Free The Bridgertons Happily Ever After by Julia Quinn Page A

Latin.”
    “Oh, no, I should look far more at peace if I were conjugating Latin,” Posy declared. “That would be quite simple, as I know nothing about it. Biscuits, on the other hand, I ponder endlessly.” She sighed and looked down at her middle. “Much to my dismay.”
    “Don’t be silly, Posy,” Sophie scolded. “You are the loveliest woman of my acquaintance.”
    Posy smiled and took the biscuit. The marvelous thing about Sophie was that she wasn’t lying. Sophie really did think her the loveliest woman of her acquaintance. But then again, Sophie had always been that sort of person. She saw kindness where others saw . . . Well, where others didn’t even bother to look, to be frank.
    Posy took a bite and chewed, deciding that it was absolutely worth it. Butter, sugar, and flour. What could be better?
    “I received a letter from Lady Bridgerton today,” Sophie remarked.
    Posy looked up in interest. Technically, Lady Bridgerton could mean Sophie’s sister-in-law, the wife of the current viscount. But they both knew she referred to Benedict’s mother. To them, she would always be Lady Bridgerton. The other one was Kate. Which was just as well, as that was Kate’s preference within the family.
    “She said that Mr. Fibberly called.” When Posy did not comment, Sophie added, “He was looking for you.”
    “Well, of course he was,” Posy said, deciding to have that fourth biscuit after all. “Hyacinth is too young and Eloise terrifies him.”
    “Eloise terrifies me,” Sophie admitted. “Or at least she used to. Hyacinth I’m quite sure will terrify me to the grave.”
    “You just need to know how to manage her,” Posy said with a wave. It was true, Hyacinth Bridgerton was terrifying, but the two of them had always got on quite well. It was probably due to Hyacinth’s firm (some might say unyielding) sense of justice. When she’d found out that Posy’s mother had never loved her as well as Rosamund . . .
    Well, Posy had never told tales, and she wasn’t going to begin now, but let it be said that Araminta had never again eaten fish.
    Or chicken.
    Posy had got this from the servants, and they always had the most accurate gossip.
    “But you were about to tell me about Mr. Fibberly,” Sophie said, still sipping at her tea.
    Posy shrugged, even though she hadn’t been about to do any such thing. “He’s so dull.”
    “Handsome?”
    Posy shrugged again. “I can’t tell.”
    “One generally need only look at the face.”
    “I can’t get past his dullness. I don’t think he laughs.”
    “It can’t be that bad.”
    “Oh, it can, I assure you.” She reached out and took another biscuit before she realized she hadn’t meant to. Oh well, it was already in her hand now, she couldn’t very well put it back. She waved it in the air as she spoke, trying to make her point. “He sometimes makes this dreadful noise like, ‘Ehrm ehrm ehrm,’ and I think he thinks he’s laughing, but he’s clearly not.”
    Sophie giggled even though she looked as if she thought she shouldn’t.
    “And he doesn’t even look at my bosom!”
    “Posy!”
    “It’s my only good feature.”
    “It is not!” Sophie glanced about the drawing room, even though there was precisely no one about. “I can’t believe you said that.”
    Posy let out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t say bosom in London and now I can’t do so in Wiltshire, either?”
    “Not when I’m expecting the new vicar,” Sophie said.
    A chunk of Posy’s biscuit fell off and fell into her lap. “What?”
    “I didn’t tell you?”
    Posy eyed her suspiciously. Most people thought Sophie was a poor liar, but that was only because she had such an angelic look about her. And she rarely lied. So everyone assumed that if she did, she’d be dreadful at it.
    Posy, however, knew better. “No,” she said, brushing off her skirts, “you did not tell me.”
    “How very unlike me,” Sophie murmured. She picked up a biscuit and took a