For the first time, Sinjin was waking up to the same body in his bed every morning, and he adored it. Not just because he could start the day with one of his favorite activities—and by Jove, those early lovemaking sessions were fine—but because seeing Polly the first thing when he woke gave him a sense of rightness he’d never known before.
He was feeling… settled. Anchored by his new role as a husband.
There were countless other delights as well. He liked having a wife to care about his preferences, from how he took his tea to his favorite foods to assorted household decisions he’d never paid any mind to before. It soothed him knowing that she was close by; if she wasn’t, the lingering trace of apple blossoms reminded him that she would be back soon. He enjoyed their conversations, which addressed everything from mundane matters to more private ones.
He’d never liked to talk about his past or his family, but with Polly it was different. Sharing with her came naturally. All in all, their union had the easy camaraderie and affection he had hoped for. And, as much as he liked Harry, he found himself missing his new bride already.
“This has been grand,” he began, “but I really ought to—”
“Let’s go another round.” Harry sent a harried glance at his pocket watch. “Polly doesn’t expect us back until three, so there’s still time… that is, if you can bear being parted from her?”
Accompanied by a beatific smile, Harry’s words were a downright challenge.
Sinjin had never been one to back down. “All right. One more round.”
They returned to the ring, and as Sinjin’s body took over, defending against attacks and issuing them, his mind wandered. He wondered if Polly’s feelings for him could ever run deeper than affection. As he delivered a jab and hook combination, he told himself to be grateful with the marriage he had and not to rock the boat, especially when his new wife hadn’t yet weathered one of his storms. He’d leased an apartment to go to when the devils took over, but he had to remain vigilant to their reemergence. At the first sign of one of his moods, he would have to beat a hasty retreat.
The notion, though necessary, struck him as wholly unappealing. It also distracted him from the oncoming attack. Harry’s uppercut snapped his head back.
“Sorry, old boy,” the other called cheerfully.
Once the stars cleared, and he saw one version of Harry, rather than two, he muttered, “My fault for woolgathering.” He declined the other’s offer to have a rest, and they continued sparring, with Sinjin giving as good as he got.
By the time the two of them returned to the townhouse an hour later, they’d both undergone a battering. Sinjin felt limber and relaxed as he stepped over the threshold, inquiring after Polly’s whereabouts.
“The countess is in the drawing room, my lord,” Harvey said.
The old retainer, who was as stoic as Strickley, looked as if he was trying to hide a smile. Sinjin’s face heated as he could well imagine the cause of the other’s good humor. He probably appeared like an overeager bridegroom. Not wanting to appear any more foolish, he forced himself to stroll casually toward the drawing room, opening the door…
“SURPRISE!”
The startling shout made him stumble backwards and collide into Harry.
“What in blazes?” He gawked at the roomful of people.
Polly stood in front of the throng, her face wreathed in smiles. She was wearing one of her new gowns, a delightful pink confection that made him think of her as his own personal bonbon.
“This is your birthday cele—oh my goodness,” she gasped. “What happened to your jaw?”
“For a scholarly sort, your brother has a mean uppercut.” He spoke lightly whilst inside he was reeling. Looking around the packed room, he saw perhaps two dozen guests, wrapped presents covering the tables, and carts laden with refreshments.
Polly had arranged all of this… for him?
She touched a hand to his swollen jaw, and his chest tightened at her gentleness. Her sweetness.
“Harry was supposed to delay you,” she said, “not beat you to a pulp!”
At that, he scowled. “Your brother didn’t beat me. You should seehim.”
He moved aside so that Harry could step forward and ruefully display his shiner.
“For a posh nob, your husband has a mean jab,” Harry informed his sister.
Grinning, he buffeted Sinjin in the shoulder; Sinjin returned the favor.
Rolling her eyes, Polly muttered, “Dear Lord, I’ve created a monster. I had better separate you two before there’s further bloodshed.”
“Speaking of bloodshed, I’m going to challenge Violet to a game of cards.” Behind his spectacles, Harry’s eyes had a troublemaking gleam. “She might be a viscountess and mama now, but she still hates to lose.”
