Hyacinth frowned, looking from Lottie to the duke and back again. The last thing Lottie wanted was for her friend to deduce there was something between herself and the Duke of Brandon. For there most certainly wasn’t.
Lottie gave a disdainful sniff. “At least they are not living a lie, Your Grace.”
It was bold of her, she knew, referencing their ill-advised assignation in his emerald salon. But Hyacinth couldn’t possibly know what she was speaking of, and the need to put the arrogant duke in his place was strong.
His jaw tightened, the only sign that her words had hit their mark. “Perhaps we have different definitions of what is a lie and what is the truth, my lady.”
Sidmouth appeared suddenly at Hyacinth’s side, tall, golden-haired, and handsome. The two truly did make a delightful couple. Lottie wished them all the happiness, for they deserved it.
“The carriage is ready, darling,” the viscount told Hyacinth. “Shall we go, Lady Sidmouth?”
Hyacinth beamed at her new husband, any worry that had been marring her furrowed brow instantly smoothed by the sight of him. “Yes, Lord Sidmouth. I do believe we shall.”
Feeling an unwanted pang of envy at the undeniable love between the couple, Lottie watched her friend being escorted away to her honeymoon by the viscount. To her irritation, the Duke of Brandon didn’t stray from her side.
“How dare you speak ill of my daughter?” he demanded, voice low and angry, all the easy charm of moments earlier having fled.
Startled, Lottie cast a glance in his direction, momentarily distracted by his stinging ire. “What in heaven’s name are you speaking about, Brandon? I’ve not said a word about that sweet child.”
“Of course you did. Just now, accusing me of living a lie.”
“I was referring to your reputation as a rake,” she countered quietly, “which is quite at odds with a man who declines an assignation in favor of a proposal of marriage.”
He gave her a brooding stare, likely pondering whether he believed her. His daughter was unmistakably a sensitive subject for him, and she could understand that all too well. Pandy would have a difficult life as an illegitimate daughter. Some lords raised their bastard children along with their own, whilst others hid them away, out of sight and forgotten. Either way, the boundary was there, and polite society was nothing if not unforgiving.
Even if the scandal was no fault of the child’s.
“Forgive me,” he said grudgingly then. “I stand corrected.”
His concession surprised her, and despite herself, Lottie felt a surge of admiration for his protective instincts where Pandy was concerned. “Thank you.” She pursed her lips, not wanting to know and yet feeling the need to be polite as she continued, “Tell me, how is the hunt for a bride coming?”
“As well as can be expected.” He gave her a considering look. “And how is the search for a lover?”
The wordlover, uttered in his deep, decadent voice made an unwanted frisson go down her spine. Try as she might, she hadn’t forgotten those stolen kisses they’d shared.
Nettled with herself for her weakness where he was concerned, she slanted him a disapproving look. “Who said I was looking for one?”
“You did, in my emerald salon. Or have you forgotten what happened there?”
Dreadful man. They were surrounded by well-wishers seeing off their friends, gossips and scandalmongers amongst their swelling ranks, and this was what he chose as polite conversation?
She gave him a quelling frown. “I said no such thing. All I recall is a smelly dog and an adorable child.”
His glittering green eyes narrowed, and she wished she didn’t find them nearly as mesmerizing as she did. “You and I both know it is a different occasion of which I speak.”
“I’ve quite forgotten that unfortunate little incident already,” she told him with a bright smile.
A lie, of course.
She’d thought of little else.
“How well do you know Kingham?” he asked her suddenly.
His abrupt shift in subject startled her. “The Duke of Kingham and I have traveled in some of the same circles over the last few years. Why should it concern you?”
“No reason,” he said.
Which she knew was also a prevarication, unless she missed her guess. The Duke of Brandon wasn’t a man who asked questions without purpose. What a pair they made, liars, the both of them.
