But Lady Grenfell’s chin tipped upward. “Lady Southwick is carrying your child.”
A light rap at the door denoted the arrival of their tea. The news Lady Grenfell had imparted had rendered Sidmouth incapable of speech for the moment. The tea service was left on a table, and the capable Lady Grenfell began to pour.
“None for me,” Sidmouth said suddenly, his voice hoarse with emotion.
The countess glanced up, surprise etched on her countenance. “I thought a bracing cup might be the thing.”
But the viscount shook his head. “No. I need to rectify this matter at once.”
Lady Grenfell frowned. “How will you do so?”
“By marrying her, of course.”
“Why do you wish to marry Hyacinth, my lord?” the countess pressed. “She was trapped in an unhappy marriage once, and as someone who suffered the same fate, I can assure you that the last thing I would want is for her to find herself similarly constrained again.”
Lady Grenfell hadn’t been contented in her marriage, then. It was news to Brandon, who had never particularly troubled himself with society gossip. Perhaps that explained her reticence.I doubt that God himself could persuade me to marry again, she had said, and not without corresponding bitterness.
“I love her,” Sidmouth announced. “No tea. I must go.”
His friend rose quite as if a fire had been lit under his arse.
“It’s still raining,” Brandon pointed out dryly, wondering if the viscount had forgotten he’d walked through the driving rain on his way here. He was still waterlogged. “My carriage is at your disposal. Take it, if you please, and avoid a lung infection. I’ll not have you meeting an untimely end when you’re about to become a father.”
Sidmouth nodded, lost in his thoughts. “Thank you, Brandon. I’m indebted. You’ll come to the wedding, of course?”
“Rather putting the cart before the horse, are you not, Sid?” he teased.
Another nod. “Of course. Yes. I’ll have to ask her first. She’ll have to say yes. God.” He shook his head. “Thank you for telling me the news, Lady Grenfell.”
The countess inclined her head regally, her expression solemn. “I hope I’ve done what is right.”
“You have, my lady.” A bow, and then Sidmouth all but raced from the room.
Brandon watched the door snap closed behind his friend, bemused by this unexpected turn of events. And by LadyGrenfell’s presence in his emerald salon once again. More silence ensued, punctuated only by Sidmouth’s diminishing footfalls and the sound of rain lashing the windowpane.
Lady Grenfell’s gaze slipped to her tea, avoiding him, he thought, the notion vexing. He intended to say something clever. To offer a quip that shook her from her lack of engagement, but then the door to the salon opened and a small creature raced across the Axminster, followed closely by a flurry of ringlets and colorful skirts.
The furred thing ran directly toward Lady Grenfell.
“Pandy,” he warned, rising from his chair as he realized what was about to unfold.
Lady Grenfell screamed. Tea flew everywhere. And the creature raced beneath the hem of her gown.
Bloody hell.
CHAPTER 6
Something furry flew beneath Lottie’s skirts.
She screamed, upending her teacup, and jolted to her feet. Grasping fists of silk and petticoats, she lifted her hem to her knees in an instinctive reaction, trying to make certain that it—whatever it was—was disabused of the notion it might make a home beneath her gown.
“Cat!” cried a girlish voice.
Belatedly, Lottie became aware of the presence of a small child. Her cheeks were rosy, her green eyes were dancing, and she had a head full of dark ringlets. Her small face gave no doubt who she was—Brandon’s illegitimate daughter.
“Pandy, what manner of scrape have you found yourself in now?” he demanded of the girl, his voice stern.
“I’m playing chase-chase with Cat,” the girl explained.
