Forty-five minutes later, Benedict was slouching in his chair, his eyes glazed. Every now and then he had to stop and make sure his mouth wasn't hanging open.
His mother's conversation was that boring.
The young lady she had wanted to discuss with him had actually turned out to be seven young ladies, each of which she assured him was better than the last.
Benedict thought he might go mad. Right here in his mother's sitting room he was going to go stark, raving mad. He'd suddenly pop out of his chair, fall to the floor in a frenzy his arms and legs waving, mouth frothing-
"Benedict, are you even listening to me?"
He looked up and blinked. Damn. Now he would have to focus on his mother's list of possible brides. The prospect of losing his sanity had been infinitely more appealing.
It was cold. Really cold. And there was an awful scurrying noise that definitely belong to a small, four-legged creature.Or even worse, a large, four-legged creature. Or to be more precise, a large version of a small, four-legged creature.
Rats.
"Oh,God," Sophie moaned. She didn't often take the Lord's name in vain, but now seemed as good a time as any to start. Maybe He would hear, and maybe He would smite the rats. Yes, that would do very nicely.A big jolt of lightning. Huge. Of biblical proportions. It could hit the earth, spread little electrical tentacles around the globe, and sizzle all the rats dead.
It was a lovely dream. Right up there with the ones in which she found herself living happily ever after as Mrs. Benedict Bridgerton.
Sophie took a quick gasp as a sudden stab of pain pierced her heart. Of the two dreams, she feared that the genocide of the rats might be the more likely to come true.
Sophie shook her head, completely unable to speak. Posy had knocked her breath clear to Scotland.
Julia QuinnHe was trying not to grin, but it was exceedingly difficult with Lady Penwood gasping like a fish on land.
Julia QuinnDaniel immediately knelt at her side, pulling her close. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Anne shook her head. “No, it’s not.” She looked up, her eyes shining with love. “It’s going to be so much better.
Michael, I am most pleased to see you up and about and looking so fine and healthy.”
He inclined his head, thanking her for the compliment.
She dabbed the corners of her mouth daintily with her napkin. “But now you must attend to your responsibilities as the earl.”
He groaned.
“Don‟t be so petulant,” Janet said. “No one is going to hang you up by your thumbs. All I was going to say is that you must go to the tailor and make sure you have proper evening clothes.”
“Are you certain I can‟t donate my thumbs instead?
No man of any intelligence would pretend to know a female mind.
Julia QuinnBridgerton,” he grunted. Damn damn damn. Colin Bridgerton was the last person he wanted to see right now. Even the ghost of Napoleon, come down to slice a rapier through his gullet, would have been preferable.
Julia QuinnI have to go out,” she said, her words oddly curt and abrupt. “There‟s something I need to do.”
“At half eight in the morning?”
“I‟ll be back soon,” she said, hurrying toward the door. “Don‟t go anywhere.”
“Well, damn,” he tried to joke, “there go my plans to visit the King.
Very well,” he said with a small sigh. “Ladies today are so very capable. It breaks my hea rt,
really.” He leaned in, almost as if sharing a secret. “No one likes to feel superfluous.”
Grace just stared at him.
“Rendered mute by my grace and charm,” he said, stepping back to allow them to exit. “It
happens all the time. Really, I shouldn‟t be allowed near the ladies. I have such a vexing effect
on you.
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