Lady Frederica blushed prettily.

George wanted to plant his face in his potatoes.

“. . . ungrateful feline!” Billie’s voice wafted over the asparagus terrine. More laughter ensued, followed by: “I was furious!”

George sighed. He never thought he would yearn for Billie Bridgerton, but her smile was bright, her laughter infectious, and he was quite sure that if he had to endure another moment seated between the Ladies Frederica and Alexandra his brain was going to start washing out his ears.

Billie must have caught him moping, because she moved just a bit to the side. “We’re talking about the cat,” she said.

“Yes, I’d gathered.”

She smiled—a rather encouraging and pleasant smile that had the effect of making him feel rather discouraged.

And unpleasant.

“Do you know what she meant?” Lady Alexandra asked. “I believe she said something about a cat.”

“Northie adores cats,” Lady Frederica said.

“I can’t stand them myself,” George said with a renewed sense of affability. The statement wasn’t precisely true, but one couldn’t discount the pleasure to be found in being contrary.

Lady Frederica blinked with surprise. “Everybody likes cats.”

“Not me!”

Both Fortescue-Endicott sisters stared at him in shock. George supposed he couldn’t blame them; his tone had been downright gleeful. But as he was finally starting to enjoy himself, he decided he didn’t care. “I prefer dogs,” he said.

“Well, of course everyone likes dogs,” Lady Frederica said. But she sounded hesitant.

“And badgers,” George said cheerfully, popping a bit of bread into his mouth.

“Badgers,” she repeated.

“And moles.” He grinned. She was now regarding him with visible unease. George congratulated himself on a job well done. A few more minutes of this, and she would surely think him insane.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had so much fun at a formal dinner.

He looked over at Billie, suddenly eager to tell her about his conversation. It was exactly the sort of thing she’d find amusing. They would have such a good laugh over it.

But she was busy with Sir Reginald, who was now gazing at her as if she were a rare creature.

Which she was, George thought violently. She just wasn’t his rare creature.

George had a sudden urge to leap across the table and rearrange Sir Reggie’s perfect teeth into something far more abstract.

For the love of God, who was born with teeth like that? The man’s parents had clearly sold their souls to the devil.

“Oh, Lord Kennard,” Lady Alexandra said, “do you plan to observe the ladies’ archery tournament tomorrow?”

“I wasn’t aware there was one,” he replied.

“Oh yes. Frederica and I both plan to take part. We’ve practiced extensively.”

“With Lord Northwick?” he could not help but ask.

“Of course not,” she said. “Why on earth would you think that?”

He shrugged helplessly. Dear God, how much longer would this meal last?

She laid her hand on his arm. “I do hope you will come to watch.”

He glanced down at her hand. It looked so very wrong on his sleeve. But he had a feeling she misinterpreted his gesture, because if anything her fingers tightened. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Lord Northwick. God help him if he’d replaced the earl in her affections.