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

by Grace Callaway

  By the time the two of them returned to the townhouse an hour later, they’d both undergone a battering. Sinjin felt limber and relaxed as he stepped over the threshold, inquiring after Polly’s whereabouts.

  “The countess is in the drawing room, my lord,” Harvey said.

  The old retainer, who was as stoic as Strickley, looked as if he was trying to hide a smile. Sinjin’s face heated as he could well imagine the cause of the other’s good humor. He probably appeared like an overeager bridegroom. Not wanting to appear any more foolish, he forced himself to stroll casually toward the drawing room, opening the door…

  “SURPRISE!”

  The startling shout made him stumble backwards and collide into Harry.

  “What in blazes?” He gawked at the roomful of people.

  Polly stood in front of the throng, her face wreathed in smiles. She was wearing one of her new gowns, a delightful pink confection that made him think of her as his own personal bonbon.

  “This is your birthday cele—oh my goodness,” she gasped. “What happened to your jaw?”

  “For a scholarly sort, your brother has a mean uppercut.” He spoke lightly whilst inside he was reeling. Looking around the packed room, he saw perhaps two dozen guests, wrapped presents covering the tables, and carts laden with refreshments.

  Polly had arranged all of this… for him?

  She touched a hand to his swollen jaw, and his chest tightened at her gentleness. Her sweetness.

  “Harry was supposed to delay you,” she said, “not beat you to a pulp!”

  At that, he scowled. “Your brother didn’t beat me. You should see him.”

  He moved aside so that Harry could step forward and ruefully display his shiner.

  “For a posh nob, your husband has a mean jab,” Harry informed his sister.

  Grinning, he buffeted Sinjin in the shoulder; Sinjin returned the favor.

  Rolling her eyes, Polly muttered, “Dear Lord, I’ve created a monster. I had better separate you two before there’s further bloodshed.”

  “Speaking of bloodshed, I’m going to challenge Violet to a game of cards.” Behind his spectacles, Harry’s eyes had a troublemaking gleam. “She might be a viscountess and mama now, but she still hates to lose.”

  The other ambled off, and Sinjin looked into his wife’s sparkling eyes. “I can’t believe you planned this for me,” he murmured, “and on the sly, too.”

  “It took some maneuvering. I had to ask Harvey for a list of your cronies.” Smiling, she slid her arm through his. “Shall we greet your guests?”

  They made the rounds. He was relieved to discover that Harvey had exercised discretion in whom he’d recommended to the list of invitees, which included only the most civilized and presentable of Sinjin’s acquaintances. As he neared one of the refreshment stands, he was surprised to see Merrick standing there. The stooped, greying man of business was munching contentedly on a plate of canapes.

  At Sinjin and Polly’s approach, he bowed. “Many happy returns, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Merrick. I’m glad you are here.” Which was the absolute truth, Sinjin realized.

  “I was honored to receive an invitation from the countess.” The approval in Merritt’s expression was unmistakable as he regarded Polly.

  “As my husband’s trusted advisor, you are always welcome in our home,” she returned with equal friendliness. “Isn’t that so, Sinjin?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  And nearly keeled over in shock when Merrick smiled. It wasn’t a large smile, just a slight lifting at the corners of the mouth… but still. The professional man’s next words came as even more of a surprise.

  “May I say, it is about time you had a birthday celebration, my lord,” Merrick declared.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Polly said.

  Sinjin’s throat felt oddly scratchy.

  After chatting with Merrick some more, he and Polly moved on.

  “What possessed you to invite my man of business?” he said in her ear.

  “I asked Harvey who you routinely spent time with, and Mr. Merrick came up. He seems like a very nice man.” Her head tilted to one side, the curling wisps around her face glinting in the sunlit room. She’d started wearing her hair in a looser style, one that accentuated the natural sensuousness of her tresses. “Unless you don’t prefer to mix business and social activities?”

  The fact that she didn’t possess an ounce of snobbery was one of the many things he liked about her. Like the rest of her family, she had a tendency to judge people on their own merit rather than their class or wealth. Thus, she, a countess, had invited Merrick, a man who worked for a living, because she’d seen to the heart of the matter.

