by Laura Landon
She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him with the little strength his kisses left her. She gave up trying to take in breaths of her own but relied on Briggs to give her the air she needed. Relied on him to carry her with him as they soared above the earth.
“Oh, Polly,” he moaned, then he lifted his mouth from hers and pulled her to him. “Heaven help us.”
Polly struggled to fill her lungs with enough air to breathe. Her heart pounded inside her chest as she gasped for air. Her legs trembled beneath her and she knew if Briggs let her go she’d crumple to the ground.
Briggs’ reaction was no less violent. His chest rose and fell as she pressed her cheek against it. His heart thundered beneath her ear like a runaway team of horses. He gasped for breath with the same desperation as did she. His body radiated heat. It was almost as if he— She waited until she was able to stand on her own—until she was able to speak—then stepped out of his grasp. “What are you afraid of, Briggs?”
She heard him laugh. Not a laugh of humor or happiness. But a laugh filled with incredulity. A laugh of disbelief. As if he couldn’t believe she’d asked such a ridiculous question.
“Was kissing me so terrible?”
“You don’t know? You don’t realize how dangerous it is for us to let our emotions get away from us? You don’t realize how impossible it is to think anything can ever develop between us?”
“Why?”
“Why! Bloody hell, Polly, don’t you see? I’m an investigator. I deal with the dregs of society. I see and hear and associate with people you can’t even imagine.”
“Why should that matter?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Because it does. I’m the son of a tenant farmer and you’re the daughter of an earl.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Well you should. Your father certainly will!”
Polly’s breath caught. “This is about my father, isn’t it? What happened between you? Why do you dislike him so?”
“I told you before. That’s a question you’ll have to ask your father.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Well, I don’t have an answer for you.”
Briggs turned his back on her and Polly watched him separate himself from her. She couldn’t let that happen. She didn’t want to lose him.
“I love you, Briggs.”
“No. You don’t.”
“And I think you love me, too.”
“No, Polly. This will never work. You don’t love me. You may think you do now because of what we’ve been through.”
“It’s not that, Briggs. I felt something the first time I saw you. The first time we spoke. I knew there was something special between us.”
“No. You don’t love me. You can’t.” He turned. The shooting glare in his eyes pierced her like a sharp rapier. “Because I don’t love you.”
Polly felt the air leave her body. Her legs weakened beneath her. And she knew what it must feel like for your heart to crack, then shatter into a million pieces.
The zest for life she’d always believed was an integral part of her, shriveled, and died.
She took a step away from him and turned.
The person she was when she walked back to the house wasn’t the same person she’d been when she’d come out earlier. The person she was now was only a pretty shell that housed an empty cavity.
Without a heart beating inside her.
CHAPTER 8
The next two weeks were hell on earth. Each day Briggs waited for word that they could return to London. But word didn’t come.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand to see Polly hurt so badly without telling her that he hadn’t meant any of the words he’d said, but only said what he had to say to provide for his mother. To give his sisters a better life.
Each day the efforts she made to avoid him became more obvious. She had a tray brought to her room each morning rather than chance meeting him when she rose. And, when he inquired, her maid, Millie, told him she took Lady Pauline’s tray back to the kitchen untouched.
The fact that she wasn’t eating was obvious. She’d never had any excess weight, but now, her clothes hung limp on her body. The material at her waist sagged because there wasn’t anything beneath it to fill it out. The cut of her bodice gaped because her shoulders and breasts were smaller than they’d been before. And she lacked the color she’d once had.
Her paleness was a reminder of how deeply his words had cut into her. Gave evidence of how much she loved him.
She hardly ever left her room, and when she did, she was in the constant company of the Dowager Countess of Plainsworth and the Dowager Viscountess of Shillingsham. She spent the afternoons in their company and if they decided to go for a stroll, she pleaded a headache and went to her room. The evenings were the worst.
When possible, she escaped to her room as soon as the evening meal was over. If her chaperones insisted she join them, she closeted herself with them until they were satisfied that she’d spent enough time in their presence. Of course, Briggs was never invited to join them.
If her two chaperones noticed how remote she’d become, they didn’t mention it. Nor did they do anything to encourage her to step out-of-doors and into the sunshine. They accepted her into their close-knit group as if she’d always been a part of it, and always would in the future.
That possibility frightened him to death. The fiery ache in his chest was evidence of how much he loved her. Of how much he didn’t want that for her. Of how much he wanted her to be happy.
He wasn’t sure how he would survive when he lost her. And yet.... Briggs raked his fingers through his hair. There wasn’t a chance in hell that her father would give his blessing to a marriage between them. Polly was the daughter of an earl. He was the son of the earl’s former tenant. A tenant he believed had stolen from him, and lied to him. A man the earl had dismissed without a reference, and left to starve—along with his wife and children.
Of all the women on earth, why had he fallen in love with Polly Jordan? Because now he wasn’t sure he could survive the rest of his life if she wasn’t a part of it.
Just when Briggs thought his torment would never come to an end, the Earl of Stepmoore arrived.
