Relaxed, even, as if this was where he ought to be, if not with Harry, then with this girl. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, and something tightened within him, something odd and good and…. She batted at the bird, but the creature would not leave her alone.
But Lady Neeley just laughed. Peter looked at Tillie, whose mouth was clamped into an angry line. Tillie took the bird back to its owner. Or perhaps we should put him back in his cage.
Tillie nodded and brought the parrot over to his perch. Sure enough, it began to peck furiously at its food. Tillie shot him a supremely irritated look. Yes, Lady Neeley? Peter followed Tillie back across the room, maintaining a safe distance when his hostess stuck out her arm.
Peter smiled as he watched Tillie try to deduce whether the question was rhetorical. With Lady Neeley, one never could be sure. Peter could have sworn she looked at him, but he decided to overlook the affront. While Lady Neeley shrieked with dismay, Tillie bent down and retrieved the jewels. My wrists are very delicate, you know. A small crowd had gathered, and everyone waited as Tillie squinted and fiddled with the shiny gold mechanism of the clasp.
It will surely fall off again. They would not sell me a bracelet with a faulty clasp. Everyone stared down at the spot on the carpet where the bracelet landed for the second time. A tall, dark-haired man who Peter did not recognize produced a small candy dish.
She set the bracelet in the dish, then placed it on a nearby credenza. Miss Martin, who had somehow managed to put several yards between herself and her employer, returned. Miss Martin exited, and then, amid multiple sighs of relief, the party moved from the drawing room to the dining room. To his delight, Peter found that he was seated next to Tillie.
The food was, as gossip had promised, exquisite, and Peter was quite happily spooning lobster bisque into his mouth when he heard a movement to his left, and when he turned, Tillie was looking at him, her lips parted as if she were about to say his name. She was lovely, he realized. Lovely in a way that Harry could never have described, in a way that he, as her brother, could never even have seen. Harry would never have been able to see the woman beyond the girl, would never have realized that the curve of her cheek begged a caress, or that when she opened her mouth to speak, she sometimes paused first, her lips pursing together slightly, as if awaiting a kiss.
Harry had suffered. Two days later he was dead. She nodded. I would have always wondered. Peter felt his lips part as he digested her words. Harry had proven himself a hero a dozen times over, fighting valiantly, and more than once saving the life of another. Harry was already dead by the time they fought the French at Waterloo, his body hopelessly mangled in a stupid accident, trapped for six hours beneath a supply wagon that someone had tried to repair one time too many. The damn thing should have been chopped for firewood weeks earlier, Peter thought savagely, but the army never had enough of anything, including humble supply wagons, and his regiment commander had refused to give it up for dead.
She leaned forward, her eyes wide and glowing with compassion, and when he looked at her, saw the rose milkiness of her skin, the light dusting of freckles across her nose— more than anything, he wanted to kiss her. Good God. Keep you safe. Peter opened his mouth to speak, then quickly thought the better of it. But the moment seemed to call for a reply, and indeed Tillie was regarding him quizzically, her head tilted to the side as if she were waiting for him to say something quite meaningful and intelligent or if not that, something that would allow her to offer a teasing retort.
ISBN As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. I also may use affiliate links elsewhere in my site. All Books Newsletter Site Updates. Bridgerton Series. Add this book to Goodreads:. Quinn-tessential Quote "My aim," she said tightly, "is to find a husband. Not to snare one, not to trap one, not to drag one to the altar, but to find one, preferably one with whom I might share a long and contented life.
Inside the Story Make sure you read all four novellas in order! Did you see Benedict Bridgerton in chapter two? Tillie just nodded. She missed Harry, even if she was coming to realize that he had informed approximately one thousand men that she was a skinny gawk. Tillie started scouting the exits, searching for an escape. Surely she could fake a torn hem, or a horrible chest cough.
Robbie leaned in to look at her freckles. Or death. It had to be better than this. That was it. Her brother had been using his time on the battlefield to beg men to marry her, using her dowry as opposed to her looks, or heaven forbid, her heart as the primary draw. A tall gentleman wearing the same uniform as Robbie was walking toward them.
Except, unlike Robbie, he looked … Dangerous. His shoulders were broad, bis posture was perfect, and his face looked as if it ought to be carved in marble. Thompson, Tillie thought, mentally nodding. Dunlop Robbie. Silence fell across the conversation, and Tillie almost wished that Robbie would come back and fill the gap with his friendly, if slightly inane, chatter.
His eyes, which she now realized were a mesmerizing shade of gray-blue, watched her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. Even now, she was boyishly slender, but she did have a few curves, and Tillie was thrilled with each and every one of them. The hair. The wretched Howard hair. She and Harry and their elder brother William all possessed the infamous red Howard hair. It was red, or orange, really, a bright copper that Tillie was quite sure had caused more than one person to squint and look away in the sunlight.
Somehow their father had escaped the curse, but it had returned with a vengeance on his children. Your mouth, I think. The shape of your face. And he said it with such quiet intensity, with such a controlled swell of emotion, that Tillie knew that he had loved Harry, too, that he missed him almost as much as she did.
And it made her want to cry. Karen Hawkins seduces: A roving viscount comes home to rekindle the passionate fires of his marriage. Mia Ryan delights: A lovely, free-spirited servant is dazzled by the romantic attentions of a charming earl. Fiction Romance Historical Fiction. Publisher: HarperCollins Awards:. Availability can change throughout the month based on the library's budget.
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