shock.
Mary.
Lady Bridgerton.
And Mrs. Featherington, arguably the ton ’s biggest gossip.
And Kate knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her life would never be the same.
Chapter 14
And indeed, if a scandal does erupt at Lady Bridgerton’s party, those of us who remain in London may be assured that any and all titillating news shall reach our tender ears with all possible haste. With so many notorious gossips in attendance, we are all but guaranteed a full and detailed report.
L ADY W HISTLEDOWN’S S OCIETY P APERS , 4 M AY 1814
F or a split second, everyone remained frozen as if in a tableau. Kate stared at the three matrons in shock. They stared back at her in utter horror.
And Anthony kept trying to suck the venom from Kate’s bee sting, completely oblivious to the fact that they had an audience.
Of the quintet, Kate found her voice—and her strength—first, shoving with all her might against Anthony’s shoulder as she let out an impassioned cry of, “Stop!”
Caught off guard, he proved surprisingly easy to dislodge, and he landed on his bum on the ground, his eyes still burning with determination to save her from what he perceived as her deathly fate.
“Anthony?” Lady Bridgerton gasped, her voice quaveringon her son’s name, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
He twisted around. “Mother?”
“Anthony, what were you doing?”
“She was stung by a bee,” he said grimly.
“I’m fine,” Kate insisted, then yanked up her dress. “I told him I was fine, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
Lady Bridgerton’s eyes misted over with understanding. “I see,” she said in a small, sad voice, and Anthony knew that she did see. She was, perhaps, the only person who could see.
“Kate,” Mary finally said, choking on her words, “he had his lips on your…on your—”
“On her breast,” Mrs. Featherington said helpfully, folding her arms over her ample bosom. A disapproving frown crossed her face, but it was clear that she was enjoying herself immensely.
“He did not!” Kate exclaimed, struggling to her feet, which wasn’t the easiest task, since Anthony had landed on one of them when she’d shoved him off the bench. “I was stung right here!” With a frantic finger, she pointed at the round red welt that was still rising on the thin skin covering her collarbone.
The three older ladies stared at her bee sting, their skin assuming identical blushes of faint crimson.
“It’s not anywhere near my breast!” Kate protested, too horrified by the direction of the conversation to remember to feel embarrassed at her rather anatomical language.
“It isn’t far, ” Mrs. Featherington pointed out.
“Will someone shut her up?” Anthony snapped.
“Well!” Mrs. Featherington huffed. “I never!”
“No,” Anthony replied. “You always .”
“What does he mean by that?” Mrs. Featherington demanded, poking Lady Bridgerton in the arm. When the viscountess did not respond, she turned to Mary and repeated the question.
But Mary had eyes only for her daughter. “Kate,” she ordered, “come here this instant.”
Dutifully, Kate moved to Mary’s side.
“Well?” Mrs. Featherington asked. “What are we going to do?”
Four sets of eyes turned on her in disbelief.
“ ‘We’?” Kate questioned faintly.
“I fail to see how you have any say in the matter,” Anthony bit off.
Mrs. Featherington just let out a loud, disdainful, and rather nasal sniff. “You have to marry the chit,” she announced.
“What?” The word was ripped from Kate’s throat. “You must be mad.”
“I must be the only sensible one in the garden is what I must be,” Mrs. Featherington said officiously. “Lud, girl, he had his mouth on your bubbies, and we all saw it.”
“He did not!” Kate moaned. “I was stung by a bee. A bee!”
“Portia,” Lady Bridgerton interjected, “I hardly think there is need for such graphic language.”
“There’s little use for
Mary.
Lady Bridgerton.
And Mrs. Featherington, arguably the ton ’s biggest gossip.
And Kate knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her life would never be the same.
Chapter 14
And indeed, if a scandal does erupt at Lady Bridgerton’s party, those of us who remain in London may be assured that any and all titillating news shall reach our tender ears with all possible haste. With so many notorious gossips in attendance, we are all but guaranteed a full and detailed report.
L ADY W HISTLEDOWN’S S OCIETY P APERS , 4 M AY 1814
F or a split second, everyone remained frozen as if in a tableau. Kate stared at the three matrons in shock. They stared back at her in utter horror.
And Anthony kept trying to suck the venom from Kate’s bee sting, completely oblivious to the fact that they had an audience.
Of the quintet, Kate found her voice—and her strength—first, shoving with all her might against Anthony’s shoulder as she let out an impassioned cry of, “Stop!”
Caught off guard, he proved surprisingly easy to dislodge, and he landed on his bum on the ground, his eyes still burning with determination to save her from what he perceived as her deathly fate.
“Anthony?” Lady Bridgerton gasped, her voice quaveringon her son’s name, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
He twisted around. “Mother?”
“Anthony, what were you doing?”
“She was stung by a bee,” he said grimly.
“I’m fine,” Kate insisted, then yanked up her dress. “I told him I was fine, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
Lady Bridgerton’s eyes misted over with understanding. “I see,” she said in a small, sad voice, and Anthony knew that she did see. She was, perhaps, the only person who could see.
“Kate,” Mary finally said, choking on her words, “he had his lips on your…on your—”
“On her breast,” Mrs. Featherington said helpfully, folding her arms over her ample bosom. A disapproving frown crossed her face, but it was clear that she was enjoying herself immensely.
“He did not!” Kate exclaimed, struggling to her feet, which wasn’t the easiest task, since Anthony had landed on one of them when she’d shoved him off the bench. “I was stung right here!” With a frantic finger, she pointed at the round red welt that was still rising on the thin skin covering her collarbone.
The three older ladies stared at her bee sting, their skin assuming identical blushes of faint crimson.
“It’s not anywhere near my breast!” Kate protested, too horrified by the direction of the conversation to remember to feel embarrassed at her rather anatomical language.
“It isn’t far, ” Mrs. Featherington pointed out.
“Will someone shut her up?” Anthony snapped.
“Well!” Mrs. Featherington huffed. “I never!”
“No,” Anthony replied. “You always .”
“What does he mean by that?” Mrs. Featherington demanded, poking Lady Bridgerton in the arm. When the viscountess did not respond, she turned to Mary and repeated the question.
But Mary had eyes only for her daughter. “Kate,” she ordered, “come here this instant.”
Dutifully, Kate moved to Mary’s side.
“Well?” Mrs. Featherington asked. “What are we going to do?”
Four sets of eyes turned on her in disbelief.
“ ‘We’?” Kate questioned faintly.
“I fail to see how you have any say in the matter,” Anthony bit off.
Mrs. Featherington just let out a loud, disdainful, and rather nasal sniff. “You have to marry the chit,” she announced.
“What?” The word was ripped from Kate’s throat. “You must be mad.”
“I must be the only sensible one in the garden is what I must be,” Mrs. Featherington said officiously. “Lud, girl, he had his mouth on your bubbies, and we all saw it.”
“He did not!” Kate moaned. “I was stung by a bee. A bee!”
“Portia,” Lady Bridgerton interjected, “I hardly think there is need for such graphic language.”
“There’s little use for
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