Because of Miss Bridgerton

And while he and Billie had never been friends, precisely, he felt a strange responsibility for her well-being, at least as pertained to her current situation. What was that old Chinese proverb? If you saved a life, you were responsible for it forever? He certainly had not saved Billie’s life, but he had been stuck up on a roof with her, and…

And bloody hell, he had no idea what any of this meant, just that he thought he ought to make sure she was feeling at least somewhat better. Even though she was the most exasperating female, and she bloody well set his teeth on edge half the time.

It was still the right thing to do. That was all.

“Oh, Billie…” Andrew called as they made their way to the back of the house. “We’ve come to rescue you…”

George shook his head. How his brother survived in the navy he would never know. Andrew had not a serious bone in his body.

“Billie…” he called again, his voice warbling into a ridiculous singsong. “Where aaaaaarrrrrre you?”

“In the library,” George reminded him.

“Well, of course she is,” Andrew said with a blinding grin, “but isn’t this more fun?”

Naturally, he did not wait for an answer.

“Billie!” he called again. “Oh, Billiebilliebilliebill —”

“For heaven’s sake!” Billie’s head popped out of the doorway to the library. Her chestnut hair had been pulled back into the loose coiffure of a lady with no plans to socialize. “You’re loud enough to wake the dead. What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“I saw you last night.”

“So you did.” Andrew leaned down and dropped a brotherly kiss on her cheek. “But you had to go without for so very long. You need to stock up.”

“On your company?” Billie asked dubiously.

Andrew patted her arm. “We are so fortunate that you have this opportunity.”

George leaned to the right so that he could see her from behind his brother. “Shall I strangle him or will you?”

She rewarded him with a devious smile. “Oh, it must be a joint endeavor, don’t you think?”

“So that you may share the blame?” Andrew quipped.

“So that we may share the joy,” Billie corrected.

“You wound me.”

“Happily, I assure you.” She hopped to the left and looked at George. “What brings you here this fine morning, Lord Kennard?”

He gave her a bit of a look at her use of his title. The Bridgertons and Rokesbys never stood on occasion when it was just the two families. Even now, no one so much as blinked at Billie being alone with two unmarried gentlemen in the library. It wasn’t the sort of thing that would be permitted during the upcoming house party, though. They were all well aware that their relaxed manners would not stand in extended company.

“Dragged along by my brother, I’m afraid,” George admitted. “There was some fear for your family’s safety.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Really.”

“Now, now, Billie,” Andrew said. “We all know you don’t do well trapped indoors.”

“I came for his safety,” George said with a jerk of his head toward Andrew. “Although it is my belief that any injury you might do to him would be entirely justified.”

Billie threw back her head and laughed. “Come, join me in the library. I need to sit back down.”

While George was recovering from the unexpectedly marvelous sight of Billie in full joy, she hopped back to the nearest reading table, holding her light blue skirts above her ankles for easier motion.

“You should use your crutches,” he told her.

“Not worth it for such a short trip,” she replied, settling back down into her chair. “Besides, they tipped over and it was far too much trouble to retrieve them.”

George followed her gaze to where the crutches lay askew on the ground, one slightly atop the other. He leaned down and picked them up, setting them gently against the side of the library table. “If you need help,” he said in a quiet voice, “you should ask for it.”

She looked at him and blinked. “I didn’t need help.”

George started to tell her not to be so defensive, but then he realized she hadn’t been defensive. She was merely stating a fact. A fact as she saw it.

He shook his head. Billie could be so bloody literal.

“What was that?” she asked.

He shrugged. He had no idea what she was about.

“What were you going to say?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”

Her mouth tightened at the corners. “That’s not true. You were definitely going to say something.”

Literal and tenacious. It was a frightening combination. “Did you sleep well?” he asked politely.

“Of course,” she said, with just enough of an arch to her brows to tell him that she was well aware that he’d changed the subject. “I told you yesterday. I never have trouble sleeping.”

“You said you never have trouble falling asleep,” he corrected, somewhat surprised that he recalled the distinction.

She shrugged. “It’s much the same thing.”

“The pain did not wake you up?”