BECAUSE MISS "BRIDGERTON"
chapter 13
AT ONE O'CLOCK the next day, George recalled why he hated house parties. Or rather, he remembered that he hated house parties.
Or maybe George just doesn't like parties in this house. Between the Fortescue-Endicott girls who are infatuated with Northwick, the snow-toothed Lord Reggie, and Ned Berbrooke who accidentally spilled booze into his boots last night, George was ready to crawl back to the Crake House.
It's not five kilometers. He can do it.
He had already missed lunch—the only way to avoid Lady Alexandra, who seemed to decide George was the best thing after Northwick—and now George's mood is bad. He was hungry and tired, two demons that were guaranteed to lower one's disposition into a grumbling three-year-old.
Sleep last night felt…
Not satisfying.
Yeah, that seems like the most appropriate word. Not enough, but appropriate.
The Bridgerton family put all the members of the Rokesby family in the wing section reserved for the family, and George sat in a padded chair beside the fireplace, which was the seat of the house, listening to the usual voices heard as the family ended the day, the servants took care of the women, the door opened and closed…
This shouldn't be important. The voices are the same as those heard in Crake. But somehow, here in Aubrey Hall it felt too intimate, almost like he was eavesdropping.
With every soft sound that made the drowsiness come, George's imagination floated. He knew he couldn't hear Billie move; the girl's bedroom was across the corridor and three doors from the other end. But it felt like he could hear it. In the silence of the night he felt Billie's feet lightly stepping across his carpet. He felt Billie's breath whisper while blowing out the candle. And when the girl got into her bed, George was sure he could hear the sound of her bedding.
Billie once said she'd fall asleep with soon—but then what? Is he restless in his sleep? Did he roll around to and fro, kick a blanket, kick a bed sheet to the bottom of a bed with his feet?
Or will she lie still, sideways sweetly with both hands tucked under the cheeks?
George would bet the woman liked to move to and fro; after all, this is Billie. She spent her entire childhood always on the move. Why would she sleep any other way? And if he shares a bed with someone…
The brandy before his sleep turned into three glasses, but when George finally put his head to the pillow, he took hours to sleep. Then when he managed to sleep, he dreamed of the girl.
And his dream.
George shuddered, those memories flooding into him again. If he ever thought of Billie as a little sister…
He obviously doesn't think that way now.
Her dream began in the library, in the dim light of the moon, and she did not know what Billie was wearing—but her clothes were unlike anything she had ever seen in Billie before. It must be a white and thin nightgown. With each gust of wind, the garment shaped Billie's body, showing the curves of a perfect rannum designed to fit in both of George's hands.
No matter they were in the library, and there was no logical reason for the wind to blow.
It was his dream, and then the wind blew, and then it became unimportant because when George clasped Billie's hand and jerked her close suddenly they were in his bedroom. Not here in Aubrey Hall, but in Crake, with a four-masted mahogany bed, a large square mattress, with space for a wide variety of wild activities.
Billie said nothing, which George had to admit was nothing like Billie, but it was just a dream. But when the girl smiled, her smile was purely a Billie—wide and free— smileand when George laid the girl on the bed, their eyes met, and it felt as if Billie was born for the moment.
It was as if George was born for that moment.
Both of George's hands unfolded the girl's dress, and Billie curled her body showing off her perfect breasts.
It's insanity. It's insanity. George shouldn't know what Billie's breasts are like. He shouldn't even be able to imagine it.
But he can, and in his dreams, he adores Billie's breasts. He lowered his head and seduced the girl's breasts, seducing and seducing her until Billie groaned with pleasure.
But it doesn't stop there. He tucked both hands between Billie's legs, then pushed Billie's legs open, her thumb so close to Billie's center.
Then it caresses. it gets closer and closer. until it knows the union of their bodies is both inevitable. Billie will be his, and the union will be great. Her clothes melted, and she positioned the body over Billie…
Then he woke up.
God fucking.
He awakens.
Life is so unfair.
The next morning was an archery competition for women, and if George felt a bit of irony watching it, he could be forgiven. It was there that Billie with a stiff and sharp object, and on the other hand George, still with a stiff and sharp object, and it must be said: only one of them had fun.
