Damn. Of course it was. “Jewelry?” At his nod, she blew out a curse. “This is how we make our money—that and Madame Sybila. We had just one more theft planned, then we would be finished.”
“You can’t do it.”
“I know.” Frustration curdled inside her. She also needed to shut Madame Sybila down immediately. It was all too risky. What if Harry was the one investigating the robberies? “Thank you for telling me.”
“Of course.”
She expected him to offer her assistance again, but he’d indicated he wouldn’t. Evidently, he’d meant it, for he said nothing.
“What of Luther?” she asked. “I can’t believe he would set that fire and kill innocent people. People like…us.”
“I struggle with that too, but if there was a benefit to him, he may have done it. Or, he may have set the fire to protect me, as you suggested.”
“I’ll speak to him. I need to close down the Home for Wayward Children anyway.”
Rafe stretched his hand along the mantel, his fingers resting atop the marble. “That’s smart. I hope you have what you need.” There was a question buried in his tone, but Selina ignored it.
“We’ll be fine.” Selina turned to go.
“Perhaps you and Beatrix would like to come for dinner some night? We should ensure our stories are the same, since we are to be a family.”
Pivoting, Selina saw that he’d moved away from the hearth. “That would be wise. Just send word when you’re ready.”
“I will.” His bright blue eyes, vivid in their intensity, were so familiar and yet so unknown, like the rest of his face. Especially that scar. Selina was torn between staying to ask how he’d gotten it and leaving. In the end, she left.
A short while later, Selina entered the sitting room on Queen Anne Street and found Beatrix frowning over a piece of embroidery. “You look frustrated,” Selina said, crossing to the decanter and pouring two glasses of Madeira.
“You know how I am with needlework.”
“Hopeless, but I do appreciate your tenacity.” Selina picked up the wine and went to where Beatrix sat.
Blowing out a grunt, Beatrix thrust the gloves into a basket beside her chair and accepted the glass. “Thank you.”
“You won’t be thanking me after you hear what I have to say, and I fear your frustration will only grow to anger.” Selina sipped her Madeira before sitting on the settee. She leaned back and briefly closed her eyes.
“Well, after that prologue, I am in utter dread.”
Cracking her eyes open, Selina sat up straighter and took another drink. “I’ve just come from Rafe’s. His house is…” She widened her eyes and let that speak for whatever adjective Beatrix deemed appropriate.
Beatrix gave her an arch look. “You said it was on Upper Brook Street. What were you expecting?”
Selina narrowed her eyes at Beatrix. “Have you been to a house there?”
Beatrix laughed. “That obnoxious, eh?”
“I felt like a slug.”
“You don’t look like one. I am sure you appeared right at home. You are not the girl who left Mrs. Goodwin’s seminary.”
No, she wasn’t. “Rafe told me Bow Street is investigating the theft of jewelry in Mayfair.”
Beatrix had just taken a drink of Madeira and coughed. When she recovered her breath, she blinked at Selina. “Is Sheffield looking into it?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. All of it stops. No more stealing, no more Madame Sybila. I’m going to clean out the room at The Ardent Rose tomorrow and then shut down the Home for Wayward Children.”
Beatrix sat forward in her chair, her eyes wide. “But we weren’t finished. We don’t have enough money.”
“We received a good amount of donations at the tour last Friday. It will be enough.” Selina hoped it was. She’d just cut some expenses. They could walk to balls, couldn’t they?
“I wouldn’t get caught,” Beatrix grumbled, sitting back in her chair.
“We can’t take the risk.” Especially if Harry was on the case. He was already too close. “It’s best if Madame Sybila leaves town, and you must stop stealing. I mean it.” Selina pinned her with a severe stare. “Please don’t risk everything we’ve worked for—the future you deserve.”
Beatrix said nothing as she lifted her glass and took a long drink of the wine.
“Beatrix,” Selina hissed. “Tell me you understand. It all ends now.”
“I understand.” Beatrix shot her a disgruntled glower. Then she took a breath and nodded. “I do understand. We’re done.”
Exhaling with relief, Selina’s mind churned as she considered what she had to do tomorrow. And then what? Then she had another six or eight weeks of this interminable Season. Unless Beatrix achieved her goal of winning her father’s approval and support before then.
She would also have six or eight weeks of Harry.
The past week—the times she’d shared with Harry—had been a dream. But it couldn’t continue, as much as she wanted it to. She wanted more riding lessons. She wanted to read his treatise about the trial of Sir Thomas Overbury. She wanted to spend time with his oversized, boisterous family and feel as though she were a part of something more than herself. But none of that was to be.
As soon as the Season was over, she would leave London. She had to. She couldn’t afford to stay. Part of her screamed to end things now, that the longer their affair went on, the harder it would be to say goodbye.
Finishing her wine, she stood and bade Beatrix good night before going up to her chamber. The moment she opened the door, she knew something was amiss.
Harry stepped out from behind the curtain hanging around the window. “Oh good, it’s you.”
A line of cold sweat beaded along the back of her neck. Had he overheard her and Beatrix’s discussion? “Good heavens, Harry. I see you’re better at stealing into places than you are at spying in gardens.”
He came toward her, his lips curving into a smile. “I was particularly motivated this evening. I couldn’t wait to toss a pebble at the window.”
Relief coursed through her. No, he couldn’t have heard anything. He kissed her, a now-familiar touch of his lips followed by the sweep of his tongue and the answering sway of her body as she melted into him. The suppressed emotions from her meeting with Rafe caught up to her. Feelings swelled inside her: sadness, anticipation, regret…lust.
Being with Harry made her forget better than anything else in her life had so far. With him, she didn’t have to think about what to do next. There was no planning, no worrying, no concern at all. She could just…be.
Eager to lose herself, she pushed his coat off and steered him toward the bed. He began to pluck the pins from her hair. “Did you lock the door?” he asked against her mouth.
“Damn,” she breathed before turning and setting the lock.
She removed her shoes with haste and strode toward him.
“In a hurry?” Harry asked with a smile.
“Don’t talk.” She cupped his face and kissed him with ardent need, as if he were what she needed to survive. Not whatever she had planned for tomorrow or next week. Just him. Now. This.