  “I’m glad you invited him.” Sinjin thought of the hours the man of business had worked on his behalf, attending to details so that his life would run smoothly. “I owe Merrick a great deal—more than I can say, actually.”

  “Then we shall have to have him over more regularly. In fact…” Polly trailed off, and he followed her gaze. Ambrose Kent had entered the room and was heading over, his alert air making Sinjin brace.

  The three of them tacitly moved to an unoccupied corner.

  “Apologies for my lateness,” Kent said brusquely, “but I have news.”

  “You’ve found Nicoletta’s accomplice?” Sinjin’s gut clenched.

  “Not as yet, but we now know the villain’s identity. As you know, my men and I have been canvassing every public house and tavern within walking distance of the docks. Several people recalled seeing our man, but none could tell us much more about him. Today, McLeod met a dock worker who, under the condition of anonymity, identified the scoundrel as Clive Grundell.”

  Clive Grundell. The name echoed in Sinjin’s head.

  “The fellow McLeod talked to claimed that he and Grundell had briefly worked together at a shipping company over a year ago. According to him, Grundell wasn’t there long before he was caught pilfering cargo. Grundell disappeared before he could be charged, and our fellow hasn’t seen him since.” Kent’s golden brown gaze narrowed. “I just came from interviewing others at the shipping company, and like our first fellow, most didn’t want to be involved out of fear. One worker said that Grundell has a devil of a temper and a violent streak. He claims that Grundell once pulled a knife on him over a petty disagreement.”

  “Grundell sounds like our man,” Sinjin said grimly.

  “How will you find him, Ambrose?” Polly said, her eyes wide.

  “He gave the shipping company a false address in St. Giles. Nonetheless, he might have used that address for a reason. My men and I will go door to door in that neighborhood and see if anyone knows anything about him.” Lines deepened around the investigator’s mouth. “Admittedly, that strategy is akin to searching for a needle in a haystack. I wish we had more eyes and ears in the stews, for the underworld looks out for its own and mistrusts authority of any kind. But rest assured that we will carry on the hunt until Grundell is apprehended.”

  Humbled by all that the other was doing on his behalf, Sinjin said, “Thank you, sir. I am in your debt.”

  “Nonsense. You are family,” Kent said.

  For the second time that day, Sinjin felt a shift inside him. He’d gotten used to believing that he had no one to rely upon but himself, and now to realize that he had not only Merrick in his corner, but Kent as well…

  A spasm hit his chest as he looked at Polly. This was all because of her. She was slowly but surely chipping away at his walls and bridging him to the world that he’d been convinced had no place for him.

  Yearning unfurled… and was halted by a sudden cold chill.

  You don’t know how she’ll react to your devils. She may run… or worse. Even as he told himself she was nothing like other women he’d known—that she bore no resemblance to his mama or the current duchess—the thought of Polly’s rejection turned his insides to ice. Things were fine and dandy now, but she’d never seen him a
t his worse…

  And she never will, he vowed to himself grimly. It was a necessary reminder that he had to keep his marriage unencumbered by true intimacy. He could only expose those parts of himself that were worthy of Polly; the rest he had to keep hidden.

  “Don’t worry, Sinjin. Ambrose will find Grundell,” she said softly.

  He didn’t correct her mistaken assumption as to the cause of his unease. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he said to her brother. “I don’t like twiddling my thumbs when I could be out searching for this villain.”

  “As I’ve said before, it’s best to leave the matter to professionals,” Kent said firmly. “If Grundell is capable of murdering his lover and co-conspirator, then he may be capable of anything.”

  “But will you and the others be safe?” Polly asked her brother in worried tones.

  “No need to fret,” Kent reassured her. “I do this for a living, remember?”

  Witnessing the exchange, Sinjin felt a pang. If Stephan were still alive, he would have liked Polly and her family. Like Sinjin, he would have been in awe of the strong bonds of kinship between the Kents…

  A sudden hush returned him to the room. His gaze went to the pair of newcomers standing awkwardly in the doorway.