It took an hour full of very cold thoughts before George could move from a sitting position with his legs carefully crossed in a chair prepared on the sidelines. All the other men had stood at one point to check on the target, but not so with George. He smiles, laughs, and he makes nonsense comments about enjoying the sunshine. And this is ridiculous, because one blue dot in the sky is only as big as his thumb.
Desperate for time to spare, he immediately went to the library after the tournament. No one at the party seemed to like reading; surely he could find a little peace and silence there.
And he found her, for ten minutes before Billie and Andrew came through the door bickering.
“George!” billie shouted, limping towards him. He seemed to be glowing thanks to a good rest.
He never had any trouble sleeping, George thought irritatedly. He may dream of roses and rainbows.
“People I hope to find,” Billie said with a smile.
“Words to launch terror into his heart,” comments Andrew in a lazy tone.
That's right, George thought, though not for the reason Andrew had guessed.
“Stop.” Billie scowled at Andrew before turning back to George. “We need you to solve the problem.”
“If it's about who can climb trees faster, it's Billie,” said George sure. “If it's about who can shoot the most accurately, it's Andrew.”
“Not both,” replied Billie with a slightly wrinkled forehead. “But it has to do with Pall Mall.”
“Then may God help us all,” George grumbled, got up and walked to the door. He had already played Pall Mall with his sister and Billie; it was a cruel and bloodthirsty sport involving wooden balls, heavy hammers, and the constant risk of being heavily injured on the head. Definitely not the right game for Lady Bridgerton's tame house party.
“Andrew accused me of cheating,” Billie said.
“When?” george asked, surprised and confused. As far as he knew, the entire morning was filled with women's archery tournaments. Billie won, not that anyone from the Rokesby and Bridgerton families was surprised to find out.
“April ago,” replied Billie.
“And you're arguing about that now?”
“It's about principle,” said Andrew.
George looked at Billie. “Do you cheat?”
“Of course not! I don't have to cheat to beat Andrew. Edward may,” I'm Billie with a blink of an eye, “but not Andrew.”
“It's overrated, Billie,” Andrew's nag.
“But true,” reply Billie.
“I go,” says George. No one heard, but it seemed polite that he announced his departure. After all, he wasn't sure if being in the same room as Billie was currently a good idea. His pulse slowly began to accelerate and he knew he did not want to be near the girl when her pulse reached the peak.
This is where the destruction is, his mind is screaming. Fortunately his legs did not fight back, and he managed to step up to the door before Billie said, “Oh, don't go. New situation will turn into interesting.”
George managed to smile a little but was tired as he turned around. “With you the circumstances always turn out to be interesting.”
“Do you think so?” ask Billie happy.
Andrew gave Billie a look of disbelief. “It wasn't a compliment, Billie.”
Billie looked at George.
“I don't know what it is,” I admit.
Billie just chuckled, then turned her head towards Andrew. “I'll challenge him.”
George is not stupid—oh, he is obviously not stupid—but he could not stop himself from turning around and gaped towards Billie.
“You challenge me?” repeated Andrew.
“Duel hammer when dawn arrives,” says Billie in style. Then he puts his shoulders. “Atau afternoon. I'd rather avoid getting up early, don't you think so?”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “You challenged one-armed man to play Pall Mall?”
“I challenge you.”
Andrew leaned forward, his blue eyes sparkling. “I'll still beat you, you know.”
“George!” exclamation Billie.
God fucking. He almost managed to escape. “Ya?” he muttered, then stuck his head back across the doorway.
“No, you don't need me. You need a nanny. You can barely walk.”
“I can walk well.” With a limp Billie walked a few steps. “See? I don't even feel it.”
George turned his head towards Andrew, not expecting his sister to show anything close to common sense.
“My arm is broken,” said Andrew, whom George felt was meant as an explanation. Or reasons.
“You *****. You two.”
“Two people ***** who need more players,” Billie said. “Games cannot start with two players.”
Technically it's true. The Pall Mall set is meant to be played with six players, a minimum of four if necessary. But George has already been involved in these circumstances; they are auxiliary players to the cruel and tragic main cast, Andrew and Billie. For both of them, the meaning of the game was more to make sure their opponent did not win than to win it. George was only expected to move the ball in the middle of their squabble.
“You still don't have enough players,” said George.
“Georgiana!” exclamation Billie.
“Georgiana?” repeated Andrew. “You know your mother doesn't allow her to play.”
“For God's sake, he hasn't been sick for years. It's time we stop spoiling him.”
