Free Lady Bridget's Diary by Maya Rodale Page A

Darcy.”
    Except right now, he didn’t want to be a gentleman. In fact, if he dared to examine the state of his emotions, he would find that what he wanted was to pull her against him, claim her mouth for a deep kiss, sink his hands into her hair. He wanted to thoroughly and utterly ravish her until she would say, breathlessly, Rupert who?
    Of course that was completely unacceptable and exactly why he made a point of avoiding her or at the very least avoiding anything that wasn’t a reasoned and rational thought.
    And then he spoke in haste, words spoken from a place of hurt and words he regretted the second he gave voice to them.
    â€œI would think that even you are aware that young ladies are not supposed to refuse a gentleman’s offer to dance.”
    Her eyes flashed with anger. He might as well have said, Or you would know that if you weren’t raised on a horse farm.
    Her cheeks reddened considerably.
    â€œI am very well aware, thank you,” she said so sharply, he almost felt as if he’d been stabbed. “As I am also aware that a lady must honor what is written on her dance card. So you see, I am in an impossible position due to your stupid rules.”
    â€œThey are not my rules.”
    She gave him an utterly disparaging look.
    â€œThe only thing keeping me from storming off is that ladies are not supposed to stroll around the ballroom unaccompanied,” she said. “Actually, no. The only thing keeping me from storming off is that you might then have even more reason to chastise me.”
    â€œI didn’t mean—­”
    And then the unimaginable happened. She turned away from him, steadfastly refusing to look in his direction. He, Lord Darcy, received the cut direct from Lady Bridget, of the American Cavendishes.

Chapter 7
    Kisses from Rupert: 0
    Moments for possible kisses with minimal risk of discovery: 4
    Hours spent wondering why he hasn’t: embarrassing
    Lady Bridget’s Diary
    L ady Millicent Winterbourne’s garden party was not to be missed by “her dearest nephews,” even though, to Darcy’s knowledge, they were not in fact blood relations. She had been quite good friends with their dearly departed mother, and apparently that was sufficient basis to claim them as her own family . . . with all the obligations and nagging that entailed.
    She bustled over to the brothers upon their arrival.
    â€œThere you are, Darcy. I knew you wouldn’t refuse me. Hello, Rupert, I don’t mind if you cause a scandal or are caught kissing behind a hedge.” She patted his cheek affectionately.
    â€œGood afternoon, Lady Winterbourne.”
    â€œDon’t Lady Winterbourne me, Darcy. I held you on my lap when you were just born. Call me auntie.”
    He was a grown man and as such would lose his bollocks if he called anyone auntie.
    â€œAunt Winterbourne,” he offered as a compromise.
    â€œAuntie Millie,” she countered.
    â€œLady Millicent,” he offered as a compromise.
    â€œLord, but your father wrecked you.” She sighed.
    There was only one possible response to that.
    â€œThe weather is very fine today,” he said stiffly.
    â€œMakes me wish I could take off this jacket and jump in the lake,” Rupert added. To be honest, Darcy had half a mind to do the same thing. The sun was actually shining, which meant he felt exceedingly warm under this fitted, dark wool jacket. Between that and the length of starch wrapped around his neck, he felt like he was being strangled.
    â€œAs I said, I do not mind if you cause a scandal, so long as it’s at my party.”
    â€œHostessing is as competitive as ever, I see,” Darcy remarked.
    â€œYou have no idea,” she said dramatically. “Look, there is the Duchess of Durham with her new charges. I thank God they are in attendance.”
    Do not look. Do not look.
    He looked. His gaze strayed immediately to Lady Bridget. Like every other