A Secret Surrender - Darcy Burke Page 0,85
for Wayward Children when he’d gone to check on it. The two young women—one tall and one short—who’d visited Madame Sybila on Finch Lane. His father had sent him a note the other day saying Rachel had witnessed bizarre behavior by Mrs. Winter and the fortune-teller during her visit to the house on Ivy Lane.
The regret in her eyes told him everything he needed to know but never wanted to.
“When I—Madame Sybila—told you I was a lost child, it was the truth. I lived on the streets of East London until my brother sent me away to boarding school. There, I met Beatrix—she isn’t really my sister.” Selina twisted her hands together. “Not by blood. We had only each other, and ever since then, I’ve done whatever I had to in order to care for her. Would it help you to know that I actually do give money to charities, particularly those that help children?” The truth, if that was what it was, tumbled from her mouth like an avalanche.
“No.” The word came cold and hard, like one of the rocks from the avalanche striking the ground and leaving a crater. “You’re a thief and a fraud. You stole from my mother. And her friends.” He wanted to rail at her. More than that, he wanted details. “Tell me about the Home for Wayward Children.”
“It was a fraud, as you presumed. Winter is an old friend, and his wife… I didn’t know her at all. He hired her to help.”
Everything had been carefully constructed. She’d done this before. “The children?”
“Also hired. I gave them extra money when I sent them home.”
Harry stared at her. “Your ruthlessness knows no bounds.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand. You couldn’t. You’re the son of an earl. You’ve never wanted for anything.” Her voice rose in anguish, but he was unmoved.
“That excuses nothing. You’re a liar and a thief. Tell me about the jewelry you stole.”
She stiffened. “Madame Sybila doesn’t earn enough to pay for a successful Season. Beatrix has a—a problem with taking things, which, in times of need, has proven helpful.”
“So you take advantage of her problem?” He realized he shouted the question. Taking a breath, he worked to calm his anger. “Where is the jewelry now?”
Her features were impassive. “Gone. I fenced it all.”
He swore under his breath. “I want an accounting of where and when. You will hope that I can recover it. Send it to me at Bow Street as soon as possible.”
“Are you going to arrest us?”
Harry wiped his hand over his face. “I should.” There was so much more he wanted to ask, to say, but he couldn’t think past his fury and humiliation. She’d completely deceived him. He was an utter fool. Heart hammering, he pinned her with a dark stare. “Don’t run—I’ll find you.” Anguish cut through him, a knife cleaving his flesh. “Damn you, Selina.”
To think, he’d not only believed her, he’d been captivated by her. She was the first woman he’d imagined spending his life with. What did that say about him?
Reeling with self-disgust, he spun on his heel and stalked from the sitting room.
Selina stood frozen, unable to move. The sound of the front door slamming made her twitch. The room closed in around her, making her feel as if she were already in a jail. But hadn’t she been for some time? She thought she had control, choice, the ability to forge her own future.
Instead, she was trapped by her past. At least in her mind.
A sob rose in her throat, and her eyes burned. No, no, no. After all this time, all this hurt… Now, she would cry?
Selina went back to the settee, where the memory of his hands and mouth on her provoked a profound emptiness. She’d never know that sense of belonging, that bone-deep joy she’d shared with him again. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the cushion.
Hot tears snaked down her cheeks. She couldn’t breathe.
“Selina?”
Beatrix’s soft voice somehow broke through Selina’s pain. Then Beatrix was beside her on the settee, her hand on Selina’s back, gently stroking as she laid her head on Selina’s shoulder.
“What happened?”
Selina didn’t want to say. No, she couldn’t. That was different. So she wiped her face and turned her head to look at Beatrix. “Where were you?” She’d told Harry that Beatrix was upstairs, but that, like so many things she’d said to him, was a lie.
Beatrix lifted a shoulder. “Just out.”
“Were you spying