Never Say Never to an Earl (Heart of Enquiry Book 5)

by Grace Callaway

  “That’s just… desire.” She drew her hand away, the movement shaky. Rather like her arguments. “It’s not enough to overcome our differences.”

  Seeing the sensual awareness in her eyes calmed him, renewed his confidence. “Desire can make up for a lot of things, kitten. Let me prove it to you.”

  ~~~

  Pulse racing at his smoldering intent, she planted her palms against the bulwark of his shoulders. “That is what got us into trouble in the first place!”

  “We were rubbing along just fine before we started talking. As I recall, you enjoyed my rubbing so well that—”

  “That’s not the point,” she said desperately. “There are barriers between us. Ones that cannot and should not be ignored.”

  To her surprise, he backed away. Gave her a measuring look. “All right. Have at it. Tell me all the reasons bouncing around in your pretty head.”

  “You’re going to listen?”

  “Are you going to let me make love to you?”

  “No!”

  “Then I have nothing better to do.” He shrugged, settling back against the cushions. “But you had better get on with things. We’re not leaving this carriage until we settle the matter, and that means the longer you tarry, the more you risk getting caught with me.”

  Her head whirling, she blurted out the first reason that came to mind. “You’re Rosie’s.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He blinked at her.

  “She had hopes where you’re concerned, and I’ve betrayed her.” Guilt cinching her throat, she looked down at her lap. How could she have done this… again?

  “You must be joking.”

  Her head snapped up. “I am not. I have a sense of honor too. Rosie is my bosom chum, my sister in every way that counts—”

  “For God’s sake, do I look like a sodding hair ribbon to you?” He sounded thoroughly disgruntled. “I’m not an object one can lay claim upon with a word. I haven’t given your sister any reason to believe that I have intentions toward her because I don’t and never will. She has nothing to do with what goes on between you and me.”

  “It’s still my fault for betraying her.” Self-recrimination weighed like a sodden cloak.

  “Bollocks.”

  She started at his expletive. “Pardon?”

  “Your reasoning—it’s shit,” he said with stunning bluntness. “You and I acted on our impulses, and we’ll both be paying a price. But not because of your sister. If she cannot relinquish some stupid fantasy—which, seeing as she knows nothing about me, is all it could possibly be—then that is not your problem. If she cannot forgive you for something that has naught to do with her, then she does not deserve your affection.” Before Polly could absorb his words, he said, “Do you know what your trouble is?”

  “What?” she said uneasily.

  “You care too much what others think.”

  The second time hearing that message—the first time being from Rosie—didn’t make it sting any less. Hurt wove a cocoon inside Polly, protecting her most vulnerable secrets. He knew nothing about her. He had never walked in the shadow of ostracism, had never known the pain of being rejected time and again. If her experiences had made her acutely aware of others’ opinions, it was justly so.

  He cocked a brow. “There you go again. Stewing on what I just said.”

  “I’m not stewing,” she lied irately. “At any rate, it’s easy for you not to care what others think because you’re so popular. You know that you’re a perfect specimen of manhood—the stuff of female fantasies!”

  His expression turned fascinated. “Do you fantasize about me?”

  Argh. Her head was going to explode. “That’s not the point—”

  “Kitten, it is. When it comes to our future, all that matters is you and me. As for other women,” he said, his tone dismissive, “I don’t give a damn because they don’t know me. And do not, for an instant, mistake popularity for anything real. Before I came into my title and money, not a single well-bred miss wanted anything to do with me. As for the other sorts of females, all they are after is a meaningless escapade. Status, wealth, or a temporary diversion: that’s what I am to women.”

  She couldn’t believe that he thought that. “Women want you for far more than those things.”

  His brows lifted. “What else is there?”

  “Well, you’re intelligent and witty. You possess a keen sense of honor. You can be amusing when it suits you and…”

  She caught his lips quirking and realized that she’d been had. She would have been piqued—had she not also seen his yearning. His glow intensified as he absorbed her compliments, a hunger gleaming in his eyes as if he were starved for her positive regard.

