When He Was Wicked: Bridgerton (Bridgertons Book 6)

Product Information

Oh, you know,” he said wryly, “all those things I have to do to prepare for a life of dissolution and aimlessness.” I know,” she said, oblivious to his distress. “I could never ask for better cousin. But I want you to be happy.” Michael watched as John rubbed his left temple. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You look a little…” He didn’t finish the sentence, since he wasn’t quite certain how John looked. Not right. That was all he knew.

When He Was Wicked: Bridgerton (Bridgertons Book 6)

Michael had often wondered if the property —a rather lovely and comfortable manor house with twenty acres— was John’s form of penance. And he rather suspected that Francesca wondered the same. Michael glanced out the window. All vestiges of daylight had left the sky. “Isn’t it a bit late for that?” he asked. Francesca looped her hand into the crook of Michael’s elbow. “Be sure to take some laudanum when you return from your meeting,” she said over her shoulder, once they’d reached the door, “since I know you won’t do it now.” And now Francesca was the Countess of Kilmartin, married to his cousin John, who was one year his junior, but in the Stirling household always treated with the deference due the elder; he was the heir, after all. Their fathers were twins, but John’s had entered the world seven minutes before Michael’s. Which always left Michael a little worried. He thought he hid his feelings well, but what if she knew? She would never speak of it, of course, never even allude to it. He rather suspected they were ironically alike that way; if Francesca suspected he was in love with her, she would never alter her manner in any way.

The most critical seven minutes in Michael Stirling’s life, and he hadn’t even been alive for them. Michael stood, suddenly rather eager to depart. He shouldn’t have come over in any case. “Why not?” he asked, his tone careless. “You love it there. John loves it there. It’s not such a long journey if your carriage is well-sprung.” She’s not in—” She cut herself off, grinding her teeth together. “I grant you that Hyacinth is not suitable, but Eloise is—” John nodded. He took his position in the House of Lords very seriously. Michael had often wondered if he’d have approached the duty with as much gravity, had he been born a lord. Michael nodded. “You look pale,” he said, why, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if it was going to change John’s mind about the laudanum.

When He Was Wicked (Bridgertons 6) - AllFreeNovel When He Was Wicked (Bridgertons 6) - AllFreeNovel

But she didn’t. Michael was certain of that. He’d come to know Francesca agonizingly well in the past two years, and he knew she didn’t roll her eyes. When she was feeling sarcastic, or ironic, or sly, it was all there in her voice and the curious tip of her mouth. She didn’t need to roll her eyes. She just looked at you with that direct stare, her lips curving ever-so-slightly, and– Francesca turned to Michael and smiled, worming her way another inch into his heart. “Will you?” she asked. “I’m desperate for a spot of fresh air now that the rain has stopped. And I’ve been feeling rather odd all day, I must say.”Not with two strong men as escorts,” she said, “and besides, the streets in Mayfair are well lit. We shall be perfectly safe.” She turned to her husband. “What do you say, darling?” You have never tried marriage,” Francesca pointed out. “How could you possibly know you have no talent for it?” I’m so often merry?” he repeated, knowing that was how the world saw him —they called him the Merry Rake, after all— but hating the word on her lips. It made him feel frivolous, without substance.

Bridgerton: Romancing Mr Bridgerton (Bridgertons Book 4 Bridgerton: Romancing Mr Bridgerton (Bridgertons Book 4

Michael cleared his throat. This shouldn’t be so difficult; it wasn’t as if John and Francesca were acting any differently than was normal. They were, as so much of society had commented, like two peas in a pod, marvelously in accord, and splendidly in love. John smiled, then leaned down and dropped a tender kiss on her lips. “I always know how you feel, darling.”This cookie is used to a profile based on user's interest and display personalized ads to the users. They were at Kilmartin House, in London, as opposed Kilmartin (no House, no Castle, just Kilmartin), up in Scotland, where the boys had grown up, or the other Kilmartin House, in Edinburgh—not a creative soul among his forbearers, Michael had often reflected; there was also a Kilmartin Cottage (if one could call twenty-two rooms a cottage), Kilmartin Abbey, and, of course, Kilmartin Hall. Michael had no idea why no one had thought to offer their surname to one of the residences; Stirling House had a perfectly respectful ring to it, in his opinion. He supposed that the ambitious —and unimaginative— Stirlings of old had been so damned besotted with their newfound earldom that they couldn’t think to put any other name on anything. Of course,” Michael replied, since they all knew that he had no appointments. His was a life of carefully cultivated dissolution. 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 he stopped going to church entirely, because there seemed no point now in even contemplating prayer for his soul. Besides, the parish church near Kilmartin dated to 1432, and the crumbling stones certainly couldn’t take a direct strike of lightning.