Because of Miss Bridgerton

He shook his head, tiny unthinking movements that did nothing to clear his mind. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “That wasn’t – I mean —”

He swore. This was apparently the extent of his coherency.

“You kissed me,” she said again, and this time she sounded suspicious. “Why did —”

“I don’t know,” he bit off. He swore again, raking his hand through his hair as he turned away from her. Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody — He swallowed. “That was a mistake,” he said.

“What?”

It was just one word. Not nearly enough for him to decipher her tone. Which was probably for the best. He turned around, forcing himself to look at her while at the same time not allowing himself to see.

He didn’t want to see her reaction. He didn’t want to know what she thought of him. “That was a mistake,” he said, because it was what he had to say. “Do you understand me?”

Her eyes narrowed. Her face grew hard. “Perfectly.”

“For God’s sake, Billie, don’t take bloody offense —”

“Don’t take offense? Don’t take offense? You —” She stopped herself, shot a furtive glance at the open door, and lower her voice to a furious hiss. “I did not start this.”

“I am well aware.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Obviously, I wasn’t,” he practically spat.

Her eyes widened, flashing with pain, and then she turned, hugging her arms to her body.

And George finally knew the true meaning of remorse. He let out an unsteady breath, raking his hand through his hair. “I apologize,” he said, for the second time in as many minutes. “I will marry you, of course.”

“What?” She whirled around. “No.”

George stiffened. It was like someone had taken an iron rod and shoved it right up his spine. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t be daft, George. You don’t want to marry me.”

It was true, but he was not stupid enough to say so out loud.

“And you know I don’t want to marry you.”

“As you are making increasingly clear.”

“You only kissed me because you’re upset.”

This was not true, but he kept his mouth shut on this point as well.

“So I accept your apology.” Her chin rose. “And we will never speak of this again.”

“Agreed.”

They stood there for a moment, frozen in their painfully awkward tableau. He ought to be jumping for joy. Any other young lady would be screaming for the trees. Or for her father. And the vicar. And a special license woven into the shape of a noose.

But not Billie. No, Billie just looked at him with an almost preternatural haughtiness and said, “I hope you will accept my apology.”

“Your —” What? His jaw dropped. What the devil did she have to apologize for? Or was she merely trying to get the upper hand? She’d always known how to unsettle him.

“It’s not as if I can pretend that I didn’t return the… ah…” She swallowed, and he took some pleasure in the fact that she blushed before she finished the statement. “The… ah…”

He took quite a bit of pleasure in the fact that she couldn’t finish the statement at all.

“You liked it,” he said with a slow smile. It was colossally unwise to goad her at such a moment, but he could not help himself.

She shifted her weight. “Everyone has to have a first kiss.”

“Then I am honored,” he said with a courtly bow.

Her lips parted in surprise, maybe even consternation. Good. He’d turned the tables.

“I was not expecting it to be you, of course,” she said.

He stifled his irritation and instead murmured, “Perhaps you were hoping for someone else?”

She gave a jerky little shrug. “No one in particular.”

He chose not to analyze the burst of pleasure that rushed through him at that statement.

“I suppose I always thought it would be one of your brothers,” she continued. “Andrew, maybe —”

“Not Andrew,” he bit off.

“No, probably not,” she agreed, her head tilting to the side as she considered it. “But it used to seem plausible.”

He stared at her with mounting irritation. While she was not wholly unaffected by the situation, she was certainly not as affected as he thought she should have been.

“It wouldn’t have been the same,” he heard himself say.

She blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

“If you had kissed someone else.” He stepped toward her, unable to ignore the way his blood buzzed with anticipation. “It would not have been the same.”

“Well…” She looked flustered, delightfully so. “I would expect not,” she finally said. “I mean… different people…”

“Very different,” he agreed.

Her mouth opened, and several seconds passed before words emerged. “I’m not sure to whom you’re comparing yourself.”

“Anyone.” He moved even closer. “Everyone.”

“George?” Her eyes were huge, but she wasn’t saying no.