“And Mr. Sheffield as well, I imagine.”
“Probably,” Selina agreed. “I’m not entirely sure what he’s after.”
“His kind don’t like ours.”
“How would he know what ‘kind’ we are?” Selina asked. It wasn’t as if they wore their rookery origins on a sign around their necks.
“As I said, far too cunning.” Mrs. Kinnon tapped her temple with her fingertip.
Perhaps. Selina often attracted skepticism when she portrayed the fortune-teller, but that hadn’t stopped the scheme from being incredibly profitable. Which was precisely what she needed right now if Beatrix was to be a success.
“Be careful when you leave,” Mrs. Kinnon said as Selina went to the door.
She flashed the older woman a smile. “Always.”
Turning to the right, Selina walked down the corridor, then took a doorway to the right into a small chamber before opening a door that led into the alley behind the shop. Surreptitiously surveying her surroundings, she moved cautiously along the alley. A few minutes later, she turned left onto The Strand. It wasn’t her normal route, but she wanted to see if Sheffield was still across the street.
A quick examination of Somerset House did not reveal the Bow Street Runner. Perhaps he’d grown tired of his surveillance.
Or not.
As Selina approached the front of The Ardent Rose, two things happened at almost the same moment: she saw the tall, hulking figure of Harry Sheffield just past the perfumery, and someone to her right—in a doorway two shops down from The Ardent Rose—cried, “Stop, thief!”
A blur of gray and brown darted past Selina just as she saw Sheffield start to run. Without consideration, Selina pretended to trip and put herself directly in his path. He was either going to catch her, or she was going to get a face full of pavement.
Thankfully, it was the former.
His strong arms swept her up before she hit the ground. Selina wrapped herself around him, clutching at his arms and neck with a loud cry.
“Are you all right?” he asked with great concern even as his gaze followed the fleeing child.
Selina could see the boy—or girl, it was impossible to tell—from the corner of her eye and was glad to see he—or she—was fast.
Even so, Selina wasn’t going to let the Runner go after the child. “I’m afraid I twisted my ankle a bit,” she said with an apologetic smile. “My apologies for falling in such an ungracious manner.”
“Is there a gracious way to fall?” he asked with a hint of a wry smile.
She’d expected him to be annoyed that she’d foiled his pursuit. “I suppose not. Unless one is trying to fall.” Which she absolutely had. “And look good doing it.” Which she had not.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“Let me try,” she said and, as he lowered her to the pavement, added, “slowly, if you please.” She’d buy as much time as possible for the child to escape.
Sheffield set her gingerly upon the ground, and Selina was careful to put all her weight on her right foot. Then she tested her left, wincing as she did so.
“Does it hurt?” His eyes crinkled at the edge as he asked, and Selina thought he was rather handsome in his concern.
No, a Bow Street Runner is not handsome.
Even if he possessed eyes the color of a warm tawny port and the clear ability to show humor, which only accentuated his good looks. Or that he was quite possibly the most muscular man she’d ever seen.
“It’s a little tender,” she said, ignoring Sheffield’s physical…attributes. She clutched his forearms as she balanced on one foot. “Would you mind giving me a moment?”
His gaze swept beyond her once more, and this time she followed his line of sight. The child had disappeared, likely heading toward the Thames where he or she would almost certainly turn east toward Blackfriars.
Sheffield exhaled, his disappointment palpable.
“Is there something amiss?” Selina asked. She wasn’t sure what made her ask the question, but she was incredibly curious for his answer. Would he tell her the truth?
“I was going to run after a suspected thief.” His use of the word “suspected” was not lost on Selina.
“So I did hear someone yell about a thief.” She looked up at him and tried not to be drawn into his captivating gaze. “You were going to chase him down?”
“I work for Bow Street.”
She feigned surprise. “Oh! And here I got in your way. My apologies.” She let go of his arms and stepped back, wobbling for effect. “Perhaps you can still catch him and make an arrest.”
His auburn brows pitched into a V as his magnificent eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t going to arrest him—or her. It was a child.”
Selina’s breath snagged. “What would you have done?”
“Questioned the miscreant. The child stole from a bakery, so I presume he was hungry. A child like that isn’t a criminal.” His voice dipped. “No child is a criminal, at least not on purpose.”
Now Selina’s lungs utterly arrested. So much so that she had to remind herself to breathe. Mr. Sheffield was not what she’d presumed. And that made him even more dangerous than she’d originally thought. A person she couldn’t anticipate meant higher risk.
As if her life wasn’t already risky enough.
She’d prefer to avoid Mr. Sheffield completely, but it didn’t seem that would be possible given his attention toward Madame Sybila. Which meant she’d have to return the favor and keep a close watch on him.
“You truly believe that?” she asked. “That no child is a criminal?”
“They must be taught, and that isn’t their fault. They can also be taught to be law-abiding citizens.”
“You see to that personally, Mister…?”
His gaze snapped to hers, and Selina realized—too late—that she’d said something very similar to him yesterday as Madame Sybila. Damn, she was usually far more careful. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the similarity since she used an accent when she was in disguise.
She held her breath until he blinked. “Sheffield.” He bowed. “At your service, Miss? Missus?”
“Lady Gresham.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “Lady Gresham. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” He glanced around. “No groom?”
She shook her head. “I don’t see a need.” She also didn’t have the budget for one. Her “retainers” were few and had been recommended by Mrs. Kinnon. Only two lived in the small house Selina had rented on Queen Anne Street: the housekeeper—who also served as a cook—and her daughter, who performed the duties of maid. The housekeeper’s nephew occasionally filled the role of groom or coachman when they rented a coach.
Sheffield cocked his head slightly. “How interesting. What does your husband think of that?”
She gave him a mild smile. “My poor deceased husband would have approved. He saw no need for things that aren’t absolutely necessary.”
“I see.” Did he? Since meeting Harry Sheffield the day before, Selina had made inquiries about him. She’d been surprised to learn he was the son of an earl, and as such, he was likely used to a bevy of footmen. The fact that he was a Bow Street Runner only added to his enigmatic aura—another reason she couldn’t afford to lower her guard around him. Especially since he was also the son of one of her clients.