A spasm hit his chest as he looked at Polly. This was all because of her. She was slowly but surely chipping away at his walls and bridging him to the world that he’d been convinced had no place for him.
Yearning unfurled… and was halted by a sudden cold chill.
You don’t know how she’ll react to your devils. She may run… or worse.Even as he told himself she was nothing like other women he’d known—that she bore no resemblance to his mama or the current duchess—the thought of Polly’s rejection turned his insides to ice. Things were fine and dandy now, but she’d never seen him at his worse…
And she never will,he vowed to himself grimly. It was a necessary reminder that he had to keep his marriage unencumbered by true intimacy. He could only expose those parts of himself that were worthy of Polly; the rest he had to keep hidden.
“Don’t worry, Sinjin. Ambrose will find Grundell,” she said softly.
He didn’t correct her mistaken assumption as to the cause of his unease. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he said to her brother. “I don’t like twiddling my thumbs when I could be out searching for this villain.”
“As I’ve said before, it’s best to leave the matter to professionals,” Kent said firmly. “If Grundell is capable of murdering his lover and co-conspirator, then he may be capable of anything.”
“But will you and the others be safe?” Polly asked her brother in worried tones.
“No need to fret,” Kent reassured her. “I do this for a living, remember?”
Witnessing the exchange, Sinjin felt a pang. If Stephan were still alive, he would have liked Polly and her family. Like Sinjin, he would have been in awe of the strong bonds of kinship between the Kents…
A sudden hush returned him to the room. His gaze went to the pair of newcomers standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Beside him, Polly whispered, “Oh my goodness, I didn’t invite them. How did they know about the party?”
Sinjin couldn’t answer her. Because he had no clue why his stepmama and half-brother had come. Or what they wanted from him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I am sorry for intruding,” the Duchess of Acton said stiffly. “Had I known that you were entertaining, I would have paid a call at a more convenient time.”
“What do you want?” Sinjin said.
Polly cringed at his bluntness. The situation was already awkward enough with his family’s unexpected arrival in the middle of his birthday party. She’d debated whether or not to invite Sinjin’s kin; given their conspicuous absence at the wedding and what he’d shared of his past, she’d decided against it.
Needless to say, the appearance of Her Grace and Lord Theodore had created an uncomfortable moment. Marianne had smoothly suggested that Polly take Sinjin’s relations for a tour of the house to show them some of the improvements she’d made. Polly had gratefully accepted her sister-in-law’s exit strategy, and now she and the duchess were seated on opposing sides of the hearth in the study, Sinjin and Lord Theodore standing behind their respective chairs.
“There’s no need to be boorish,” Her Grace said.
Polly supposed that the other lady’s fine-boned features and pale blond coloring were quite beautiful, but it was a beauty carved from ice. There was no trace of warmth in the woman’s demeanor or aura. Indeed, when addressing Sinjin, the woman emanated frigid animosity—a fact that Polly did not likeat all.
Neither did Sinjin, apparently, for he said in a tone edged with impatience, “Polly and I have guests to return to, so whatever business brings you here, be quick about it.”
Her Grace sniffed. “Trust me, had I any choice I would not have come. But my sense of duty made this visit necessary. This concerns your papa.”
“What about him?”
“Acton is… not well.”
For the first time, Polly saw a flicker of sentiment beneath the layer of ice, and before she could discern what it was, Lord Theodore spoke.
“What mater means to say is that pater is dying,” he said flatly.
Her Grace’s lips pressed into a tight line. “There’s no need to be so blunt, Theo dear.”
“We don’t have time to circle around the matter,” her son said with a touch of belligerence.
Although Lord Theo shared his mama’s looks and haughty manner, his aura differed from hers. Insecurity, not coldness, was at the core of his glow. To Polly, his obvious efforts to appear sophisticated had the opposite effect of making him seem younger than his years.
He addressed Sinjin. “Papa had another coughing fit yesterday. It was so bad that, against his will, we summoned a physician.” His throat bobbed above his fussy cravat. “The doctor says Papa has six months at the most. You have a right to know.”
