“Have I? You still sound a bit skeptical.”
“My mother plans to bring some friends to see it—on Friday, I think she said. She invited me to come along, but I declined. I don’t want her knowing I’ve already been here.”
“Because then she’d know you’re spying on her activities.”
Harry offered her his arm. “Shall we walk?”
“Please.” She curled her hand around his sleeve and moved next to him, instantly reminding him of why she’d been ever present in his mind since Saturday evening. And before that, really.
“I’m not spying. I’m investigating. Because I care about her.”
“Also because your father asked.” When Harry exhaled sharply, she laughed softly. “You’re trying to be a good son. That’s hard when your parents are at odds. Perhaps you should tell your father to conduct his own investigations. Indeed, perhaps he should accompany your mother on Friday.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Harry should have thought of it himself. “I’ll mention it to him at dinner on Thursday.” He looked at her profile, admiring her beauty—and her heart. “What prompted you to take another donation to Mr. Winter today?”
She didn’t answer immediately, as if she were choosing her words. “As an orphan, I suppose their plight affects me more deeply than most.”
“Surely your situation was different, though.” He felt her stiffen.
“I prefer to leave the past where it belongs—in the past.” She briefly turned her head and flashed a faint smile. He saw the sadness behind it, however.
Placing his hand over hers as they walked, he said, “Selina, I would like to know everything about you. I hope that someday, you’ll tell me about your experience.”
“Perhaps I will.”
Perhaps. That wasn’t a refusal.
Harry decided to change the subject in the hope that she would relax a bit. He could feel the tension running through her. “I learned some things about the fire.”
“You have new information?”
“I do. After you left Spring Hollow, I met with the informer. He told me everyone in Saffron Hill was told to say the Vicar had started the fire.”
She paused briefly. “That’s—that’s astounding. Who would be able to get everyone to say the same thing?”
“I had the same question, so I went to Saffron Hill yesterday. I spoke to a cobbler I interviewed four years ago. He was rather skittish, but he gave me a name—the man who’s probably head of the gang there now. Frost.”
Selina stopped again and turned to face him. “Do you know who this man is?”
Harry shook his head. “No, but I’ll find him.”
“You think he told everyone to say the Vicar started the fire?”
“It’s possible. If he became the leader after Partridge was killed in the fire, he may know something. And he definitely had something to gain from Partridge dying.”
“So it seems,” she murmured, and he sensed she was thinking. She started walking once more.
“What?” he asked
She sent him a sidelong glance. “May I help with your investigation in any way?”
“I don’t know how. My friend, Remington—he’s a constable—has a contact in Shoe Lane, so I’m hopeful he can learn something useful.”
“Well, if you can think of any way I can help, I’d be happy to. I know this is important to you.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
She looked about. “Where are we going?”
Harry smiled. “We seem to have a habit of just walking together, which I rather like. Where should we go?” He paused and turned slightly to face her.
“I don’t know.”
“I’d planned to send you an invitation for a riding lesson, but I’m afraid I can’t organize that for this afternoon.” He watched for the slightest inkling that would indicate she was interested in doing so. “Would you want to do that?”
“I never thought to ride. Surely it’s too late to learn.”
“Never. I would consider it my privilege to teach you.”
Her gaze softened. “Harry. You are too kind.”
He nearly laughed. “I’ve never been accused of that.”
She smiled demurely. “I accept your invitation.” Her gaze locked with his. “And your proposal.”
Had he heard her correctly? “My proposal. You wish to have an affair?”
She nodded, and the simple motion provoked a rush of yearning within Harry. “We should catch a hack.” She pivoted and started walking toward Newgate once more.
Did she mean to begin their liaison now? When they reached Newgate, he hailed a hack. “Where are we going?” His voice cracked slightly as desire sparked inside him.
Her gaze, vividly intense, met his. “To your house. If that’s all right.”
Harry swallowed, thinking he must have misheard her, but knowing he hadn’t. The look she gave him was steady and sure, and it fed his soul. “Of course it’s all right.” It was bloody spectacular.
He gave the driver his direction and helped Selina into the hack. Once they were settled inside and they began moving, he spoke.
“The young woman—Mercy—who died in that fire… I’d met her a few months before. She was trying to change her life, and I sought to help.” He thought of the basket weaver, Maggie, and realized he wanted to help her in the same way. The way Selina wanted to support the children in Winter’s care. “I’d just found a seamstress who’d agreed to take her on as an apprentice.”
“Was that all she was to you?” Selina asked. “A charitable endeavor?”
“No, she was much more. Kind, intelligent, beautiful.”
“You cared for her, then?”
He nodded. “There wasn’t a strong attraction.” He pinned her with an aching stare. “Not like with you. But for a long time, I wondered if there might have been. If she hadn’t died.”
“You were good to help her. Most people ignore young women like her—and children.”
“You are incredibly affected by such people and their struggles. You seem to feel their disadvantage keenly. I understand you were an orphan, but you didn’t face the same hardships as they did, certainly.”
She averted her gaze, turning her head so he could only barely see her profile. “What if I did?” she asked quietly.
What was she saying? That she’d grown up like Mercy or the children at Winter’s home? “But you went to school.”
“It was a stroke of good fortune and generosity that Beatrix and I were accepted at the ladies’ seminary.”
He thought she was going to say more, but she didn’t. They rode in silence for a few minutes, during which Harry could sense her anxiety. Was she regretting her decision to go to his house?
“Selina, if at any moment you’d prefer to go home, I will take you there instead.”
She kept her attention away from him. “Thank you. I will not hesitate to speak my mind.” There was a dry quality to her tone that made him smile.
“I can’t imagine you would.” He leaned closer and whispered, “That’s a rather captivating quality.”