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Chapter no 8

Romancing Mister Bridgerton (Bridgertons, #4)

Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington were seen in conversation at the Smythe-Smith musicale, although no one seems to know what exactly they were discussing. This Author would

venture to guess that their conversation centered upon This Authorโ€™s identity, since that was what everyone else seemed to be talking about before, after, and (rather rudely, in This Authorโ€™s esteemed opinion) during the performance.

In other news, Honoria Smythe-Smithโ€™s violin was damaged when Lady Danbury accidentally knocked it off a table while waving her cane.

Lady Danbury insisted upon replacing the instrument, but then declared that as it is not her habit to buy anything but the best, Honoria will have a Ruggieri violin, imported from Cremona, Italy.

It is This Authorโ€™s understanding that, when one factors in

manufacture and shipping time, along with a lengthy waiting list, it takes six months for a Ruggieri violin to reach our shores.

LADYย WHISTLEDOWNโ€™Sย SOCIETYย PAPERS, 16 APRILย 1824

There are moments in a womanโ€™s life when her heart flips in her chest, when the world suddenly seems uncommonly pink and perfect, when a symphony can be heard in the tinkle of a doorbell.

Penelope Featherington had just such a moment two days after the Smythe-Smith musicale.

All it took was a knock on her bedroom door, followed by her butlerโ€™s voice, informing her:

โ€œMr. Colin Bridgerton is here to see you.โ€ Penelope tumbled right off the bed.

Briarly, who had butlered for the Featherington family long enough so that he did not even so much as bat an eyelash at Penelopeโ€™s clumsiness, murmured, โ€œShall I tell him you are not in?โ€

โ€œNo!โ€ Penelope nearly shrieked, stumbling to her feet. โ€œI mean, no,โ€ she added in a more reasonable voice. โ€œBut I will require ten minutes to prepare myself.โ€ She glanced in the mirror and winced at her disheveled appearance. โ€œFifteen.โ€

โ€œAs you wish, Miss Penelope.โ€

โ€œOh, and make certain to prepare a tray of food. Mr. Bridgerton is sure to be hungry. Heโ€™s always hungry.โ€

The butler nodded again.

Penelope stood stock-still as Briarly disappeared out the door, then, completely unable to contain herself, danced from foot to foot, emitting a strange squealing sort of noiseโ€”one that she was convincedโ€”or at least hopedโ€”had never before crossed her lips.

Then again, she couldnโ€™t remember the last time a gentleman had called upon her, much less the one with whom sheโ€™d been desperately in love for almost half of her life.

โ€œSettle down,โ€ she said, spreading her fingers and pressing her flattened palms out in much the same motion she might make if she were trying to

placate a small, unruly crowd. โ€œYou must remain calm. Calm,โ€ she repeated, as if that would actually do the trick. โ€œCalm.โ€

But inside, her heart was dancing.

She took a few deep breaths, walked over to her dressing table, and picked up her hairbrush. It would only take a few minutes to repin her hair; surely Colin wasnโ€™t going to flee if she kept him waiting for a short while. Heโ€™d expect her to take a bit of time to ready herself, wouldnโ€™t he?

But still, she found herself fixing her hair in record time, and by the time she stepped through the sitting room door, a mere five minutes had passed since the butlerโ€™s announcement.

โ€œThat was quick,โ€ Colin said with a quirky grin. Heโ€™d been standing by the window, peering out at Mount Street.

โ€œOh, was it?โ€ Penelope said, hoping that the heat she felt on her skin wasnโ€™t translating into a blush. A woman was supposed to keep a gentleman waiting, although not too long. Still, it made no sense to hold to such silly behavior with Colin, of all people. He would never be interested in her in a romantic fashion, and besides, they were friends.

Friends. It seemed like such an odd concept, and yet that was exactly what they were. Theyโ€™d always been friendly acquaintances, but since his return from Cyprus, theyโ€™d become friends in truth.

It was magical.

Even if he never loved herโ€”and she rather thought he never wouldโ€” this was better than what theyโ€™d had before.

โ€œTo what do I owe the pleasure?โ€ she asked, taking a seat on her motherโ€™s slightly faded yellow damask sofa.

Colin sat across from her in a rather uncomfortable straight-backed chair. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, and Penelope knew instantly that something was wrong. It simply wasnโ€™t the pose a

gentleman adopted for a regular social call. He looked too distraught, too intense.

โ€œItโ€™s rather serious,โ€ he said, his face grim.

