Which was to say far more often than he normally looked at her.

Which was also to say that every glance was abnormally quick because he was painfully aware that he was looking at her far too often.

Which was to say bloody hell, he felt awkward.

“Nicholas?”

He couldn’t stop thinking that—

“Nicholas?”

He blinked. Georgie was talking to him. “Sorry,” he grunted.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well?” she asked. “You look—”

Strange?

Mad?

Strangely mad?

“Have you slept?” she asked.

Madly strange it was, then.

“You must be terribly tired,” she said, and he could not help but wonder what was in his eyes to make her say that, since he had not managed to respond to either of her queries.

She cocked her head to the side, but he noticed that her eyes took on a different expression. She was no longer looking at him in that oddly penetrative manner, thank God.

“How long does it take to travel to Kent from Edinburgh?” she asked.

“It depends on how you do it,” he told her, grateful for a fact-based question. “Ten days this time, but I took the mail coach from Edinburgh to London.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.”

“It is.”

It was. But not as uncomfortable as he was right now, conversing with the lady he had a feeling he was going to end up marrying, despite his very great number of reservations.

“I was surprised to hear you would be joining us this evening,” she said. “Actually, I am surprised you are here at all. Weren’t you meant to come down next month?”

“Yes, but”—Nicholas felt his cheeks grow warm—“Father had some business to attend to.”

She stared at him with an open, curious expression.

“That he needed me for,” he added.

“Of course,” she murmured. But she didn’t look the least bit put off by his words. If she was blushing, it was with such delicacy that he could not detect it in the candlelight.

It occurred to Nicholas that he’d forgotten to ask his father one very crucial question: Had anyone told Georgiana that he’d been summoned from Scotland to marry her?

“I hope whatever he called you down for was worth it,” she said breezily. “If I were studying something as interesting as medicine I wouldn’t wish to be disrupted for an annoying family triviality.”

No, then. She didn’t know.

“What do you like best about it?” Georgie asked, dipping her spoon into her much-discussed soup. “Studying medicine, I mean. I think it sounds fascinating.”

“It is.” He thought for a moment about how to answer her question. “There is always something new. It is never the same thing.”

Her eyes lit with interest. “I watched Anthony get a wound stitched last month. It was splendidly gruesome.”

“Is it healing well? No infection?”

“I believe so,” she replied. “I saw him before dinner and he seemed perfectly healthy to me. Violet would surely have said something if there had been a complication.”

“I would be happy to take a look at it after dinner.”

“He’ll be asleep, I’m sure. Violet insists upon an early bedtime.”

“Tomorrow, then.” It was good to talk about medicine, to remind himself that there existed an area of his life where people looked up to him. Where he could say something and have it assumed that he knew what he was talking about.

In Edinburgh he was his own man.

He was still learning, of course. Nicholas was not so conceited to think that the breadth of his knowledge exceeded that which was left to learn. He doubted he’d ever know more than what was left to learn. It was part of why he so enjoyed the pursuit.

He looked past Georgie toward the head of the table. Violet was chatting with Billie, but Edmund’s attention was not hard to catch. “How is Anthony’s—”

He looked to Georgie.

“Hand,” she supplied.

“Hand,” Nicholas repeated. “Georgie said he needed stitches?”

“All healed,” Edmund said with a grin. “Or at least I assume so. He tried to take a punch at Benedict yesterday and it didn’t seem to bother him to make a fist.”

“Nor when you grabbed said fist to put a halt to the altercation,” Violet said with the sort of smile exclusive to mothers of boys.

“I’ll give it a look tomorrow if you like,” Nicholas said. “There can be less obvious signs of infection.”

“I’m fairly certain he’s healthier than a horse,” Edmund said, “but by all means.”

“It’s so lovely to have a doctor in the family,” Violet said to no one in particular. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“It would have been helpful back when Billie was small,” Lady Bridgerton said. “She broke both her arms, you know.”

“Not at the same time,” Billie said, with just enough amused boredom to remind everyone that this was not a new exchange.

“Have you set any bones?” Georgie asked him.

“A few times,” Nicholas said. “We are all required to learn. But it’s not like reading philosophy where one can open a book and study. We can’t go about breaking bones just so we can learn to set them.”

“That would be splendidly gruesome,” Georgie murmured. Her eyes narrowed, and Nicholas allowed himself a moment just to watch her think. He’d long suspected she had a devious streak.

“What?” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re looking at me.”

“You’re sitting next to me. Where else am I to look?”

“Yes, but you were—” Her lips pressed together. “Never mind.”

He felt himself smile, but waited until after the footmen had removed the soup bowls before saying, “You were trying to figure out how to break a bone, weren’t you?”

Georgie’s eyes lit with surprise. “How did you—”

“Oh, please, it was obvious.”

“What are the two of you talking about?” Nicholas’s mother trilled.

He gave her a look. He knew that tone. He’d heard it employed with his older siblings. And Georgie’s older siblings.

His mother was playing matchmaker, but she was also trying to avoid the appearance of playing matchmaker. Trying, but failing, because she was too curious to hold her tongue when she thought she saw something happening. Because what if she could intervene and make things better?

He knew his mother. He knew his mother well.

“We’re talking about how to break bones,” Georgie said plainly.

Nicholas didn’t bother to hide his grin.

“Oh.” His mother looked disappointed. And perhaps a bit queasy.

“I recommend falling from a tree,” Billie said. “Twice if you can manage it.”

“But not at the same time,” her mother said.

Billie turned to her with some exasperation. “How would one fall from two trees at the same time?”

“If it can be done, I have every confidence that you will be the one to figure out how.”