“I’m going to kiss her now.”

His mother let out a little shriek. “You can’t do that.”

“I’m fairly certain I can.”

“George, you’re not married yet!”

He studied Billie’s lips with the hot gaze of a connoisseur. “All the more reason to hurry things up,” he murmured.

“Billie,” his mother said firmly, transferring her attention to what she clearly considered to be the weaker link, “let’s go.”

But Billie just shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s as he says. We’re a team.”

And then, because she was Billie Bridgerton and she’d never minded taking charge, she sank her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers.

And because he was George Rokesby, and he was going to love her for the rest of his days, he kissed her right back.

Epilogue

Several months later

Crake House

“The results are final,” Billie said, adding up the last column with a flourish. “I win.”

George glanced up at her from his position on their bed—a large, lovely, four-posted piece that Billie had redressed in green a few weeks into their marriage. He was reading a book; Billie hadn’t caught the title. He always read before they went to bed. She loved that about him. He was such a creature of habit. Another reason they were a perfect match.

“What is it this time?” he murmured.

She knew he was being indulgent, but she was so pleased by the numbers in front of her that she decided she didn’t care. “The barley harvest,” she said. “Aubrey Hall outdid Crake by a factor of . . . hold on one moment . . .” She chewed on her lower lip as she worked out another computation. “One point one!”

“Such a triumph.”

She pursed her lips, trying for an unamused expression.

“Did you factor in Aubrey’s greater barley acreage?”

“Of course!” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, George.”

His lips curved ever-so-slightly. “Might I remind you that you live at Crake?”

Billie felt herself smile in return.

“And that your name is Billie Rokesby now?”

“I’ll always be a Bridgerton at heart. Well,” she added, not liking George’s frown, “a Bridgerton and a Rokesby.”

He sighed. Just a little. “I don’t suppose you’ve any plans to turn your formidable skills to the running of Crake.”

Not for the first time Billie felt a rush of gratitude that George had not objected when she’d told him that she wanted to continue her work at Aubrey Hall. He was an uncommon man, her husband. He understood her. Sometimes she thought he might be the only person who did.

“My father still needs me,” she said. “At least until Edmund is ready to take over.”

George rose from the bed and walked over. “Your father’s steward would be thrilled to finally earn his wages.”

She glanced up. “I’m better than he is.”

“Well, that goes without saying.”

She batted him on the arm, then sighed when he leaned down and kissed her neck. “I should thank you,” she said.