“But I also love him,” Hyacinth admitted on another sniff.
Just as Lottie had suspected. And she had seen the way the viscount looked at her friend, quite as if she were the only woman who had ever gracedterra firma. She would wager Sidmouth was in love with Hyacinth as well. Now, there was a baby to consider too.
“You must tell Lord Sidmouth about the baby, dearest,” she said gently. “He is the child’s father. He has a right to know. Even if you have no wish to marry, he deserves to be told.”
“No.” Hyacinth shook her head vehemently.
“Hyacinth, I love you like a sister, but you must see reason,” Lottie pressed.
“Do not take me to task, I beg of you.” Hyacinth pressed a hand to her stomach, her pallor heightened, looking as if she were about to retch. “I have seen reason, Lottie. I am not meant to be the merry widow. I tried, but it is not in me. And now that I am carrying a child, I have been thinking about what I must do for the babe. Not just for myself. I am going to go away, to the countryside where no one knows me.”
Lottie was aghast at the notion. “You cannot mean it, Hyacinth. What of Town? You have scarcely been here but two months’ time. I refuse to believe you will leave me so suddenly. Ineedyou.”
Hyacinth’s smile was wistful. “You are being silly, Lottie. You do not need me.”
“Of course I do.” Lottie bumped her elbow into her friend’s in a teasing fashion, attempting to lighten the mood. “Who shall accompany me on all my shopping excursions? And how shall I woo the Duke of Brandon without you?”
Never mind that she no longer intended to woo the man. Hyacinth didn’t need to know that just now.
“Most importantly,” Lottie continued, “who will have tea with me whenever the notion strikes me? Who shall tell me when I am wearing something garish? You know I favor bold colors, and no one else will tell me the truth, save you.”
“You may visit me in the country if you like,” Hyacinth said quietly.
Lottie shuddered, for the last place she wanted to go was the country—nothing but dreadful memories dwelled there. “More blasphemy.”
They were silent, seated together, nothing but the steady thrumming of a mantel clock to interrupt the quiet.
“It is what has to be, Lottie,” Hyacinth said at last. “It is for the best. You shall see.”
And Lottie’s heart sank to the soles of her handsome new silk-and-satin embroidered boots.
Blast.
She despised meddling of all forms. But one thing was painfully clear to her after her chat with Hyacinth. She was going to have to seek out Sidmouth on her friend’s behalf, before it was too late for Hyacinth to find the happiness she deserved.
“You look like a drowned puppy,”Brandon observed grimly as he took in the sight of his old chum, Viscount Sidmouth, dripping and bedraggled, in his entry hall.
“I went for a walk,” Sidmouth explained with a drunken half smile. “And it began to rain.”
Bloody hell.It was a damned good thing Brandon had left Pandy in the care of her nurse. He hadn’t expected a caller at all, let alone a soused one. And although his daughter had no doubt witnessed all manner of scenes she ought not to have in her young life, he had no wish to expose her to more.
“Towels, if you please,” he called to his servants, all of whom were remaining discreetly out of sight.
The quiet scurrying of footfalls told him they hastened to do his bidding. Thank Christ. Sidmouth was making puddles all over the polished marble. Apparently, the viscount had ventured on his walk without an umbrella or top hat to blunt the sting of the rains.
“Towels would be welcome,” his friend said, listing to the right. “And mayhap some whisky.”
Brandon sniffed the air, which was redolent with the scent of spirits, and raised a brow. “Morewhisky, old chum?”
Sidmouth’s inebriated state was somewhat troubling. He had always been one of the most staid, dependable chaps Brandon had known, and he was certainly not given to excess, whether it be food, drink, or the pleasures of the flesh. Indeed, he had never joined in any of the festivities at Wingfield Hall.
“Shut up,” Sidmouth slurred, swaying to the left now.
He attempted to avoid falling and slipped on the marble.
“Bloody hell, man.” Brandon caught his friend in a staying grasp before he toppled to his arse or, worse, to his head. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” Sidmouth said brightly.