Penelope nearly rose to her feet. โ€œHas something happened? Is someone ill?โ€

โ€œNo, no, nothing like that.โ€ He paused, let out a long breath, then raked his hand through his already mussed-up hair. โ€œItโ€™s about Eloise.โ€

โ€œWhat is it?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t know how to say this. Iโ€”Do you have anything to eat?โ€

Penelope was ready to wring his neck. โ€œFor heavenโ€™s sake, Colin!โ€ โ€œSorry,โ€ he muttered. โ€œI havenโ€™t eaten all day.โ€

โ€œA first, Iโ€™m sure,โ€ Penelope said impatiently. โ€œI already told Briarly to fix a tray. Now, will you just tell me what is wrong, or do you plan to wait until I expire of impatience?โ€

โ€œI think sheโ€™s Lady Whistledown,โ€ he blurted out.

Penelopeโ€™s mouth fell open. She wasnโ€™t sure what sheโ€™d expected him to say, but it wasnโ€™t this.

โ€œPenelope, did you hear me?โ€

โ€œEloise?โ€ she asked, even though she knew exactly who he was talking about.

He nodded.

โ€œShe canโ€™t be.โ€

He stood and began to pace, too full of nervous energy to sit still. โ€œWhy not?โ€

โ€œBecauseโ€ฆbecauseโ€ฆโ€ Becauseย why? โ€œBecause there is no way she could have done that for ten years without my knowing.โ€

His expression went from disturbed to disdainful in an instant. โ€œI hardly think youโ€™re privy to everything that Eloise does.โ€

โ€œOf course not,โ€ Penelope replied, giving him a rather irritated look, โ€œbut I can tell you with absolute certainty that there is no way Eloise could keep a secret of that magnitude from me for over ten years. Sheโ€™s simply not capable of it.โ€

โ€œPenelope, sheโ€™s the nosiest person I know.โ€

โ€œWell, that much is true,โ€ Penelope agreed. โ€œExcept for my mother, I suppose. But thatโ€™s hardly enough to convict her.โ€

Colin stopped his pacing and planted his hands on his hips. โ€œShe is always writing things down.โ€

โ€œWhy would you think that?โ€

He held up his hand, rubbing his thumb briskly against his fingertips. โ€œInkstains. Constantly.โ€

โ€œLots of people use pen and ink.โ€ Penelope motioned broadly at Colin. โ€œYou write in journals. I am certain youโ€™ve had your share of ink on your

fingers.โ€

โ€œYes, but I donโ€™tย disappearย when I write in my journals.โ€

Penelope felt her pulse quicken. โ€œWhat do you mean?โ€ she asked, her voice growing breathless.

โ€œI mean that she locks herself in her room for hours on end, and itโ€™s after those periods that her fingers are covered with ink.โ€

Penelope didnโ€™t say anything for an agonizingly long moment. Colinโ€™s โ€œevidenceโ€ was damning, indeed, especially when combined with Eloiseโ€™s well-known and well-documented penchant for nosiness.

But she wasnโ€™t Lady Whistledown. She couldnโ€™t be. Penelope would bet her life on it.

Finally Penelope just crossed her arms and, in a tone of voice that probably would have been more at home on an exceedingly stubborn six- year-old, said, โ€œItโ€™s not her. Itโ€™s not.โ€

Colin sat back down, looking defeated. โ€œI wish I could share your certainty.โ€

โ€œColin, you need toโ€”โ€

โ€œWhere the hell is the food?โ€ he grumbled.

She should have been shocked, but somehow his lack of manners amused her. โ€œIโ€™m sure Briarly will be here shortly.โ€

He sprawled into a chair. โ€œIโ€™m hungry.โ€

โ€œYes,โ€ Penelope said, lips twitching, โ€œI surmised as much.โ€

He sighed, weary and worried. โ€œIf sheโ€™s Lady Whistledown, itโ€™ll be a disaster. A pure, unmitigated disaster.โ€

โ€œIt wouldnโ€™t be that bad,โ€ Penelope said carefully. โ€œNot that I think sheโ€™s Lady Whistledown, because I donโ€™t! But truly, if she were, would it be so very dreadful? I rather like Lady Whistledown myself.โ€

โ€œYes, Penelope,โ€ Colin said rather sharply, โ€œit would be so very dreadful. Sheโ€™d be ruined.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t think sheโ€™d beย ruinedโ€ฆ.โ€

โ€œOf course sheโ€™d be ruined. Do you have any idea how many people that woman has insulted over the years?โ€

โ€œI didnโ€™t realize you hated Lady Whistledown so much,โ€ Penelope said. โ€œI donโ€™t hate her,โ€ Colin said impatiently. โ€œIt doesnโ€™t matter if I hate her.