“Well,” Roarke Livingston said as they walked to the drive to greet their employer. “I’m not sure who is more pleased to see the earl. The earl’s daughter. Or you.”
Briggs shifted his gaze to his friend.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean, Briggs. The last two weeks haven’t just been hell for you and Lady Pauline. They’ve been hell for all of us who have had to watch you suffer.”
Before Briggs could counter Roarke’s comment, Polly raced across the drive and threw herself into her father’s open arms. It pained him to see the tears on her cheeks.
“Mr. Murdock,” the Earl of Stepmoore said, still holding on to his daughter, “I am eternally in your debt.”
“The credit also goes to Mr. Livingston,” Briggs said. “Has everything been resolved in London, my lord?”
“Yes, my bill was introduced, and it passed.”
“Congratulations, then.” Briggs turned toward the house. “May I suggest we go inside where you and your daughter can visit?”
“Excellent idea,” Stepmoore said, smiling down on his daughter. “I insist you and Mr. Livingston join us. I want to hear what transpired.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I insist,” Stepmoore said.
Briggs made a point to avoid looking at Polly. He didn’t want to see how uncomfortable she was with her father’s suggestion. “As you wish.”
Briggs and Roarke followed Stepmoore and Polly into the house, then into a yellow and green and white morning room. The vivid colors should have made everything look brighter, but the yellow only emphasized Polly’s pale complexion.
Hanes and two maids carrying trays of tea and pastries followed them into the room.
“Tha
nk you, Hanes,” Lord Stepmoore said. “That will be all.”
“Yes, my lord,” Hanes said, then closed the door behind him.
Stepmoore didn’t have to ask Polly to pour, she rose to do the honors. That was when Briggs noticed how badly her hands trembled. He wasn’t sure whether it was from exhaustion, or nervousness from being near him, but her discomfort tore at his heart.
“Allow me,” he said, taking a cup and saucer from her hands. He handed one to Lord Stepmoore, then served Roarke, and finally himself. She whispered her thanks, but didn’t lift her gaze to meet his. If her father thought anything of his gesture, he didn’t comment.
When Briggs sat back in his chair, Roarke was already explaining in detail what had happened. When Roarke finished, Lord Stepmoore reached for his daughter’s hand and held it.
“It’s over now, Pauline. You are safe.”
“What about Lord Flemberly?” she asked.
Her father patted her hand. “We can discuss that later.”
“Why later, Father? I’ll find out soon enough when we get back to London.”
“I suppose you will.” He patted her hand again. “I’m afraid Flemberly stood to lose a great deal because of my bill.”
“How much is a great deal?”
“Everything, I’m afraid.” He patted her hand again. “I regret to say that he wasn’t strong enough to face such a future and took his own life.”
Polly’s face turned ashen and she pulled her hand out of her father’s grasp. Briggs was even more concerned for her. She’d gone through too much. Been hurt too deeply. Hearing about Flemberly was more hurt on top of what she’d already endured.
“What will happen to his daughters? Neither of them is married yet.”
The longer she talked, the less control she seemed to have of her emotions.
“How could their father have done something so selfish?”
Her voice raised several notches, both in tone and in volume. Even her father looked at her as if her reaction confused him.
“I want to go back to London,” she said. She slid to the edge of her chair as if she wanted to rise. “Now, Father. As soon as possible.”
Stepmoore looked at his daughter and frowned. “Pauline, what has come over you? I just arrived this very hour after traveling for two days. I am hardly ready to get back into a carriage and begin the journey over again.”
Polly sat up as if her father’s words had been a slap to her face. “I’m sorry, Father. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so concerned about Lois and Mary that I didn’t consider how impossible it was to leave so soon.”
“That’s all right, my dear. You have always had a tender heart. Don’t worry. We’ll leave in a week or two. Since I don’t get to Redwood that often, there are several things I need to take care of before I can leave.”
“Of course, Father.” She rose. “If you will excuse me, I’ll leave you men to discuss the events that transpired. I’d just as soon not relive them.”
“Of course, my dear.” Lord Stepmoore rose and walked his daughter to the door.
Briggs realized a flash of envy that knotted in his stomach. He wanted to be the one to walk Polly to the door. He wanted a moment alone with her to make sure she was all right. He wanted the chance to tell her how sorry he was for what he’d said. But his place wasn’t at her side. When they were gone from here, he would never be allowed near her again.
“I must apologize for my daughter,” Stepmoore said when he returned to his seat. “I can’t imagine what came over her. Pauline is never this way.”
“Your daughter has gone through a lot,” Briggs said.
“Yes,” Roarke agreed. “She’s been confined for weeks on end, been shot at, watched a man get shot before her eyes, now heard that the father of two of her friends took his life.”
“I suppose that is a lot for any female to cope with.”
“Yes, it is,” Briggs agreed, knowing that wasn’t all Polly was coping with.
“Now,” Stepmoore said, sitting back in his chair. “I want to hear everything that happened.”
. . .
