Colin was not looking forward to the Dartmore ball. Yes, they might call it a ball, but the dancing — and the food, worst of all — never came about until their captive audience has spent a good half hour being presented with the Duke and Duchess of Dartmore's latest dusty find from whatever far-flung place they'd gone and dug up recently.

It wasn't even that fossils and ancient artifacts were boring in and of themselves, but when the pair above were presenting them, it was deadly dull stuff indeed.

Yet Penelope was most definitely here. She liked this rot, as did El. They often complained about the many lectures, no matter how innocuous, ladies were so often barred from attending.

So here Colin was, arguing with a footman, begging not to be turned away at the door.

The things he was suffering for Penelope...

He groaned as he spied the footman coming back with the butler in tow now. He had half a mind to hide his face as the other footman easily let others by, but he brazened it out.

"Some mix-up with the invitation," he said on a forced laugh to the couples passing him by. "I'm sure it will be remedied."

God, this was galling. His own sister had passed him earlier as he waited like some miscreant begging for scraps. Eloise had been highly amused.

"Tell them I'm with you," Colin had hissed, pulling her in. "I must get in."

"To this?" she'd laughed, tapping her chin. "It seems I remember pleading with you to escort me to this very ball since Anthony's carriage was full. And you said that if you wanted to hear someone drone on about dusty relics, you'd attend the next session of Parliament. For those of us who cannot attend Parliament or Oxford," Eloise said, chin up in the air, "we must content ourselves to get our education where we can."

"I very much regret saying all that," Colin said hastily. "Now allow me to escort you."

"You're too late. I've already bribed Gregory."

"How much?" he demanded over her head as Greg popped up. "I'll double it."

Greg seemed to consider it, but seemed to think torturing his brother was more in his interests, the little lout. Or louts, he should say. The both of them were snickering to themselves.

"Where's Mother, then?" Colin demanded.

"Mama arrived earlier," Eloise said, supremely unbothered. "I doubt she'd be much help. You know how she laments your lack of punctuality," she tossed off before just leaving him there.

"I'm quite sorry, Sir," the butler was saying now, "but chairs for the lecture have been set out precisely as have dinner settings and, since you had sent your regrets..."

"But that must have been a mistake!" Colin clasped his chest. "I'd meant to send my most enthusiastic acceptance. That butler of mine must have..." He trailed off at an affronted look from the butler. "Well, he must have been quite busy, as butlers often are. I'm sure I'm a great trial to him. Anyhow, I've been looking forward to this for months!"

"The invitations were sent out a fortnight ago," the man said, not looking convinced.

"Truly? The time must have dragged. I've been dying to know more about the... er..." God, what had that invitation said? Was it Grecian urns or Roman gravy ladles? It was some kind of crockery. Blast it! His eyes lit upon the Duchess of Dartmore herself, greeting guests some distance away. "I say, Your Grace!" he called out. "Ho, there!"

"Sir!" The elderly butler looked as if he might try tossing him into the hedgerows himself for that.

Luckily for Colin, the Duke and Duchess of Dartmore — dull as their interests were — were an uncommonly amiable couple. Her Grace approached with a delighted smile. "Why, Mr. Bridgerton. Here, I'd thought you'd sent your regrets."

Colin made a note to add her excellent memory to her other virtues. "Isn't it the funniest thing? I'd thought I'd accepted this and sent my regrets to another, but here we are. I'd been so looking forward to the... the exhibition and the... the royal crock..."

"Ah, yes. The Royal Antiquities Society's exhibition on Ancient Crockery is not to be missed," she said excitedly.

"The very one," Colin said easily.

"My husband gave the lecture last month and I said to him, Eddie dear — didn't I say, Standish?" She turned to her butler. "I said it was too sparsely attended. He quite agreed. Perhaps not enough people had that morning free. So I suggested — didn't I, Standish? — that more of London simply must see your exciting discoveries! And what better occasion than our next ball?"

