“And an unwelcome one, too, I expect. But I won’t take up too much of your time.” The club owner gestured to the chair opposite Sinjin’s. “May I?”
He shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Once they were both seated, Corbett met his gaze directly. “I’ll cut to the chase. Since Kent informed me of the truth, I’ve struggled with the knowledge that I played a role, albeit inadvertent, in the plot against you. I felt compelled to come today to offer my sincere apologies.”
“A conscience, have you?” Sinjin drawled. “Isn’t that a hazard in your line of work?”
Color appeared on Corbett’s slashing cheekbones, but his tone remained politely neutral.
“Any man of success has standards. It is my mission to ensure a first-rate experience for everyone involved in my business, from the customer to the whore to the footmen serving the champagne. My patrons won’t be happy if my employees aren’t: that is my philosophy. Thus, I am concerned about everyone and everything that happens in my club. Call it a conscience, if it suits you. I call it good business sense.”
“I really hope that is not your version of an apology.”
“No, it is simply an explanation for why I took Nicoletta at her word. She is—was,” he corrected, “one of my employees, and the wenches are the most vulnerable to uncouth clientele. I do not tolerate mistreatment of those who work for me—”
“Only those who patronize your business,” Sinjin said acerbically.
“Point taken.” With a nod, Corbett acknowledged his blame. “It was my fault for not investigating the matter more thoroughly. There’s no excuse for it, but when I saw the state that she was in, the way she was weeping…”—something dark and dangerous flashed in Corbett’s gaze—“I believed her lies. My error led me to treat you inhospitably.”
“You wanted to have me hauled off by the magistrates. If that is your version ofinhospitable, I wonder what your behavior is like when you’re actually being rude.”
“As I have said in various ways, I am sorry for my mistake. I hope you will accept my apology.”
Sinjin brooded over his options. He could tell the other to go to hell—which would be satisfying but childish. The man had made an honest mistake; hell, for a brief while, Sinjin had doubted his own innocence. It would be churlish to refuse an apology so freely and sincerely given.
“I suppose I can’t blame you for being duped by the same villainess who duped me,” he muttered.
“Quite generous of you, my lord. Thank you.” The lines around the other man’s mouth eased. He leaned slightly forward. “And now for the second reason for my visit: I would like to offer you something for the trouble I’ve caused.”
“That is unnecessary. I’m done with your establishment,” Sinjin stated.
To his surprise, Corbett gave a light laugh. “And for more than one reason, I understand.”
“Beg pardon?”
“May I congratulate you on your engagement to Miss Kent?”
News travelled quickly. Then again, Corbett was a legendary fount of information. Given that his club was as prime a hub of gossip as White’s or Boodle’s, it wasn’t surprising that the man knew of Sinjin’s engagement. Well, in this instance, Sinjin had naught to hide. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops that Polly belonged to him.
“Thank you,” he said with pride.
Corbett nodded. “Now what I want to offer you is information. Kent left me a sketch and description of Nicoletta’s accomplice, and I’ve interviewed every one of my staff personally, from my most popular wench down to the boot-blacking boy. And I have some news that might interest you.”
Sinjin sat up in his chair. “I’m listening.”
“One of my girls, Angelina, recalled seeing that man in the club the night you were poisoned. I don’t know how he slipped in—the guards at the door didn’t see him—but Nicoletta could have let him in through one of the back entrances. At any rate, Angelina passed him on the stairs, and it stayed with her because he looked familiar to her. She used to work near the West India Docks and thinks she might have seen him in one of the area’s taverns. It was his voice that she remembered most clearly: ‘deep as a foghorn,’ she said.”
The hair prickled on Sinjin’s neck at the spot-on description.
“Unfortunately, she couldn’t recall which tavern she saw him in,” Corbett said, “and I reckon there are at least two dozen or more by the docks, but I hope this will provide a useful lead in your search for the true culprit.”
“I’m certain it will,” Sinjin said with anticipation. “Thank you.”
“It was the least that I could do, my lord.” The other man stood and bowed, and Sinjin returned the courtesy. “May I offer my felicitations again? I understand Miss Kent is a fine young lady, the apple not falling far from the tree. I have great respect for her family.”
“You have a personal acquaintance with the Kents?” Somehow, Sinjin had difficulty imagining Ambrose Kent being chummy with a cock-bawd—or allowing one near his kin.
“I cannot claim that, no. A man like me would hardly belong in their circle.” The other’s mouth had a self-deprecating curve. “But from what I’ve heard, the family is a good one and devoted to one another. A true rarity.”
