“Eloise, whose mouth was as sharp as Hyacinth’s (though thankfully tempered by some discretion), hadremarked that they had best get Hyacinth married off quickly or their mother was going to become analcoholic. Lady Bridgerton had not appreciated the comment, although she privately thought it might betrue.”

“Eloise,” Penelope said, somewhat breathless from trying to shake offHyacinth.“Penelope.” But Eloise’s voice sounded curious. Which did notsurprise Penelope; Eloise was no fool, and she was well aware that herbrother’s normal modes of behavior did not include beatific smiles in herdirection.“Eloise,” Hyacinth said, for no reason Penelope could deduce.“Hyacinth.”Penelope turned to her husband. “Colin.”He looked amused. “Penelope. Hyacinth.”Hyacinth grinned. “Colin.” And then: “Sir Phillip.”“Ladies.” Sir Phillip, it seemed, favored brevity.“Stop!” Eloise burst out. “What is going on?”“A recitation of our Christian names, apparently,” Hyacinth said.”

“Hyacinth,” Lady Bridgerton said in a vaguely disapproving voice, “do try to speak in complete sentences.”Hyacinth looked at her mother with a surprised expression. “Biscuits. Are. Good.” She cocked her head to the side. “Noun. Verb. Adjective.”“Hyacinth.”“Noun. Verb. Adjective.” Colin said, wiping a crumb from his grinning face. “Sentence. Is. Correct.”

“Charlotte Stokehurst,” Violet Bridgerton announced, “is getting married.”“Today?” Hyacinth queried, taking off her gloves.Her mother gave her a look. “She has become engaged. Her mother told me this morning.”Hyacinth looked around. “Were you waiting for me in the hall?”“To the Earl of Renton,” Violet added. “Renton.”“Have we any tea?” Hyacinth asked. “I walked all the way home, and I’m thirsty.”“Renton!” Violet exclaimed, looking about ready to throw up her hands in despair. “Did you hear me?”“Renton,” Hyacinth said obligingly. “He has fat ankles.”“He’s—” Violet stopped short. “Why were you looking at his ankles?”

“In 1895 Lady Londonberry commented acidly on a bridegroom who had 'married the 10,000 a year as well as the lady.”

“Eloiseis getting married as well.”“Eloise?” Michael asked with some surprise. “Was she even being courted by anyone?”“No,” Francesca said, quickly flipping to the third sheet of her mother‟s letter. “It‟s someone she‟s never met.”“Well, I imagine she‟s met him now,” Michael said in a dry voice.”