It's in His Kiss (Bridgertons 7)
Penelope just looked at her. “You do know that you are insufferable.”
“Of course.” Hyacinth leaned toward Penelope with a devilish smile. “But you love me, anyway, admit it.”
“I admit nothing until the end of the evening.”
“After we have both gone deaf?”
“After we see if you behave yourself.”
Hyacinth laughed. “You married into the family. You have to love me. It’s a contractual obligation.”
“Funny how I don’t recall that in the wedding vows.”
“Funny,” Hyacinth returned, “I remember it perfectly.”
Penelope looked at her and laughed. “I don’t know how you do it, Hyacinth,” she said, “but exasperating as you are, you somehow always manage to be charming.”
“It’s my greatest gift,” Hyacinth said demurely.
“Well, you do receive extra points for coming with me tonight,” Penelope said, patting her on the hand.
“Of course,” Hyacinth replied. “For all my insufferable ways, I am in truth the soul of kindness and amiability.” And she’d have to be, she thought, as she watched the scene unfolding on the small, makeshift stage. Another year, another Smythe-Smith musicale. Another opportunity to learn just how many ways one could ruin a perfectly good piece of music. Every year Hyacinth swore she wouldn’t attend, then every year she somehow found herself at the event, smiling encouragingly at the four girls on the stage.
“At least last year I got to sit in the back,” Hyacinth said.
“Yes, you did,” Penelope replied, turning on her with suspicious eyes. “How did you manage that? Felicity, Eloise, and I were all up front.”
Hyacinth shrugged. “A well-timed visit to the ladies’ retiring room. In fact—”
“Don’t you dare try that tonight,” Penelope warned. “If you leave me up here by myself…”
“Don’t worry,” Hyacinth said with a sigh. “I am here for the duration. But,” she added, pointing her finger in what her mother would surely have termed a most unlady-like manner, “I want my devotion to you to be duly noted.”
“Why is it,” Penelope asked, “that I am left with the feeling that you are keeping score of something, and when I least expect it, you will jump out in front of me, demanding a favor?”
Hyacinth looked at her and blinked. “Why would I need to jump?”
“Ah, look,” Penelope said, after staring at her sister-inlaw as if she were a lunatic, “here comes Lady Danbury.”
“Mrs. Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury said, or rather barked. “Miss Bridgerton.”
“Good evening, Lady Danbury,” Penelope said to the elderly countess. “We saved you a seat right in front.”
Lady D narrowed her eyes and poked Penelope lightly in the ankle with her cane. “Always thinking of others, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” Penelope demurred. “I wouldn’t dream of—”
“Ha,” Lady Danbury said.
It was, Hyacinth reflected, the countess’s favorite syllable. That and hmmmph.
“Move over, Hyacinth,” Lady D ordered. “I?
??ll sit between you.”
Hyacinth obediently moved one chair to the left. “We were just pondering our reasons for attending,” she said as Lady Danbury settled into her seat. “I for one have come up blank.”
“I can’t speak for you,” Lady D said to Hyacinth, “but she”—at this she jerked her head toward Penelope—“is here for the same reason I am.”