A Secret Surrender - Darcy Burke Page 0,44
to The Ardent Rose, I had a room near Cornhill. Mrs. Winter came to see me. She can’t have children and hoped I could help her.”
“With one of your tonics, maybe?” Harry was glad for the opportunity to ask about them.
“No,” she said coolly. “I don’t offer such things. She wanted to know if the future held children for her. The cards said yes, and I suggested she help some of the lost children in the neighborhood.”
“Lost children?”
“Those without parents or a means to support themselves. Those who, without love and kindness, would be forced along a path that could end prematurely. As a lost child myself, I understand their plight and do what I can to help.”
A lost child who now told fortunes. Perhaps because she had no other way in life. It was certainly better than the choices many girls were forced to make if they had no family and no means. Harry couldn’t help but think of Mercy. Yes, he could understand the fortune-teller’s desire to provide support. If they were, in fact, doing as they purported. Which it seemed they were.
Still, Harry would investigate every piece, just as he’d told Selina he would. “Where was your room near Cornhill?”
“Finch Lane, but if your plan is to go and find my landlord, he’ll pretend I never lived there. When he found out what I do, he insisted I leave.”
That was bloody convenient. Harry would still poke around the neighborhood and see what he could learn. “Surely you realize your profession is questionable.”
“Your repeated presence here supports that, yes.” She sounded beleaguered.
“Forgive me, Madame Sybila, but in my experience, women like you are frauds at best and criminals at worst. I’m trying to determine which one you are.”
“There is no room in your estimation for an honest woman simply trying to make her way? Or is prostitution the only acceptable choice for lost children like me?”
He heard the edge of a taunt in her voice and gritted his teeth. “Of course it isn’t. If Mr. Winter is what he purports to be and you are earnestly supporting him, I would be delighted. But I will make sure that’s what is happening.” He leaned forward and could have sworn he smelled that orange-honeysuckle scent again, but it had to have lingered with him from before. Because Selina was ever present in his mind, even when he was bloody working.
Refocusing, he tried to see through the thick black veil, but couldn’t. “If I find you are fleecing my mother or her friends, such as Mrs. Mapleton-Lowther, I’ll make sure you’re prosecuted and imprisoned.”
“I happen to like your mother—and her friends. Your mother is particularly devoted to your happiness. I hope you realize and appreciate that. Family should never be taken for granted.” Her words carved into him. Did he do that? She continued, “I provide a service to them that they desire. It is not harmful. On the contrary, I think it helps them in some way, and I am glad to do so.”
Harry sat back in the chair, frustration roiling inside him. “Helps them how?”
“You’d have to ask them, and you should. Perhaps then you’ll understand.” Now she leaned forward, and he had the sense she was as agitated as he was. “And stop meddling in their affairs.”
Meddling? He stood. It was time for authority. “I’m conducting an investigation, Madame Sybila, and I would appreciate your full cooperation. Where do you live now?”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “I don’t think I need to tell you that,” she said softly. “For my personal safety, you understand.”
She was afraid of him? He didn’t believe that for a moment. For some reason, he believed Madame Sybila was quite capable of taking care of herself. She’d survived this long. How long was that exactly? “How old are you, Madame Sybila?”
“Old enough to know I won’t be intimidated by you, Mr. Sheffield.” She picked up the cards and turned three over in quick succession. She gestured to the first one “The Hermit—this is you. It means you are contemplative and you seek truth, excellent traits for a man of investigation. However, this card is reversed.” It was upside-down from his perspective, while the other two cards were not. “So instead, this means you are lonely, isolated.” She looked up at him.
His entire body had tensed when she’d turned the cards over. He wanted to argue that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t. Because it was, at least partly.
“This card is