“Evil, I hope. It’ll keep things interesting.”
“I am in complete agreement,” Hyacinth said. “
“Allowed,” Lady D said graciously.
“
“This can’t be real!”
“Of course it can’t. It’s a novel. But I swear to you, it’s right here on page 193.”
“Let me see that!”
Hyacinth’s eyes widened. Lady Danbury frequently accused Hyacinth of embellishment, but this was the first time she had actually demanded verification. She got up and showed the book to the countess, pointing to the paragraph in question.
“Well, I’ll be,” Lady Danbury said. “The poor lady did get done in by pigeons.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I’d like to go.”
“You probably don’t need to worry on that score,” Hyacinth said, resuming her seat.
Lady D reached for her cane, then scowled when she realized it was gone. “Continue,” she barked.
“Right,” Hyacinth said to herself, looking back down at the book. “Let me see. Ah, yes…
“Just read!”
Hyacinth cleared her throat several times before resuming. “
“As you said,” Lady D said dryly, “it’s a novel.”
Hyacinth took a breath and read on: “
Hyacinth stole a peek at Lady Danbury, who she fully expected to be snorting with disgust. But to her great surprise, the countess was rapt, hanging on her every word.
Quickly returning her attention to the book, Hyacinth read, “‘
“It’s true,” Lady Danbury said.
Hyacinth looked up, and it was immediately apparent that Lady Danbury had not realized that she’d spoken aloud.
“Well, it is,” Lady D said defensively, when she realized that Hyacinth was looking at her.
Not wishing to embarrass the countess any further, Hyacinth turned back to the book without speaking. Clearing her throat, she continued: “ ‘
Hyacinth turned the page, a little embarrassed to realize that she was as captured by the book as she’d ever been.
“
“‘
Lady Danbury leaned forward. Even Hyacinth leaned forward, and she was holding the book.
“‘
Hyacinth’s lips parted, and one hand come up to touch them, without her even realizing it.
“Well,” Lady Danbury declared. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“I would think,” Lady D continued officiously, “that it’s in his actions or his deeds, but I suppose that wouldn’t have sounded romantic enough for Miss Butterworth.”
“And the Mad Baron,” Hyacinth murmured.
“Exactly! Who in her right mind would want a madman?”
“It’s in his kiss,” Hyacinth whispered to herself.
“Enh?” Lady Danbury screeched. “I can’t hear you.”
“It’s nothing,” Hyacinth said quickly, giving her head a little shake as she forced her attention back to the countess. “I was merely woolgathering.”
“Pondering the intellectual dogmas laid out by Mother Butterworth?”
“Of course not.” She coughed. “Shall we read some more?”
“We’d better,” Lady D grumbled. “The sooner we finish this one, the sooner we can move on to another.”
“We don’t
“Don’t be silly. We can’t
Hyacinth smiled at her. It was as close to an expression of softheartedness as Lady Danbury was likely to display, and Hyacinth rather thought it should be encouraged. “Very well,” she said. “If you will allow me to find my place again…”
“Lady Danbury,” came the deep, even voice of the butler, who had entered the drawing room on silent feet, “Mr. St. Clair would like an audience.”
“And he’s asking for it?” Lady D inquired. “He usually just barges right in.”
The butler lifted an eyebrow, more expression than Hyacinth had ever seen on a butler’s face. “He has requested an audience with Miss Bridgerton,” he said.
“Me?” Hyacinth squeaked.
Lady Danbury’s jaw dropped. “Hyacinth!” she spluttered. “In
“That is what he said, my lady.”
“Well,” Lady D declared, looking around the room even though there was no one present save Hyacinth and the butler. “Well.”
“Shall I escort him in?” the butler inquired.
“Of course,” Lady Danbury replied, “but I’m not going anywhere. Anything he has to say to Miss Bridgerton, he can say in front of me.”
“What?” Hyacinth demanded, finally tearing her eyes off the butler and turning toward Lady Danbury. “I hardly think-”
“It’s my drawing room,” Lady D said, “and he’s my grandson. And you’re-” She clamped her mouth together as she regarded Hyacinth, her diatribe momentarily halted. “Well, you’re you,” she finally finished. “Hmmph.”
“Miss Bridgerton,” Gareth said, appearing in the doorway and filling it, to wax Butterworthian, with his marvelous presence. He turned to Lady Danbury. “Grandmother.”
“Anything you have to say to Miss Bridgerton, you can say in front of me,” she told him.
“I’m almost tempted to test that theory,” he murmured.
“Is something amiss?” Hyacinth asked, perching at the front of her chair. After all, they’d parted ways barely two hours earlier.
“Not at all,” Gareth replied. He crossed the room until he was at her side, or at least as close to it as the furniture would allow. His grandmother was staring at him with unconcealed interest, and he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of coming straight here from Bridgerton House.
But he had stepped out onto the pavement and realized that it was Tuesday. And somehow that had seemed auspicious. This had all started on a Tuesday, good heavens, was it just two weeks earlier?
Tuesdays were when Hyacinth read to his grandmother. Every Tuesday, without fail, at the same time, in the