Hence, Polly was allowed on this, her first drive, with Sinjin. It was all very proper, an unchaperoned ride in an open carriage deemed permitted behavior. For Polly, it was a thrill nonetheless to spend time alone with Sinjin, even if only for a short journey through Hyde Park.
He vaulted into the high perch, settling beside her. With the dreadful business over, it became clear to Polly just how much of a strain he’d been under. ’Twas as if a dark cloud had passed, his true brilliance now shining through. Goodness, she didn’t know how it was possible, but he was evenmoredevastatingly handsome than before.
Shadows no longer hung beneath his vivid eyes. His chiseled features were smooth and rested. His deep blue jacket, striped waistcoat, and biscuit-colored trousers clung to his muscular physique. He exuded male power, his virility undeniable.
Although she’d worn her best promenade dress—a white dotted Swiss muslin with ruffles on the high bodice—she wished she was more his match. Perhaps she ought to consider trying a more daring and fashionable silhouette. Then again, how could she ever compare with his perfection? If she tried to, she might draw more attention to her flaws and end up looking even more foolish… like a partridge masquerading in a swan’s feathers.
With a practiced snap of the reins, he set the spirited horses into motion, the smooth ride dispelling some of her doubts. She told herself to focus on the beauty of the moment, which had been hard-fought for. The usual city brouhaha—clattering vehicles, shouting hawkers and tradesmen—made it difficult to do more than make small talk until they passed the gates of the park. Once within the leafy enclosure, they found an oasis. Frenzy gave way to birdsong and the muted conversations of the fashionable crowd on horse or on foot.
Polly noted the curious looks aimed in their direction—not surprising, since Sinjin caused a furor wherever he went. By supper, word would be all over Town that he’d been seen in her company. Anxiety surged; she had enough concerns about the feasibility of marriage to Sinjin without the added pressure of being placed in Society’s fishbowl.
“We’ll avoid Rotten Row,” Sinjin said as if gleaning her thoughts. “Too crowded by far.”
He navigated them toward a quieter, winding path that took them along the banks of the sparkling Serpentine. Polly couldn’t help but admire the way he handled the reins. Unlike many sporting gentlemen, Sinjin showed no unnecessary flourishes. He didn’t need to: his masterful driving said it all. His horses clearly knew who was in charge for they responded with exquisite precision to his maneuvering.
Having experienced the strength and skill of Sinjin’s touch, Polly understood the horses’ reaction. The memory of his lovemaking in the carriage momentarily fogged her brain. Shameless wanton that she was, she’d relived that magic more than once in the privacy of her own head.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sinjin said.
Her cheeks warmed. Since she couldn’t very well tell him that she’d been having lustful fantasies of him, she said the next closest thing on her mind. “I was wondering how you’re faring now that the nasty business with Nicoletta French is over.”
“I’m relieved,” he said, “and I will be more so once your brother apprehends her accomplice. Questions remain that I want answered.” He frowned. “I still don’t understand, for instance, why she and her co-conspirator didn’t try to extort me sooner, why they waited as long as they did.”
“Perhaps because they couldn’t locate you at Mrs. Barlow’s retreat?” Polly suggested. “Or perhaps they thought they’d take your father’s br—money first. Drain him of what they could before they moved onto you.”
“There’s no need to sugar coat: my father did pay her for her silence,” he said flatly, “and you’ve likely hit the nail on the head with the rest of it as well.”
His expression didn’t change, but she saw the dark pain seeping into his light. She wondered, not for the first time, about his family. Her own would support her through anything, and she didn’t understand why the Duke of Acton wouldn’t believe in his own son’s innocence. In the past, Sinjin had proved reticent about his kin, but now they had the opportunity for deeper conversation.
Proceeding with caution, she said, “Have you spoken to him about the latest developments?”
A muscle jerked in Sinjin’s jaw. “I sent him a note.”
“Did he reply?”
He gave a curt nod.
When he said no more, she prompted, “What did he say?”
Sinjin’s broad shoulders hitched in a careless shrug. “That he was glad the business was over and hoped I wouldn’t besmirch the family name again.”
“You didn’t in the first place,” she said hotly. “It wasn’t your fault that the villains targeted you. You were an innocent victim. How could the duke blame you?”
“I wouldn’t say I was innocent, exactly.” His tone was wry. “As for my father blaming me, that’s nothing new. I’m the black sheep of the family. My eldest brother Stephan was the golden child and deservedly so. He was so damned perfect he ought to have been annoying—except he wasn’t. He was the most decent fellow I’ve ever met.”
Seeing his grief, she said softly, “You miss him.”
“Yes.”
“You have a half-brother, don’t you?” she ventured.
“Theodore’s a prat.” His mouth formed a cynical line. “No surprise, coming from the womb he did.”
Heavens, Sinjin truly did not get along with his family. Wanting to know more of his past, she said carefully,“What about your own mama? Were you close to her?”
“She died when I was five.” Emotions clashed, an ambivalent tangling. “She wasn’t mourned. Catherine Pelham was a blight on the Acton name, you see. Not only was her family in trade—my father married her to replenish the family coffers—but she also had a scandalous habit of collecting lovers. In fact, she was running away with one when their ship went down off the coast of Dorset.”
Beneath the jaded words lay sorrow… and yearning.
