play a new game,” he whispered in my ear. “See how noisy Amanda can be.”
“How do I win?” I asked. “And what is the prize?”
I can be quite competitive, and so can he, but I think it is safe to say that we both won that time.
And the prize was lovely, indeed.
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
“To Sir Phillip, With Love: The 2nd Epilogue” was originally published as an e-book.
“To Sir Phillip, With Love: The 2nd Epilogue” copyright © 2009 by Julie Cotler Pottinger
Meet the Bridgerton family teaser excerpts copyright © 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 by Julie Cotler Pottinger
TO SIR PHILLIP, WITH LOVE. Copyright © 2003 by Julie Cotler Pottinger. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Digital Edition MARCH 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-242411-2
Version 02252021
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-235373-3
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Dedication
For B.B.,
who kept me company throughout the writing of this book.
The best things come to those who wait!
And also for Paul,
even though he wanted to call it
Love in the Time of Malaria.
Acknowledgments
The author wishes to thank Paul Pottinger, MD, and Philip Yarnell, MD, for their expertise in the fields of, respectively, infectious diseases and neurology.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Part One Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part Two Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Author’s Note
When He Was Wicked: The 2nd Epilogue
Copyright
Part One
March, 1820
London, England
Chapter 1
. . . I wouldn’t call it a jolly good time, but it’s not as bad as that. There are women, after all, and where there are women, I’m bound to make merry.
—from Michael Stirling to his cousin
John, the Earl of Kilmartin,
posted from the 52nd Foot Guards
during the Napoleonic Wars
In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one’s been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one’s life will never be the same.
For Michael Stirling, that moment came the first time he laid eyes on Francesca Bridgerton.
After a lifetime of chasing women, of smiling slyly as they chased him, of allowing himself to be caught and then turning the tables until he was the victor, of caressing and kissing and making love to them but never actually allowing his heart to become engaged, he took one look at Francesca Bridgerton and fell so fast and so hard into love it was a wonder he managed to remain standing.
Unfortunately for Michael, however, Francesca’s surname was to remain Bridgerton a mere thirty-six hours longer; the occasion of their meeting was, lamentably, a supper celebrating her imminent wedding to his cousin.
Life was ironic that way, Michael liked to think in his more polite moods.
In his less polite moods, he used a different adjective entirely.
And his moods, since falling in love with his first cousin’s wife, were not often polite.
Oh, he hid it well. It wouldn’t do to be visibly out of sorts. Then some annoyingly perceptive soul might actually take notice, and—God forbid—inquire as to his welfare. And while Michael Stirling held a not unsubstantiated pride in his ability to dissemble and deceive (he had, after all, seduced more women than anyone cared to count, and had somehow managed to do it all without ever once being challenged to a duel)—Well, the sodding truth of it was that he’d never been in love before, and if ever there was a time that a man might lose his ability to maintain a façade under direct questioning, this was probably it.
And so he laughed, and was very merry, and he continued to seduce women, trying not to notice that he tended to close his eyes when he had them in bed, and