able to protect her. He’d certainly come out all right. Better than she could have dreamed. But what had it cost him? She wasn’t sure and didn’t know if he’d ever reveal the truth to her.
He had, however, helped her find Luther, and she was most grateful. It was a small thing to do this for Harry, but she was glad for the chance. She knew nothing could ever erase her betrayal. Hopefully, this would help him. That was all she wanted.
Rafe, who’d tracked down Luther’s hiding spot, had offered to come with her this evening, but she’d said Harry would meet her. Besides, if Rafe came, it was likely that Harry would find out he was the Vicar. Since Rafe had decided to permanently retire his other identity, they’d agreed it was best he stayed in Mayfair as Raphael Bowles.
The Duck and Swan backed up to the Fleet Ditch. A covered porch jutted into the street, making the space in front of it even narrower than the rest of the lane. Prostitutes loitered outside. One had just snagged a customer and drew him inside with a leer.
Selina felt the familiar weight of her pistol in her reticule and took a deep breath. She wasn’t afraid, just a bit nervous. Though she’d dressed in plain, serviceable clothes—the black she wore as Madame Sybila—she still felt as though she stuck out.
She walked inside, where lanterns illuminated the busy common room. It was barely dusk, but it would have been quite dark in here without them. The ceiling was low, and there were no windows. There were also a great many people. Some sat in groups laughing or arguing. Others stood together, tankards dangling from their fingertips.
Selina moved to the side so she could survey the room to see if Luther was present. It was likely he was upstairs somewhere if he was trying to remain out of sight. Which it seemed he was, since Harry hadn’t been able to find him. Did Luther know Bow Street was looking for him?
“What are you doing here?”
Turning sharply, Selina saw Luther frowning at her, his dark brows forming a vicious V on his wide forehead. He’d come from a doorway that was just behind him.
“Looking for you,” she said.
He grinned at her. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Still, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not the safest of places. Let us get out of the main room.” He put his arm around her waist and led her to the door he’d come from. “Do you need another favor?”
She extricated herself from his embrace and moved into the room. “No. What I need is to understand what happened four years ago, when my brother supposedly died.”
Luther grimaced as he joined her inside. “Rafe made me promise not to tell you.”
“So he said.” She didn’t hide her irritation. “Did you start the fire?”
Glancing furtively into the common room, Luther pulled her farther into the small private dining chamber, to the other side of the table. Like the common room, it was windowless but also lit with lanterns, two to be precise. “Careful what you say around here, Lina.”
She took her hand from his. “Please don’t call me that.” She was Selina now. Or Lady Gresham, and only because she had to be if Beatrix were to achieve her goal. Lina and Madame Sybila were dead.
“Your wish is my command.” He held out a chair at the rectangular table.
She didn’t want to sit. Moreover, she didn’t want to give the indication she was staying. Where the devil was Harry?
She clasped her hands together, her reticule hanging from her wrist against her thigh. “Tell me about the fire.”
Luther exhaled, and he let go of the chair. “Yes, I started the fire. Partridge was a menace—Rafe wasn’t the only one who wanted him dead.”
“But you knew Rafe was going to kill him.”
He slowly nodded. “I had a chance to improve my lot, and I took it. A gentleman of influence asked me to kill Partridge by starting a fire.”
Selina took a step toward the table and put one hand on the back of a chair. “If you knew Partridge was going to be dead already, why start a fire that would kill innocents?” The boy she’d known would never have willingly hurt innocent people—children. But maybe he wasn’t the boy she’d known. None of them were the same, and why would they be?
His eyes hardened. “The Runner paid me a hefty sum to burn it down.”