It's in His Kiss (Bridgertons 7)

“Of course it is,” she replied pertly.

Gareth turned to face an older, slightly fairer, version of Hyacinth. “Lady Bridgerton.”

“Mr. St. Clair,” said Lady Bridgerton warmly. “It has been an age.”

“I don’t often attend such recitations,” he said.

“Yes,” Lady Bridgerton said frankly, “your grandmother told me she was forced to twist your arm to attend.”

He turned to his grandmother with raised brows. “You are going to ruin my reputation.”

“You’ve done that all on your own, m’dear boy,” Lady D said.

“I think what he means,” Hyacinth put in, “is that he’s not likely to be thought dashing and dangerous if the world knows how well he dotes upon you.”

A slightly awkward silence fell over the group as Hyacinth realized that they had all understood his remark. Gareth found himself taking pity on her, so he filled the gap by saying, “I do have another engagement this evening, however, so I’m afraid I must take my leave.”

Lady Bridgerton smiled. “We will see you Tuesday evening, however, yes?”

“Tuesday?” he queried, realizing that Lady Bridgerton’s smile was nowhere near as innocent as it looked.

“My son and his wife are hosting a large ball. I’m sure you received an invitation.”

Gareth was sure he had, too, but half the time he tossed them aside without looking at them.

“I promise you,” Lady Bridgerton continued, “there will be no unicorns.”

Trapped. And by a master, too. “In that case,” he said politely, “how could I refuse?”

“Excellent. I’m sure Hyacinth will be delighted to see you.”

“I am quite beside myself with glee,” Hyacinth murmured.

“Hyacinth!” Lady Bridgerton said. She turned to Gareth. “She doesn’t mean that.”

He turned to Hyacinth. “I’m crushed.”

“Because I’m beside myself, or because I’m not?” she queried.

“Whichever you prefer.” Gareth turned to the group at large. “Ladies,” he murmured.

“Don’t forget the shepherdess,” Hyacinth said, her smile sweet and just a little bit wicked. “You did promise her mother.”

Damn. He’d forgotten. He glanced across the room. Little Bo Peep had begun to point her crook in his direction, and Gareth had the unsettling feeling that if he got close enough, she might loop it round and reel him in.

“Aren’t the two of you friends?” he asked Hyacinth.

“Oh, no,” she said. “I hardly know her.”

“Wouldn’t you like to meet her?” he ground out.

She tapped her finger against her jaw. “I…No.” She smiled blandly. “But I will watch you from afar.”

“Traitor,” he murmured, brushing past her on the way to the shepherdess.

And for the rest of the night, he couldn’t quite forget the smell of her perfume.

Or maybe it was the soft sound of her chuckle.