"Aye, very clever of you to combine the occasions," Colin said, forcing a smile. Really, this kind of nonsense had him avoiding as many Dartmore balls as he could. Still, he was not above lying to get into one, much as he'd usually done to get out of one.

"Now the ladies can enjoy it all, too," she went on. "I personally thought ladies should have been allowed at the lecture. It would have had a much larger audience. My dear husband tried his best to convince the council, but alas..."

"Yes. I would have eagerly given up my own seat at such a lecture to any lady," Colin said, quite honestly, then realized his faux pas, "though it would have dashed my hopes," he amended, "which were dashed anyhow, confound it!" He snapped his fingers. "How I wish I had not missed the original lecture!" He sighed loudly. "I had my heart set upon hearing it now. But apparently..." He gestured miserably to her butler, who still looked unimpressed. "The chairs are quite precisely set out." He shrugged. "I suppose, if I must leave—"

"Oh, you poor man!" The Duchess fanned her face, obviously distressed for him. "Surely, there is something we can do!" Her eyes lit as she spied her husband passing. "My Dear? Eddie, darling!"

"Ah, Fanny, my sweet!" The Duke left whatever conversation he'd been having dutifully, rushing to his wife. "Whatever is the matter? Is it the violins? I did note that they might be bit intrusive, but surely they will quiet before the presentation is underway."

"Oh, no, my dear, it's Mr. Bridgerton," the Duchess lamented.

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton." Dartmore smiled widely. "I'd thought you'd sent your regrets. Awful nice to see you've changed—"

"Oh, no, dear, he didn't! He'd sent his regrets by mistake," the Duchess said urgently. "And he'd missed the exhibition before. And your lovely lecture."

"Yes," Colin supplied eagerly. "I was in Cypress, you see."

"And here we have three cooking pots from Cypress," the Duke said, "nearly intact!"

"So you can imagine my disappointment," Colin sighed.

"Eddie, let's not deprive him," his sweet Fanny pleaded.

"Indeed, we shall not. I'm sure we can scrounge up another chair for the lecture, and for supper," the Duke added to Colin's great relief. He'd likely be hungry after looking at all that cracked up cookware. "Why, I shall have you sit in the very first row once the presentation starts."

Colin paled. He'd rather hoped to be in the back — in case he fell asleep. Really, it was the ball he was after. He couldn't very well play the lovesick swain during a lecture. "There's no need for all that. I am perfectly fine with whatever—"

"Nonsense!" The Duke exclaimed. "I'd no notion you were so passionate about antiquities. Did you, my darling?"

Then again, this could be useful. "Well, I'm eternally grateful," Colin said slyly. "In fact, a dear friend of mine would also dearly love to sit in front, if you'd be so kind..."

And that was how Colin finagled his way into getting Penelope Featherington especially escorted to the front row with him.

Pen looked confused, yet pleased as the butler himself brought her to the front. But her expression turned wary once she saw Colin, grinning and patting the seat next to his.

***************************

Penelope hadn't thought she'd be confronted with the sight of Colin so very soon, and certainly not at this ball. He'd oft complained about the Dartmore soirees, how they lured the unsuspecting with dancing and good food and drink only to first force them to sit through a lecture.

"As if my brother doesn't talk one's ear off about every supposedly glorious half-crumbled statue he once saw," Eloise had often scoffed at Colin's excoriations of the Dartmore parties.

Though Penelope quite liked hearing of Colin's travels and had never joined El in her censure of his tales, they did both agree that it was nice to find intellectual stimulation at a ball, dry and dusty as the subject matter may be. And they quite admired that the Duke of Dartmore's wife traveled with her husband, even sometimes with their children in tow.

The Duchess herself... Well, she was not unintelligent, but she was a chattery thing who talked a great deal more than one might care to hear. But sometimes they were able to get enough details of her travels — through her many flighty deviations from the subject — to be wildly envious of all she had seen.

Eloise had often lamented that The Royal Antiquities Society, while they made an exception for The Duchess, did not generally allow ladies on their tours. "Can you imagine the pair of us, traveling the globe?"

