Still, she wasn’t nearly as certain as she’d have liked about her translation, or what it meant. Maybe if she went to Gareth with what she’d translated thus far, he could read something into it that she didn’t see. After all, he was more familiar with the house and its contents than she was. He might know of an odd or interesting book, something unique or out of the ordinary.
Gareth.
She smiled to herself, a loopy, silly grin that she would have died before allowing anyone else to see.
Something had happened the night before. Something special.
Something important.
He liked her. He really liked her. They had laughed and chattered the entire way home. And when he had dropped her off at the servants’ entrance to Number Five, he had looked at her in that heavy-lidded, just a little bit intense way of his. He had smiled, too, one corner of his mouth lifting as if he had a secret.
She’d shivered. She’d actually forgotten how to speak. And she’d wondered if he might kiss her again, which of course he hadn’t done, but maybe…
Maybe soon.
She had no doubt that she still drove him a little bit mad. But she seemed to drive everyone a little bit mad, so she decided not to attach too much importance to that.
But he liked her. And he respected her intelligence as well. And if he was occasionally reluctant to demonstrate this as often as she would like…well, she had four brothers. She had long since learned that it took a fully formed miracle to get them to admit that a woman might be smarter than a man about anything other than fabrics, perfumed soaps, and tea.
She turned her head to look at the clock, which sat on the mantel over her small fireplace. It was already past noon. Gareth had promised that he would call on her this afternoon to see how she was faring with the note. That probably didn’t mean before two, but technically it was the afternoon, and-
Her ears perked up. Was that someone at the door? Her room was at the front of the house, so she could generally hear when someone was entering or exiting. Hyacinth got up and went to the window, peeking out from behind the curtains to see if she could see anyone on the front step.
Nothing.
She went to the door and opened it just enough to listen.
Nothing.
She stepped into the hall, her heart pounding with anticipation. Truly, there was no reason to be nervous, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Gareth, and the diamonds, and-
“Eh, Hyacinth, what’re you doing?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Sorry,” said her brother Gregory, not sounding sorry at all. He was standing behind her, or rather he had been, before she’d whirled around in surprise. He looked slightly disheveled, his reddish brown hair windblown and cut just a touch too long.
“Don’t do that,” she said, placing her hand over her heart, as if that might possibly calm it down.
He just crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the wall. “It’s what I do best,” he said with a grin.
“Not something I’d brag about,” Hyacinth returned.
He ignored the insult, instead brushing an imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of his riding coat. “What has you skulking about?”
“I’m not skulking.”
“Of course you are. It’s what you do best.”
She scowled at him, even though she ought to have known better. Gregory was two and a half years her elder, and he lived to vex her. He always had. The two of them were a bit cut off from the rest of the family, in terms of age. Gregory was almost four years younger than Francesca, and a full ten from Colin, the next youngest son. As a result, he and Hyacinth had always been a bit on their own, a bit of a duo.
A bickering, poking, frog-in-the-bed sort of duo, but a duo nonetheless, and even though they had outgrown the worst of their pranks, neither seemed able to resist needling the other.
“I thought I heard someone come in,” Hyacinth said.
He smiled blandly. “It was me.”
“I realize that now.” She placed her hand on the door-knob and pulled. “If you will excuse me.”
“You’re in a snit today.”
“I’m not in a snit.”
“Of course you are. It’s-”
“Not what I do best.” Hyacinth ground out.
He grinned. “You’re definitely in a snit.”
“I’m-” She clamped her teeth together. She was not going to descend to the behavior of a three-year-old. “I am going back into my room now. I have a book to read.”
But before she could make her escape, she heard him say, “I saw you with Gareth St. Clair the other night.”
Hyacinth froze. Surely he couldn’t have known…No one had seen them. She was sure of that.
“At Bridgerton House,” Gregory continued. “Off in the corner of the ballroom.”
Hyacinth let out a long, quiet breath before turning back around.
Gregory was looking at her with a casual, offhand smile, but Hyacinth could tell that there was something more to his expression, a certain shrewd look in his eye.
Most of his behavior to the contrary, her brother was not stupid. And he seemed to think it was his role in life to watch over his younger sister. Probably because he was the second youngest, and she was the only one with whom he could try to assume a superior role. The rest certainly would not have stood for it.
“I’m friends with his grandmother,” Hyacinth said, since it seemed nicely neutral and dull. “You know that.”
He shrugged. It was a gesture they shared, and sometimes Hyacinth felt she was looking in a mirror, which seemed mad, since he was a full foot taller than she was.
“You certainly looked to be in deep conversation about something,” he said.
“It was nothing in which you’d be interested.”
One of his brows arched annoyingly up. “I might surprise you.”
“You rarely do.”
“Are you setting your cap for him?”
“That’s none of your business,” she said tartly.
Gregory looked triumphant. “Then you are.”
Hyacinth lifted her chin, looking her brother squarely in the eye. “I don’t know,” she said, since despite their constant bickering, he probably knew her better than anyone else in the world. And he’d know it for certain if she were lying.
Either that, or he would torture her until the truth slipped out, anyway.
Gregory’s brows disappeared under the fringe of his hair, which, admittedly, was too long and constantly falling in his eyes. “Really?” he asked. “Well, that is news.”
“For your ears only,” Hyacinth warned, “and it’s not really news. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Still.”
“I mean this, Gregory,” Hyacinth said. “Don’t make me regret confiding in you.”
“Ye of little faith.”
He sounded far too flip for her comfort. Hands on hips, she said, “I only told you this because very occasionally you’re not a complete idiot and despite all common sense, I do love you.”
His face sobered, and she was reminded that despite her brother’s asinine (in her opinion) attempts to appear the jaunty wastrel, he was actually quite intelligent and in possession of a heart of gold.