  That he should care what she thought of him melted her insides like butter. Still she muttered, “You hardly need yet another female to extol your virtues.”

  “You’re not just any female.” He curled his finger under her chin. “Just so you know, you haven’t provided a single valid reason for why we shouldn’t get married.”

  “We’re too different. And you just said you thought I’m too sensitive.”

  “I think you’re adorable. You just need to grow a thicker skin, kitten, and I can teach you how, if you like. Trust me, I’ve had practice: my hide’s thick as an elephant’s.”

  She didn’t know what flummoxed her more: the fact that he had just called her adorable or that he, the confident, charismatic God of Revelry, had had to learn to protect himself from criticism.

  But she mentioned neither of those things. Instead, she blurted the question foremost in her mind. “Why do you call me kitten?”

  “Because you remind me of one with your big clear eyes. Then there’s your hair, as soft and tawny as a newborn tabby.” Just as his words battered at her defenses, he added, “Not to mention that sweet, furry little patch of yours that I want to pet again and again—”

  “You shouldn’t say such things,” she choked out.

  “Why not? It’s the truth. Might as well get used to hearing it since we’re to be married.”

  She could feel herself weakening, wanting what could never be. How could she even imagine wedding this vital, tempestuous man? With Sinjin, her secret would not be safe—nor her heart, she was honest enough to admit to herself. If they married and he discovered her abnormality… She shivered. The pain of his rejection would be too much to bear.

  She had to put a stop to things now.

  “I’m not the kind of woman you want for a wife,” she said resolutely.

  “I say you are.”

  “You don’t know me. I… I’m not suited for the usual sort of marriage.”

  He regarded her with hooded eyes. “What sort of marriage do you want?”

  She decided to give him part of the truth to throw him off her scent. “One that doesn’t require intimacy. I’m a… private person.” Because I have to be. “I have my own interests, and I want to lead my own separate life without my husband’s interference.”

  What she described wasn’t what she wanted at all but a necessary arrangement to protect her secret. It was the sort of match that would have been possible with Nigel Pickering-Parks. But Sinjin was the opposite of Nigel: he was too astute, too intense, too dashed attractive to make a comfortable spouse. And given the primal edge to his nature, she suspected wistfully that he’d be possessive and protective of the woman to whom he gave his name.

  “Actually, the marriage you described is the usual sort amongst the ton,” he said.

  “Well, it’s not usual for my family.” She studied her hands, feeling even more forlorn.

  When he didn’t speak, she looked up—and realized that he was studying her. Thin golden strands wove through his aura, bolstering and steadying the roiling blue. He felt… hopeful?

  Why?

  “As it happens, I’m a private sort myself. Intimacy only leads to disappointment—and love? Even worse.” He held her surprised gaze. “I’m not a man who wants entanglements. The ki
nd of marriage I desire would be simple, easy. Both partners would be free to come and go as they please. We wouldn’t have to answer to one another.”

  His reason for wanting a marriage of convenience hit home, and her heart gave a painful spasm. Which was ridiculous. She knew that he was a rake. A man of his appetites wouldn’t settle for one woman when he could have a bevy of them at his beck and call. Extramarital affairs weren’t uncommon in high society; love matches were far rarer. She supposed she ought to be thankful that he was simply more honest than most men about how he intended to carry on after he wed.

  The idea of other women knowing his touches and kisses, enjoying the warmth of his attention, twisted her insides into jealous knots. Good heavens, imagine how she’d feel if they were married. It was one more reason why she and he did not suit.

  “You misunderstand. I believe in fidelity,” she said firmly. “I have no intention of having lovers, nor would I countenance my husband doing so.”

  “You’re bloody right you won’t be taking any lovers.”

