Rachel’s husband pulled out a chair for his wife, saying, “What an exciting evening so far!”
Smiling, Rachel glanced up at her husband as she sat. “Yes, and I’m so looking forward to hearing about how Mr. Bowles acquired the gardens.” She looked toward Selina and Beatrix, who were still standing. “As well as how it is we didn’t know you had a brother, Lady Gresham and Miss Whitford.”
Beatrix lifted her hand to her temple. “Actually, I think the fireworks have given me a headache.” She looked to Selina. “Would you mind if we went home?”
Good girl, Selina thought. “Not at all.” She looked to Harry. “I don’t want to disturb your evening. We can get a hack.”
“Nonsense.” Rafe had returned, drawing everyone’s attention. “I’ll see you both home.” He turned to a footman and spoke in low tones. The liveried man departed, and Rafe addressed everyone once more. “My coach is being brought round.”
“Thank you,” Beatrix said with a faint smile.
Rafe inclined his head toward Rachel, Nathaniel, and Harry. “Please enjoy the rest of your evening. You’ll be well taken care of.”
Selina let go of Harry’s arm. “I’ll see you soon,” she murmured.
He regarded her with a mix of disappointment and regret. “Yes, soon, I hope.”
After everyone said good night, Rafe gestured for Selina and Beatrix to precede him from the box. They walked in silence from the gardens.
When they were outside awaiting the coach, Selina finally relaxed. She turned to Beatrix. “Thank you.”
“It seemed as though we should organize our story before we had to share it. Sheffield’s sister is as curious as they come.” Beatrix rolled her eyes.
“You’re quite adept at diverting the conversation, however,” Selina said with a measure of pride. Beatrix was a master of changing topics and delighting people with witty observations instead of answering intrusive questions. It was both a skill and a defense employed to keep people from getting too close.
“Thank you,” Beatrix said as a coach stopped in front of them.
Large and obviously new, with cobalt lacquer and a pair of gorgeously matched bays, the vehicle had clearly cost a great sum. Rafe told the coachman where they were going.
“You own these gardens and this coach?” Beatrix asked without a hint of subtlety. “Selina, your brother’s bloody rich.”
“So it would seem,” Selina murmured.
Rafe helped them both up into the coach. “Take the forward-facing seat.” He then climbed in after them and situated himself on the rear-facing seat, taking his hat off and setting it down beside him.
The coach began to move, and Selina settled herself back against the soft leather of the squab. Rafe’s wealth enveloped her, but she felt no bitterness. She couldn’t imagine what he’d had to do to earn this much. Considering the path he’d been on when he’d sent her from London, it couldn’t have been good.
Rafe fixed on Beatrix. “Why did you steal the bracelet?”
“You saw that?” Beatrix asked, a smile teasing her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”
“You aren’t,” Selina said. “Rafe just never misses anything. And he’s probably the only person who can pick a pocket better than you.”
“Is that pride I hear?” Rafe asked with a chuckle. “Back when we were children, I recall your fingers being as adept as mine—and much smaller, so you were able to filch things I couldn’t.”
“Selina taught me everything I know.” Beatrix briefly patted Selina’s hand.
“Beatrix was not born into this life as we were,” Selina explained.
Rafe’s brow creased for a fleeting moment. “We weren’t born into it either.”
Selina didn’t remember anything else, but Rafe recalled snippets of their life before their “uncle” had brought them to London. He remembered their parents, their cheerful father, who had started teaching Rafe to ride, and their kind mother, with her bright blonde hair and love of reading, which Rafe had inherited. He’d made sure to teach Selina, which had set her apart from all the other children they’d grown up with.
“We may as well have been,” Selina murmured. “She stole the bracelet because she likes pretty things.”
Rafe transferred his gaze to Beatrix. “It’s only a matter of time before you’re caught.”
Beatrix shrugged, her shoulder brushing Selina’s. “I haven’t been yet.”
“Have you tried to pass yourself off as a Society miss before?” Rafe asked, arching a brow.
“On occasion, yes.”
“But not in London. People will watch you more closely here.”
“Not at a pleasure garden,” Beatrix said defensively.
“Ah, well, if that’s the only place you’re doing it…” His tone clearly said he didn’t believe that.
Selina sat up straighter. “Enough. You officially pass the sibling test.” She frowned at Rafe, then cast Beatrix a quelling look. “On that note, I said we haven’t seen you in eighteen years, Rafe, and just once before since we returned to London two months ago.”
“You kept to the truth. As I said earlier, you always were very smart.”
She didn’t want to feel pleased by his compliment, but she did nonetheless. Pleasing him had been her chief objective before he’d sent her away. “I also told them Beatrix and I were sent to boarding school. And in the past, I’ve told Harry—Sheffield—that I am an orphan and was raised by family. A poor one at that.” Rafe studied her closely. She added, “I didn’t specify what sort of family.”
“You seem quite close with Sheffield,” Rafe said slowly.
“I said that I planned to keep him close. He’s reinvestigating the fire on Saffron Hill. That’s progress, isn’t it?”
Rafe crossed his arms over his chest. “It is indeed. I’d hoped to make further progress with him tonight, but Beatrix ruined the plan with her pickpocketing.”
Beatrix scowled at him, and Selina gave her another sharp look before turning her gaze to Rafe. “What was your plan?”
“One of my men was going to share information I’ve learned with your Runner. The denizens of Saffron Hill were told to say the Vicar set that fire.”
“By whom?”
“That I don’t know yet, but someone who frightens them. If your Runner goes digging, I doubt he’ll strike treasure.”
Selina gave him a level stare. “He’s not my Runner.”
“If you say so.” Rafe unfolded his arms, and the movement made him seem larger than his already imposing presence. He commanded the interior of the coach. If he’d been anyone else, Selina might feel threatened. Perhaps. Long ago, she’d vowed not to let men intimidate her.
“How will you get the information to him now?” Selina asked.
“I spoke to one of my men before we left. He’ll ensure the message is delivered before Sheffield leaves the gardens.”
Selina thought of when Rafe had gone to talk to one of the footmen. “You—and the Vicar—have a loyal following.”