“He does,” George confirmed, turning toward his mother. “Henry. He’s two years younger than Felix, but he’s—”

“Excellent!” Lady Manston exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“But he’s what?” Billie asked. Or rather, pounced. Because this was her potential mortification they were talking about.

“Nearly engaged,” George told her. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“It doesn’t count until it’s official,” his mother said airily.

Billie stared at her in disbelief. This, from the woman who had been planning Mary’s wedding from the first time Felix had kissed her hand.

“Do we like Henry Maynard?” Lady Bridgerton asked.

“We do,” Lady Manston confirmed.

“I thought she wasn’t even sure he had a brother,” Billie said.

Beside her, George chuckled, and she felt his head draw close to hers. “Ten pounds says she knew every last detail of his current courtship before she even mentioned his name,” he murmured.

Billie’s lips flickered with a hint of a smile. “I would not take that bet.”

“Smart girl.”

“Always.”

George chuckled, then stopped. Billie followed his gaze across the table. Andrew was watching them with an odd expression, his head tilted at the slightest of angles and his brow pleated into a thoughtful frown.

“What?” she said, while the mothers continued their plans.

Andrew shook his head. “Nothing.”

Billie scowled. She could read Andrew like the back of her hand. He was up to something. “I don’t like his expression,” she murmured.

“I never like his expression,” George said.

She glanced at him. How odd this was, this silly little kinship with George. It was usually Andrew with whom she was sharing muttered quips. Or Edward. But not George.

Never George.

And while she supposed this was a good thing—there was no reason she and George had to be at constant loggerheads—it still made her feel strange. Off-balance.

Life was better when it puttered along without surprises. It really was.

Billie turned to her mother, determined to escape this growing sense of unease. “Do we really have to have a party? Surely Andrew can feel celebrated and adored without a twelve-course meal and archery on the lawn.”

“Don’t forget the fireworks and a parade,” Andrew said. “And I might want to be carried in on a litter.”

“You want to encourage this?” Billie asked, gesturing to him with an exasperated hand.

George snorted into his soup.

“Will I be permitted to attend?” Georgiana asked.

“Nothing in the evening,” her mother said, “but certainly some of the afternoon entertainments.”

Georgiana sat back with a cat-in-the-cream smile. “Then I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“Georgie,” Billie said.

“Billie,” Georgiana mocked.

Billie’s lips parted in surprise. Was the entire world tipping on its axis? Since when did her younger sister talk back to her like that?

“It’s settled, Billie,” her mother said in a tone that brooked no dissent. “We are having a party, and you will attend. In a dress.”

“Mother!” Billie cried out.

“I don’t think it’s an unreasonable demand,” her mother said, glancing about the table for confirmation.