"I thought you wanted us to retire to a cottage in the wilderness," Pen would point out, "and be bothered by no one for the rest of our days." She wasn't always quite as passionate about that last part as El was, but if "no one" included her mother, then solitude had its charms.

"Well, one must get out and about on occasion." Eloise shrugged.

Pen might agree with the sentiment, but even with the freedom they would enjoy as spinsters with independent means, they weren't likely to see such places. Lectures and exhibits — those that allowed ladies, at least — were all they would see of the wider world.

So she was quite delighted to find the Dartmore butler bowing before her and insisting she take a seat in the very first row... until she saw who she'd be sitting beside.

After yesterday's torments... and delights, she'd hoped she'd have more time to prepare herself to see Colin again.

Now, here he was, whether she found herself ready or not, patting the seat beside him with a smug grin reminiscent of the cat who'd got into the birdcage and, when she stilled at the sight of him, he rose and took her hand to escort her over, as if to tell her there was no possible escape.

"I imagine you've have arranged this somehow," she said lowly as she took her chair.

"Indeed, I did. And for you. You adore these lectures, do you not?" he asked, all kind solicitude. "When our gracious hosts offered me such a prime seat, I informed them you were also quite keen on the subject."

He had yet to release her hand, so Penelope gave it a tug, nearly leaving her glove with him in the process. "I am quite keen on any subject that I know little of. So I'd also be quite keen on you not distracting me," she said coolly, "or I shall go sit with Eloise as I had originally planned."

"As if Eloise would not be distracting." He chuckled. "Besides, I've been informed the chairs have been set out precisely," Colin said, still smiling, "so you shan't find an empty one there."

Penelope glanced back to find Eloise between Penelope's mother and her own, tossing confused and annoyed looks her way.

"I am your only option," Colin said, leaning back in his chair and looking entirely too satisfied with himself.

"Is that another proposal?" she remarked with cool disdain, hoping to wipe that smirk off his face. "I dare say it's worse than the others so far."

He just laughed. "Oh, I would not dare get down on one knee again so soon."

"I don't recall you getting down on one knee at all," she muttered.

"Oh, is that the problem?" He shifted in his seat. "I can remedy that easily this very mo—"

She gripped his arm, hissing, "Don't you dare make such a scene!"

"I wasn't going to." He glanced at her hand, still smiling. "And it seems to me that you're the one making a scene."

It galled her that he seemed so amused. She had left their last encounter angry with him and was quite determined to stay that way. And she'd much rather not be angry all by herself, drat him!

She gentled her grip with a false laugh, reaching for his lecture program, leaning over and pretending she only took his arm because she urgently needed to look at it. Never mind that she had her own clutched, possibly crumpled to smithereens, in her other hand.

Luckily, people rarely ever paid attention to her, but Colin was another matter, so she did glance around. No one was looking their way as the Duke was now approaching his dais. "You're up to something," she whispered to Colin, "Whatever it is, I shall not let you—"

"I am up to nothing," Colin said, innocent as a lamb, "except learning about ancient artifacts."

"Bosh! You don't care a jot for any of this," Pen scoffed. "Eloise said you begged off."

"Is that why you're here?" he murmured, putting his head close to hers, pretending to look at the program as well. "Did you think yourself safe from me?" His breath stirred the tiny curls over her ear. "Poor Penelope..."

She suppressed a shiver, drawing back as if suddenly remembering she had her own program to peruse. She turned resolutely away from him, studying it. "So you admit it? You came here with the purpose of tormenting me?"

"Tormenting you?" He laughed. "I have no such nefarious plan." He paused. "But I freely admit that I wouldn't bother being here if you were not."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "After the events of this afternoon, I would rather you not bother being here at all."

"Do you truly mean that?" he prodded.

No, she didn't. Blast it all!

Happily, she was saved the trouble of answering either way as the Duke began to speak.

