A Matter of Priority

Chapter Two: A Lack of Lasagna

June, 1808

Colin Bridgerton stepped out of the carriage, tugging his starched cravat and straightening his hat. Here he was, fresh off his first year at Oxford, which was much more demanding than he thought it would be, hoping for a respite. Summer was a time of freedom, of fun, of frivolity.

But not while his mother had anything to say about it. Because what was he doing with his first week of freedom? Escorting two of his sisters to some stupid girl's birthday party while Mother was bound to Lady Danbury's for dinner and cards — probably a grander time than he was in for.

He held out his hand reluctantly, helping Daphne down. She liked to think herself quite the lady these days. She thanked him, at least. Eloise only sneered and pushed his hand to the side before hopping down, herself.

Eloise groaned. "Do you think we can leave early? I tried to get out of it yesterday, but Mama ruined it for me and I ended up having her to tea instead."

"Eloise," Daphne scolded. "It's impolite to refuse an invitation."

"Even from someone like Cressida Cowper? I'd wager you think she's just as awful as I do."

"Whatever I think of her, daughter" Daphne said primly, "it's very kind of Lady Cowper to include us."

"You're no fun." Eloise turned to Colin. "I am very good at sneezing in a believable manner. And you can be forced to leave and attend to me in my illness."

Colin was quite ready to go along with her plan. Now that the final term was over, several of his friends were planning parties involving cards and pilfered booze and bawdy plays. He'd much rather cut out early for such delights.

"We're here now. Besides, it's not about liking people," Daphne said as they ascended the stairs.

"Aha!" Eloise crowed. "So you admit it. You don't like her!"

"One must often deal with people one doesn't like and still maintain civility," Daphne said, sounding almost exactly like Mother. "It's good practice for our future lives, don't you think?"

Colin glanced at his younger sister, taken aback. Sometimes he wondered that there wasn't some mistake in their birth order, that Daphne wasn't actually older than he. He never would have considered such a thing. Not that he was ever uncivil, mostly because it wasn't in his nature, but he'd never reasoned it out like Daphne obviously had. Anthony and Ben already seemed miles ahead of him, and it seemed like she was also leaving him behind.

Eloise snorted. "Well, my future life won't include Cressida Cowper, not if I can help it."

"It very likely will," Daphne said as they were led in. "London might seem large, but we see all the same people. Always have, always will."

"Then I will move to the far reaches of the country, Ipswitch or Eastbourne or... even Gloucestershire," Eloise muttered, "whichever's the last place she'd find me."

Daphne slowed to let her pass, taking Colin's arm. "I know this might be last place you'd like to be, but—"

"This? Escorting my little sisters to a party filled with girls of fourteen—"

"And sixteen," Daphne put in.

"— screaming and chasing each other like little banshees?" He winced as they entered the fray, noting that the screaming had started already. Why did they always scream about everything at this age? One was chasing another over a ribbon. Did it require this amount of screeching?

"If you can last until supper, there is one bit of consolation," Daphne said. "The Cowpers have a chef... not a cook, mind you."

"Is that so much better?" He felt quite a bit offended on behalf of Mrs. O'Hara. She often said that a chef was nothing but a cook who happened to be paid twice as much, and also happened to be a man. "And a foreign one at that," she'd sniff, "as if our own cooking ain't good enough."