“You have a mother?"He quirked a brow. "Did you think mine was some sort of divine birth? My father was a remarkable man, but even he was not that talented.”

“He gave her a sly, sideways look. "Did youbring it?""My list? Heavens, no. What can you be thinking?"His smile widened. "I brought mine."Daphne gasped. "You didn't!""I did. Just to torture Mother. I'm going peruse it right in front of her, pull out my quizzing glass—""You don't have a quizzing glass."He grinned—the slow, devastatingly wicked smile that all Bridgerton males seemed to possess. "I bought one just for this occasion.""Anthony, you absolutely cannot. She will kill you. And then, somehow, she'll find a way to blame me.""I'm counting on it.”

“Then, with a cheeky quirk of his brows, he leaned forward and murmured, “Would it be improper of me to admit that I am inordinately flattered by your attention tothe details of my face?”Anne snorted out a laugh. “Improper and ludicrous.”“It is true that I have never felt quite so colorful,” he said, with a clearly feigned sigh.“You are a veritable rainbow,” she agreed. “I see red and . . . well, no orange and yellow, but certainly green and blue and violet.”“You forgot indigo.”“I did not,” she said, with her very best governess voice. “I have always found it to be a foolish addition to the spectrum. Have you ever actually seen a rainbow?”“Once or twice,” he replied, looking rather amused by her rant.”

“Oh, Daniel,” his mother exclaimed, catching him before he could make his escape, “do come join us. We’re trying to decide if Honoria should be married in lavender-blue or blue-lavender.”He opened his mouth to ask the difference, then decided against it. “Blue-lavender,” he said firmly, not having a clue as to what he was talking about.“Do you think so?” his mother responded, frowning. “I really think lavender-blue would be better.”The obvious question would have been why she’d asked his opinion in the first place, but once again, he decided that the wise man did not make such queries.”

“Mother,” Hyacinth said, pausing for slightly longer than normal to steal a bit of time to organize her thoughts, “I am not going to chase after Mr. St. Clair. He’s not at all the right sort of man for me.”“I’m not certain you’d know the right sort of man for you if he arrived on our doorstep riding an elephant.”“I would think the elephant would be a fairly good indication that I ought to look elsewhere.”

“Let me try,” he said, and he took the ends and positionedhimself in front of her mirror.She watched him for about two seconds before declaring,“You’re going to have to go home.”His eyes did not leave the reflection of his neckcloth in themirror. “I haven’t even got past the first knot.”“And you’re not going to.”He gave her a supercilious look, brow quirked and all.“You’re never going to get it right,” she pronounced. “I mustsay, between this and your boots, I am revising my opinion on theimpracticalities of couture, male versus female.”“Really?”Her gaze dropped to his boots, polished to a perfect shine. “Noone has ever had to take a knife to my footwear.”“I wear nothing that buttons up the back,” he countered.“True, but I may choose a dress that buttons in the front,whereas you cannot go out and about without a neckcloth.”

“Is there something you wish to tell me?” Violet askedgently.Hyacinth shook her head. How did one share somethingsuch as this with one’s mother?—Oh, yes, by the by and in case you’re interested, ithas recently come to my attention that my affianced husbandasked me to marry him because he wished to infuriatehis father.—Oh, and did I mention that I am no longer a virgin?No getting out of it now!No, that wasn’t going to work”