Polly’s posture, on the other hand, was stiff and rigid, her hands tightly clasped. Being face to face with the earl fanned the embers of her humiliation, memories bursting free, blasting the hinges off the box she’d locked them in. Suddenly, she was right back at that hedge, Revelstoke’s derision piercing her like shrapnel.
You’d do as well to kick a half-dead mongrel. Seducing a wallflower—what’s the sport in that?
She’d thought time would dull the pain of those words; she was wrong.
Before, he’d been a disembodied voice, but now that she saw him—his utter perfection—it made his contempt of her even more despicable. Wasn’t it enough for him to be the ultimate specimen of manhood? To be blessed with bounty in every respect? Why did he feel the need to be arrogant and hateful toward lesser mortals?
“You’re a hero, my lord,” Rosie was saying. “I owe you mylife. How shall I ever repay you?”
“I did as any gentleman would have done,” Revelstoke said. “Your well-being is ample reward, Miss Kent.”
Apparently the cad could be gallant if he wished, Polly thought resentfully.
On his other side, Thea smiled and said, “You have my family’s gratitude, my lord.”
Rosie’s eyelashes fluttered. “Surely there issomeway I could express my appreciation for your bravery, my lord?”
Worry waded into the fray of Polly’s emotions. Rosie was not only pouring on the butter boat, she was practically dousing the earl with it! Steely determination glinted in her aura—dear Lord, she couldn’t have fixed her sights on the earl? With rising panic, Polly realized that, on the surface, Revelstoke fit Rosie’s bill of a perfect husband: he was titled, rich, the most sought-after bachelor of the Season. Landing him would be nothing short of a social coup.
Polly had to do something before Rosie got herself entangled with the bounder. But what signal could she give her sister? She couldn’t very well blurt out what Revelstoke had said about her or, God forbid, what she’d seen him doing in the bathhouse.
Then it struck her:whywas the earl here?
She returned to the hypothesis she’d had before she’d learned his true identity. Could it be that Revelstoke was… mad? Heat seared her insides as she flashed back to his depravity. Surely even rakes didn’t engage in such indecent behavior? Could it be that the celebrated earl was a few cards short of a full deck?
She surreptitiously studied his aura. She’d never seen one quite like his before. The dark, stormy blue matched his eyes, the outer layer so intense and opaque that she couldn’t discern the feelings beneath, seeing only brief flashes of movement and color.
Regardless, the fact that he was a resident here spoke for itself. And even Rosie wouldn’t carry on a flirtation with a madman, titled though he may be. If Polly experienced a smidgen of misgiving that she might be indulging in a desire for revenge, she pushed it aside. What mattered was ensuring that Rosie did not get caught up in Revelstoke’s web of crazed debauchery. Lord knew her reputation couldn’t take another blow.
Before she lost nerve, Polly blurted, “Have you enjoyed your stay here, my lord?”
The conversation came to a halt. Silence stretched between the ticks of the long-case clock. Rosie’s silvery laugh ended the awkward moment.
“Dear Polly, you’re so droll! I’m sure you meant to say the earl’svisit—and not to imply that he, himself, is a resident here.”
“I am staying here, actually.” Revelstoke met Polly’s gaze squarely. His vivid eyes had a swirl of darkness in them, like blue paint deepened with a drop of ink. “Though not as a resident, to be sure. Mrs. Barlow has kindly allowed me the use of the waters for my health. I find the springs here more convenient and private than those of Bath.”
“Bath can get so crowded,” Rosie agreed. “Why, one can hardly take a step without bumping into some acquaintance or another.”
Come on, Rosie. See him for the lunatic that he is.
Steeling herself, Polly said, “What sort of ill health do you suffer from, my lord?”
“Dearest,” Thea murmured, “that’s hardly an appropriate—”
“’Tis quite all right, Lady Tremont. I thank Miss Kent for her concern.” His voice was smoother than the finest wine. “My health suffers no ill effects save from the excesses of Town living. I thought a week of the waters and country air might be restoring.”
For a madman, he had an answer for everything, Polly thought darkly. His gaze met hers, and his lips quirked. He was amused… ather? A fresh wave of anger hit her.
“It must be difficult being so much in the public eye and in demand, my lord,” Rosie chimed in. “Why, I daresay ’tis as difficult to get an audience with you as with His Majesty. Indeed,” she added, dimpling, “up until today, I’ve only glimpsed you from afar.”
“A most grievous oversight on my part. Forgive me?” he murmured.
Rosie’s ringlets bobbed prettily as she nodded. The earl’s manners were so polished, his aura so confident and controlled, that doubt crept though Polly. Was he not mad after all? But he’d been engaged in suchunnaturalbehavior…
The door to the drawing room opened, and Mrs. Barlow swept in. Agitation sparked around her like fireflies. “My valued guests, I must apologize again for the dreadful incident,” she began. “Rest assured that the patient has been dealt with.”
A chill seeped through Polly. “Dealt with?” she said in a low voice.
