She walked inside, where lanterns illuminated the busy common room. It was barely dusk, but it would have been quite dark in here without them. The ceiling was low, and there were no windows. There were also a great many people. Some sat in groups laughing or arguing. Others stood together, tankards dangling from their fingertips.
Selina moved to the side so she could survey the room to see if Luther was present. It was likely he was upstairs somewhere if he was trying to remain out of sight. Which it seemed he was, since Harry hadn’t been able to find him. Did Luther know Bow Street was looking for him?
“What are you doing here?”
Turning sharply, Selina saw Luther frowning at her, his dark brows forming a vicious V on his wide forehead. He’d come from a doorway that was just behind him.
“Looking for you,” she said.
He grinned at her. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Still, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not the safest of places. Let us get out of the main room.” He put his arm around her waist and led her to the door he’d come from. “Do you need another favor?”
She extricated herself from his embrace and moved into the room. “No. What I need is to understand what happened four years ago, when my brother supposedly died.”
Luther grimaced as he joined her inside. “Rafe made me promise not to tell you.”
“So he said.” She didn’t hide her irritation. “Did you start the fire?”
Glancing furtively into the common room, Luther pulled her farther into the small private dining chamber, to the other side of the table. Like the common room, it was windowless but also lit with lanterns, two to be precise. “Careful what you say around here, Lina.”
She took her hand from his. “Please don’t call me that.” She was Selina now. Or Lady Gresham, and only because she had to be if Beatrix were to achieve her goal. Lina and Madame Sybila were dead.
“Your wish is my command.” He held out a chair at the rectangular table.
She didn’t want to sit. Moreover, she didn’t want to give the indication she was staying. Where the devil was Harry?
She clasped her hands together, her reticule hanging from her wrist against her thigh. “Tell me about the fire.”
Luther exhaled, and he let go of the chair. “Yes, I started the fire. Partridge was a menace—Rafe wasn’t the only one who wanted him dead.”
“But you knew Rafe was going to kill him.”
He slowly nodded. “I had a chance to improve my lot, and I took it. A gentleman of influence asked me to kill Partridge by starting a fire.”
Selina took a step toward the table and put one hand on the back of a chair. “If you knew Partridge was going to be dead already, why start a fire that would kill innocents?” The boy she’d known would never have willingly hurt innocent people—children. But maybe he wasn’t the boy she’d known. None of them were the same, and why would they be?
His eyes hardened. “The Runner paid me a hefty sum to burn it down.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted me to take over Partridge’s territory. Partridge refused to pay him a protection fee, and I had no problem doing so. The fire also covered Rafe’s act, which was an added bonus—one I would think you would appreciate.”
She gripped the chair, the wood biting into her palm. “How can I be grateful for that when children died?”
He stared at her coldly. “Children die every day, and we were always grateful it wasn’t us, weren’t we? You’ve forgotten what it’s like to live here.” He sneered. “What it takes to survive.”
Maybe she had. What he’d said a moment ago finally sunk into her brain. “Did you say a Runner paid you to start the fire?”
“Did he?”
The answer came from behind Selina. She turned to see a man standing just inside the room as he pulled the door shut.
“We don’t have a meeting,” Luther said, his eyes narrowing.
“No, we don’t. Nevertheless, I’m here for a payment. And to inform you that one of my comrades is keen to find you. You need to better your hiding place.” The man inclined his head toward Selina. “Who’s the trollop?”
Luther snarled. “Watch your mouth, Remington.”
Remington? Selina had heard that name… Her stomach clenched. He was a Runner. He was also Harry’s friend. This was the man who’d paid Luther? And now he was collecting payments from Luther. He was utterly corrupt. “It was you,” was all Selina could manage to say.
But Remington ignored her as he kept his eyes fixed on Luther. “I think you’re the one who needs to watch his mouth.” Remington tsked. “You can’t be telling people about me. Or about the fire. The Vicar started it, if you recall.”
Luther scoffed. “Only because you said so. What difference does it make now?”
“It makes every difference if you’re going to say I paid you to do it. Now we have to kill this poor chit.” Remington moved around the table toward Selina.
She opened her reticule, but Luther grabbed her arm and shoved her behind him. He faced Remington. “She won’t tell anyone about you. You have my word.”
“Unless you plan to cut out her tongue, I can’t believe that won’t happen—your word or not.” His tone was mild as if he threatened people every day. “Stand aside, Frost.”
“You won’t touch her.” Luther pulled a pistol from his waistband, but before he could raise it, the Runner launched forward, knocking him backward into Selina. They all crashed to the floor.
It took Selina a moment to regain her breath and her wits. She rolled to the side as the men fought. A loud gasp filled the room, and the commotion stopped.
“Dammit.” The Runner rose, his chest heaving. He scowled down at Luther’s body. Blood pooled beneath him. “I really didn’t want to kill him. He was a good soldier.” He swiveled his attention to Selina who scrambled to her feet. “Until you.” He advanced on her. “You’re a pretty thing. Did Luther already pay you? I don’t mind paying again, though I can’t see the point when you won’t see morning.”
At last, she managed to pull her pistol from her reticule. Shaking, she held it up. “Harry will be here at any moment.”
Remington stopped barely a foot from her. “Harry? You know Harry?”
Selina nodded.
There was a beat of silence, and then Remington began to laugh. His eyes crinkled, but that didn’t do a thing to banish the hostility from his gaze. “Harry isn’t coming, dear. He sent me in his stead. How sad for you.” He knocked the gun from her hand before she could fire, sending it skidding across the table. “But happy for me as I will get to have my fun after all. Now be a good girl and stay quiet.”
He stepped toward her, and all Selina could see was the face of the man who’d said almost the exact same thing to her twelve years earlier.
Harry took the stairs two at a time up to his office so he could complete the damned paperwork. He stopped short at the landing as Maggie stepped in front of him.
“There you are,” he said. “I thought you’d gone.”
She shook her head, and he saw fear in her eyes. “That man you were talking to. I recognized him.”