Briggs walked across the gravel drive, then up the few outside steps, and through the front door of Redwood Manor. With each step he called himself every kind of fool known to mankind. And some of the names he used weren’t names he could use in polite company. But they all fit. Every one of them. Because he was about to do the stupidest, most idiotic, most self-destructive thing imaginable. He was going to ask the Earl of Stepmoore for his daughter’s hand.
He’d never been so terrified in his life.
He knew Stepmoore would refuse his suit. And in many ways, he didn’t blame him. He didn’t have much to recommend him, other than he loved Polly, and he was sure she loved him. He was the son of a tenant farmer. He was involved in an occupation that put his life at risk on as a daily occurrence. And yet…
…he knew if he didn’t ask he’d regret his lack of courage for the rest of his life.
Briggs marched up to Stepmoore’s study and knocked. When the reply came to enter, he stepped into the room.
Stepmoore was working at his desk and when Briggs closed the door, he looked up. “Murdock, come in. I’ve been expecting you. Have a chair.” The earl pointed to a chair close to his desk.
“Would you like something to drink? Tea? Or something stronger?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“I imagine you’ve come to make sure I honor our agreement.”
“Actually, my lord, I’ve come to negotiate our agreement.”
Stepmoore placed his pen on the desk. “Now see here, Murdock. We had an agreement and you’re not getting one more pound from me. Not in coin or in property.”
“I don’t want any more than what we already agreed on.”
“You’d bloody well better not. Because you’re not getting one more pound.”
“I’ve come to ask for the Lady Pauline’s hand in marriage.”
It took Stepmoore several moments to recover from Briggs’s words. “I love your daughter, Lord Stepmoore. And I believe she loves me.”
Stepmoore bolted to his feet with such force his chair flew back and toppled over. “You conniving bastard.” He stepped around the desk. “So help me, you’re a dead man if you’ve ruined my daughter.”
Briggs rose to his feet. The last thing he wanted was to fight with Polly’s father. “Your daughter isn’t ruined. I respect her too much to cause her any harm. I love her. And she loves—”
“No! She doesn’t love you! She bears a title. She’s the daughter of an earl. She’d never fall in love with a commoner. Especially with the son of a tenant farmer.”
“I believe she has, my lord. In fact, she told me as much.”
“No! She only thinks she’s in love because of your lies. You’ve deceived her into believing you care for her.”
“I more than care for her. I love her.”
“No! You don’t! You only want to take her away from me. You want revenge for what you believe I did to your father.”
“Not what I believe you did to my father, Stepmoore. What I know you did. You ruined him. You branded him a thief and dismissed him without the means to support himself or his family. For that I demand what we agreed on. I demand a home for my mother and enough so she never has to go without again. I have your agreement in writing. Asking for Polly’s hand in marriage has nothing to do with what we agreed on.”
Stepmoore’s face turned a mottled red. He glared at Briggs with the most intense hatred Briggs had ever seen. With his hand fisted at his side, Stepmoore took one step toward Briggs, then another.
“You don’t love my daughter. Nor do you respect her. If you did, you wouldn’t refer to her with such a common name. She is Lady Pauline to you. She has never been, nor will she ever be Polly.”
Briggs locked his gaze with Stepmoore’s. He wouldn’t back down. He couldn’t. “I know exactly who your daughter is. I will never forget who she is. She is a lady. She is the woman I
love. She is the woman I would be honored to have as my wife. The woman with whom I want to spend the rest of my life.”
“Well you aren’t going to spend one more day with my daughter. I want you gone from here within the hour. And don’t you dare attempt to speak with Pauline before you leave. I forbid it! You’ve poisoned her with enough of your lies.”
Briggs glared at Stepmoore as long as he could stand looking at him, then broke the contact. “I expect my payment as soon as you return to London.”
“You’ll receive it, Murdock. The sooner I can wash my hands of you, the easier I’ll sleep.”
Briggs turned and strode out of the room. He’d be gone within the hour. It was the rest of his life he was concerned about. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive never seeing Polly again.
CHAPTER 9
“The Pinkering ball is tonight. I’ll be gone most of the afternoon, but will be home in plenty of time to escort you.”
Polly looked at the determined expression on her father’s face and knew they were in for another argument. “I don’t intend to go out, Father. I don’t feel well enough yet.”
He braced his shoulders and she knew he was preparing for a battle. “You will attend. I refuse to allow you to stay home another night. It has been three weeks since we returned from Redwood Manor and you’ve done nothing but lock yourself away in this house. Millie tells me you don’t even go for an occasional walk in the Park, or a drive like you used to do as part of your daily routine.”
“I don’t want to go out, Father. I’d rather stay inside and—”
“And what, Pauline? The staff says you don’t do anything but sit in one room or another and stare at nothing. That several of them have caught you weeping. And it’s obvious you aren’t eating. You’re wasting away to nothing!”
Polly felt like there was a powder keg inside her and it was ready to explode at any moment. “How dare you spy on me! I am more than twenty one years of age. I don’t need a nanny or a nursemaid! I don’t need anyone to look out for me!”
“Then what do you need, Pauline?” her father bellowed back at her. “What?”