But then she realized that she no longer felt quite so nice.
Gregory followed Lady Lucinda’s directives to the letter. That evening, he did not approach Miss Watson in the drawing room, where the guests had assembled before supper. When they removed themselves to the dining room, he made no attempt to interfere with the social order and have his seat switched so that he might sit next to her. And once the gentlemen had returned from their port and joined the ladies in the conservatory for a piano recital, he took a seat at the rear, even though she and Lady Lucinda were standing quite alone, and it would have been easy—expected, even—for him to pause and murmur his greetings as he passed by.
But no, he had committed to this possibly ill-advised scheme, and so the back of the room it was. He watched as Miss Watson found a seat three rows ahead, and then settled into his chair, finally allowing himself the indulgence of gazing upon the back of her neck.
Which would have been a perfectly fulfilling pastime were he not completely unable to think of anything other than her absolute lack of interest. In him.
Truly, he could have grown two heads and a tail and he would have received nothing more than the polite half-smile she seemed to give everyone. If that.
It was not the sort of reaction Gregory was used to receiving from women. He did not expect universal adulation, but really, when he did make an effort, he usually saw better results than this.
It was damned irritating, actually.
And so he watched the two women, willing them to turn, to squirm, to do something to indicate that they were cognizant of his presence. Finally, after three concertos and a fugue, Lady Lucinda slowly twisted in her seat.
He could easily imagine her thoughts.
Slowly, slowly, act as if you’re glancing at the door to see if someone came in. Flick your eyes ever so slightly at Mr. Bridgerton—
He lifted his glass in salute.
She gasped, or at least he hoped she did, and turned quickly around.
He smiled. He probably shouldn’t take such joy in her distress, but truly, it was the only bright spot in the evening thus far.
As for Miss Watson—if she could feel the heat of his stare, she gave no indication. Gregory would have liked to have thought that she was studiously ignoring him—that at least might have indicated some sort of awareness. But as he watched her glance idly around the room, dipping her head every so often to whisper something in Lady Lucinda’s
ear, it became painfully clear that she wasn’t ignoring him at all. That would imply that she noticed him.
Which she quite obviously did not.
Gregory felt his jaw clench. While he did not doubt the good intentions behind Lady Lucinda’s advice, the advice itself had been quite patently dreadful. And with only five days remaining to the house party, he had wasted valuable time.
“You look bored.”
He turned. His sister-in-law had slipped into the seat next to him and was speaking in a low undertone so as not to interfere with the performance.
“Quite a blow to my reputation as a hostess,” she added dryly.
“Not at all,” he murmured. “You are splendid as always.”
Kate turned forward and was silent for a few moments before saying, “She’s quite pretty.”
Gregory did not bother to pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about. Kate was far too clever for that. But that didn’t mean he had to encourage the conversation. “She is,” he said simply, keeping his eyes facing front.
“My suspicion,” said Kate, “is that her heart is otherwise engaged. She has not encouraged any of the gentlemen’s attentions, and they have certainly all tried.”
Gregory felt his jaw tense.
“I have heard,” Kate continued, surely aware that she was being a bother, not that that would stop her, “that the same has been true all of this spring. The girl gives no indication that she wishes to make a match.”
“She fancies her father’s secretary,” Gregory said. Because, really, what was the point of keeping it a secret? Kate had a way of finding everything out. And perhaps she could be of help.
“Really?” Her voice came out a bit too loud, and she was forced to murmur apologies to her guests. “Really?” she said again, more quietly. “How do you know?”
Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but Kate answered her own question. “Oh, of course,” she said, “the Lady Lucinda. She would know everything.”
“Everything,” Gregory confirmed dryly.