The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(14)

Anthony said nothing, just glared at him.

“Good. Then you will dance with Miss Sheffield.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” the woman in question blurted out.

Anthony glared at his brother, then for good measure at Miss Sheffield, who was looking at him as if he’d just despoiled ten virgins in her presence.

“Oh, but it is,” Colin said with great drama, ignoring the optical daggers being hurled across their little threesome. “I could never dream of abandoning a young lady in her hour of need. How”—he shuddered—“ungentlemanly.”

Anthony thought seriously about pursuing some ungentlemanly behavior himself. Perhaps planting his fist in Colin’s face.

“I assure you,” Miss Sheffield said quickly, “that being left to my own devices would be far preferable to dan—”

Enough, Anthony thought savagely, was really enough. His own brother had already played him for a fool; he was not going to stand idly by while he was insulted by Edwina’s sharp-tongued spinster sister. He laid a heavy hand on Miss Sheffield’s arm and said, “Allow me to prevent you from making a grievous mistake, Miss Sheffield.”

She stiffened. How, he did not know; her back was already ramrod straight. “I beg your pardon,” she said.

“I believe,” he said smoothly, “that you were about to say something you would soon regret.”

“No,” she said, sounding deliberately thoughtful, “I don’t think regrets were in my future.”

“They will be,” he said ominously. And then he grabbed her arm and practically dragged her onto the ballroom floor.





Chapter 3




Viscount Bridgerton was also seen dancing with Miss Katharine Sheffield, elder sister to the fair Edwina. This can only mean one thing, as it has not escaped the notice of This Author that the elder Miss Sheffield has been in much demand on the dance floor ever since the younger Miss Sheffield made her bizarre and unprecedented announcement at the Smythe-Smith musicale last week.

Whoever heard of a girl needing her sister’s permission to choose a husband?

And perhaps more importantly, whoever decided that the words “Smythe-Smith” and “musicale” might be used in the same sentence? This Author has attended one of these gatherings in the past, and heard nothing that might ethically be termed “music.”

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 22 APRIL 1814



There was really nothing she could do, Kate realized with dismay. He was a viscount, and she was a mere nobody from Somerset, and they were both in the middle of a crowded ballroom. It didn’t matter if she’d disliked him on sight. She had to dance with him.

“There is no need to drag me,” she hissed.

He made a great show of loosening his grip.

Kate ground her teeth together and swore to herself that this man would never take her sister as his bride. His manner was too cold, too superior. He was, she thought a touch unfairly, too handsome as well, with velvety brown eyes that matched his hair to perfection. He was tall, certainly over six feet, although probably not by more than an inch, and his lips, while classically beautiful (Kate had studied enough art to regard herself qualified to make such a judgment) were tight at the corners, as if he did not know how to smile.

“Now then,” he said, once their feet began to move in the familiar steps, “suppose you tell me why you hate me.”

Kate trod on his foot. Lord, he was direct. “I beg your pardon?”

“There is no need to maim me, Miss Sheffield.”

“It was an accident, I assure you.” And it was, even if she didn’t really mind this particular example of her lack of grace.

“Why,” he mused, “do I find I have difficulty believing you?”

Honesty, Kate quickly decided, would be her best strategy. If he could be direct, well then, so could she. “Probably,” she answered with a wicked smile, “because you know that had it occurred to me to step on your foot on purpose, I would have done so.”

He threw back his head and laughed. It was not the reaction she’d been either expecting or hoping for. Come to think of it, she had no idea what sort of reaction she’d been hoping for, but this certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting.

“Will you stop, my lord?” she whispered urgently. “People are starting to stare.”

“People started to stare two minutes ago,” he returned. “It’s not often a man such as I dances with a woman such as you.”

As barbs went, this one was well aimed, but sadly for him, also incorrect. “Not true,” she replied jauntily. “You are certainly not the first of Edwina’s besotted idiots to attempt to gain her favor through me.”

He grinned. “Not suitors, but idiots?”

She caught his gaze with hers and was surprised to find true mirth in his eyes. “Surely you’re not going to hand me such a delicious piece of bait as that, my lord?”

“And yet you did not take it,” he mused.

Kate looked down to see if there was some way she might discreetly step on his foot again.

“I have very thick boots, Miss Sheffield,” he said.

Her head snapped back up in surprise.

One corner of his mouth curved up in a mockery of a smile. “And quick eyes as well.”