An Offer From a Gentleman (Cinderella)

Chapter 5

The housemaid who had rouged Sophie’s lips held up a pair of white slippers. “From Rosamund’s closet,” she said.

Sophie slid her right foot into one of the slippers and just as quickly slid it back out. “It’s much too big,” she said, glancing up at Mrs. Gibbons. “I’ll never be able to walk in them.”

Mrs. Gibbons turned to the maid. “Fetch a pair from Posy’s closet.”

“Hers are even bigger,” Sophie said. “I know. I’ve cleaned enough scuff marks from them.”

Mrs. Gibbons let out a long sigh. “There’s nothing for it, then. We shall have to raid Araminta’s collection.”

Sophie shuddered. The thought of walking anywhere in Araminta’s shoes was somewhat creepy. But it was either that or go without, and she didn’t think that bare feet would be acceptable at a fancy London masquerade.

A few minutes later the maid returned with a pair of white satin slippers, stitched in silver and adorned with exquisite faux-diamond rosettes.

Sophie was still apprehensive about wearing Araminta’s shoes, but she slipped one of her feet in, anyway. It fit perfectly.

“And they match, too,” one of the maids said, pointing to the silver stitching. “As if they were made for the dress.”

“We don’t have time for admiring shoes,” Mrs. Gibbons suddenly said. “Now listen to these instructions very carefully. The coachman has returned from taking the countess and her girls, and he will take you to Bridgerton House. But he has to be waiting outside when they wish to depart, which means you must leave by midnight and not a second later. Do you understand?”

Sophie nodded and looked at the clock on the wall. It was a bit after nine, which meant she’d have more than two hours at the masquerade. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh, thank you so much.”

Mrs. Gibbons dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “You just have a good time, dearling. That’s all the thanks I need.”

Sophie looked again at the clock. Two hours.

Two hours that she’d have to make last a lifetime.

Chapter 2

The Bridgertons are truly a unique family. Surely there cannot be anyone in London who does not know that they all look remarkably alike, or that they are famously named in alphabetical order: Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth.

It does make one wonder what the late viscount and (still very-much alive) dowager viscountess would have named

Perhaps it is best they

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S

Benedict Bridgerton was the second of eight children, but sometimes it felt

This ball his mother had insisted upon hosting was supposed to be a masquerade, and Benedict had dutifully donned a black demi-mask, but everyone knew who he was. Or rather, they all almost

“A Bridgerton!” they would exclaim,

“You must be a Bridgerton!”

“A Bridgerton! I can spot a

Benedict was a Bridgerton, and while there was no family to which he’d rather belong, he sometimes wished he were considered a little less a Bridgerton

Just then, a woman of somewhat indeterminate age dressed as a shepherdess sauntered over. “A Bridgerton!” she trilled. “I’d recognize that chestnut hair anywhere. Which are you? No, don’t say. Let me guess. You’re not the viscount, because I just saw him. You must be Number Two or Number Three.”

Benedict eyed her

“Which one? Number Two

“Two,” he bit off.

She clapped her hands together. “That’s what I thought! Oh, I must find Portia. I told her you were Number Two—”

Benedict, he nearly growled.

“—but she

Benedict suddenly had to get away. It was either that or kill the twittering ninnyhammer, and with so many witnesses, he didn’t

It was a lie, but he didn’t much care. With a curt nod toward the overage shepherdess, he made a beeline toward the ballroom’s side door, eager to escape the throng and sneak into his brother’s study, where he might find some blessed peace and quiet and perhaps a glass of fine brandy.

“Benedict!”

toward him. She was dressed in some sort of Elizabethan costume. He supposed she

“What can I do for you, Mother?” he asked. “And don’t say ‘Dance with Hermione Smythe-Smith.’ Last time I did that I nearly lost three toes in the process.”

to ask anything of the sort,” Violet replied.

“Have mercy, Mother,” he moaned. “She’s even worse.”

“I’m not asking you to marry the chit,” she

Benedict fought a groan. Prudence Featherington, while essentially a nice person, had a brain the size of a pea and a laugh so grating he’d seen grown men flee with their hands over their ears. “I’ll tell you what,” he wheedled. “I’ll dance with Penelope Featherington if you keep Prudence at bay.”

“That’ll do,” his mother said with a satisfied nod, leaving Benedict with the sinking sensation that she’d wanted him to dance with Penelope all along.

“She’s over there by the lemonade table,” Violet said, “dressed as a leprechaun, poor thing. The color is good for her, but someone really must take her mother in hand next time they venture out to the dressmaker. A more unfortunate costume, I can’t imagine.”

“You obviously haven’t seen the mermaid,” Benedict murmured.

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