neighbor in the gardens.
And at having fled as well, like a frightened girl.
Of course, part of her was a frightened girl. The same one who had married Southwick and borne his tyrannical wrath. But that girl was gone, she reminded herself firmly.
Lady was snuggled against her, sleeping peacefully. Poor little puss had fallen asleep immediately last night. Hyacinth had not been so fortunate. She gave the pup a scratch atop her silken head before pressing a kiss to the wrinkles between her ears.
“Mama’s darling, are you not?” she asked, grateful for the presence of her beloved pug. “Will you forgive me for becoming so distracted last night?”
Lady woke and blinked lazily, watching her with adoring brown eyes that seemed to say more than Hyacinth could possibly comprehend.
“You were fortunate indeed to be rescued,” she said, stroking Lady’s soft fur. “And by the viscount.”
Ah, Lord Sidmouth.
And his kisses. Kisses Hyacinth swore she could feel imprinted upon her lips this morning. She trailed a forefinger over her mouth, thinking of how he had so thoroughly, tenderly, and wonderfully kissed her.
“Am I a fool, Lady my girl?” she asked, very much fearing she was.
The viscount’s words the evening before had hinted he was displeased with all females in general. Which meant he had a past. And a past meant disappointment, anger, betrayal, hurt. Pain.
No one knew that better than Hyacinth.
Lady blinked at her again and yawned.
“Alas, we cannot spend all day abed, darling. We have things to do.” At least, that was what Hyacinth told herself.
In truth, she had nothing pressing. Nothing save more distraction. A visit from Lottie, perhaps. She did need to organize her library. A trip to a book store. Mayhap some shopping. Life in London was not proving the freedom from her cage she had hoped it would be.
However, it was better than living beneath Southwick’s rule.
On a wistful sigh, she rose from bed and rang for her lady’s maid, Edgars, as Lady leapt from the bed and trotted faithfully by her heels. Edgars arrived promptly, a breakfast tray laden with all Hyacinth’s favorite fruits. Not an oeuf in sight. She could not abide by eggs as they had been Southwick’s favorite breakfast dish. Edgars always knew what to do. Thank heavens she had been able to find her and hire her again after Southwick’s death.
She deposited the tray on Hyacinth’s writing desk before laying out a fresh bowl of meat for Lady, along with some water. Lady scampered to her breakfast, all adorable canine enthusiasm for her meal.
Edgars approached with her customary cheerful smile, a robe de chambre extended. “It is a fine morning, my lady.”
Hyacinth wished she possessed her servant’s ceaseless optimism. “Is it fine, Edgars? I cannot help but to find myself in doubt.”
“The sun is shining for the second day in a row,” her lady’s maid offered as evidence.
Hyacinth sighed as she made her way to her writing desk and sat. Insufficient. Aside from her nocturnal adventure, her life since coming down to London had been decidedly uninspiring. A string of entertainments, attempts to be daring and bold, meaningless and insipid.
Once more, her mind traveled back to the previous evening and the unexpected encounter with Lord Sidmouth. Something warm unfurled in her belly. Excitement. Anticipation.
Desire.
Those kisses had been…well, extraordinary seemed such a bland word. How to describe what those shared moments in the moonlight had made her feel? Transcendent was a possibility. She had been as lofty as the moon in his arms, glowing from the inside out, brighter than the twinkling stars combined. Still, what could she do with these feelings? She had vowed to hold tight to her newfound freedom and never wed again. Although Lottie continuously urged her to take a lover, Hyacinth was not certain she was ready to trust a man so intimately. Not now and mayhap not ever.
Still, something told her Lord Sidmouth could be different. She needed to know more about him first, however. Why, she had no notion of whether or not Lord Sidmouth was unattached. The thought there could be a Lady Sidmouth somewhere made bile rise, swift and sharp.
“Edgars,” she said in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone, “what do you know of Viscount Sidmouth?”
After all, he had intimated he had a reputation, had he not?
Edgars finished brushing Hyacinth’s hair and began fashioning it into a coil of Grecian braids pinned at her crown. “His lordship next door? Seems to be a bit of a souse these days, judging from belowstairs gossip. Not that