Everyone else hates her.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t think thatโ€™s true. They all buy her paper.โ€

โ€œOf course they buy her paper! Everyone buys her bloody paper.โ€ โ€œColin!โ€

โ€œSorry,โ€ he muttered, but it didnโ€™t really sound like he meant it. Penelope nodded her acceptance of his apology.

โ€œWhoever that Lady Whistledown is,โ€ Colin said, shaking his finger at her with such vehemence that she actually lurched backward, โ€œwhen she is unmasked, she will not be able to show her face in London.โ€

Penelope delicately cleared her throat. โ€œI didnโ€™t realize you cared so much about the opinions of society.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t,โ€ he retorted. โ€œWell, not much, at least. Anyone who tells you they donโ€™t care at all is a liar and a hypocrite.โ€

Penelope rather thought he was correct, but she was surprised heโ€™d admitted it. It seemed men always liked to pretend that they were wholly self-contained, completely unaffected by the whims and opinions of society.

Colin leaned forward, his green eyes burning with intensity. โ€œThis isnโ€™t about me, Penelope, itโ€™s about Eloise. And if she is cast out of society, she will be crushed.โ€ He sat back, but his entire body radiated tension. โ€œNot to mention what it would do to my mother.โ€

Penelope let out a long breath. โ€œI really think youโ€™re getting upset over nothing,โ€ she said.

โ€œI hope youโ€™re right,โ€ he replied, closing his eyes. He wasnโ€™t sure when heโ€™d started to suspect that his sister might be Lady Whistledown. Probably after Lady Danbury had issued her now famous challenge. Unlike most of London, Colin had never been terribly interested in Lady Whistledownโ€™s

true identity. The column was entertaining, and he certainly read it along with everyone else, but to his mind, Lady Whistledown was simplyโ€ฆLady Whistledown, and that was all she needed to be.

But Lady Danburyโ€™s dare had started him thinking, and like the rest of the Bridgertons, once he got hold of an idea, he was fundamentally

incapable of letting it go. Somehow it had occurred to him that Eloise had

the perfect temperament and skills to write such a column, and then, before he could convince himself that he was crazy, heโ€™d seen the ink spots on her fingers. Since then heโ€™d gone nearly mad, unable to think about anything but the possibility that Eloise had a secret life.

He didnโ€™t know which irritated him moreโ€”that Eloise might be Lady Whistledown, or that she had managed to hide it from him for over a decade.

How galling, to be hoodwinked by oneโ€™s sister. He liked to think himself smarter than that.

But he needed to focus on the present. Because if his suspicions were correct, how on earth were they going to deal with the scandal when she was discovered?

And sheย wouldย be discovered. With all of London lusting after the thousand-pound prize, Lady Whistledown didnโ€™t stand a chance.

โ€œColin! Colin!โ€

He opened his eyes, wondering how long Penelope had been calling his name.

โ€œI really think you should stop worrying about Eloise,โ€ she said. โ€œThere are hundreds and hundreds of people in London. Lady Whistledown could be any one of them. Heavens, with your eye for detailโ€โ€”she waggled her

fingers to remind him of Eloiseโ€™s ink-stained fingertipsโ€”โ€œyouย could be Lady Whistledown.โ€

He shot her a rather condescending look. โ€œExcept for the small detail of my having been out of the country half the time.โ€

Penelope chose to ignore his sarcasm. โ€œYouโ€™re certainly a good enough writer to carry it off.โ€

Colin had intended to say something droll and slightly gruff, dismissing her rather weak arguments, but the truth was he was so secretly delighted about her โ€œgood writerโ€ compliment that all he could do was sit there with a loopy smile on his face.

โ€œAre you all right?โ€ Penelope asked.

โ€œPerfectly fine,โ€ he replied, snapping to attention and trying to adopt a more sober mien. โ€œWhy would you ask?โ€

โ€œBecause you suddenly looked quite ill. Dizzy, actually.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m fine,โ€ he repeated, probably a little louder than was necessary. โ€œIโ€™m just thinking about the scandal.โ€

She let out a beleaguered sigh, which irritated him, because he didnโ€™t

see that she had any reason to feel so impatient with him. โ€œWhat scandal?โ€ she asked.

โ€œThe scandal that is going to erupt when she is discovered,โ€ he ground out.

โ€œSheโ€™s not Lady Whistledown!โ€ she insisted.

