For the longest moment, Billie said nothing. She felt her head tipping slightly to the side, her eyes narrowing with thought as she watched Mary’s face. Mary wanted what was best for her; she understood that. But Mary didn’t know. How could she know?
“Who are you,” Billie asked softly, “to decide what constitutes another person’s happiness?” She made sure to keep her words gentle, her tone without edge. She did not want Mary to feel attacked by the question; she did not mean the question as such. But she did want Mary to think about this, to stop for one moment and try to understand that despite their deep friendship, they were fundamentally different people.
Mary looked up with stricken eyes. “I didn’t mean —”
“I know you didn’t,” Billie assured her. Mary had always longed for love and marriage. She’d pined for Felix since the moment she’d first met him – at the age of twelve! When Billie was twelve all she’d been concerned about was the litter of puppies in the barn and whether she could climb the old oak tree faster than Andrew.
Truth be told, she was still concerned about this. It would be a massive blow if he could make it to the top branch before she could. Not that they’d be conducting a test anytime soon, what with his arm and her ankle. But still, these things were important.
Not that Mary would ever see them as such.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said, but her smile was a little too tight. “I’ve no call to be so grave when I’ve only just arrived.”
Billie almost asked her if that meant she had plans for later in the visit. But she didn’t.
Such restraint. When had she developed such maturity?
“Why are you smiling?” Mary asked.
“What? I’m not smiling.”
“Oh, you are.”
And because Mary was her best friend, even when she was trying to tell her how to live her life, Billie laughed and linked their arms back together. “If you must know,” she said, “I was congratulating myself on not making a smart comment at you.”
“Such restraint,” Mary said, echoing Billie’s thoughts precisely.
“I know. It’s so unlike me.” Billie tipped her head toward the end of the hall. “Can we continue on to my bedroom? My foot hurts.”
“Of course. How did you injure it?”
Billie smiled wryly as she resumed walking. “You’re never going to believe who ended up being my hero…”
Chapter 12
A
t dinner that night, it became quickly apparent to George that one side of the table was the “fun” side.
He was not seated on that side.
To his left was Lady Frederica Fortescue-Endicott, who spoke incessantly of her new fiancé, the Earl of Northwick. To his right was Lady Frederica’s younger sister, Lady Alexandra.
Who also spoke incessantly about the Earl of Northwick.
George was not quite sure what to make of this. For Lady Alexandra’s sake, he hoped Northwick had a brother.
Billie was seated directly across from George, not that he could see her over the elaborate fruited epergne that graced the center of table. But he could hear her laughter, rich and deep, inevitably followed by Andrew’s guffaw and then some asinine bon mot delivered by the absurdly handsome Sir Reginald McVie.
Sir Reggie, as he had instructed everyone to call him.
George disliked him intensely.
Never mind that they had been introduced only one hour earlier; sometimes an hour was all it took. In this case, a minute had been enough. Sir Reggie had sauntered up to George and Billie, who were enjoying a private laugh about something entirely inconsequential (but nonetheless private), and then he’d flashed a smile that was positively blinding.
The man’s teeth were so straight they might have been laid into place with a yardstick. Really, who had teeth like that? It was unnatural.
Then the lout had taken Billie’s hand and kissed it like some French count, proclaiming her a beauty beyond the sea, sand, stars, and skies (in French, no less, despite the loss of alliteration).
It was beyond ridiculous; George had been sure that Billie would burst out laughing. But no, she blushed.
She blushed!
And then she had batted her eyelashes. It was quite possibly the least Billie Bridgerton-like thing he’d ever seen.
All for a set of freakishly straight teeth. And she didn’t even speak French!
Of course they had been seated next to each other at dinner. Lady Bridgerton had eyes like an eagle when it came to the marriage prospects of her eldest daughter; George did not doubt she had noticed Sir Reggie flirting with Billie within seconds of the first pearly white grin. If Billie hadn’t been seated next to him earlier that day, she would be by the dinner gong.
With Andrew on Billie’s other side, there was no stopping her. Laughter rang like church bells as that side of the table ate, drank, and made merry.
George’s side continued to extoll the many virtues of the Earl of Northwick.