“Indeed.” Hope was fierce in Sinjin’s gaze.
“What next?” Em said to the group at large.
“Strathaven will take you and Polly home,” Ambrose stated.
From her brother’s tone of voice, Polly knew that he would not be swayed. Evidently, Em knew this as well for she said merely, “What about you, Ambrose? Where are you going?”
“Revelstoke and I are paying another visit to Nicoletta French, Nymphea Flott, or whatever the blazes her name is,” he said grimly. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
Chapter Twenty
Given the proximity of the theatre to Nicoletta’s lodging, Sinjin and Kent arrived at their destination within minutes. Throughout the ride, Kent had seemed preoccupied, his focus clearly upon what they’d just learned. Sinjin, for his part, felt a mix of relief and anticipation.
At last, there was proof that he hadn’t made up the mysterious man—that Nicoletta French was not what she seemed. Proof that he’d been framed and wasn’t the brute that she and her accomplice had tried to make him out to be. And now, with the help of Polly’s family, he would soon unravel the sinister web and clear his name and conscience.
Then he could go to Polly a free man.
As they headed up the front steps of No. 12 Castle Street, Kent said curtly, “Let me lead the interview, my lord. It’s critical to strike a balance: if we intimidate her too much, she won’t talk.”
“All right. But if I…”
Sinjin trailed off at the same time that Kent stilled beside him.
The front door was ajar.
“Stay behind me,” the investigator ordered.
Sinjin followed the other man inside, his neck prickling at the eerie stillness of the foyer. Sunshine shafted in through the transom above the door, gilding the dancing dust motes, the only movement in the room. No sounds of domestic activity, no voices… His ears twitched at a faint shuffling noise, and he tried to discern its origin. He gestured toward the hallway.
Kent jerked his chin, and the two of them advanced stealthily down the corridor, deeper into the heart of the house. The rustling grew louder, coming from the room up ahead—the parlor where Sinjin had found Polly the other day. He and Kent were almost within the line of vision of the open door. With their backs against the wall, they consulted silently. The investigator hiked his thumb at his own chest, then made a staying motion at Sinjin.
His gestured instructions were clear:I’m going in, you stay here.
Like hell Sinjin would.
Kent was already moving, swiftly rounding the doorway into the room. His voice emerged the next instant, calm yet commanding. “Stay where you are. I just want to talk.”
“Buggering hell.” The deep bass voice was straight out of Sinjin’s nightmare.
He didn’t pause, sprinted inside. A startling tableau greeted him: Nicoletta lying on the carpet, a scarlet bloom on her chest, a hulking black-haired man standing over her with a pistol in his fist. The gun was aimed at Kent. Instinct coiled Sinjin’s muscles. He sprang forward, diving for Polly’s brother as the shot went off in a deafening blast.
Chapter Twenty-One
Three days later, Polly stepped into the sunshine, her hand on the sleeve of Sinjin’s jacket. His gleaming phaeton stood waiting in front of the house, the pair of matched bays bridling in their harnesses and stamping their hooves.
“I can’t believe we’re going for a ride together,” she murmured. “It seems so…”
“Ordinary?” When she nodded, he placed his hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze before handing her up into the equipage. “After everything that has happened, I’d say we’ve earned a little normality, kitten.”
She couldn’t agree more.
Three days ago, Sinjin and Ambrose had found Miss French shot through the heart, her killer standing red-handed over her. The blackguard had tried to commit murder yet again, but Sinjin had foiled his attempt. He’d pushed Ambrose out of harm’s way, and, thankfully, the shot had missed them both. Unfortunately, the villain had gotten away, but the truth of what had happened at Corbett’s had finally come to light.
Ambrose had discovered a blackmail note on Nicoletta’s desk. Signed by the dead woman, it had been addressed to Sinjin and contained a nefarious demand: pay five thousand pounds or she would bring charges of assault against him. She’d stated that she’d convinced Corbett of her story and would use the powerful businessman as a corroborating witness. She’d threatened to spread word of Sinjin’s brutality to the gossip rags and destroy his reputation unless he paid for her silence.
The extortion attempt had been well planned, but something must have gone dangerously awry between Nicoletta and her accomplice. Ambrose hypothesized that they’d had an argument, over the money perhaps, and, in a fit of rage, the man with the deep voice had shot his lover dead. At present, Ambrose and his partners were on the hunt for Nicoletta’s co-conspirator and murderer.
Although questions remain unanswered, Ambrose no longer had any doubt that Sinjin had been the victim, not the perpetrator, of a heinous crime. The evidence found at Nicoletta’s lodgings had compelled him to revise his assessment of Sinjin—that and the fact that he owed his life to the other man’s bravery.