  Her breath caught at the possessive heat simmering in his words. “But you just said… I’d be free to come and go as I please.” She frowned. “Or did you mean that would apply only to you? Because that would be the most hypocritical—”

  “No lovers for me either.” His tone was unequivocal. “I meant that we would respect each other’s interests and need for privacy. If I wanted time alone for my pursuits, you would grant it to me with no fuss. No demands or questions. And I would extend you the same courtesy. But those pursuits would not include violating the vows of marriage.”

  Recalling their conversation in the stillroom, she looked at him doubtfully. “But you said before that you’ve never been faithful.”

  “I said I’ve never tried. I’ve also never been married.”

  “You would try… for me?”

  He yanked her onto his lap, startling a squeak from her. “It would be no sacrifice, given what I’d be getting in return. I have a feeling you’ll wear me out and then some.” Then shadows crept into his gaze, dimming the playful sensuality. “In all fairness, however, there’s something else you ought to know about me.”

  Her head was spinning. “What is it?”

  “I’m not… an easy man to deal with. I vow that I’d never hurt you, but I can have a devil of a temper, and my moods can be… unpredictable.”

  Having seen the stormy nature of his aura, she was hardly surprised by his admission. His moods were indeed mercurial and as intense as any she’d ever seen. But given her intimate acquaintance with emotions, she wasn’t intimidated by his, and she’d never, not once, feared that he would do her harm.

  “That is not a problem for me,” she said honestly.

  Relief forked like lightning through his gaze, along with a yearning that spurred her heart into an unbridled pace. “Then what a time we’ll have of it, kitten,” he murmured, “enjoying the best of life without the complications. Say you’ll have me.”

  Desire warred with her instinct for self-preservation. In theory, his proposal of an “easy” marriage sounded ideal, but could she actually carry it through?

  Maintaining emotional distance from Nigel Pickering-Parks was one thing, Sinjin another altogether. What if she fell in love with him, only to have him spurn her when he discovered the truth of what she was? In hindsight, she knew that her heart had merely been bruised by Brockhurst; being rejected by Sinjin would shatter that organ irrevocably.

  Opposing forces tore at her. “I… don’t know.”

  “Then I’ll court you until you do.” Steely determination was back in his aura. “Give me a chance to convince you that a future is possible for us. Give me that at least.”

  Despite the looming pitfalls, she didn’t have the willpower to refuse what she so dearly desired.

  “All right,” she said tremulously.

  “Thank you, sweet.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, the tender gesture weakening her defenses further. “The timing of our courtship is less than spectacular, given my situation, but I plan to hire Runners to follow Nicoletta. I’m certain they’ll clear up the matter—”

  “Heavens, I forgot!” In all the turmoil, the clue she’d found at Nicoletta’s had slipped her mind. She dug into the pocket of her skirts and fished out the scrap of paper. “I found this.”

  He took it from her. “An old ticket from a play?”

  “It fell out of a book on her desk.” Peering intently at the lettering on the ticket, Polly said, “I’ve never heard of The Cytherea Theatre, have you?”

  “It’s a third-rate place near Drury Lane. The players’ skills in bed are more of a draw than their abilities on stage.”

  “And how would you know that?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Dash it all, they weren’t even engaged, and she already sounded like a jealous fishwife.

  His lips curved in a lazy grin. “Sheath your claws, puss. I have no interest in third-rate wares—especially now that I’ve found myself a prime article.”

  She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered. Apparently, he found her reaction amusing, his smile deepening.

  With a huff, she said, “As I was saying, I found this in one of her books—a rather ribald play, actually. Now we have a ticket from this theatre.” She recalled how Miss French’s aura hadn’t matched the emotion she’d supposedly been feeling… which was what one might expect of a third-rate actress. “Put that together with the fact that Miss French was lying, as if she were playing a role, and I think we may have a lead.”

  “You think Nicoletta is an actress? That she staged the scene that night?” As Sinjin spoke, excitement blazed around him. “By Jove, that makes sense.”

