“What?” Sinjin roared.
“P-pardon, my lord.” The groom’s voice filtered in, and Polly suddenly realized that the carriage had stopped. “We’re back as you instructed, but if you’d like us to drive on—”
“Open the goddamned door and help Lady Revelstoke out,” Sinjin snapped.
The partition opened to reveal the groom’s harried face. Face burning, Polly took the servant’s offered hand and alighted down the steps into the cooling night. She tried desperately to calm her inner tumult. She watched as Sinjin vaulted to the ground—only to climb into the driver’s seat.
“Wh-where are you going?” she stammered.
His black gaze burned with the devil’s fire.
“Away from you,” he gritted out.
Through a haze of shock and mortification, she watched the carriage roll away and vanish into the darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Three nights later, Polly found herself alone in the Shackleton’s garden. She wandered listlessly through the labyrinthine hedges, wishing that she hadn’t let Emma talk her into coming. Her eldest sister had said that the distraction would do her good—that it would be better than moping at home, waiting for her husband to return.
During the daytime, Polly kept herself busy at the academy. The one bright spot was that Tim was recovering rapidly, his injuries mostly superficial according to the physician. Yesterday, he’d been well enough to sit up in bed, where he’d been visited by a flow of mudlarks who’d apparently crowned him their new Prince. He’d asked repeatedly for Sinjin, adamant in his resolve to return the favor the other had done him by defeating Crooke.
Inspiration had struck Polly. The mudlarks were the “eyes and ears” of the stews; they were everywhere yet nowhere, blending in perfectly with their environment. Thus, with Ambrose’s blessing, she’d given Tim and his band a sketch of Grundell, asking them to keep an eye out for the villain. They were given strict orders not to approach the man but to alert her brother immediately should there be a sighting.
She was rather proud of her idea… and wished she could share it with Sinjin. Looking up at the dark canopy of the night, she wondered where Sinjin was right now, what he was feeling and thinking, and her shoulders hunched. Her despair was only slightly lightened by the fact that he’d sent her a note. In those terse lines, he’d let her know he was invoking their agreement on privacy and would return in a few days.
At least he plans to return.She kicked a pebble out of her path.
As much as she missed Sinjin and regretted that she’d pushed him into a quarrel, she was also beginning to heartily dislike their moratorium on intimacy. They were fooling themselves if they thought they could spend companionable days and passionate nights together and not develop bonds between them.
She couldn’t go on this way. She was in love with Sinjin, and she couldn’t and didn’t want to keep it to herself any longer. The pain of keeping an emotional distance was starting to seem worse than her fear of taking a risk and letting him know about her secret.
How would Sinjin react?
Would he reject her outright… or might he be able to accept her affliction?
Three days ago, she’d had budding confidence that his reaction might be the latter. Then again, three days ago, he’d been an affectionate and wildly passionate husband and now…
Now I don’t know what to do.
She reached the heart of the maze, which featured a marble fountain of Bacchus surrounded by his band of merry satyrs and Maenads.Just perfect.Now she found herself worrying about what Sinjin might be up to in her absence, whether he would revert to his former rakehell ways.
Don’t be a ninny. He said he’d be faithful.
She’d promised not to plague him, to give him space, and she’d brokenhervow. What if he did the same? She slumped onto one of the benches circling the fountain, tears she couldn’t hold back trickling from her eyes.
“Lady Revelstoke?”
She twisted around.Oh, perfect again.
“Lord Brockhurst.” Swiping at her wet cheeks, she rose, her curtsy perfunctory. “I was just leaving—”
“Please don’t go. Not just yet.” In the moonlight, his features were beseeching. “I know I have no right to ask, but I wish for a moment of your time.”
“What for?” she said warily.
“I want to apologize.” He exuded sincerity. “All these months, I’ve been too cowardly to do so, but I cannot bear it any longer. I know that you must have somehow discovered my… ungentlemanly behavior. Was it Revelstoke who told you about the wager?”
“How I know is none of your business,” she said flatly.
