Chapter Eleven
Yesterday had been an excellent day, but today was turning out to be even better. Pip wasn’t a giggler, but she found herself suppressing giggles that morning. In fact, whenever she looked around the worktable and saw Lord Newingham, Lord Octavius, and Mr. Pryor bent over their sewing, mirth bubbled up in her chest. She stifled it successfully a dozen times, but it rose up again, buoyant and effervescent, while she watched Lord Newingham sew quite the crookedest seam she had ever seen anyone sew. He looked up and must have read her expression correctly, for he gave her a lopsided, rueful grin—and Pip couldn’t help herself. She giggled.
Newingham didn’t appear to mind. His grin widened and he gave a laugh, and then Mr. Pryor looked at the viscount’s sewing and he laughed, t
