A Secret Surrender - Darcy Burke Page 0,75
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.
The danger of Harry finding out she was the fortune-teller was too great. If Rachel told him what had just happened, he would surely investigate Theresa, Luther, and Sybila more intently than ever.
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.
“I had to knock her down to shut her up.”
Luther chuckled. “Just as terrifying as you were when we were children.” His eyes glowed with admiration, making Selina uncomfortable. Yes, she’d had to exert her physical prowess in the past—she’d been taller than all the other girls, and it had helped—but she didn’t do that anymore. She hadn’t in a very long time.
“I’m not really,” Selina said, taking another sip of gin and then setting the glass down. She picked up her hat and veil from the chair where she’d placed them.
Luther touched her forearm. “I don’t care who you are—a fortune-teller, a Society lady, or the girl I’ve known nearly my whole life. I know you.”
Selina jerked away from him. “You don’t know me at all. It’s been eighteen years since