The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(57)

Kate wasn’t in much of a rush to reach the drawing room and the inevitable company of Lord Bridgerton, but waiting for Mary and Edwina would delay the torture by only a few minutes, so she decided she might as well head down with Penelope.

They both poked their heads into their respective mother’s room, informed them of the change in plans, and linked arms, heading down the hall.

When they reached the drawing room, much of the company was already in attendance, milling about and chatting as they waited for the rest of the guests to come down. Kate, who had never attended a country house party before, noted with surprise that nearly everyone seemed more relaxed and a bit more animated than they did in London. It must be the fresh air, she thought with a smile. Or perhaps distance relaxed the strict rules of the capital. Whatever the case, she decided she preferred this atmosphere to that of a London dinner party.

She could see Lord Bridgerton across the room. Or rather she supposed she could sense him. As soon as she spotted him standing over by the fireplace, she’d kept her gaze scrupulously averted.

But she could feel him nonetheless. She knew she had to be crazy, but she’d swear she knew when he tilted his head, and heard him when he spoke and when he laughed.

And she definitely knew when his eyes were on her back. Her neck felt as if it were about to go up in flames.

“I didn’t realize Lady Bridgerton had invited so many people,” Penelope said.

Careful to keep her eyes away from the fireplace, Kate did a sweep of the room to see who was there.

“Oh, no,” Penelope half whispered, half moaned. “Cressida Cowper is here.”

Kate discreetly followed Penelope’s gaze. If Edwina had any competition for the role of 1814’s reigning beauty, it was Cressida Cowper. Tall, slender, with honey-blond hair and sparkling green eyes, Cressida was almost never without a small bevy of admirers. But where Edwina was kind and generous, Cressida was, in Kate’s estimation, a self-centered, ill-mannered witch who took her joy in the torment of others.

“She hates me,” Penelope whispered.

“She hates everyone,” Kate replied.

“No, she really hates me.”

“Whyever?” Kate turned to her friend with curious eyes. “What could you possibly have done to her?”

“I bumped into her last year and caused her to spill punch all over herself and the Duke of Ashbourne.”

“That’s all?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “It was enough for Cressida. She’s convinced he would have proposed if she hadn’t appeared clumsy.”

Kate let out a snort that didn’t even pretend to be ladylike. “Ashbourne isn’t about to get hitched anytime soon. Everyone knows that. He’s nearly as bad a rake as Bridgerton.”

“Who is most probably going to get married this year,” Penelope reminded her. “If the gossips are correct.”

“Bah,” Kate scoffed. “Lady Whistledown herself wrote that she doesn’t think he’ll marry this year.”

“That was weeks ago,” Penelope replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Lady Whistledown changes her mind all the time. Besides, it’s obvious to everyone that the viscount is courting your sister.”

Kate bit her tongue before she muttered, “Don’t remind me.”

But her wince of pain was drowned out by Penelope’s hoarse whisper of, “Oh, no. She’s coming this way.”

Kate gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry about her. She’s no better than you.”

Penelope shot her a sarcastic look. “I know that. But that doesn’t make her any less unpleasant. And she always goes out of her way to make sure that I have to deal with her.”

“Kate. Penelope,” Cressida trilled, drawing up alongside them, giving her shiny hair an affected shake. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“And why is that?” Kate asked.

Cressida blinked, obviously surprised that Kate had even questioned her pronouncement. “Well,” she said slowly, “I suppose it is not such a surprise to see you here, as your sister is very much in demand, and we all know that you must go where she goes, but Penelope’s presence…” She shrugged daintily. “Well, who am I to judge? Lady Bridgerton is a most kindhearted woman.”

The comment was so rude that Kate could not help but gape. And while she was staring at Cressida, openmouthed with shock, Cressida went in for the kill.

“That’s a lovely gown, Penelope,” she said, her smile so sweet that Kate would swear she could taste sugar in the air. “I do love yellow,” she added, smoothing down the pale yellow fabric of her own gown. “It takes a very special complexion to wear it, don’t you think?”

Kate ground her teeth together. Naturally Cressida looked brilliant in her gown. Cressida would look brilliant in a sackcloth.

Cressida smiled again, this time reminding Kate of a serpent, then turned slightly to motion to someone across the room. “Oh, Grimston, Grimston! Come over here for a moment.”

Kate looked over her shoulder to see Basil Grimston approaching and just barely managed to stifle a groan. Grimston was the perfect male counterpart to Cressida—rude, supercilious, and self-important. Why a lovely lady like Viscountess Bridgerton had invited him, she’d never know. Probably to even up the numbers with so many young ladies invited.