Though Penelope had been initially angry with Colin for telling not only Benedict, but Anthony, about his proposals, the more she thought about it, the less she believed he'd done so with some idea of entrapping her into this honorable marriage of his.

How could she truly judge him for seeking a friendly ear from his siblings when she did the same with Felicity?

Yes, Colin had more friendly ears among his siblings than she did, but she had to admit that a part of her liked having someone to talk to about all this. Felicity was understanding... if a little unrelenting.

Upon arriving home yesterday, her little sister had practically interrogated her, demanding to know why Penelope was even more determined not to marry Colin Bridgerton. Felicity seemed to think her aid in assuring they had time alone would result in an engagement — an engagement that should have happened that morning, according to Felicity, if Penelope had not mucked it up.

No matter how Penelope tried to explain it, Felicity seemed incapable of grasping that Colin's high-handed masculine posturing was what had mucked it up... or at least assured that Penelope was not at all inclined to accept his proposal.

"What I would give for Geoffrey to just give me a little masculine posturing," Felicity had gasped, tossing herself onto Penelope's bed. "Instead, he's gone off to ask some person neither of us know for permission to marry me, when I'd rather he was like Petruchio, carting me off, all 'will you, nill you, I will marry you.' Not that I don't love Geoff, the silly darling. But he is far too proper."

Penelope sighed. "Life is not Shakespeare, Felicity. These things are fine for plays and poems, but I'm certain you'd find such antics less attractive when actually confronted with them. And men are bad enough now, let alone two hundred years ago. 'The submission is to reason, and not to man,' as Mary Woll—"

"Oh, please don't start Wollstonecraft-ing at me," Felicity groaned. "She's far less fun to quote than Shakespeare."

Penelope might agree, however she couldn't help pointing out, "But she's far better for women."

Though Penelope did find her younger sister much more appreciative of her thoughts than her older sisters or, obviously, Mama, Felicity was much more traditional as to women, men, and the roles they play.

How Penelope wished she could talk to Eloise about this business, but considering the man in question was her brother... God, she couldn't decide if Eloise would push her into his arms or catapult her far away from them! And which would be worse?

Perhaps Eloise would just rather not know. She decided that must be the case since she was mortified at the thought of telling her any of this.

And why should she know? Colin would get this idea out of his head soon enough and all would be as it was. She and Eloise would live out their days doing just as they pleased. Spinster, as Eloise often pointed out, was just a derogatory term for a woman of independent means. Eloise had her Bridgerton portion and Penelope had her Whistledown portion... or her sudden inheritance from a maiden aunt, as the world would know it when the time came.

"I think Geoff could do with some antics, personally." Felicity turned onto her stomach, giggling and kicking her feet behind her. "Colin Bridgerton is practically tossing you over his shoulder and dragging you to the vicar. I'm enjoying this immensely. So you must be enjoying all this, at least a little."

God, Felicity didn't know how right she was. After today, what with the way she wantonly moaned all over him, she'd have the devil of a time pretending she didn't enjoy certain aspects of Colin's antics. Not that she'd be telling her sister any of that. Before today, she didn't know such feelings were possible. Still... "I assure you that I do not enjoy refusing a proposal only to be told my refusal is not accepted." That much was true. "Colin has been absolutely barbaric in his—"

"Yes," Felicity said gleefully, leaning her chin on her hands. "Just like Petruchio. So?"

"So... what?"

"Will you or nill you?"

"Nill me... Or I... nill..." Penelope let out a frustrated growl. "Look, I have refused him soundly."

Felicity shrugged. "Not soundly enough. Or he'd have given up."

Dash it all, her sister was right about that, too. However cool she'd been to him after their interlude behind the curtains, she'd must have given him far too much encouragement during it, since he was now seated beside her and didn't seem the least bit discouraged, what with the way his knee kept bumping hers throughout the lecture, or the way his elbow kept brushing hers as he adjusted in his seat.

