Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,184

a debutante,

sent (but never received)

while Colin was traveling in Denmark

Eloise spent the entire day in the garden, lounging on an exceedingly comfortable chaise that she was quite convinced had been imported from Italy, since it was her experience that neither the English nor the French had any clue as to how to fashion comfortable furniture.

Not that she normally spent a great deal of time pondering the construction of chairs and sofas, but stuck outside by herself in the Romney Hall garden, it wasn’t as if she had anything else to ponder.

No, not a thing. Not a single thing to think about other than the comfortable chaise beneath her, and maybe the fact that Sir Phillip was an ill-mannered beast for leaving her alone for the entire day after his two little monsters—whose existence, she added into her thoughts with a mental flourish, he had never seen fit to reveal in his correspondence—had given her a blackened eye.

It was a perfect day, with a blue sky and a light breeze, and Eloise didn’t have a single thing in the world to think about.

She had never been so bored in her life.

It wasn’t in her nature to sit still and watch the clouds float by. She would much rather be out doing something—taking a walk, inspecting a hedgerow, anything other than just sitting like a lump on the chaise, staring aimlessly at the horizon.

Or if she had to sit here, at least she could have done so in the company of another person. She supposed the clouds might have been more interesting if she weren’t quite so alone, if someone were here to whom she might say, Goodness, but that one looks rather like a rabbit, don’t you think?

But no, she’d been left quite on her own. Sir Phillip was off in his greenhouse—she could see it from here, even see him moving about from time to time—and while she really wanted to get up and join him, if for no other reason than the fact that his plants had to be more interesting than the blasted clouds, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeking him out.

Not after he’d rejected her so abruptly this afternoon. Good heavens, the man had practically fled from her company. It had been the oddest thing. She’d thought they were dealing with each other rather well, and then he’d grown quite abrupt, making up some sort of excuse about how he needed to work and fleeing the room as if she were plagued.

Odious man.

She picked up the book she’d selected from the library and held it resolutely in front of her face. She was going to read the blasted thing this time if it killed her.

Of course, that was what she’d told herself the last four times she’d picked it up. She never managed to get past a single sentence—a paragraph if she was really disciplined—before her mind wandered and the text on the page grew unfocused and, it went without saying, unread.

Served her right, she supposed, for being so irritated with Sir Phillip that she hadn’t paid any attention in the library and she’d snatched up the first book she’d seen.

The Botany of Ferns? What had she been thinking?

Even worse, if he saw her with it, he’d surely think she’d chosen it because she wanted to learn more about his interests.

Eloise blinked with surprise when she realized that she had reached the end of her page. She didn’t recall a single sentence, and in fact wondered if perhaps her eyes had only slid along the words without actually reading the letters.

This was ridiculous. She thrust the book aside and stood up, taking a few steps to test out the tenderness of her hip. Allowing herself a satisfied smile when she realized that the pain wasn’t bad at all, and in fact couldn’t even be called anything beyond mild discomfort, she walked all the way to the riotous mass of rosebushes off to the north, leaning forward to sniff the buds. They were still tightly closed—it was early in the season, after all—but maybe they’d have a scent, and—

“What the devil are you doing?”

Eloise just managed to avoid falling into the rosebush as she turned around. “Sir Phillip,” she said, as if that weren’t completely obvious.

He looked irate. “You’re supposed to be sitting down.”

“I was sitting down.”

“You were supposed to stay sitting down.”

She decided the truth would make an excellent explanation. “I was bored.”

He glanced over at the chaise in the distance. “Didn’t you