  Polly nodded. “And that mysterious man whose voice you recalled had to be her accomplice. Perhaps he was the one who gave her the injuries, not you.”

  “Yes,” Sinjin said hoarsely.

  Seeing the relief percolating through his glow, Polly placed her hand on his. “The Cytherea is a clue, a place to start. We’ll bring this new evidence to my brother. I know he’ll help.”

  “Because you believe in me.” His fingers engulfed hers in a tight grip. “Let’s go speak to him now.”

  She bit her lip. “Can we wait until tomorrow?”

  “Why?”

  “I have to talk to my sister first,” she whispered.

  Her chest constricted at the thought of what she had to do. Of the only right course of action now. And she prayed for a miracle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You kissed the earl—my earl—twice?” Rosie said.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how… it just happened,” Polly said helplessly.

  The two of them were sitting beneath the damask canopy of Rosie’s bed. After supper, Polly had gone to her sister’s bedchamber. The short distance had felt like a walk to the gallows, and, once there, she’d confessed everything, sparing only the most intimate of details.

  She now waited, her heart thudding, for Rosie’s response.

  “How could you do that to me? You’ve been lying to me this entire time.” Rosie jumped up, the ribbons on her nightrail fluttering, her stare accusatory. “Why, you’ve been acting no better than a strumpet behind my back!”

  Riddled with guilt and shame, Polly rose as well, held out a beseeching hand. “I know what I did was wrong. Please believe I never meant to hurt you. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness—”

  “Give him up.”

  Polly’s throat convulsed. Her hand fell slowly to her side. “I… can’t.”

  “You mean you won’t,” Rosie said icily.

  “I don’t know if he and I will have a future together, but I have to give the possibility a chance.” She tried to think of an explanation that wouldn’t alienate her sister further. Some way to explain how, despite the differences between her and Sinjin, they were like iron and lodestone, drawn together by some irresistible, elemental force. “He wants the same t
hing as I do, Rosie. A marriage in which we would each have privacy. I’d be able to keep my affliction to myself and—”

  “So you’re lying to him like you’ve lied to me.”

  Rosie’s words sliced into her, but she shook her head. “I’m not lying to him. Sinjin wishes to have a marriage free of entanglements. He neither expects, nor wants, us to share emotional intimacies.”

  She’d sensed that he had his own secrets he wanted to keep, but that was fine by her. Indeed, in this regard, they were an ideal match.

  “Sinjin?”

  At the fury behind Rosie’s whisper, Polly knew her mistake immediately. Her pulse skittering, she said, “I know I deserve your anger—”

  “You took the one thing that I wanted.” Rosie’s hands bracketed her hips. “You know how much this match meant to me!”

  Polly swallowed. Hung her head. “I know.”

  “I would have never done the same to you,” Rosie raged on.

  “I’m sorry,” she said wretchedly.

  “He was the answer to all my problems, and you stole him away!”

  Polly didn’t know what else to say. Yet in the midst of her spiraling self-recrimination, Sinjin’s words came to her.

  If your sister cannot relinquish some stupid fantasy… seeing as she knows nothing about me… that is not your problem. If she cannot forgive you… then she does not deserve your affection.

  Harsh words and ones that Polly did not agree with—at least, not entirely. She was at fault for hurting Rosie. But Sinjin’s assertions did make her think: how well did Rosie know him? It wasn’t as if she had spent a great deal of time with him. And, as he’d said, other than the usual courtesies, he hadn’t shown any intentions toward her.

  Inhaling, Polly said, “What I did was wrong, but I didn’t steal him.”

  “Yes, you did. You knew I wanted him.” Rosie’s arms crossed over her bosom.

  “I did know, and, for that, I can only ask for your forgiveness. I was wrong not to be honest with you from the start. The truth is, I didn’t understand my own feelings, and I didn’t know that Sin—the earl had any interest in me.”