Colin suddenly sat up straight, his eyes alight with a new idea. โ€œDo you know,โ€ he said in a rather intense sort of voice, โ€œbut I donโ€™t think it matters if she is Lady Whistledown or not.โ€

Penelope stared at him blankly for a full three seconds before looking about the room, muttering, โ€œWhereโ€™s the food? I must be light-headed.

Havenโ€™t you spent the last ten minutes positively goingย madย over the possibility that she is?โ€

As if on cue, Briarly entered the room with a heavily laden tray.

Penelope and Colin watched in silence as the butler laid out the meal. โ€œWould you like me to fix your plates?โ€ he inquired.

โ€œNo, thatโ€™s quite all right,โ€ Penelope said quickly. โ€œWe can manage for ourselves.โ€

Briarly nodded and, as soon as heโ€™d laid the flatware and filled the two glasses with lemonade, left the room.

โ€œListen to me,โ€ Colin said, jumping to his feet and moving the door so that it almost rested against the doorframe (but remained technically open, should anyone quibble about proprieties).

โ€œDonโ€™t you want something to eat?โ€ Penelope inquired, holding aloft a plate that sheโ€™d filled with various small snacks.

He snatched a piece of cheese, ate it in two rather indelicate bites, then continued, โ€œEven if Eloise isnโ€™t Lady Whistledownโ€”and mind you, I still think she isโ€”it doesnโ€™t matter. Because ifย Iย suspect that sheโ€™s Lady Whistledown, then surely someone else will as well.โ€

โ€œYour point being?โ€

Colin realized that his arms were reaching forward, and he stopped himself before he reached out to shake her shoulders. โ€œIt doesnโ€™t matter! Donโ€™t you see? If someone points his finger at her, sheโ€™ll be ruined.โ€

โ€œBut not,โ€ Penelope said, appearing to require a great deal of effort to unclench her teeth, โ€œif sheโ€™s not Lady Whistledown!โ€

โ€œHow could she prove it?โ€ Colin returned, jumping to his feet. โ€œOnce a rumor is started, the damage is done. It develops a life of its own.โ€

โ€œColin, you ceased to make sense five minutes ago.โ€

โ€œNo, hear me out.โ€ He whirled to face her, and he was seized by a feeling of such intensity that he couldnโ€™t have ripped his eyes from hers if the house were falling down around them. โ€œSuppose I told everyone that I had seduced you.โ€

Penelope grew very, very still.

โ€œYou would be ruined forever,โ€ he continued, crouching down near the edge of the sofa so that they were more on the same level. โ€œIt wouldnโ€™t

matter that we had never even kissed.ย That,ย my dear Penelope, is the power of the word.โ€

She looked oddly frozen. And at the same time flushed. โ€œIโ€ฆI donโ€™t know what to say,โ€ she stammered.

And then the most bizarre thing happened. He realized that he didnโ€™t know what to say, either. Because heโ€™d forgotten about rumors and the power of the word and all of that rot, and the only thing he could think of was the part about the kissing, andโ€”

Andโ€” Andโ€”

Good God in heaven, he wanted to kiss Penelope Featherington. Penelope Featherington!

He might as well have said he wanted to kiss his sister.

Exceptโ€”he stole a glance at her; she looked uncommonly fetching, and he wondered how he hadnโ€™t noticed that earlier that afternoonโ€”she wasnโ€™t his sister.

She definitely wasnโ€™t his sister.

โ€œColin?โ€ His name was a mere whisper on her lips, her eyes were quite adorably blinking and befuddled, and how was it heโ€™d never noticed what an intriguing shade of brown they were? Almost gold near the pupil. Heโ€™d never seen anything like it, and yet it wasnโ€™t as if he hadnโ€™t seen her a hundred times before.

He stoodโ€”suddenly, drunkenly. Best if they werenโ€™t quite on the same latitude. Harder to see her eyes from up here.

She stood, too.

Damn it.

โ€œColin?โ€ she asked, her voice barely audible. โ€œCould I ask you a favor?โ€

Call it male intuition, call it insanity, but a very insistent voice inside of him was screaming that whatever she wantedย hadย to be a very bad idea.

He was, however, an idiot.

He had to be, because he felt his lips part and then he heard a voice that sounded an awful lot like his own say, โ€œOf course.โ€

Her lips puckered, and for a moment he thought she was trying to kiss him, but then he realized that she was just bringing them together to form a word.

โ€œWouldโ€”โ€

Just a word. Nothing but a word beginning withย W. Wย always looked like a kiss.

โ€œWould you kiss me?โ€

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