Lottie had told her all about Mrs. Loveton’s daring and elegant new creations, she had been tempted to commission some herself. It was why they were both here.
Of course, Tom had hardly left her undergarments on long enough to take note of them. But that was not a detail she would reveal to her friend.
“There is nothing at all wrong with being prepared,” she agreed, casting a lingering look at a corset fashioned of sky-blue silk and trimmed with blonde lace. “Most of my underpinnings are in dreadful need of replacement anyway. I may as well outfit myself in the height of fashion.”
“Lady Southwick, Lady Grenfell,” called out one of the shop girls. “Mrs. Loveton will see you now.”
“Just remember,” Lottie said as they made their way to Mrs. Loveton’s workshop in the rear of her shop, “tell me if you see the chair.”
The chair was deuced uncomfortable.
Hard-armed and short-backed, it had been fashioned for someone of much smaller stature than Tom. But he scarcely sat in the yellow salon, and he almost never entertained a caller who would be ushered into its quaint, almost feminine domain, so it had never mattered.
Not until now.
He had returned from his afternoon of billiards with Brandon to find he had a guest awaiting him. A most unexpected guest. A guest who had seated herself on the far more comfortable settee. A guest who had requested a tray of tea she had found fault with and a plate of biscuits she had scorned as inferior. A guest who was, at this moment, staring him down with her dark eyes so like his own, her bearing as impeccable as it was impenetrable.
Grandmère had arrived in London.
And the Duchess of Arrington had taken up residence in the yellow salon, the room she had always favored.
“What brings you here, Grandmère?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do not sound so pleased to see me, Sidmouth. Your enthusiasm shall go straight to my head.”
Chastisement duly noted.
“Of course I am happy to see you,” he said, which was partially true.
He was pleased his grandmother had deigned to call upon him for the first time in as long as he could recall. He loved the stubborn dragon, after all. What he was less thrilled about was her timing. He had intended to have a change of clothes and proceed with meeting Hyacinth.
“Do not attempt to fool me, young man,” she warned. “I am no one’s dupe.”
“I would never presume to insult your intelligence.” He cast a glance toward the tea service which she had already decried. “Shall I send for more tea? Forgive the staff—they are not as accustomed to your exacting standards since so much time has lapsed since you have blessed us with a visit.”
“Blessed you, is it?” Twin white brows arched as Grandmère issued a stern harrumph. “Spreading it as thick as honey, are you, Sidmouth? Ever the charmer. I blame that part of your nature upon your mother.”
Of course she would. His mother and his grandmother had never been able to remain in the same chamber for longer than a quarter hour before cutting each other to bits with their verbal swords. But since his mother’s illness and death some five years before, Grandmère had ceased speaking ill of her.
Apparently, five years was the limit to the extension of the Duchess of Arrington’s goodwill.
Tom suppressed a weary sigh. “Grandmère, pray tell me if you will be staying with me or if you have arranged for the opening of Arrington House.”
“Arrington House has been opened by Arrington himself,” Grandmère said, her voice toneless as ever when she spoke of his grandfather.
She may as well have been speaking of the teapot for all the emotion in her voice.
The Duke and Duchess of Arrington’s marriage had been arranged by their families. It had been a dynastic connection, aligning Arrington’s duchy with the Marquess of Lansdowne. Properties and fortunes had exchanged hands. Following the birth of Tom’s father as the heir, the duke and duchess had been left with a lifetime of each politely pretending the other did not exist. Fifty years of marriage had not changed a thing.
Tom had been seeking a different sort of union for himself. One founded upon love. But that had not proven the wisest course either.
He cleared his throat, aware that Grandmère was watching him expectantly, awaiting his response. “I had not realized Arrington was in Town.”
“Indeed.” Grandmère’s lips puckered as if she had just tasted something tart. “We traveled together for expediency’s sake.”
That revelation took