Somewhere Only We Know [B. BRIDGERTON]

Chapter Four

It did not take too long into dinner before Meg realized that Lady Bridgerton was playing matchmaker. She was obviously trying to set up Daphne with her other guest, the Duke of Hastings, and anyone could see it from a mile away. And she was trying to set Meg up with one of her sons. Which son, Meg did not yet decide, and she wasn't entire certain that Lady Bridgerton knew, either. She was seated next to Benedict, so, for the moment, Meg assumed it was him.

She wondered if her aunt was in on this little matchmaking scheme, as well.

She likely was, Meg thought. She didn't like the idea of playing matchmaker, and she certainly did not like anyone playing matchmaker on her behalf. But Meg supposed there were worse options than the Bridgertons, even if the chances were low. And, anyway, dinner with the Bridgertons was not likely to be a full affair.

Meg had dressed in a lovely emerald green velvet evening dress, simple in design with an empire waistline and long sleeves trimmed with white lace. Her hair was done in a similar half-up, half-down style as Daphne's. However, instead of a single rather larger ringlet, she had several little ones draped over her shoulder. She also wore a matching emerald green ribbon in her hair, almost as if it were a crown. It was a casual look, at least by her standards. She did not fell the need to live up to the title work of art tonight. She had dined with the Bridgerton family before, though it had been several years since she had done so. She knew she would not be held to such a standard during a rather intimate family dinner. And the Duke of Hastings seemed to enjoy watching the scene before him, more than anything else, including the girl he was trying to be set up with, something Meg found to be rather amusing.

But, she had to admit, she was enjoying dinner immensely. The Bridgerton siblings were having a rather spirited debate about the identity of Lady Whistledown, one which Meg had easily been able to jump into.

"Haven't you heard what we're talking about?" Benedict said.

"For all we know, Whistledown may be some interloper living in Bloomsbury, of all places," Anthony said, rather dismissively.

"What should be so terrible about Bloomsbury?" Benedict challenged. "That people there actually work for a living?"

"She does seem to be someone with access," Daphne said.

"Who knows if Whistledown is even a she?" Colin suggested.

"Fair point," said Anthony.

"Because she is simply too good to be anyone but a man?" Eloise asked, almost offended by the suggestion.

"Could it not be both?" Meg said, finding this lively debate enjoyable. "A duo, I mean. Obviously, the woman writes it all down in her own words, but it seems to be a lot of information for just one person to know."

"Well, I think it rather obvious that the writer is Lady Danbury," Francesca said.

"Lady Danbury enjoys sharing her insults with society directly," Daphne told her. "She would never bother writing them all down."

"And even if she did, she would not do so anonymously," Meg added.

"Could it be Lady Featherington?" Hyacinth asked.

That earned a resounding 'no,' and a chorus of laughter from the rest of the table. Hyacinth looked rather insulted that her suggestion was so quickly disregarded.

"You have yet to read what Whistledown writes of the Featheringtons, little sister," Eloise told her.

"Though I must admit, if I did not want my identity known, I'd anonymously insult myself as much as possible," Meg said. "However, I doubt Lady Featherington could humble herself that much."