gracious as ever, ethereally beautiful with her golden tresses styled in a thick knot at her crown with ringlets falling down her back. She was dressed in green silk, which complemented her vibrant, emerald eyes. But there was a difference in her now—a maternal beauty that could not be denied, along with the full roundness of her belly.
“Lady Calliope,” Tilly greeted, smiling in that slight, elfin way of hers. “Lord Sinclair. You will forgive me if I do not rise? My feet are quite swollen at the moment, in my ungainly state.”
Sin chanced a glance in Lady Calliope’s direction. Her eyes were wide, her pallor pronounced. She swallowed. “Of course you are forgiven, Your Grace. A lady in such a delicate condition takes precedence over social niceties.”
He knew what his betrothed was thinking. He could practically see the wheels inside her mind churning. She thought Tilly’s babe was his.
“Thank you for your understanding, my dear.” Tilly’s gaze flicked between Sin and Lady Calliope, a question in her eyes.
His note to her had been brief and circumspect, lest Longleigh intercept it. The duke was a desperately jealous man. Tilly had suffered enough in her marriage; Sin had no wish to be the cause of further pain.
“Lady Calliope has agreed to become my betrothed,” he explained, treading carefully. “However, she is in need of some reassurance from you.”
Tilly stiffened. “Reassurance? I am not certain how I may provide such comfort.”
Regret sliced through him at involving her. He and Tilly were old, trusted friends. Their bond had begun well before their relationship had become physical. Before her marriage to Longleigh as well. He knew, better than most, how private she was, and how she guarded her secrets. Her life with Longleigh depended upon it.
“Forgive me,” he entreated softly, hating this. Hating the depths to which he had been forced to sink. “I would not come to you were it not imperative.”
He was well aware how out of the ordinary this call was. How beyond the depths of propriety. Affaires were conducted in privacy, behind closed doors. The notion of introducing his future wife to his former mistress was beyond the pale, even by Sin’s standards. But Lady Calliope had left him with no choice. He only hoped Tilly could forgive him.
“Your secret is safe with me, Your Grace,” Lady Calliope added, avoiding Sin’s gaze. “You have my word that whatever you are willing to share with me will not go beyond these walls.”
Tilly’s lips parted, as if she were weighing her next words with care. “What became of Miss Vandenberg?”
He was surprised Tilly had been aware of his efforts to woo the heiress and their short-lived betrothal. He and Tilly had parted ways amicably, but he had been in a dark place after Celeste’s death, and the decision had been Tilly’s. Sin could see now how right she had been—they made better friends than lovers. Sadly, however, friends who had once been lovers could never truly return to being friends once more. Still, Tilly was the only woman Sin trusted aside from his mother.
“Miss Vandenberg’s father took exception to the serials being published,” he said, choosing to keep Lady Calliope’s authorship to himself. “Perhaps you have read them.”
“I would never read such vicious tripe about you, Sin,” Tilly said earnestly. “You ought to know that.”
Gratitude swept over him. He had not utterly ruined her opinion of him.
“Thank you, Tilly.” He inclined his head.
Lady Calliope’s gaze settled upon him, searching. A frown furrowed her brow.
“You need not thank me for knowing you are a good man and for honoring our friendship,” Tilly told him, before turning to Lady Calliope. “Pray tell me you have not read that horrid drivel, my lady, and believed it?”
Ha! The vixen had authored the horrid drivel in question. The irony was not lost upon Sin. Lady Calliope looked as if she had swallowed a fishbone.
“I was rather hoping you could help me to disbelieve it,” Lady Calliope said. “Lord Sinclair assures me that when my brother and the former Lady Sinclair died, he was with an acquaintance of his. An acquaintance who cannot be named but who would be willing to vouch for his presence with her.”
Tilly’s full lips tightened in obvious displeasure. “Sin was with me, all night long.”
Relief joined the gratitude. He had not been certain Tilly would be willing to make such an admission to anyone. He knew how tenuous her marriage with Longleigh was.
“Thank you,” he told her. “I have no wish to cause trouble