I give much care for such things, of course, my lady.”
A souse?
That was perfectly dreadful. He had hardly seemed any more inebriated than herself last night. But of course, Hyacinth had been too gleeful in her consumption of champagne. Which was also dreadful, now that she thought upon it.
She frowned as Edgars added a final hair pin. “Of course you do not gossip, Edgars. You may rest assured that I am more than aware you only trade in rumors at my urging.”
She paused, wondering how much she dared reveal. Edgars was more than trusted. However, Hyacinth herself did not understand the complexities of emotions sifting through her in relation to Lord Sidmouth. She required time to further study them.
“I do believe there were also some whispers about his former betrothed,” her lady’s maid added gamely. “He was to marry a lady who was already wedded to another. There was to have been a divorce, but the lady changed her mind. Quite the scandal, I gather. All London knew about it.”
“How awful that must have been for him,” she mused before she could think better of the words. The bitterness in his voice last night certainly made sense. “And a contributing factor to his lordship’s…distress, no doubt.”
Her own disastrous marriage had been hell upon earth. Hyacinth wondered what could have possibly changed the mind of Lord Sidmouth’s former betrothed. Why remain married to a man she had been intent upon divorcing? Many times, Hyacinth had dreamed of obtaining a divorce from Southwick. She hadn’t sufficient grounds, and Southwick had been determined never to let her go.
“Quite awful,” Edgars agreed. “I am afraid that is all I know, my lady. Do you wish me to find out more information for you? I would be more than happy to employ Alice to speak with one of the chamber maids there.”
“No,” Hyacinth denied quickly. Far too quickly. “That will hardly be necessary, Edgars, though I do thank you. It is not done to spy upon one’s new neighbor, is it?”
Even if the new neighbor in question had been beautifully handsome by the moonlight and had kissed her as she had never imagined a man could kiss a woman. Even if he had given her the best kisses she had ever known. Especially then.
Was that not true?
“If my lady wishes it, I shall inquire myself,” Edgars said. “I shall not stoop to espionage. You have my word.”
“No espionage or inquiries, Edgars,” she decided, thinking again of the manner in which Lord Sidmouth had plucked Lady from the roses. He sounded like a gentleman in need of kindness. As someone who had been denied it, Hyacinth knew how much that meant. “Not yet. However, I would like you to send something next door for me, if you please. With discretion.”
Perhaps her old herb garden at Willdon Hall would prove fortuitous.
Although she had left it and all the painful memories contained within her former home behind, she had brought with her what remained of her endeavors. Raising herbs and using them to concoct various healing creams had been one of her sole means of escape from the misery of her every day. Until Southwick had caught her.
“What shall I send, my lady?” Edgars asked.
“Fetch a pot of agrimony, raspberry leaves, and rosemary unguent from my collection, if you please,” she instructed. “I will write a note to accompany the gift.”
“Of course, Lady Southwick,” her lady’s maid said. “I will return with it in a trice.
Hyacinth did her best not to flinch at the use of her hated title. Loathsome reminder of what she had endured in her marriage or not, the title was still hers, and she was bound to answer to it. When Edgars had gone, Hyacinth took up pen and paper, ignoring her breakfast in favor of penning some words.
To Lord Sidmouth,
Please accept this remedy as a token of my gratitude for the injuries you suffered whilst rescuing my beloved pup, Adelaide.
She paused, holding the end of her pen to her lips as she contemplated her next words. Her head was still throbbing with the aftereffects of all that dratted champagne, but somehow this letter, this action seemed important. Necessary. She nibbled on her pen as she pondered what she would say next before continuing.
I was hoping you might join me for dinner this evening.
Hyacinth stopped and stared at her neat words upon the page. So small, without any flourishes. She re-read what she had written. No, that was far too forward. Was it not?