Lady Bridget's Diary(5)

“Are you not speaking to me because we haven’t been properly introduced?”

“No.”

“Tell me, Lord Darcy, do you find it amusing, this brooding and striking fear into the hearts of innocent young maidens?”

Was that a twitch at his lips? Laughter? She wanted to crow in triumph. But it was too soon. She was emboldened to continue.

“I wonder, Lord Darcy, if we have not been introduced, then has this conversation even happened?”

She lifted one brow, questioning.

He simply stared at her. Was he horrified by her outspokenness or was he actually considering the question? It was a good question, actually. One she would pose to Josephine tomorrow over breakfast. She was actually curious how this disapproving gentleman would answer.

“I think you will agree that it’s best we proceed as if this conversation has never taken place. Excuse me,” he said, ever so politely. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in a crowded room.

“Have a good evening,” she muttered to his back. Then quietly under her breath, she added on one of the slang words she’d recently learned from a stable hand.



“Did she just . . . fall?” Miss Mabel Mulberry said with a shake of her strawberry blond hair.

“I think she just fell,” Miss Kitty Montague said, mouth agape.

Lady Francesca DeVere just smiled. “She most certainly did.”

When The London Weekly broke the news that the new Duke of Durham would be arriving from America with not one but three sisters in tow, most of the ton lamented the foreign invasion. A few enterprising mothers began to plot how they might land the duke for their daughters, with the hope that in time his title would trump his past occupation. But Lady Francesca DeVere was nervous about the arrival of three new young ladies.

She had only just vanquished her chief rival and best friend, Lady Katherine Abernathy, who had failed to snare the Duke of Ashbrooke after four seasons of trying. Instead she had married nobody and was now rusticating in the country.

And now Lady Francesca was the reigning beauty of the ton.

Unless those American girls were beautiful, amiable, and charming. They were pretty, but not beautiful. She’d heard they were nice enough. But now that girl had fallen in the middle of the ballroom and nothing else mattered.

Francesca’s status as darling of the season would be secured. But wait . . . was that . . . ?

“Is that Darcy and his brother with her?” Miss Mulberry asked.

“Yes,” Lady Francesca admitted through gritted teeth.

“Did he propose yet, Francesca?” Miss Montague asked.

No, he had not. Which was fine. Truly. She was still on schedule—­the first season was for flirting, the second for entertaining suitors, and in the third she would marry her older brother’s best friend, Darcy. She was so certain of it that she’d even spent the earlier part of this season with her aunt and chaperone, Lady Wych Cross, taking the waters in Bath.

She turned to face her silly friend.

“If he had proposed, you wouldn’t have to ask. I would tell you.” And the whole bloody town.

“Why is he spending so much time talking to the American girl?” Miss Montague asked.

Francesca sighed. “The question is why is he talking to her at all? He is probably just being polite. You know Darcy, he is nothing if not perfectly polite.”

But she wasn’t taking any chances. She would have to go flirt with him immediately. As much as one could flirt with Darcy, anyway.



A short while later, having taken great care when walking through the ballroom, Bridget found her sisters and the duchess.

“Where did you go? We lost you in the crowds,” Claire said.

“I hope you didn’t get into any trouble,” the duchess said, giving her a once-­over as if she might detect what Bridget had done and with whom she had done it.

“I took a turn about the room,” Bridget said. “In a manner of speaking. What did I miss?”

“We were introduced. To people. A lot of very English people,” Amelia said, yawning.

“They are the very best of high society.”

“I’m so sorry to have missed that,” Bridget said dryly.

“I said, ‘How do you do’ and ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance’ approximately six and twenty times,” Amelia added.

“And I thank the Lord that is all you said,” the duchess said with a glance heavenward.

“And then we were asked about Indian attacks and bears,” Claire said, rolling her eyes, which made Josephine cringe. Apparently proper ladies did not roll their eyes. “Amelia, of course, encouraged them in believing the worst.”

“I see I didn’t miss anything,” Bridget said. “Where is James?”