That's when Georgiana came from the corner. “Stop yelling, Billie. You're gonna give Mama a heart attack, then I'm the one who has to take care of it.”
“We will play Pall Mall,” Billie told.
“Oh. That's delightful. I'll—” Georgiana's words came to a halt, and her blue eyes widened. “Wait, can I come play?”
“Of course,” said Billie, barely caring. “You're a Bridgerton.”
“Oh, brilliant!” Georgiana jumped into the air. “Can I play orange? No, green. I want green.”
“Whatever you want,” said Andrew.
Georgiana looked at George. “Are you also going to play?”
“Test must.”
“Don't sound so resigned,” said Billie. “You're going to have fun. You know it.”
“We still need another player,” Andrew said.
“Maybe Sir Reggie?” ask Georgiana.
“No!” George answered immediately.
Three heads turned towards him.
After revisiting it, perhaps his rejection was a little too strong.
“I don't think he's the kind of guy who enjoys games that rough,” George said as he rubbed his shoulders carelessly. He glanced at his fingernails as it was impossible to see the other eye when he said, “Giinya, you know.”
“Giginya?” repeat Billie.
George didn't need to look at Billie's face to know the girl was looking at him as if she was crazy.
“I think he does have a very elegant smile,” said Billie, apparently ready to admit the point. “And I guess we did take off one of Edward's teeth that summer.” Billie turned to look at Andrew. “Do you remember? I think it was six years old.”
“That's right,” said George, though he actually doesn't remember the incident. It must have been milk teeth; Edward was not Sir Reginald McVie, but as far as George knew, his sister's smile was full of teeth.
“We cannot invite Mary,” Billie continues. “He spent the whole morning bending over the potty to urinate.”
“I really don't need to know about it,” Andrew cetus.
Billie ignored. “Again, Felix won't allow it.”
“Then invite Felix,” George suggests.
“It wouldn't be fair to Mary.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Who cares?”
Billie. “If he can't play, Felix doesn't either.”
“Lady Frederica went to the village with her mother and cousin,” Georgiana said. “But I saw Lady Alexandra in the sitting room. Looks like he's not doing anything important.”
George had no interest in spending the afternoon listening to more stories about Lord Northwick, but after his fiery rejection for Sir Reginald, he thought he could not come up with another reasonable refusal. “Lady Alexandra will be a great addition to that game,” he said diplomatically. “As a condition, of course, he wants to come play.”
“Oh, he will,” Billie said in a somber tone.
Georgiana looked confused.
Billie turned to her sister, but she jerked her head at George. “Tell him Lord Kennard will come into play. He will come with great enthusiasm.”
“Oh, for God's sake, Billie,” grumbled George.
Billie made a loud voice that indicated she felt right. “He chatted with you all night!”
“She sits next to me,” reply George. “He can't do anything else.”
“Not true. Brother Felix sat to his left. He's pretty good to talk to. The woman could have talked to him about many things.”
Andrew stepped between them. “Are you two going to attack each other like jealous lovers or are we going to play?”
Billie glares.
George glares.
Andrew seemed content with himself.
“You idiot,” Billie told him before turning her back towards Georgiana. “I think the player should be Lady Alexandra. Call him and anyone you can find. A man if possible so that the number is comparable.”
Georgiana nodded “But not Sir Reginald?”
“George is worrying too much about his teeth.”
Andrew made a choking sound.
Which stopped when George elbowed his ribs.
“How about I meet you here?” ask Georgiana.
Billie thought about it for a moment, then said, “No, it would be faster if we met you on the west page.” He turned towards George and Andrew. “I'll arrange for the set of the goal to be issued.”
He and Georgiana walked out of the room, leaving George alone with his sister.
“Giginya, huh?” murmured Andrew.
George glared at him.
Andrew leaned closer, close enough to be a bitch. “I bet her oral health is very good.”
“Diam.”
Andrew laughed, then approached with what he clearly meant as an anxious expression. “There's something in...” He gestured to his teeth.
George turned the eyeball and pushed past Andrew.
Andrew immediately straightened up, chased, then preceded him, while throwing a grin from behind the shoulder as he ran across the hall. “Women do love a charming smile.”
I'm going to kill my brother, George decided while following Andrew out. And he will use a hammer from wood.
DON'T FORGET AS USUAL!!
