"No, that's all right," Billie replied, cutting her sausage into rounds. "Father bought the latest volume of Prescott's Encyclopaedia of Agriculture when he was in London last month. I should have already started it, but the weather has been so fine I haven't had the chance."

"You could read outside," Georgiana suggested. "We could put down a blanket. Or drag out a chaise."

Billie nodded absently as she stabbed a sausage disc. "It would be better than remaining in, I suppose."

"You could help me plan the entertainments for the house party," Georgiana said.

Billie gave her a condescending look. "I don't think so."

"Why not, darling?" Lady Bridgerton put in. "It might be fun."

"You just told me I didn't have to take part in the planning."

"Only because I didn't think you wanted to."

"I don't want to."

"Of course not," her mother said smoothly, "but you do want to spend time with your sister."

Oh, hell. Her mother was good. Billie pasted a smile on her face. "Can't Georgie and I do something else?"

"If you can convince her to read your agricultural treatise over your shoulder," her mother said, her hand flitting delicately through the air.

Delicately like a bullet, Billie thought. "I'll help with some of the planning," she conceded.

"Oh, that will be marvelous!" Georgiana exclaimed. "And so very helpful. You'll have much more experience with this sort of thing than I."

"Not really," Billie said frankly.

"But you've been to house parties."

"Well, yes, but..." Billie didn't bother finishing her sentence. Georgiana looked so happy. It would be like kicking a puppy to tell Georgiana that she had hated being dragged to house parties with their mother. Or if hate was too strong a word, she certainly hadn't enjoyed herself. She really didn't like traveling. She'd learned that much about herself.

And she did not enjoy the company of strangers. She wasn't shy; not at all. She just preferred being among people she knew.

People who knew her.

Life was so much easier that way.

"Look at it this way," Lady Bridgerton said to Billie. "You don't want a house party. You don't like house parties. But I am your mother, and I have decided to host one. Therefore, you have no choice but to attend. Why not take the opportunity to mold this gathering into something you might actually enjoy?"

"But I'm not going to enjoy it."

"You certainly won't if you approach it with that attitude."

Billie took a moment to compose herself. And to hold down the urge to argue her point and defend herself and tell her mother that she would not be spoken to as if she was a child...

"I would be delighted to assist Georgiana," Billie said tightly, "as long as I get some time to read my book."

"I wouldn't dream of pulling you away from Prescott's," her mother murmured.

Billie glared at her. "You shouldn't mock it. It's exactly that sort of book that has enabled me to increase productivity at Aubrey Hall by a full ten percent. Not to mention the improvements to the tenant farms. They are all eating better now that -"

She cut herself off. Swallowed. She'd just done exactly what she'd told herself not to do.

Argue her point.

Defend herself.

Act like a child.

She shoveled as much of her breakfast into her mouth as she could manage in thirty seconds, then stood and grabbed her crutches, which were leaning against the table. "I will be in the library if anyone needs me." To Georgiana she added, "Let me know when the ground is dry enough to spread a blanket."

Georgiana nodded.

"Mother," Billie said to Lady Bridgerton with a nod to replace the normal bob of a curtsy she gave when she took her leave. Yet another thing one couldn't manage on crutches.

"Billie," her mother said, her voice conciliatory. And perhaps a little frustrated. "I wish you wouldn't..."

Billie waited for her to finish her sentence, but her mother just shook her head.

"Never mind," she said.

Billie nodded again, pressing a crutch into the ground for balance as she pivoted on her good foot. She thunked the crutches on the ground, then swung her body between them, her shoulders held tight and straight as she repeated the motion all the way to the door.

It was bloody hard to make a dignified exit on crutches.

George still wasn't sure how Andrew had talked him into accompanying him to Aubrey Hall for a late morning visit, but here he was, standing in the grand entry as he handed his hat to Thamesly, butler to the Bridgertons since before he was born.

"You're doing a good deed, old man," Andrew said, slapping George's shoulder with surely more force than was necessary.

"Don't call me old man." God, he hated that.

But this only made Andrew laugh. Of course. "Whomever you might be, you're still doing a good deed. Billie will be out of her mind with boredom."

"She could use a little boredom in her life," George muttered.

"True enough," Andrew conceded, "but my concern was for her family. God only knows what madness she'll inflict upon them if no one shows up to entertain her."

"You talk as if she's a child."

"A child?" Andrew turned to look at him, his face taking on an enigmatic serenity that George knew well enough to find suspicious in the extreme. "Not at all."

"Miss Bridgerton is in the library," Thamesly informed them. "If you will wait in the drawing room, I will alert her to your presence."

