“Do you drink port, Miss Bridgerton?” Gareth asked, keeping his eyes on the stage as he stood and applauded the Pleinsworth children.
“Of course not, but I’ve always wanted to taste it, why?”
“Because we both deserve a drink.”
He heard her smother a laugh, then say, “Well, the unicorn was rather sweet.”
He snorted. The unicorn couldn’t have been more than ten years old. Which would have been fine, except that Henry VIII had insisted upon taking an unscripted ride. “I’m surprised they didn’t have to call for a surgeon,” he muttered.
Hyacinth winced. “She did seem to be limping a bit.”
“It was all I could do not to whinny in pain on her behalf. Good God, who—Oh! Lady Pleinsworth,” Gareth said, pasting a smile on his face with what he thought was admirable speed. “How nice to see you.”
“Mr. St. Clair,” Lady Pleinsworth said effusively. “I’m so delighted you could attend.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
“And Miss Bridgerton,” Lady Pleinsworth said, clearly angling for a bit of gossip. “Do I have you to thank for Mr. St. Clair’s appearance?”
“I’m afraid his grandmother is to blame,” Hyacinth replied. “She threatened him with her cane.”
Lady Pleinsworth didn’t seem to know quite how to respond to this, so she turned back to Gareth, clearing her throat a few times before asking, “Have you met my daughters?”
Gareth managed not to grimace. This was exactly why he tried to avoid these things. “Er, no, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“The shepherdess,” Lady Pleinsworth said helpfully.
Gareth nodded. “And the unicorn?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Lady Pleinsworth replied, blinking in confusion, and quite possibly distress, “but she’s a bit young.”
“I’m sure Mr. St. Clair would be delighted to meet Harriet,” Hyacinth cut in before turning to Gareth with an explanatory, “The shepherdess.”
“Of course,” he said. “Yes, delighted.”
Hyacinth turned back to Lady Pleinsworth with a smile that was far too innocent. “Mr. St. Clair is an expert on all things ovine.”
“Where is my cane when I need it?” he murmured.
“I beg your pardon?” Lady Pleinsworth said, leaning forward.
“I would be honored to meet your daughter,” he said, since it seemed the only acceptable statement at that point.
“Wonderful!” Lady Pleinsworth exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I know she will be so excited to meet you.” And then, saying something about needing to see to the rest of her guests, she was off.
“Don’t look so upset,” Hyacinth said, once it was just the two of them again. “You’re quite a catch.”
He looked at her assessingly. “Is one meant to say such things quite so directly?”
She shrugged. “Not to men one is trying to impress.”
“Touché, Miss Bridgerton.”
She sighed happily. “My three favorite words.”
Of that, he had no doubt.
“Tell me, Miss Bridgerton,” he said, “have you begun to read my grandmother’s diary?”