At least, she hoped she could.
Chapter 13
Selina glided free the lockpick that was hidden in her hair and wedged it into Lady Winford’s lock. The lockpick was ornate. It had to be in order to fit in with the other decorative pins that held her hair. She smiled at the sparkle of paste gems as she wiggled the handle and heard a distinct click of the mechanism giving way.
She opened the door and stepped inside, then took a long, deep breath. After days of feeling out of sorts, at last she was herself again. Picking locks, sneaking through the dark, relaxing into the role of Faceless Fox. This was much better than the confusion she felt whenever she was around her family, whenever she was around Derrick. When she questioned herself, her motives, her past, her future.
She blinked as she realized she was still standing at the door, woolgathering instead of focusing. And focus was paramount to these things. She thrust her shoulders back and moved across the room, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light of the low fire. Now she just had to find wherever Lady Winford had put the necklace.
“Not in the open,” she murmured, but still crossed to the little box on top of the dressing table. She dug through the jewels there. “Paste, paste…real…” She examined the piece closely and then tossed it aside. Pretty, but not worth the trouble. “Paste, paste, real, real…”
There was nothing of material value in the jewelry box, certainly not the Breston necklace. But she hadn’t expected it to be. Lady Winford would hide it, thinking that would protect her from the Fox or any other interested party.
Selina had marked several places where Lady Winford might put her jewels when she had been here with Derrick. She moved toward the false drawer in one of the dressers, but as she opened it and slid clothing around to find it, her mind wandered again. That night when Derrick had found her snooping here and they’d searched the room together had been one she’d never forget. Aside from Vale’s assistance with research and pretending to be her companion, she worked alone, she lived alone, she’d resigned herself to being alone.
But when she’d stood in this very room with Derrick, she hadn’t felt alone. She never felt alone with him. She felt comfortable and accepted. She felt worshipped and adored.
A false feeling, of course. Derrick Huntington wanted her body. His passion every time he touched her proved that. He would do or say anything to get that prize. When he was bored, when their time together was over, he would forget all about her. Other men had. Hell, she had done the same with plenty of lovers. Passion was transactional and once the price became too high, it lost its value.
Except that all around her were couples who didn’t seem to fit the mold she’d come to expect. Robert and Katherine, for example. Robert had been as wild as Selina now was. Only he’d changed with love. He was faithful, and even all these years later, he seemed as drawn to and in love with his wife as he ever had been.
The Duke and Duchess of Crestwood were also exceptions to the rule she’d thought existed in the world. She knew their story, everyone did. Their passion for each other had broken Meg’s prior engagement, destroyed a friendship for a time and sent ripples through Society for years. If ever there was a recipe for falling out of love, that was it.
But they hadn’t. Just yesterday she’d caught them kissing passionately behind a tree in the garden, like they were young lovers.
And the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield? Also seemingly in perfect accord. Whenever they were near each other, it seemed they were bound to touch. Like magnets, drawn together. Or moths to a flame. Always holding hands or brushing fingers. Two becoming one in a constant reaffirmation of connection.
She blinked. She’d spent a lifetime telling herself that kind of lasting affection didn’t exist. It seemed it did. She’d also told herself she didn’t want it. And yet, when Derrick touched her, when he smiled at her from across a room, she felt the flutters of something more than mere desire. Something deeper than passion or pleasure.
“Little idiot,” she grunted out loud.
She was truly a fool for allowing those feelings. After all, Derrick didn’t know the truth about her, did he? He was seeking the Faceless Fox with unswerving devotion to his duty. He wanted to catch the thief and bring that person to justice. If he ever found out that it was Selina?
Certainly all the tenderness or sweetness or connection she sometimes saw in his eyes when he looked at her would be gone. He would despise her, not only for who she was and how she’d lived, but for the lies she’d told him. He would see pleasure as pain then. He would see seduction as manipulation.
He would hate her.
For a moment, deep, sharp pain gripped her at that idea. So powerful that she reached out to press a hand on the dressing table to keep herself from falling over. And it was in that moment that she heard voices in the adjoining room.
She gasped. She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t heard the door in the adjoining chamber open. There were female voices, two of them, and they were coming right for the room she was in. She glanced at the door that exited to the hallway, but it was too far away. The knob was already turning.
She had no choice but to dive for the window, pressing herself behind the curtains as the adjoining door opened and she heard footfalls into the room.
“Well, the fire didn’t die entirely, that’s something,” came a very Scottish voice. “Lady Winford wouldn’t let me light it while she readied herself before supper. Something about the heat ruining her curls. Herperfectcurls.” There was mocking in the voice now. “But I’ll stir these embers now and have it ready so she doesn’t scream the house down later.”
“Never can be pleased, that one,” came a voice in the distance from the adjoining room. “I’d go if I could, but…”
There was a cackle from the other side of the curtain. “But we all know what happens to servants who leave her house, by force or by choice. Poor Mary had such a bad reference, I hear she’s a barmaid now at the Lucky Swan in London.”
“It don’t have as much respectability, I guess, but the wages come at a far lower cost,” the other voice added. “Oh drat, she’s tangled up the knot on this dressing gown something fierce. I swear she does it just to make extra work. Will you help, Gertie?”
“Aye.”
The voice in the room behind the curtain faded, as did the footsteps, and Selina sucked in a breath. She would only have the amount of time required to loosen the knot they were discussing in the other room, then the servant would return. It was likely she’d throw open the curtain just to check that the window was secured for the night. And then Selina would be cooked.
She had to get out. Right now.
She stepped from the curtains and glanced toward the door. The room was already brighter thanks to Gertie stoking the fire. Which made Selina’s next moves all the more treacherous. She had to get across the room, crossing in front of the now-open adjoining door, and to the exit without being caught.
