest.”
Theresa glared at Selina. “I’m feverish, awright.” She lunged toward Selina, reaching for the veil.
Horrified, Selina reacted quickly—too quickly. She jerked back to avoid having the veil torn from her face, and in so doing, lost her balance. Rather than try to remain upright, she used her stick to take Theresa down with her.
Rolling so she was closer to Theresa, Selina whispered, “If you ruin this, you get nothing. Just go upstairs to your room and stay out of sight.”
Theresa’s eyes widened briefly. Then Imogen helped her up while Rachel crouched down beside Selina.
“Are you all right, Madame Sybila?” Rachel asked with concern.
“Oh, yes, I’m fine. Poor Mrs. Winter needs to lie down, I’m afraid. We should see her upstairs.”
“I can do that,” Imogen said.
As Rachel helped Selina to stand, Selina’s hat teetered. She felt her veil begin to shift. Moving more adroitly than she probably should have, Selina righted herself, then readjusted her hat to keep herself covered lest Rachel see beneath the veil. Though Selina wore cosmetics, she worried Rachel would still recognize her.
Rachel retrieved the walking stick and handed it to Selina. “You’re sure you’re all right? That was quite a fall.”
Selina had landed on her hip, and it did hurt. She prayed Harry’s sister hadn’t seen anything that would lead her to the truth. God, this was becoming completely untenable. “I’m fine, thank you.” She would be fine as soon as this bloody excursion was over. If she hadn’t already decided Madame Sybila needed to go, she would have done now.
Hopefully, Beatrix would find success today, and they would be that much closer to having what they needed. Selina would do one more week as Madame Sybila and then be finished.
The rest of the visit transpired without further incident, and by the time the ladies left, Selina was in desperate need of a glass of whatever wine or alcohol Luther had in the house. “All I have is gin,” he said when she asked.
“Then gin it is.” Selina dashed upstairs to change out of her costume. When she returned to the sitting room at the back of the house, her disguise stashed in a portmanteau save the walking stick, which she’d left upstairs, Luther was there with two glasses of gin as well as the bottle.
He handed a glass to Selina as she set down the portmanteau and her bonnet, then tapped it with his. “To a successful afternoon.”
Selina let out a sharp laugh before taking a fortifying drink. She winced slightly, for she hadn’t drunk gin in some time. “I hope it was successful. Theresa almost bloody ruined everything.”
“I heard the commotion. What happened?”
“She came in drunk and blathering. She called you Luther and went on about—” Selina stopped herself. She didn’t want to tell him what Theresa had said and invite any discussion about how Luther might feel about her.
