“It’s not too late now.”
“By George, you’re right.” Nigel thumped his fist into his palm. “I don’t care what Mama says. No stupid picnic is more important than those bones.”
“You’re still here,” Sinjin said.
“Farewell, sir. And you as well, Miss Kent.” Nigel doffed his hat hastily before trundling off.
Polly wondered in bemusement if she’d ever see him again.
“Care to explain what you’re doing with that fribble?”
She turned to Sinjin—and was shocked to see the banked fire in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Polly blinked at him. Shaded by the brim of her straw bonnet, her aquamarine eyes were so huge and clear that Sinjin could see himself reflected in them, and he didn’t like what he saw. More to the point, he didn’t like what hefelt.
Could he, the notorious God of Revelry, be jealous over some windbag fossil collector?
The idea was laughable. Absurd. There was no way in hell he felt threatened by Pickering-Parks. He told himself that he just didn’t like the fact that Polly had hidden whatever was going on between her and that popinjay. Because shewashiding something: he’d sensed it yesterday and now, catching her on a jaunt with the bone-chasing buffoon, he was sure of it.
“I wasn’t, um, doing anything,” she said.
Her answer, the nervous way she wetted her lips, did not improve his disposition. Taking her firmly by the arm, he led her along the path and a safe distance away from her chaperone. He took her to the Chinoiserie style pagoda he’d passed on his way to find her. The rectangular structure was made up of four columns holding up a double-tiered roof and was topped by a golden spire. The longer side overlooked the pond, the shorter sides shielded by dense walls of rushes. He backed her up against the nearest column, which was hidden from view of the path.
Leaning in, he said, “If it was nothing, then why did you lie about it?”
“I didn’t lie,” she protested. “I told you I would be here.”
“Not about that. About why you didn’t want me here. Does it have something to do with that stuffed shirt?”
A notch formed between her brows. “You can’t possibly be jealous… ofNigel?”
Wrong bloody thing to say. On two counts.
“Nigel?” he said acidly.
She flushed, mumbling, “It’s easier to say than Mr. Pickering-Parks.”
“You’d best take that into consideration, then. Polly Pickering-Parks—that’s quite a tongue-twister. You’d give old Peter Piper a run for his money.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.” Frowning, she added, “And you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
Rationally, he knew she was right, but she’d stirred the devil in him. Even as he strove to keep the monster in check, he was swayed by the powerful emotions and roaring thoughts.Why is Polly dragging her heels over marrying me? Does she think that I won’t make a good husband? Does she think that that paltry bone collector would make a better one?
Sinjin’s molars ground together. This burning possessiveness was new to him. He didn’t like her power over him: how easily she could unbalance his equanimity, add momentum to his inner pendulum.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he bit out.
With a sigh, she said, “In the past several months, Mr. Pickering-Parks and I have spent some time in each other’s company. Nothing happened between us, but there was the unspoken possibility that something might. I came today to let him know that the possibility was no longer there.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Nige—I mean, Mr. Pickering Parks?” She made a sound of amusement. “Can you imagine him being moved to do so with anything other than a fossil?”
He knew she was right. Still…
“Did you want him to kiss you?”
