Billie knew that her younger brother would one day inherit Aubrey Hall and all its lands, but Edmund was still a child, eight years her junior. Most of the time he was away at school. Their father wasn’t getting any younger, and someone had to learn how to properly manage such a large estate. Besides, Billie was a natural at it; everyone said so.
She’d been an only child for so many years; there had been two babies between her and Edmund’s births, but neither had lived past infancy. During those years of prayers and hopes and wishing for an heir, Billie had become something of a mascot to the tenants, a living, smiling symbol of Aubrey Hall’s future.
Unlike most highborn daughters, Billie had always accompanied her parents on their duties around the estate. When her mother brought baskets of food to the needy, she was right there with apples for the children. When her father was out surveying the land, she could more often than not be found at his feet, digging up worms as she explained why she thought rye would be a much better choice than barley in such a sun-starved field.
At first she’d been a source of amusement – the energetic little five-year-old who insisted upon measuring grain when the rents were collected. But eventually she became a fixture, and now it was expected that she would see to the needs of the estate. If a cottage roof was leaking, she was the one who made sure it was mended. If a harvest was lean, she went out and tried to figure out why.
She was, for all intents and purposes, her father’s eldest son.
Other young ladies might read romantic poetry and Shakespearean tragedies. Billie read treatises on agricultural management. And she loved them. Honestly. They were ripping good reads.
It was difficult to imagine a life that might suit her better, but it had to be said: it was all much easier to conduct without a corset.
Much as it pained her mother.
“I was out seeing to the irrigation,” Billie explained. “It would have been impractical in a frock.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Lady Bridgerton said, even though they all knew she’d been thinking it.
“Not to mention difficult to climb that tree,” Andrew put in.
That did get her mother’s attention. “She was climbing a tree?”
“Saving a cat,” Andrew confirmed.
“One might assume,” George said, his voice purring with authority, “that had she been wearing a frock, she would not have attempted the tree.”
“What happened to the cat?” Georgiana asked.
Billie looked to her sister. She’d almost forgotten she was there. And she had definitely forgotten the cat. “I don’t know.”
Georgiana leaned forward, her blue eyes impatient. “Well, did you save it?”
“If so,” Billie said, “it was entirely against its wishes.”
“It was a most ungrateful feline,” George said.
Billie’s father chuckled at the description and gave him a manly slap on the back. “George, m’boy, we must get you a drink. You’ll need it after your trials.”
Billie’s mouth fell open. “His trials?”
George smirked, but no one else saw it, the bloody man.
“Mary’s gown looks lovely on you,” Lady Bridgerton said, steering the conversation back to more ladylike pursuits.
“Thank you,” Billie replied. “I rather like this shade of green.” Her fingers flitted to the lace along the round neckline. It was really most becoming.
Her mother stared at her in shock.
“I like pretty dresses,” Billie insisted. “I just don’t like wearing them when it’s impractical to do so.”
“The cat,” Georgiana persisted.
Billie flicked her an impatient look. “I told you, I don’t know. Honestly, it was a horrid little creature.”
“Agreed,” George said, raising his glass in salute.
“I can’t believe you’re toasting to the possible demise of a cat,” Georgiana said.
“I’m not,” Billie replied, glancing around to see if someone might bring her a drink. “But I’d like to.”
“It’s all right, darling,” Lady Bridgerton murmured, giving her younger daughter a reassuring smile. “Don’t fret so.”
Billie looked back at Georgiana. If their mother used such a tone on her, she would likely go mad. But Georgiana had been sickly as a child, and Lady Bridgerton had never quite learned to treat her with anything less than solicitous concern.
“I’m sure the cat survived its ordeal,” Billie told Georgiana. “He was quite a scrappy fellow. Had the look of a survivor in his eye.”
Andrew loped over and leaned down near Georgiana’s shoulder. “Always lands on its feet, that one.”
“Oh, stop!” Georgiana batted him away, but it was clear she wasn’t angry about the joke. No one was ever angry at Andrew. Not for long, at least.
“Is there any news of Edward?” Billie asked Lady Manston.
Lady Manston’s eyes clouded as she shook her head. “None since the last letter. The one we received last month.”
“I’m sure he’s well,” Billie said. “He is such a talented soldier.”
“I’m not sure how much talent plays into it when someone is aiming a gun at your chest,” George said darkly.
Billie turned to glare. “Don’t listen to him,” she said to Lady Manston. “He’s never been a soldier.”
Lady Manston smiled at her, an expression that was sad and sweet and loving, all at once. “I think he would like to have been,” she said, peering up at her eldest. “Wouldn’t you, George?”
Chapter 6