She paused to consider that. When it came right down to it…

“Billie?” her mother murmured, eyeing her above the rim of her bone china teacup.

“I think I’m not a very nice person,” Billie mused.

Lady Bridgerton choked so hard tea came out her nose. It was quite a sight, really, and not one Billie had ever expected to see in her lifetime.

“I could have told you that,” Georgiana said.

Billie flashed a scowl at her sister that was, all things considered, rather immature.

“Sybilla Bridgerton,” came her mother’s brook-no-dissent voice. “You are a perfectly nice person.”

Billie opened her mouth to speak, not that she had anything intelligent to say.

“If you’re not,” her mother continued, her voice leaping into the moment with a don’t-you-dare-think-of-contradicting-me punch of volume, “it reflects badly upon me, and I refuse to believe I am so derelict a mother as that.”

“Of course not,” Billie said quickly. Very quickly.

“Therefore I will repeat my question,” her mother said. She took a delicate sip of her tea and gazed upon her elder daughter with remarkable impassivity. “What do you plan to do today?”

“Well,” Billie stalled. She glanced over at her sister, but Georgiana was no help. She just lifted her shoulders in a helpless little shrug that could have meant anything from I-have-no-idea-what’s-got-into-her to I-am-enjoying-your-discomfort-immensely.

Billie scowled. Wouldn’t it be lovely if people just said what they thought?

Billie turned back to her mother, who was still regarding her with a deceptively placid expression. “Well,” she stalled again. “I might read a book?”

“A book,” her mother repeated. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “How delightful.”

Billie eyed her cautiously. Any number of sarcastic retorts sprang to mind, but despite her mother’s serene demeanor, there was a gleam in her eye that told Billie she’d be wise to keep her mouth shut.

Lady Bridgerton reached for the teapot. She always drank more tea at breakfast than the rest of the family combined. “I could recommend something, if you like,” she said to Billie. She also generally read more books than the rest of the family combined.

“No, that’s all right,” Billie replied, cutting her sausage into rounds. “Father bought the latest volume of Prescott’s Encyclopaedia of Agriculture when he was in London last month. I should have already started it, but the weather has been so fine I haven’t had the chance.”

“You could read outside,” Georgiana suggested. “We could put down a blanket. Or drag out a chaise.”

Billie nodded absently as she stabbed a sausage disc. “It would be better than remaining in, I suppose.”

“You could help me plan the entertainments for the house party,” Georgiana said.

Billie gave her a condescending look. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not, darling?” Lady Bridgerton put in. “It might be fun.”

“You just told me I didn’t have to take part in the planning.”

“Only because I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Of course not,” her mother said smoothly, “but you do want to spend time with your sister.”

Oh, hell. Her mother was good. Billie pasted a smile on her face. “Can’t Georgie and I do something else?”

“If you can convince her to read your agricultural treatise over your shoulder,” her mother said, her hand flitting delicately through the air.

Delicately like a bullet, Billie thought. “I’ll help with some of the planning,” she conceded.

“Oh, that will be marvelous!” Georgiana exclaimed. “And so very helpful. You’ll have much more experience with this sort of thing than I.”

“Not really,” Billie said frankly.

“But you’ve been to house parties.”

“Well, yes, but…” Billie didn’t bother finishing her sentence. Georgiana looked so happy. It would be like kicking a puppy to tell Georgiana that she had hated being dragged to house parties with their mother. Or if hate was too strong a word, she certainly hadn’t enjoyed herself. She really didn’t like traveling. She’d learned that much about herself.

And she did not enjoy the company of strangers. She wasn’t shy; not at all. She just preferred being among people she knew.

People who knew her.

Life was so much easier that way.

“Look at it this way,” Lady Bridgerton said to Billie. “You don’t want a house party. You don’t like house parties. But I am your mother, and I have decided to host one. Therefore, you have no choice but to attend. Why not take the opportunity to mold this gathering into something you might actually enjoy?”

“But I’m not going to enjoy it.”

“You certainly won’t if you approach it with that attitude.”

Billie took a moment to compose herself. And to hold down the urge to argue her point and defend herself and tell her mother that she would not be spoken to as if she was a child…

“I would be delighted to assist Georgiana,” Billie said tightly, “as long as I get some time to read my book.”

“I wouldn’t dream of pulling you away from Prescott’s,” her mother murmured.

Billie glared at her. “You shouldn’t mock it. It’s exactly that sort of book that has enabled me to increase productivity at Aubrey Hall by a full ten percent. Not to mention the improvements to the tenant farms. They are all eating better now that —”