Selina winced. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
“You’re an expert liar, but even you can’t believe that,” Beatrix said on a laugh. “Can’t we afford someone better?”
“It isn’t that,” Selina said. “We need people we can trust, and Mrs. Vining and Martha are friends of Mrs. Kinnon. Also, no, we can’t.”
Beatrix frowned at the fireplace. “We don’t need a ladies’ maid. We’ve been taking care of each other for years. Forever, really.”
“I know, but we pay them very little, and their presence gives us credibility. Besides, not everything is inedible.”
Beatrix narrowed her eyes. “Mrs. Vining doesn’t make the cheese.”
Selina laughed. She was shocked that she had that in her at this particular moment. Beatrix smiled in return.
Turning so that she could look at Beatrix, Selina took a deep breath. “What is the plan when you reveal yourself to your father?”
“He’ll be overjoyed to have me back in his life, of course, and will provide me with an allowance, upon which we can comfortably live.” They both knew that might not happen. “If he doesn’t acknowledge me, even privately, I’ll rob him blind,” Beatrix said, addressing the unspoken. “Either way, we’ll be secure.”
Selina nearly laughed again. “I’ve no doubt you could do exactly that. You can’t help yourself.”
Beatrix lifted a shoulder. “Well, that’s true.”
Standing, Selina smoothed the gauze overlay of her gown. “We need a new plan. I can’t continue as Madame Sybila much longer. Harry—Sheffield—is relentless.”
Understanding bloomed in Beatrix’s face. “‘Harry’? You kissed him, didn’t you? That’s why you’re acting funny.”
“That hardly matters.” Selina wasn’t entirely sure why she didn’t just confirm what Beatrix had guessed, but surmised it was because of the unsettling emotions she felt toward him. She was normally quite good at keeping such things buried. That she couldn’t seem to do that with Harry was beyond troublesome.
Selina continued. “As I was saying, I can’t continue as Madame Sybila. I could go back to the East End and change my disguise and name, but we won’t earn enough to support your Season.”
Beatrix fixed her with a steady stare. “We have other options. If you’ll let me.”
“Trix, if you get caught—”
“I won’t.”
“You were once.”
Beatrix scowled. “And it worked out fine. Someday, you’ll stop bringing that up. I hope.” She relaxed her features. “I won’t get caught. Will you let me do this? It’s my bloody Season anyway. I should pay for it.”
“Stick to jewelry only. That’s easiest to fence and garners the most money.”
“What about actual money?”
Selina half smiled. “I will never say no to that. That’s the simplest to make use of.”
“I can start tonight,” Beatrix, said, referring to the rout they planned to attend
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks.” Selina hated asking her to take any risk at all, particularly since she hoped to make a life in London.
“Meaning, don’t pick pockets. Don’t worry, I’ll steal from the house.” Beatrix gave her a reassuring nod. “Now, what about Harry?”
“Don’t pester me about him.” Selina scrunched up her forehead. “There’s nothing between us. I’m merely keeping him close.”
“I meant, what are you going to do to keep him at bay. I should have been more specific.”
Selina resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Beatrix’s droll tone. “At Lady Aylesbury’s next meeting with Madame Sybila, the countess will suggest a visit to the Home for Wayward Children. Madame Sybila will agree, and hopefully, that will be the end of Sheffield’s investigation. If it is not, then Madame Sybila will be called away to care for a sick family member.” This was the manner in which Selina’s various fortune-teller identities left their situations.
“That sounds reasonable,” Beatrix said. “You still want me to move forward with our alternative plan tonight?”
An uneasiness crept over Selina, but she attributed it to her encounters with Harry. He’d angered her as Madame Sybila earlier, and she’d been shocked to find him here afterward. Shocked enough to walk straight into his embrace and then ask for his help. “I think we must.”
A familiar gleam sparked in Beatrix’s eyes. She couldn’t help stealing things, so when she was able to do so on purpose, she felt…right. Selina hated asking her to do it. Surely it was better if she didn’t, and not just because of the risk.
She was being foolish. This was how they’d survived the last twelve years—swindling and stealing, doing whatever was required to ensure their safety and independence. That Selina had grown to find it distasteful didn’t change the necessity of it. She shook off the sensation of feeling trapped.
“You could indulge,” Beatrix said cautiously. “You deserve something—someone—diverting.”
In Selina’s estimation, people rarely got what they deserved in this life.
After fetching Selina and her sister the following evening, Harry had been forced to ride to Spring Hollow on top of the coach with the coachman due to space. Harry jumped down upon their arrival and paid the entrance fee to the gardens for their entire party. When he finished, everyone had already departed the coach.
“Well, it’s not Vauxhall, but it’s still exciting,” Miss Whitford said with a smile as they approached the gate.
“Consider it a prelude to Vauxhall,” Rachel said. She had been delighted to come along this evening. Nathaniel seemed less enthused, but then this wasn’t the type of entertainment he typically enjoyed. He preferred a healthy debate over a good port. Nevertheless, he would do anything to please his wife, whom he adored.
All of Harry’s sisters had married well, finding love and even partnership. In some ways, that contributed to Harry’s reluctance to wed. He wouldn’t settle for less than that. Of course, his family would argue that he never gave anyone a chance to see if such a union was even possible. But maybe that would change. His gaze fell on Selina.
Her golden-brown hair was styled impeccably, with saucy curls framing her face. The elegant line of her jaw and high cheekbones seemed even more pronounced tonight, setting her apart from every other woman he’d known. Dressed in a light-blue evening gown trimmed in black with a silvery gauze overskirt, she looked almost ethereal, like something from a dream that he couldn’t actually touch. But he could touch her. He had touched her. And he intended to touch her again.
Harry moved to offer her and Miss Whitford his arms. “May I escort you both inside?”
“Yes, please,” Miss Whitford answered, sliding her hand around his arm.
Selina didn’t respond, but her eyes met his, and he saw an intensity that must surely be a reflection of what he was feeling. And what was that? Anticipation. Excitement. Desire.
They entered through the wide gate and followed the path to the main area were people milled about. The newly constructed supper boxes were on the left side and stood two stories. On the opposite side of the large open cobbled space was the covered orchestra. Music filled the air, and the dance floor—a clearly marked space near the orchestra—was more than half full.