By the time Honoria got herself straightened out, they had been joined by a handsome man with a devilish gleam in his green eyes. It took her a moment, but just before he was introduced, she recognized him as Colin Bridgerton, one of Gregory Bridgerton’s older brothers. Honoria did not know him personally, but she had heard her older sisters sigh about him incessantly when they were out and unmarried. His charm was almost as legendary as his smile.

And his smile was presently directed at her. Honoria felt her stomach flip and quickly set it back to rights. If she weren’t desperately in love with Marcus (whose smile was far more subtle, and thus far more meaningful), this would be a dangerous man indeed.

“I have been out of the country,” Mr. Bridgerton said smoothly, just after he kissed her hand, “so I am not sure that we have been introduced.”

Honoria nodded and was about to say something utterly forgettable when she saw that his hand had been bandaged.

“I hope your injury is not severe,” she said politely.

“Oh, this?” he held up his hand. His fingers were free to waggle, but the rest of it looked rather like a mitt. “It’s nothing. An altercation with a letter opener.”

“Well, please do be careful of infection,” Honoria said, somewhat more forcefully than was de rigueur. “If it grows red, or swollen, or even worse, yellow, then you must see a doctor at once.”

“Green?” he quipped.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You listed so many colors about which I must be wary.”

For a moment Honoria could only stare. Wound infection was not a laughing matter.

“Lady Honoria?” he murmured.

She decided to proceed as if he’d said nothing. “Most importantly, you must watch for reddish streaks spreading from the wound. Those are the worst.”

He blinked, but if he was startled by the turn of the conversation, he did not show it. Instead he looked down at his hand with a curious eye and said, “How red?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How red do the streaks have to be before I must worry?”

“How do you know so much about medicine?” Lady Danbury cut in.

“Do you know, I’m not sure how red,” Honoria told Mr. Bridgerton. “I would think anything stripey ought to be a cause for alarm.” Then she turned to Lady Danbury and said, “I helped someone recently who had a terribly infected wound.”

“Hand?” Lady Danbury barked.

Honoria could not begin to imagine what she was talking about.

“Was it her hand? Arm? Leg? It’s all in the details, gel.” She gave her cane a thump, narrowly missing Mr. Bridgerton’s foot. “Otherwise the story is dull.”

“Sorry, ehrm . . . Leg.” Honoria did not see any reason to mention that it had been a he, not a she.