George found that he rather wished to hit one of them. It didn’t matter which. Either would do, so long as he could aim for the face.

“Kennard,” Sir John said, approaching with a grin. “It’s been an age. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be in town yet.”

“Family business,” George said noncommittally.

Sir John and Freddie both nodded and said something along the lines of just so, and then they both looked over at Billie with clear expectation.

George forced a smile and turned to Billie. “May I present Sir John Willingham and Mr. Frederick Coventry.” There were murmurs all around, and then he said, “Gentlemen, this is Miss Sybilla Bridgerton of Aubrey Hall in Kent.”

“Kent, you say,” Freddie exclaimed. “Are you neighbors, then?”

“We are indeed,” Billie said prettily. “I have known Lord Kennard all of my life.”

George fought a scowl. He knew she could not use his Christian name in such a milieu, but it still grated to be referred to so formally.

“You are a lucky man indeed,” Freddie said, “to have such loveliness so close to home.”

George stole a glance at Billie to see if she was as appalled by the sugary compliment as he was, but she was still smiling placidly, looking for all the world like a sweet-tempered, gentle debutante.

He snorted. Sweet-tempered and gentle? Billie? If they only knew.

“Did you say something?” she asked.

He matched her smile with one of his own, equally bland. “Just that I am indeed lucky.”

Her brows rose. “How odd that I might have missed a sentence of such length.”

He gave her a sideways look.

Which she returned with a secret smile.

He felt something settle within himself. All was right with the world again. Or at least all was right with this moment. The world was a bloody mess, but right here, right now, Billie was smiling secretly . . .

And he was content.

“May I claim a dance, Miss Bridgerton?” Sir John asked Billie.

“And me as well,” Freddie immediately put in.

“Of course,” she said, again so prettily that George wanted to gag. She didn’t sound like herself.

“She has already promised her first to me,” he cut in. “And the supper set.”

Billie regarded him with some surprise, since she had not promised him the supper set, but she did not contradict.

“Nevertheless,” Freddie said with smooth amusement, “there are more than two dances at a ball.”

“I should be delighted to dance with both of you,” Billie said. She looked about the room as if in search of something. “I don’t believe there are dance cards this evening . . .”

“We can survive well enough without them,” Freddie said. “All we must remember is that when you are done with Kennard here, you will dance with me.”

Billie gave a friendly smile and a regal nod.

“And then you’re on to Sir John,” Freddie noted. “But I’ll warn you, he’s an atrocious dancer. You’ll want to watch your toes.”