Lady from the rosebushes,” she said calmly. “But aside from that, we have scarcely had occasion to talk. Will you take some tea, Your Grace?”
“Tea will not be necessary, thank you. Although, perhaps this is a dialogue that would be better conducted sitting down,” the duchess suggested.
Hyacinth inclined her head, forcing a bright smile to her lips as trepidation unfurled within her. “Of course. I do apologize for my lapse. Would Your Grace care to have a seat?”
The Duchess of Arrington seated herself with regal elegance. Hyacinth did the same, but her own elegance was severely injured by Lady, who began wriggling the instant Hyacinth’s bottom touched the cushion. Although she did her best to placate her pup, Lady leapt from her arms and raced directly toward the duchess.
“Adelaide!” Hyacinth called. “Come back here, you naughty minx.”
But Lady had other ideas. And the way she was eying the duchess’ silken lap gave Hyacinth cause for alarm. It looked as if Lady was about to make herself quite at home.
“Lady, no!” she cried out.
Her admonition emerged too late.
Lady launched herself through the air, landing with deft precision upon the Duchess of Arrington’s lap. Had the moment not been so serious, Hyacinth would have laughed. Indeed, as it was, she had to swallow against a sudden rush of inappropriate mirth. The duchess looked as if she were about to have an apoplectic fit.
“Down, you little rotter!” Her Grace shouted. “You shall ruin my skirts.”
When Lady merely bedded down upon her, the duchess changed tactics, skewering Hyacinth with a glare. “Lady Southwick, kindly remove your creature from my person. Canines make me sneeze.”
Hyacinth found herself strangely relieved she had chosen for Lady to accompany her. She remained where she was, watching the duchess grapple with the pug. “Perhaps it is a scent,” she said benignly instead.
The duchess harrumphed and thwacked her cane upon the carpets rather in the fashion of a petulant child being told she was not about to be given her way. “I do beg your pardon. Surely I misheard you. A scent?”
“Yes.” Hyacinth feigned a bright smile. “Adelaide was drawn to Lord Sidmouth as well. Mayhap the two of you give off a similar scent.”
Goading the duchess was far too entertaining. Hyacinth knew she ought not. But one of the benefits to being a new woman was that she had stopped listening to the voice that told her no.
Her Grace glowered. “I can assure you Lord Sidmouth and myself do not share a scent. Now if you please, the removal of the pug?”
Adelaide gave a satisfied snort that sent a spray of droplets onto the duchess’ silk.
“But she appears quite comfortable,” Hyacinth protested, somehow keeping the laughter from her voice.
It was horridly wrong for her to leave the duchess stranded with Lady in such a fashion. However, since the Duchess of Arrington had been looking at her as if she were an insect which had found her way into the gardens and destroyed all the lovely flowers, part of her could not help but to feel her lack of contrition had been earned.
“Lady Southwick, I insist you retrieve your mongrel,” the duchess snapped, her voice like the crack of a whip.
Hyacinth could not quite say what devil had gotten ahold of her. But she was in a most unusual mood. There was something about the appearance of Tom’s grandmother that suggested trouble to her. Having had enough disappointment, upset, dismay, and all other manner of unpleasant emotions during her marriage, she decided she was going to leave Lady where she was.
After all, the Duchess of Arrington had yet to sneeze.
Lady chose that moment to bounce on her paws and deliver a lick to the duchess’s nose. Then another to her gaping mouth in quick succession.
Hyacinth bit her lip to stifle her laughter.
The duchess gasped.
“Lady Southwick!” she roared. “Your dog!”
Hyacinth finally took pity upon Tom’s grandmother. She rose and hastened to scoop up her wriggling, naughty bit of fur. Lady licked her chin in gratitude, before panting happily with her tongue lolling, looking as if she were smiling.
Good girl.
Not that she could say that aloud. She would have to save her praise for later.
“Dear me, Your Grace,” she said without a hint of contrition, giving Lady’s silken head a little scratch. “I cannot fathom what came over her. Forgive her, if you please. She is but a young pup, still learning her manners.”
The duchess’s mouth thinned into a fine line of displeasure once more. “She is hardly the only young pup