“I’m trying to embroider.” Hyacinth held up her handiworkas proof.“You’re trying to avoid—” Her mother stopped, blinking.“I say, why does that flower have an ear?”“It’s not an ear.” Hyacinth looked down. “And it’s not aflower.”“Wasn’t it a flower yesterday?”“I have a very creative mind,” Hyacinth ground out,giving the blasted flower another ear.“That,” Violet said, “has never been in any doubt.”Hyacinth looked down at the mess on the fabric. “It’s atabby cat,” she announced. “I just need to give it a tail.”

“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?”

“Francesca actually felt her chin drop. “Mother,” she said, shaking her head, “you really should have stopped at seven.”“Children, you mean?” Violet asked, sipping at her tea. “Sometimes I do wonder.”“Mother!” Hyacinth exclaimed.Violet just smiled at her. “Salt?”“It took her eight tries to get it right,” Hyacinth announced, thrusting the salt cellar at her mother with a decided lack of grace.“And does that mean that you, too, hope to have eight children?” Violet inquired sweetly.“God no,” Hyacinth said. With great feeling. And neither she nor Francesca could quite resist a chuckle after that.”

“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.”

“Say whatever is in your heart,” Violet said. Her lipstwisted wryly. “And if that doesn’t work, I suggest thatyou take a book and knock him over the head with it.”Hyacinth blinked, then blinked again. “I beg your pardon.”“I didn’t say that,” Violet said quickly.Hyacinth felt herself smile. “I’m rather certain youdid.”“Do you think?” Violet murmured, concealing her ownsmile with her teacup.“A large book,” Hyacinth queried, “or small?”“Large, I think, don’t you?”Hyacinth nodded. “Have we The Complete Works ofShakespeare in the library?”Violet’s lips twitched. “I believe that we do.”Something began to bubble in Hyacinth’s chest. Somethingvery close to laughter. And it felt so good to feel itagain.“I love you, Mother,” she said, suddenly consumed bythe need to say it aloud. “I just wanted you to know that.”“I know, darling,” Violet said, and her eyes were shiningbrightly. “I love you, too.”

“I’m not trying to impress you,” he replied, glancing up at the front of the room. “Gads,” he said, blinking in surprise. “What is that ?”Hyacinth followed his gaze. Several of the Pleinsworth progeny, one of whom appeared to be costumed as a shepherdess, were milling about.“Now that’s an interesting coincidence,” Gareth murmured.“It might be time to start bleating,” she agreed.“I thought this was meant to be a poetry recitation.”Hyacinth grimaced and shook her head. “An unexpected change to the program, I’m afraid.”“From iambic pentameter to Little Bo Peep?” he asked doubtfully. “It does seem a stretch.”Hyacinth gave him a rueful look. “I think there will still be iambic pentameter.”His mouth fell open. “From Peep?”She nodded, holding up the program that had been resting in her lap. “It’s an original composition,” she said, as if that would explain everything. “By Harriet Pleinsworth.The Shepherdess, the Unicorn, and Henry VIII .”“All of them? At once?”“I’m not jesting,” she said, shaking her head.“Of course not. Even you couldn’t have made this up.”Hyacinth decided to take that as a compliment.“Why didn’t I receive one of these?” he asked, taking the program from her.“I believe it was decided not to hand them out to the gentlemen,” Hyacinth said, glancing about the room. “One has to admire Lady Pleinsworth’s foresight, actually. You’d surely flee if you knew what was in store for you.”