A Secret Surrender - Darcy Burke Page 0,47

I thought you would want to come along,” he said.

She took a step toward him. “Why do you need to go there?”

“An informer has asked to meet me there. He has information about the fire.”

“Indeed? That’s wonderful.”

He could see her enthusiasm and suppressed a smile. “Don’t feel too encouraged. Most information I receive is useless, but I shall hope this will be one time it is not.”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “How can I help?”

“I’m not sure. If nothing else, I just thought it would be nice to escort you—and Miss Whitford. I’ve heard it’s the nicest garden in Clerkenwell, that it’s been recently refurbished. There’s a new building with supper boxes and an orchestra. Fireworks too.”

“It sounds lovely. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Your sister suggested I invite Rachel and her husband to come along with us. For appearances.”

She gave him an arch look. “Do you have something planned?”

Harry walked slowly toward her. A dark heat sparked in her eyes that fueled his sudden desire. “Nothing specific. Perhaps we can strategize my investigation into the fire. I plan to conduct some interviews with witnesses and neighbors.” He stopped before he touched her, but only barely.

“That seems an excellent notion. Your commitment to solving this is commendable,” she added softly.

Was she pressing him or was his conscience doing so? He’d studied the law and moved to become a constable because he believed in truth and justice. And perhaps he had been blinded by emotion four years ago—and ever since.

“I lost someone in that fire,” he whispered.

Surprised flickered in the depths of her eyes. “Did you?” A moment passed before she said, “You won’t find them now.”

The frustration from earlier with Madame Sybila mixed with the old sensation of loss and anger. He had been a hermit. “I’m not looking for her.”

Harry’s body thrummed with the need to touch her. He lifted his hand to caress her cheek, but she tipped her head to the side, a spark flashing in her eyes.

“What are you looking for, Mr. Sheffield?”

“You.”

She took his hand—the one that remained at his side—entwining her fingers through his. Straightening, she closed the bare distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

He put his hand on her then, cupping her neck as he claimed her mouth. He was looking for her. He wanted her. Desperately. As the bloody fortune-teller’s words echoed in his mind, he clasped Selina to him and pushed the barriers around him away.

Selina’s hand curled around his neck, her fingers digging into his nape, as she kissed him back. Or he kissed her back—she’d started this.

Had she? He didn’t know. There didn’t seem to be a beginning. There would, however, be an end.

Harry pulled away, his breath coming fast.

“I’d be delighted to assist you in your investigation, Mr. Sheffield,” she said somewhat huskily. “My ‘associate’ skills are at your disposal.”

He stepped back. “I’m pleased to hear it. I’ll fetch you tomorrow evening to go to Spring Hollow.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He began to pivot toward the door, but stopped. Turning his head, he said, “Call me Harry. At least when we’re alone.”

“Harry?” His name from her lips was an aphrodisiac. He was sorely tempted to take her in his arms again.

“Yes?”

“I wonder if I might trouble you with something. The flue—” She glanced toward the fireplace. “It’s stuck, and we can’t light a fire.”

“Allow me.” He removed his coat and laid it over the back of the settee. Her gaze moved over him appreciatively. He strove to ignore it lest he decide to kiss her again.

He went to the fireplace and knelt on the hearth.

“It’s on the right,” she said helpfully.

He reached in and found the lever. Gripping the mechanism, he pulled hard, but it didn’t budge. Exhaling, he redoubled his efforts, and at last, it moved. Soot and ash fell, coating his hand and arm. “Got it.” He leaned back and stood.

“Thank you.” She looked at his blackened hand. “Goodness, you’re covered in soot.”

“To be expected.”

“Let me get you something to clean up.” She departed the sitting room, but came back rather quickly. “I should have sent for water and toweling before. My apologies.”

“It’s fine, Selina.” He laughed softly at her fussing. “You must have been a very good wife.”

Pink stained her cheeks, and she abruptly turned and left, making him wonder if he’d said something wrong. Perhaps she still missed her husband.

She returned a few minutes later with a cloth and a bowl of water. She handed him the former and