metanoia // bridgerton.

•part thirteen•

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Regent Park, 1813.

This author has often thought the heart a most curious of instruments, heeding neither reason nor rank.

For what possible explanation might Miss Daphne Bridgerton have for entertaining the suit of a mere baron when she seems to have secured a duke? Could the debutante's mind not be the only thing amiss?

Or, perhaps, it's the understanding that her elder sister may be the one to have secured herself the duke? We have all seen sparks flying as the eldest Bridgerton daughter seemed to amuse the most handsome of all.

Let it be known, dear reader, that if this bizarre behavior portends yet another scandal, then be sure that I shall uncover it, for there is nothing like an excursion into nature to lift the spirits and loosen the tongue.

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WHEN Clara heard curtains being moved as light poured into her bedroom she groaned loudly into her pillow and eventually opened her eyes. The first thing the young woman felt was a frightening headache, and Clara realized she should not have drank so much wine back at Jim's.

The next terrible outcome from her escape night at Jim's was sore legs, because she had danced around ever since she entered the pub after the ball. Clara eventually lost herself after dancing with Simon, her anger for Berbrooke or Anthony back so she drank too much and danced too hard.

And now, when all Clara wanted was to sleep a little longer than before nine in the morning, Jennie had to enter and wake her up with her purposely loud steps.

Clara wiped her drool and sat up in her bed, Jennie pausing in shock when she saw the way her mistress looked. Her hair was sprawled all across her face, reminding the poor maid of a bird's nest. Clara's usually pale skin looked reddened as if she still possessed alcohol in her, and her eyes held dark circles underneath them. "Oh, Jennie, why did you have to wake me up?!" Clara exclaimed dramatically, placing her hands inside her bird's nest of a hair. Jennie stared at the girl, knowing that if Violet was to come in she'd get a heart attack in seeing her eldest daughter look like a beggar. "I'm in a great deal of pain."

Jennie did not react to Clara's complaints, watching her mistress fall back on the pillows. An inhumane groan escaped Clara's mouth so Jennie, who had carried Clara hangover juice, took the glass into her hands before walking to stand in front of the barely alive girl. "Well, Miss, you drank quite a lot last night," she said as if it was not obvious. Clara opened one of her eyes and met Jennie's bright face. "I'm quite surprised you were able to sneak back in unnoticed."

Clara widened her eyes and sat up again, her head pounding and spinning because of such a sudden movement. Jennie extended the glass she was holding for Clara to take so the girl did and smelled the contents, wanting to gag. "Raw eggs and garlic, my lady. Said to be a good remedy whilst curing the after affects of alcohol," Jennie smiled innocently so Clara grinned back dully before putting the glass on her nightstand, not wanting to drink something this disgusting.