  Beside him, Polly whispered, “Oh my goodness, I didn’t invite them. How did they know about the party?”

  Sinjin couldn’t answer her. Because he had no clue why his stepmama and half-brother had come. Or what they wanted from him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “I am sorry for intruding,” the Duchess of Acton said stiffly. “Had I known that you were entertaining, I would have paid a call at a more convenient time.”

  “What do you want?” Sinjin said.

  Polly cringed at his bluntness. The situation was already awkward enough with his family’s unexpected arrival in the middle of his birthday party. She’d debated whether or not to invite Sinjin’s kin; given their conspicuous absence at the wedding and what he’d shared of his past, she’d decided against it.

  Needless to say, the appearance of Her Grace and Lord Theodore had created an uncomfortable moment. Marianne had smoothly suggested that Polly take Sinjin’s relations for a tour of the house to show them some of the improvements she’d made. Polly had gratefully accepted her sister-in-law’s exit strategy, and now she and the duchess were seated on opposing sides of the hearth in the study, Sinjin and Lord Theodore standing behind their respective chairs.

  “There’s no need to be boorish,” Her Grace said.

  Polly supposed that the other lady’s fine-boned features and pale blond coloring were quite beautiful, but it was a beauty carved from ice. There was no trace of warmth in the woman’s demeanor or aura. Indeed, when addressing Sinjin, the woman emanated frigid animosity—a fact that Polly did not like at all.

  Neither did Sinjin, apparently, for he said in a tone edged with impatience, “Polly and I have guests to return to, so whatever business brings you here, be quick about it.”

  Her Grace sniffed. “Trust me, had I any choice I would not have come. But my sense of duty made this visit necessary. This concerns your papa.”

  “What about him?”

  “Acton is… not well.”

  For the first time, Polly saw a flicker of sentiment beneath the layer of ice, and before she could discern what it was, Lord Theodore spoke.

  “What mater means to say is that pater is dying,” he said flatly.

  Her Grace’s lips pressed into a tight line. “There’s no need to be so blunt, Theo dear.”

  “We don’t have time to circle around the matter,” her son said with a touch of belligerence.

  Although Lord Theo shared his mama’s looks and haughty manner, his aura differed from hers. Insecurity, not coldness, was at the core of his glow. To Polly, his obvious efforts to appear sophisticated had the opposite effect of making him seem younger than his years.

  He addressed Sinjin. “Papa had another coughing fit yesterday. It was so bad that, against his will, we summoned a physician.” His throat bobbed above his fussy cravat. “The doctor says Papa has six months at the most. You have a right to know.”

  Polly’s gaze flew to her husband. His face had paled, emotion seething around him. Shock, anger… beneath all of it, pain.

  Yet his voice was toneless as he said, “Is the conveying of His Grace’s imminent demise the only reason for your visit?”

  “That is crass, even for you, Sinjin.” The duchess’ trickling anxiety, however, suggested that he wasn’t far off the mark in guessing that she had an ulterior motive. “In this time of tragedy, I had hoped that we might put aside our differences and come together as a family.”

  A muscle leapt in Sinjin’s jaw. “We are not a family and haven’t been since you packed me off to Creavey Hall.”

  “It was for your own good.” Her Grace’s hands folded primly in her lap. “You needed discipline, and the school is one of the best in the land for reforming unruly pupils.”

  “Reforming or abusing?” The words burst from Polly, her voice shaking.

  “As you were not even around at the time, I don’t see how you have anything to say in the matter,” the duchess said frostily.

  “Polly can say what she wants because she is my wife. My family. You, Your Grace,” Sinjin gritted out, “are not.”

  “The day I married your papa, I took on two boys as well—I, who had no experience at being a mama. Stephan made the role easy, but you… you have tried me at every turn. With your reckless behavior, your wild moods. I didn’t give up, however. Unlike your own mother,” Her Grace said pointedly, “I did not run from the problem. Knowing the limits of my own expertise, I found the best solution that I could.”

  Sinjin’s lips whitened. But his stepmama wasn’t done.

