“George? George?”

He blinked. His mother was calling his name.

“Lady Frederica Fortescue-Endicott has become betrothed to the Earl of Northwick,” she said to him. “Had you heard?”

Ah. So this was to be tonight’s conversation. He finished his drink. “I had not.”

“The Duke of Westborough’s eldest daughter,” his mother said to Lady Bridgerton. “Such a charming young lady.”

“Oh, of course, lovely girl. Dark hair, yes?”

“And such beautiful blue eyes. Sings like a bird.”

George stifled a sigh.

His father slapped him on the back. “The duke set her up with a good dowry,” he said, coming straight to the point. “Twenty thousand and a piece of property.”

“As I’ve missed my chance,” George said with a diplomatically impassive smile, “there can be no benefit to the catalogue of her many attributes.”

“Of course not,” his mother said. “It’s far too late for that. But if you had listened to me last spring—”

The supper gong sounded—thank God—and his mother must have decided that there was no use in further pressing her matchmaking points because the next words out of her mouth had to do with the evening’s menu, and the apparent lack of good fish this week at market.

George made his way back to Billie’s side. “Shall I?” he murmured, holding out his arms.

“Oh,” she exclaimed lightly, although for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why she’d be surprised. Nothing had changed in the past quarter of an hour; who else was going to carry her into the dining room?

“How very gallant of you, George,” his mother said, taking her husband’s hand and allowing him to lead her across the room.

He gave her a dry smile. “I confess it’s a heady feeling to have Billie Bridgerton at my mercy.”

Lord Bridgerton laughed. “Enjoy it while you can, son. She doesn’t like to lose, that one.”

“Does anyone?” Billie retorted.

“Of course not,” her father replied. “It’s more of a question of how gracefully one concedes.”

“I’m perfectly gr—”

George scooped her into his arms. “Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?” he murmured. Because they all knew. Billie Bridgerton was rarely graceful in defeat.

Billie clamped her mouth together.

“Two points for honesty,” he said.

“What would it take to earn three?” she shot back.

He laughed.

“And anyway,” Billie said to her father, fundamentally unable to let a point drop, “I didn’t lose anything.”

“You lost the cat,” Georgiana said.

“And your dignity,” Andrew added.

“Now that earns three points,” George said.

“I sprained my ankle!”

“We know, dear,” Lady Bridgerton said, giving her daughter a little pat on the arm. “You’ll feel better soon. You said so.”

Four points, George started to say, but Billie fixed him with a murderous glare.

“Don’t you dare,” she ground out.

“But you make it so easy.”

“Are we mocking Billie?” Andrew asked, catching up as they entered the hall. “Because if we are, I’ll have you know I’m hurt that you would begin without me.”