heated kisses.
Was this what he had meant when he had said he would no longer be her friend by the light of day?
“What a miserable curmudgeon,” she fumed to Lady. “The sheer gall of the man, questioning your name, telling me my unguent has an odd scent. He all but states he will not try it.”
Hyacinth realized she was pacing and clutching the note, written in stern, sloping scrawl. Boldly masculine. Commanding, and yet with a slant that suggested he was not as regimented as he hoped.
She was going to respond. She had to.
Hyacinth fetched pen and paper and dashed a few words on the page.
Dear neighbor who is most unappreciative of my barking dog and raucous parties without cessation keeping him awake at night,
Lady is a sobriquet for Adelaide, and I can think of better uses for your sharp tongue than discourteous notes.
Sincerely,
The neighbor you demanded a kiss from
There. Her heart thumped as she gazed down at the bold words she had written. Words she was not certain she dared send. She read them once, twice, thrice. She felt as fidgety as a wild bird about to wing into the sky away from an approaching fox. She bit her lip as Lady padded over to her and sat at her feet, blinking with glossy brown eyes as if to offer her opinion on the matter.
“Shall we do it, Lady?” she asked her dog, for there was no one else about for her to put the question to.
The pug was her accomplice now.
Lady huffed out a polite little dog sneeze and then offered a yip. Hyacinth took it as acquiescence. The note was sent.
Her stomach felt as it had each time she had incited Southwick’s wrath, all cramped in knots. But this time, there was not a hail of rage awaiting her. There was no fear, only trepidation. A new emotion.
Better than fear.
Her butler, Pennington, arrived at the library door. “Lord Sidmouth to see your ladyship,” he announced dourly.
She stifled a gasp.
He was here.
She glanced down at her gown—passable—and thought of her hair—it would have to do. Her suddenly damp palms clenched her skirts. “See his lordship to the green salon, if you please, Pennington. I shall join him there.”
Pennington bowed and disappeared, leaving Hyacinth alone with Lady.
What in heaven’s name had she done with her impulsive words?
There was only one way to find out.
“Wait for Mama right here,” she told Lady. “I will be back in a trice.”
Chapter Four
Tom prowled around the perimeter of the salon to which he had been escorted by a butler who looked as if he had been sucking on lemons all morning. The fellow could take a lesson or two from Trenton when it came to sociability. But Hyacinth’s domestic did have to suffer through his mistress’s unlimited social engagements. Perhaps that was the reason for his air of irritation with the world at large.
Certainly, the nonsense of the last fortnight would grow taxing upon a body. Lord knew it had upon Tom himself. Of course, there was always the possibility the forfeit she had paid him the evening before could be considered reparations.
He cleared his throat, trying not to think about those luscious, stolen kisses, lest the southern portion of his anatomy get too carried away. Instead, he turned his attention to the chamber in which he found himself. Once Lady Allesford’s prized sewing room, it already bore evidence of the eclectic tastes of the new lady of the house. It hardly resembled the bland room it had once been. The walls were hung with emerald damask. A massive gilt mirror dominated the space above a velvet chaise longue. Other pictures abounded, most of them dark, turbulent landscapes.
As he waited for Hyacinth to appear, he wondered what the devil he had been thinking in calling upon her. Strike that. He knew what he had been thinking. Her words had been a sensual challenge. One he had accepted. It was only now, as he was alone, that he contemplated the wisdom of his rash actions.
He had spent the last few years chasing after a beautiful blonde woman who had been daring, bold, and the absolute light of every gathering in which she had been involved. A woman who had shattered him. Who had returned his betrothal ring and ultimately told him her heart belonged to another.
Yet here he was, playing the fool once more. Unable to keep his distance from Hyacinth when another entanglement was the last thing he needed. Awaiting her in her