"No need," Andrew said cheerily. "We will join her in the library. The last thing we want is to force Miss Bridgerton to hobble about more than is necessary."

"Very kind of you, sir," Thamesly murmured.

"Is she in a great deal of pain?" George inquired.

"I would not know," the butler said diplomatically, "but it may be worth noting that the weather is very fine, and Miss Bridgerton is in the library."

"So she's miserable, then."

"Very much so, my lord."

George supposed this was why he'd allowed Andrew to drag him away from his weekly meeting with their father's steward. He'd known Billie's ankle could not have been much improved. It had been grotesquely swollen the night before, no matter how festively she'd wrapped it with that ridiculous pink ribbon. Injuries like that did not resolve themselves overnight.

And while he and Billie had never been friends, precisely, he felt a strange responsibility for her well-being, at least as pertained to her current situation. What was that old Chinese proverb? If you saved a life, you were responsible for it forever? He certainly had not saved Billie's life, but he had been stuck up on a roof with her, and...

And bloody hell, he had no idea what any of this meant, just that he thought he ought to make sure she was feeling at least somewhat better. Even though she was the most exasperating female, and she bloody well set his teeth on edge half the time.

It was still the right thing to do. That was all.

"Oh, Billie..." Andrew called as they made their way to the back of the house. "We've come to rescue you..."

George shook his head. How his brother survived in the navy he would never know. Andrew had not a serious bone in his body.

"Billie..." he called again, his voice warbling into a ridiculous singsong. "Where aaaaaarrrrrre you?"

"In the library," George reminded him.

"Well, of course she is," Andrew said with a blinding grin, "but isn't this more fun?"

Naturally, he did not wait for an answer.

"Billie!" he called again. "Oh, Billiebilliebilliebill -"

"For heaven's sake!" Billie's head popped out of the doorway to the library. Her chestnut hair had been pulled back into the loose coiffure of a lady with no plans to socialize. "You're loud enough to wake the dead. What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"I saw you last night."

"So you did." Andrew leaned down and dropped a brotherly kiss on her cheek. "But you had to go without for so very long. You need to stock up."

"On your company?" Billie asked dubiously.

Andrew patted her arm. "We are so fortunate that you have this opportunity."

George leaned to the right so that he could see her from behind his brother. "Shall I strangle him or will you?"

She rewarded him with a devious smile. "Oh, it must be a joint endeavor, don't you think?"

"So that you may share the blame?" Andrew quipped.

"So that we may share the joy," Billie corrected.

"You wound me."

"Happily, I assure you." She hopped to the left and looked at George. "What brings you here this fine morning, Lord Kennard?"

He gave her a bit of a look at her use of his title. The Bridgertons and Rokesbys never stood on occasion when it was just the two families. Even now, no one so much as blinked at Billie being alone with two unmarried gentlemen in the library. It wasn't the sort of thing that would be permitted during the upcoming house party, though. They were all well aware that their relaxed manners would not stand in extended company.

"Dragged along by my brother, I'm afraid," George admitted. "There was some fear for your family's safety."

Her eyes narrowed. "Really."

"Now, now, Billie," Andrew said. "We all know you don't do well trapped indoors."

"I came for his safety," George said with a jerk of his head toward Andrew. "Although it is my belief that any injury you might do to him would be entirely justified."

Billie threw back her head and laughed. "Come, join me in the library. I need to sit back down."

While George was recovering from the unexpectedly marvelous sight of Billie in full joy, she hopped back to the nearest reading table, holding her light blue skirts above her ankles for easier motion.

"You should use your crutches," he told her.

"Not worth it for such a short trip," she replied, settling back down into her chair. "Besides, they tipped over and it was far too much trouble to retrieve them."

George followed her gaze to where the crutches lay askew on the ground, one slightly atop the other. He leaned down and picked them up, setting them gently against the side of the library table. "If you need help," he said in a quiet voice, "you should ask for it."

She looked at him and blinked. "I didn't need help."

George started to tell her not to be so defensive, but then he realized she hadn't been defensive. She was merely stating a fact. A fact as she saw it.

He shook his head. Billie could be so bloody literal.

"What was that?" she asked.

He shrugged. He had no idea what she was about.

"What were you going to say?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

Her mouth tightened at the corners. "That's not true. You were definitely going to say something."

Literal and tenacious. It was a frightening combination. "Did you sleep well?" he asked politely.

"Of course," she said, with just enough of an arch to her brows to tell him that she was well aware that he'd changed the subject. "I told you yesterday. I never have trouble sleeping."

"You said you never have trouble falling asleep," he corrected, somewhat surprised that he recalled the distinction.

She shrugged. "It's much the same thing."

"The pain did not wake you up?"