The door behind him opened, drawing Harry to turn.
Mrs. Kinnon gasped, her brows shooting up as she lifted her hand to her chest. “My goodness, Mr. Sheffield! I thought I heard something in here.”
“Where is Madame Sybila?”
“She’s gone to take care of a sick family member away from London. I don’t know when, or if, she’ll be back,” the shopkeeper said sadly.
She’d run. Because she was a fraud.
Pushing past Mrs. Kinnon, Harry cut through the shop and stepped out onto the pavement. He stalked along The Strand until he hailed a hack—he was in far too much of a hurry to walk to Cheapside.
His blood thrummed as the hack carried him toward St. Paul’s, moving far too slowly. He hoped he was wrong and that Madame Sybila truly had left town to care for someone. But instinct told him he was not.
At last, the hack arrived at Ivy Lane. Harry paid the driver and turned to look at the Home for Wayward Children. The misspelled sign was gone from the window.
With leaden feet, Harry went to the door and knocked loudly. He was surprised when someone answered. It wasn’t Mr. or Mrs. Winter or a child. Instead, an older man with a balding pate and a substantial girth greeted him.
“May I help you?” he asked pleasantly.
“This was a Home for Wayward Children last week. Where are the Winters?”
“Oh, they moved on. Said they had too many children for my house.”
“Where did they go?” Harry asked, anger curdling in his gut.
The man shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Not my concern, though I am sorry to lose their rent.”
Harry felt as though he might explode. “You must know that this home they were running for children was a fraud.”
The man blinked and acted as though he was surprised to hear it, but Harry knew better. “Was it?”
“I work for Bow Street. Perhaps you would like to come to the Magistrates’ Court to answer questions.” Seeing the man blanch, Harry pressed his advantage. “Or you could answer my questions here.”
“I swear I didn’t know it was a fraud,” the man said, his voice climbing. “A friend asked me to do a favor.”
Harry clenched his jaw. “What friend?”
“Josie—we go way back.”
“Where can I find Josie?”
The man shook his head. “I don’t know. She used to live in Whitechapel, but she doesn’t anymore. Not for a long time.”
Dammit! “If you think of where she might be or where the Winters might have gone, you will come to Bow Street and tell me.”
“Please, sir, I’ve told you all I know.”
“They preyed on innocent people, lying to them and stealing their money.” That they’d used the plight of children to run their scam made Harry sick.
The man looked stricken. “I swear I didn’t know. I thought they were helping those children in earnest. Were they not?”
There was no way the fortune-teller had left town and the Winters had decided to move on at the same time. Harry didn’t believe in such coincidence.
He pulled his small notebook from his coat. “Tell me your name and everything else you know about the Winters and your friend Josie.”
A short time later, Harry climbed into another hack, his anger mounting. Innes, the man who owned the house on Ivy Lane, hadn’t given him much to go on. He could only remember Josie’s name from when they were young—before she was married. Since he didn’t know where she currently resided, Harry had little hope of finding her.
He’d probably have better luck finding the Winters. Maybe. He considered asking his friend, the Marquess of Ripley, to draw their portraits from Harry’s descriptions. But Ripley was a newlywed, and Harry wouldn’t trouble him.
The hack let him out on the corner of Queen Anne Street. It was a short walk to Selina’s house where he knocked on the door. He expected to see the housekeeper and was surprised when Selina herself answered.
“Harry,” she said, her eyes instantly lighting with pleasure. It was that look, along with the subtle curve of her mouth, that drove him forward.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then took Selina in his arms and kissed her. The anger and frustration poured out of him into the kiss. She put her hands on his head, holding him as she kissed him back, meeting the desperate stroke of his tongue with her own.
He pulled back. “Where’s your housekeeper?”
“Out.”
He briefly claimed her mouth again. “Your sister?”
“Upstairs.”
“Good.” He tossed his hat onto a table near the door, then stripped his gloves away before sailing them toward the table and missing.
He put his hands on her again, clasping her waist and drawing her against him. Selina cupped his head again, pressing her fingers into his scalp. “What’s wrong?”
“Just—” He couldn’t form the words. “I need you.” He kissed her again and began steering her backward.
She stepped back and took his hand, then led him into the sitting room, where she closed the door. Her bright blue gaze was dark and steady. “What do you need?”
Harry stroked his fingertips down her face, then brushed his thumb across her lower lip. “You.”
Her tongue darted out and licked his thumb. He pressed the digit into her mouth, and she sucked. Harry’s cock hardened completely. “Selina,” he breathed, closing his eyes briefly.
Her hands came between them and unbuttoned his fall. Then she reached into his smallclothes, her fingers wrapping around his cock. He sucked in a breath, need raging through him.
She gently pushed him backward, as he’d done with her in the entry, until the backs of his legs hit the settee. She pressed him down, and he sat. Lifting her skirts to her waist, she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips. He took the slippers from her feet and cupped her soles as he kissed her.
Pressing down, her sex met his, and a rush of desire shook his body. No woman had ever affected him this way. He couldn’t get enough of her. The more time he spent with her, the more she gave him, the more he wanted.
Harry scooted forward so he was on the edge of the settee, then curled her legs around his waist. He slipped his hand between them and guided his cock into her warm, wet sheath.
She clasped his shoulder and cupped his head, her lips meeting his again and again as they moved together, slowly, rhythmically at first, their bodies gliding in perfect harmony.
He grasped her waist and back as he held her, his hips moving with hers. She felt like heaven, her muscles gripping his cock while her hands twined through his hair and her fingers stroked his neck and shoulders.
Pleasure built, and he quickened the pace, twitching his hips faster as he thrust into her. Her sex clenched around him as she orgasmed. Harry’s balls tightened as his neared. He needed to pull out, but fuck, he didn’t want to. He held off as long as he could, relishing the feel of her around him. Her touch was a balm and a joy.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her up just before he came. He spent himself as he held her tight, gasping her name.
She brushed her lips against his temple, then pulled her leg over him as she settled beside him. Harry leaned back against the settee, his eyes closed as he took deep breaths to calm his racing heart.