“Stop saying that,” Billie ordered.

“But it’s true.” Mary grinned, fully enjoying Billie’s scowl. “We are all going to be taller than you.” She turned back toward her husband, who was introducing the Berbrooke brothers to Lord and Lady Bridgerton. “Darling,” she called out, “don’t you think Georgiana has grown tremendously since we last saw her?”

Billie bit back a smile as she watched a flash of utter incomprehension cross Felix’s face before he carefully schooled his features into indulgent affection.

“I have no idea,” he said, “but if you say it, it must be true.”

“I hate when he does that,” Mary said to Billie.

Billie didn’t bother to hide her smile that time.

“Billie,” Felix said as he stepped forward to greet them. “And Georgiana. It is so good to see you both again.”

Billie bobbed a curtsy.

“Allow me to introduce Mr. Niall Berbrooke and Mr. Edward Berbrooke,” Felix continued, motioning to the two sandy-haired gentlemen at his side. “They live just a few miles away from us in Sussex. Niall, Ned, this is Miss Sybilla Bridgerton and Miss Georgiana Bridgerton, childhood friends of Mary’s.”

“Miss Bridgerton,” one of the Berbrookes said, bowing over her hand. “Miss Georgiana.”

The second Berbrooke repeated his brother’s felicitations, then straightened and gave a somewhat eager smile. He reminded her of a puppy, Billie decided, with nothing but endless good cheer.

“Have my parents arrived?” Mary asked.

“Not yet,” Lady Bridgerton told her. “We expect them just before dinner. Your mother preferred to dress at home.”

“And my brothers?”

“Coming with your parents.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Mary said with a bit of grumble, “but you would think Andrew could have ridden ahead to say hello. I haven’t seen him for ages.”

“He’s not riding much right now,” Billie said offhandedly. “His arm, you know.”

“That must be driving him mad.”

“I think it would do, were he not so proficient at milking the injury for all it’s worth.”

Mary laughed and linked her arm through Billie’s. “Let us go inside and catch up. Oh, you’re limping!”

“A silly accident,” Billie said with a wave of her hand. “It’s nearly healed.”

“Well, you must have loads to tell me.”

“Actually, I don’t,” Billie said as they ascended the portico stairs. “Nothing has changed around here. Not really.”

Mary gave her a curious look. “Nothing?”

“Other than Andrew being home, it’s all just as it ever was.” Billie shrugged, wondering if she ought to be disappointed in all the sameness. She supposed she had been spending a little more time with George, but that hardly counted as an event.

“Your mother’s not trying to marry you off to the new vicar?” Mary teased.

“We don’t have a new vicar, and I believe she’s trying to marry me off to Felix’s brother.” She tipped her head. “Or one of the Berbrookes.”

“Henry is practically engaged,” Mary said authoritatively, “and you do not want to marry one of the Berbrookes. Trust me.”

Billie gave her a sideways glance. “Do tell.”

“Stop that,” Mary admonished. “It’s nothing salacious. Or even interesting. They’re lovely, both of them, but they’re dull as sticks.”

“Here, let’s go up to my room,” Billie said, steering them toward the main staircase. “And you know,” she added, mostly to be contrary, “some sticks are actually quite pointy.”

“Not the Berbrookes.”

“Why did you offer to bring them, then?”

“Your mother begged! She sent me a three-page letter.”

“My mother?” Billie echoed.

“Yes. With an addendum from mine.”

Billie winced. The collective might of the Ladies Rokesby and Bridgerton was not easily ignored.

“She needed more gentlemen,” Mary continued. “I don’t think she was anticipating that the Duchess of Westborough would bring both of her daughters and her niece. And anyway, Niall and Ned are both very good-natured. They will make lovely husbands for someone.” She gave Billie a pointed look. “But not for you.”

Billie decided there was no point taking affront. “You don’t see me marrying someone good-natured?”

“I don’t see you marrying someone who can barely read his name.”

“Oh, come now.”

“Fine. I exaggerate. But this is important.” Mary stopped in the middle of the upstairs hall, forcing Billie to a halt beside her. “You know I know you better than anyone.”

Billie waited while Mary fixed her with a serious stare. Mary liked to dispense advice. Billie didn’t ordinarily like to receive it, but it had been so long since she’d had the company of her closest friend. Just this once she could be patient. Placid, even.

“Billie, listen to me,” Mary said with an odd urgency. “You cannot treat your future so flippantly. Eventually you are going to have to choose a husband, and you will go mad if you do not marry a man of at least equal intelligence to yourself.”

“That presupposes that I marry anyone.” Or, Billie did not add, that she might actually have a choice of husbands.

Mary drew back. “Don’t say such a thing! Of course you will get married. You need only to find the right gentleman.”