  “Acton and I could not control you, so we placed you in the care of someone who could. The way I see it, Revelstoke, we did our best by you, and you owe us for that, at least.”

  “I don’t owe you a bloody thing,” Sinjin snarled. “But I shan’t renege on whatever His Grace saw fit to put in place for your care when I am the duke. That is what you came for today, is it not? To ensure your future comfort and security?”

  “Acton, of course, made provisions for Theodore and me.” The duchess’ pale blue eyes narrowed. “I have your word that you will see the terms of those obligations fulfilled?”

  If naught else, Polly had to admire the lady’s audacity. There Her Grace was, more or less with hat in hand, and yet she managed to make it seem as if Sinjin were the one asking for a favor. As if he were the one who owed her and not the other way around.

  “Mama,” Lord Theodore said, looking genuinely pained, “can we discuss these matters later? Papa is not yet in the grave. Perhaps if we consult other physicians—”

  “Your father is dying. He’s been lying to himself for months that it is otherwise, but it is not. Hence, we must look to the future. Well, Revelstoke?” the duchess said imperiously.

  “Well, what?”

  “Are you going to provide for Theodore and me in accordance with your father’s wishes?”

  “I’m under no obligation to you or anyone. I will do as I see fit. Now if you’ll excuse us—or even if you don’t—my wife and I have guests to attend to.”

  Taking the hand Sinjin offered, Polly got to her feet. The duchess rose as well, her aura fluctuating between resentment and worry. Polly noted that Theodore didn’t share his mama’s feelings. Whilst some apprehension was there, he seemed mainly… sad. Lost in the way a child feels when he doesn’t understand the world of adults.

  And there was the wistful way he looked at Sinjin—as if he longed for a connection with his older brother but didn’t know how to go about establishing it.

  Theodore’s yearning made her mind up. Sinjin had too few kin to reject a brother who might act like a bit of a fop but who, at his core, seemed a decent enough fellow. If she could, she wanted to help heal the breach between Sinjin
and his half-brother. Thus, as Sinjin marched his relations to the foyer, issuing orders to Harvey to have their carriage fetched, Polly found a moment to speak to the young lordling.

  “Would you care to visit us some other time?” she said in a hurried undertone. “Under less, um, hectic circumstances, when you could spend some time with your brother?”

  Lord Theodore gave her a surprised look. “You mean that?” he whispered back.

  She nodded.

  “I’d like that—” Lord Theo began.

  “Your carriage is here,” Sinjin said.

  His words were controlled, but Polly’s pulse quickened at the rage flaring around him.

  “Come, Theo, let us not waste another moment where we are not wanted,” the duchess said.

  After they left, Polly ventured, “Sinjin, are you all right?”

  “We’ll talk later,” he said grimly. “Right now, we have guests to entertain.”

  ~~~

  Leave it to that bloodless bitch to ruin everything.

  As Sinjin paced his bedchamber that evening, the memory of his stepmama’s unwelcome visit sent a dark undercurrent through his blood. He didn’t know what infuriated him more: that the self-righteous harridan had the gall to demand that he support her once he was duke or that she’d treated his father’s imminent death with such callous calculation.

  Either way, Regina Pelham had destroyed the good cheer of his celebration. His mood had gone from buoyant to irritable, and he’d managed, just barely, to contain himself until the last of the party guests had left. Now everyone was gone, and he was plagued by a question: should he join Polly tonight?

  He didn’t know if it was his black devil stirring or the normal turmoil that his stepmama always left in her wake. Or the fact that he’d learned his father was dying. Or that Polly—his Polly—had been exchanging whispered secrets with bloody Theodore. His gut clenched, and he told himself not to think about any of it now because such ruminations would only ramp up his inner chaos. What he needed to do was to compose himself.

  His hand itched for the locket, to hold its comforting weight in his palm until he calmed. He wondered if he could ask Polly if she still had the blasted thing—then he shook his head at his own absurdity. What did some stupid locket matter when he couldn’t trust himself to go to his wife’s bedchamber tonight?