away, the sound of his friend’s mirth following him as he went.
“The Duke of Brandon’s love nest?” Lottie repeated.
“Not so loudly if you please,” Hyacinth hissed at her friend, casting a glance around the interior of the sumptuous shop in which she and Lottie stood.
There were other ladies within, after all. And whilst she had already fashioned herself something of a fast reputation since her arrival in London, she had no wish for everyone in Lilly’s to overhear their private conversation.
“Forgive me.” Lottie’s eyes were wide, her expression rather akin to the lioness who has scented her dinner. “I did not mean to shout quite so loudly, but you do realize the duke’s home in St. John’s Wood is the stuff of legends, do you not?”
Hyacinth pondered her friend’s query. “No, I do not. It seems quite lovely to me, if a bit overrun with gilt. Nothing unusual, however.”
“Nothing unusual at all?” Her friend’s disappointment was palpable. “Did you tour the entire affair, or did you limit your interactions to just one bedchamber?”
“Lottie,” she chastised again, her ears going hot beneath her friend’s questions. “We had dinner together.”
“And that is all?” Lottie’s voice was shrewd. “Do you think I am a babe who was just born yesterday, darling? I know why Lord Sidmouth invited you to Brandon’s love nest, and it has nothing to do with dinner.”
Once again, Hyacinth cast a furtive glance around her. Their fellow ladies appeared otherwise occupied, some speaking with the shop girls, others viewing the latest creations of Lilly Loveton on display. The corsets and petticoats Mrs. Loveton had designed were nothing short of works of art. Little wonder the undergarments she produced in her West End shop had become so sought after by the crème de la crème of the Upper Ten Thousand.
Satisfied no one else was within hearing distance, Hyacinth turned back to her friend. “His lordship and I are friends. Nothing more.”
“Friends with decided advantages.” Lottie’s smile was wicked and knowing. “Fret not, dear heart. I will not force you to reveal all. But do forgive me if I cannot help but to be envious. You are in Town scarcely any time at all, and you have already taken a lover. Do you know I have been attempting to find a suitable candidate myself for the last year and have failed miserably at every turn?”
Lottie had been a widow longer than Hyacinth had. In the wake of her mourning period, it had been Lottie who had persuaded her to return to London. To live her life rather than hiding away in the country. Her widow’s portion provided a tidy enough sum for city life. Freedom had been a foreign state at first. But she was finding her way.
And now, she had found her way into Tom’s arms.
Into his bed.
She flushed at the memory of his tender lovemaking and cleared her throat, hoping her friend would fail to notice her sudden discomfit. “I told you, Lottie. He is only my friend. We are neighbors. We are simply getting to know each other.”
“In bed, without your clothing,” Lottie chirped. “But you may call it whatever you like, my dear.”
“Charlotte,” she snapped, using her friend’s full name in stern warning. “Do bite your tongue.”
“Do me a favor, will you?” She flashed a wicked grin. “Tell me if you see the chair.”
“The chair?” Hyacinth frowned, trying to make sense of her friend’s latest ramblings.
“Yes. Rumor has it that Brandon commissioned a chair specifically for lovemaking.” Lottie’s grin deepened. “If you see it, I would dearly love to know what it looks like.”
“There were any number of chairs in the household,” she pointed out, keeping her voice low. “How am I to know which of them is the chair?”
“You will know when you see it.” Lottie nodded wisely, as if she were an expert in such matters as coital assisting furniture. “I despair of ever getting a glimpse of it myself. Brandon scarcely seemed the dangerous libertine he is painted in the gossip columns.”
It was Hyacinth’s turn to be arch. “Why did you wish to seek out this shop and commission some new corsets and undergarments?”
Lottie went red as a beet. “A lady can hope. And, as my mother always said, better to be prepared than to be caught unawares. If I do happen to find myself alone with a certain gentleman, and if the moment seems right, I should hate to be caught in a boring corset and plain petticoats.”
Hyacinth could not argue the point. After