is tall and blond as well. To say nothing of the form he has earned from all that cricket he plays…”
“But that is the problem, Lottie,” she admitted at last. “I do not want another lover. I only want this one.”
Lottie looked positively aghast, her expression akin to what it may have been had Hyacinth suggested they go roll around in pig dung and drink from a puddle. “That is nonsense, Hyacinth. You cannot mean it. It is merely that you are new to Town. Once you have acquired some bronze, you shall see what I mean.”
“Lottie,” she protested again. “I do not need another lover.”
“Stuff! You know what they say, distraction is the nectar of the gods.” Lottie frowned, seeming to mull over her words for a moment. “Or is that a man’s seed?”
Dear, sweet heavens. Was it her imagination, or had her friend somehow grown more outrageous?
“Ambrosia,” Hyacinth muttered, her cheeks on fire again. “I do believe you have it all bollixed up, Lottie.”
“Hmm,” Lottie said noncommittally. “I think it is distraction, and that is just what you need. After having been trapped in a loveless, hated marriage for so many years, the last thing you need is to saddle yourself with the same lover. Believe me. You are enamored of Sidmouth because he is handsome and charming. It is like the summer warmth after a particularly brutal winter. But in time, the warmth of summer wanes. You will tire of him. Best to move on before you do. Your freedom has only just begun.”
Hyacinth mulled over her friend’s words. There was an undeniable truth to them. She had spent so much time as Southwick’s wife. New Hyacinth had only just begun to test her wings. What if Lottie was right?
“I do not suppose you are wrong,” she allowed slowly.
“Of course I am not wrong.” Lottie beamed. “Look at me, darling. I am an experienced merry widow. We are finally able to live life as we wish. Do not settle for one apple when you can have the entire orchard.”
She bit her lip. The notion of Tom as an apple…
Ridiculous.
“There are also peaches and cherries and plums,” Lottie cajoled. “Apples are lovely, but one cannot exist on them alone.”
If she was able to view her affaire with Tom objectively as Lottie had so cleverly done with her lovers, there would be no regrets. No longing for something more. No longing for that which could never truly be hers for so many reasons.
She did not want to marry ever again.
Nor did Tom.
And if he did, the Duchess of Arrington had made her position on the matter clear. Hyacinth was not an acceptable candidate. She could not argue. Tom deserved a woman who could love him, one with a whole heart. An innocent lady who had never been damaged, who had known neither hurt nor fear nor pain.
Hyacinth could never be that for him, and he had already been jilted once. His former betrothed had left scars upon his heart. Hyacinth would not add any of her own, nor did she wish to acquire new marks upon hers.
“I concede the point.” Hyacinth paused. “Distraction would be most welcome.”
Lottie clapped her hands together excitedly. “There you are. I shall make a merry widow of you yet. Now tell me, pray. Have you seen the chair?”
“You are getting too caught up in skirts,” Brandon announced as he struck his cue ball effortlessly, sending it across the billiards table, where it caromed into the two object balls. “What is the count, old chap?”
“Forty-eight,” Tom said drily.
The Duke of Brandon was an abominable winner. At any moment, he would begin crowing with glee at his impending victory. One of his favorite games to play, aside from billiards, was feigning he had forgotten the count when he was winning by an insurmountable lead.
“And what have you?” his friend asked. “Twenty-four? You have lost your touch, I daresay.”
“Shall I surrender now?” he asked, not bothering to chalk his cue before preparing his shot. “Or will you deign to explain your initial pronouncement?”
Brandon eyed him. “That you are getting too caught up in skirts? Is that what has your petticoats in a twist, hmm?”
“You are treading dangerously near to receiving a sound blow to the head with this stick,” he warned grimly, tilting his head from side to side as he plotted his move. Although he was two points from losing the game entirely, he still felt obliged to put in an effort, damn it.