"Where," Eloise asked, one afternoon about a week after what Sophie was now referring to as , "do you suppose Benedict is?" "Ow!" Four Bridgerton faces turned to Sophie. "Are you all right?" Lady Bridgerton asked, her teacup suspended halfway between her saucer and her mouth. Sophie grimaced. "I pricked my finger." Lady Bridgerton's lips curved into a small, secret smile. "Mother has told you," fourteen-year-old Hyacinth said, "at least a times--" "A thousand times?" Francesca asked with arched brows. "A hundred times," Hyacinth amended, shooting an annoyed look at her older sister, "that you do not have to bring your mending to tea." Sophie suppressed a smile of her own. "I should feel very lazy if I did not." "Well, I'm not going to bring my embroidery," Hyacinth announced, not that anyone had asked her to. "Feeling lazy?" Francesca queried. "Not in the least," Hyacinth returned. Francesca turned to Sophie. "You're making Hyacinth feel lazy." "I do not!" Hyacinth protested. Lady Bridgerton sipped at her tea. "You been working on the same piece of embroidery for quite some time, Hyacinth. Since February, if my memory serves." "Her memory always serves," Francesca said to Sophie. Hyacinth glared at Francesca, who smiled into her teacup."