Unless a pathetic and unrequited love factored into the equation.
“I am not wrong,” Lady Lucinda said, looking very much as if she would like to cross her arms. “And I’m getting Lady Bridgerton.”
Gregory closed his hand around her wrist. “That would be a mistake of magnificent proportions.”
She yanked, but he did not let go. “Don’t patronize me,” she hissed.
“I’m not. I’m instructing you.”
Her mouth fell open. Really, truly, flappingly open.
Gregory would have enjoyed the sight, were he not so furious with everything else in the world just then.
“You are insufferable,” she said, once she’d recovered.
He shrugged. “Occasionally.”
“And delusional.”
“Well done, Lady Lucinda.” As one of eight, Gregory could not help but admire any well-placed quip or retort. “But I would be far more likely to admire your verbal skills if I were not trying to stop you from doing something monumentally stupid.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes, and then she said, “I don’t care to speak to you any longer.”
“Ever?”
“I’m getting Lady Bridgerton,” she announced.
“You’re getting me? What is the occasion?”
It was the last voice Gregory wanted to hear.
He turned. Kate was standing in front of them both, regarding the tableau with a single lifted brow.
No one spoke.
Kate glanced pointedly at Gregory’s hand, still on Lady Lucinda’s wrist. He dropped it, quickly stepping back.
“Is there something I should know about?” Kate asked, and her voice was that perfectly awful mix of cultured inquiry and moral authority. Gregory was reminded that his sister-in-law could be a formidable presence when she so chose.
Lady Lucinda-of course-spoke immediately. “Mr. Bridgerton seems to feel that Hermione might be in danger.”
Kate’s demeanor changed instantly. “Danger? Here?”
“No,” Gregory ground out, although what he really meant was-I am going to kill you. Lady Lucinda, to be precise.
“I haven’t seen her for some time,” the annoying twit continued. “We arrived together, but that was nearly an hour ago.”
Kate glanced about, her gaze finally settling on the doors leading outside. “Couldn’t she be in the garden? Much of the party has moved abroad.”
Lady Lucinda shook her head. “I didn’t see her. I looked.”
Gregory said nothing. It was as if he were watching the world destructing before his very eyes. And really, what could he possibly say to stop it?
“Not outside?” Kate said.
“I didn’t think anything was amiss,” Lady Lucinda said, rather officiously. “But Mr. Bridgerton was instantly concerned.”
“He was?” Kate’s head snapped to face him. “You were? Why?”
“May we speak of this at another time?” Gregory ground out.
Kate immediately dismissed him and looked squarely at Lucy. “Why was he concerned?”
Lucy swallowed. And then she whispered, “I think she might be with my brother.”
Kate blanched. “That is not good.”
“Richard would never do anything improper,” Lucy insisted. “I promise you.”
“He is in love with her,” Kate said.
Gregory said nothing. Vindication had never felt less sweet.
Lucy looked from Kate to Gregory, her expression almost bordering on panic. “No,” she whispered. “No, you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong,” Kate said in a serious voice. “And we need to find them. Quickly.”
She turned and immediately strode toward the door. Gregory followed, his long legs keeping pace with ease. Lady Lucinda seemed momentarily frozen, and then, jumping into action, she scurried after them both. “He would never do anything against Hermione’s will,” she said urgently. “I promise you.”
Kate stopped. Turned around. Looked at Lucy, her expression frank and perhaps a little sad as well, as if she recognized that the younger woman was, in that moment, losing a bit of her innocence and that she, Kate, regretted having to be the one to deliver the blow.
“He might not have to,” Kate said quietly.
Force her. Kate didn’t say it, but the words hung in the air all the same.
“He might not have-What do you-”
Gregory saw the moment she realized it. Her eyes, always so changeable, had never looked more gray.
Stricken.
“We have to find them,” Lucy whispered.
Kate nodded, and the three of them silently left the room.
Ten
In which love is triumphant-but not for Our Hero and Heroine.
Lucy followed Lady Bridgerton and Gregory into the hallway, trying to stem the anxiety she felt building within her. Her belly felt queer, her breath not quite right.
And her mind wouldn’t quite clear. She needed to focus on the matter at hand. She knew she needed to give her full attention to the search, but it felt as if a portion of her mind kept pulling away-dizzy, panicked, and unable to escape a horrible sense of foreboding.
Which she did not understand. Didn’t she want Hermione to marry her brother? Hadn’t she just told Mr. Bridgerton that the match, while improbable, would be superb? Hermione would be her sister in name, not just in feeling, and Lucy could not imagine anything more fitting. But still, she felt…
Uneasy.
And a little bit angry as well.
And guilty. Of course. Because what right did she have to feel angry?
“We should search separately,” Mr. Bridgerton directed, once they had turned several corners, and the sounds of the masked ball had receded into the distance. He yanked off his mask, and the two ladies followed suit, leaving all three on a small lamp table that was tucked into a recessed nook in the hallway.
Lady Bridgerton shook her head. “We can’t. You certainly can’t find them by yourself,” she said to him. “I don’t wish to even ponder the consequences of Miss Watson being alone with two unmarried gentlemen.”
Not to mention his reaction, Lucy thought. Mr. Bridgerton struck her as an even-tempered man; she wasn’t sure that he could come across the pair alone without thinking he had to spout off about honor and the defense of virtue, which always led to disaster. Always. Although given the depth of his feelings for Hermione, his reaction might be a little less honor and virtue and a little more jealous rage.
Even worse, while Mr. Bridgerton might lack the ability to shoot a straight bullet, Lucy had no doubt that he could blacken an eye with lethal speed.
“And she can’t be alone,” Lady Bridgerton continued, motioning in Lucy’s direction. “It’s dark. And empty. The gentlemen are wearing masks, for heaven’s sake. It does loosen the conscience.”
“I wouldn’t know where to look, either,” Lucy added. It was a large house. She’d been there nearly a week, but she doubted she’d seen even half of it.
“We shall remain together,” Lady Bridgerton said firmly.
Mr. Bridgerton looked as if he wanted to argue, but he held his temper in check and instead bit off, “Fine. Let’s not waste time, then.” He strode off, his long legs establishing a pace that neither of the two women was going to find easy to keep up with.
He wrenched open doors and then left them hanging ajar, too driven to reach the next room to leave things as he’d found them. Lucy scrambled behind him, trying rooms on the other side of the hall. Lady Bridgerton was just up ahead, doing the same.
“Oh!” Lucy jumped back, slamming a door shut.
“Did you find them?” Mr. Bridgerton demanded. Both he and Lady Bridgerton immediately moved to her side.