She pointedly tucked her knees or arm away from him until she was nearly leaning into the lady on her right, who seemed quite annoyed with all her fidgeting. Several times, she gave her an apologetic glance before spearing Colin with her hardest glare. It must not be very effective, since he only glanced at her several times — all wide-eyed innocence as he pulled his knee or arm away... until he did it again!

Through the lecture, Penelope had heard nothing as she'd been too busy quieting the riot within her. Perhaps, any other day, she could tolerate the warmth of his sleeve against the skin between her sleeve and glove or the press of his knee against hers. But after this afternoon, even with the layers of cloth between them, every touch or even brush felt illicit. Her skin was tingling, nearly itching, as if hungry to feel his skin against hers.

He'd touched her bare flesh several times now. Between that first kiss and the carriage, he'd caressed her face, her lips, her arms, her shoulders, her neck and — almost reverently — her breasts. Behind that curtain at the gallery, he'd touched her in all those places again, then also her thighs and the secret place between them, making her almost insensible. She'd been too overcome to even give thought to feeling more of him. It was almost unfair.

Her hands had only touched his injured hand or gripped his neck helplessly or, for several heated moments, caressed the bare skin of his back. How she would like to explore more of him, not just feel him in her hands, but pressed against...

Colin suddenly stood, applauding quite loudly, jarring her back to the lecture... which had ended now.

"Bravo," he shouted, prompting others to stand as well, joining him in applause.

Whether they were clapping in appreciation of the lecture or relief that it was over, Penelope could not say. She hadn't even heard it.

And she'd truly been looking forward to it.

"Fascinating stuff." Colin turned to her, holding out his hand, as if she was incapable of rising without his aid. Still, as he was offering...

"I wouldn't know," she said under her breath as he let him pull her up, then quickly snatched her — thankfully — gloved hand away.

"Didn't quite catch that," he said merrily, oblivious to her rebuff, jutting out his elbow now.

She thinned her lips and took his arm. "I said I wouldn't know. You were quite distracting. I wonder if you were listening either, with all your... shuffling."

"I heard enough to be glad it was over," he said, leading her away.

"I wish you'd stop pretending to be oh-so-solicitous," she muttered. "You know very well I'd look churlish if I refused you in public."

He chuckled. "I haven't seen you concerned about that lately. You've made quite an art of refusing me in private."

"Do not say such things," she hissed, looking helplessly around them. Happily, no one was looking their way, all keen on the refreshment tables off to the side as an army of footmen came to clear the rows of chairs from the ballroom. "If someone should hear—"

"Very well. I shall mind my tongue," he said, then leaned in murmuring, "though I am far more interested in yours... for the words it speaks, that is."

"Co— Mr. Bridgerton," she said in a warning tone. "I beg you not to—"

"Ah, so I'm Mr. Bridgerton now." He sounded almost petulant.

"Perhaps you should have been all along. We've been far too familiar with each other and look where it's led."

"To several delightful encounters," he tried.

"Colin!"

"Aha! Good to have my given name back." He stopped before the drinks table, plucking up a glass before she could do so herself. "Lemonade?"

She took it with the hand she quickly removed from his arm. "I wish you would not speak so plainly about our folly in such a public—"

"I've said nothing that could not be construed as wholesome."

"To anyone but me," Penelope grumbled before leaning in. "You must acknowledge that yesterday was... I... I fail to find the words..."

"Indescribable then?" He gave her a wolfish sort of grin. "I can think of a few words, but—"

"Improper," she hissed primly.

"Well... I can't argue that. But delightfully so."

"And this is after you've exposed all to your brothers," Penelope chided, ignoring his innuendo. "That's a very dangerous thing you did."

He did finally look chastened at that, taking a glass for himself and staring into its contents before he spoke. "Look, with Anthony... I didn't mean to tell him. It just slipped out all of a sudden."

"How does something like that just slip out?" Penelope tried to look as if the contents of her glass were also absolutely riveting as she took a sip.

"I could ask you the same about Felicity."

Penelope choked a little.

"The way she acted yesterday," he went on, "she was obviously in on the whole scheme."

Penelope turned to him, aghast. "I wasn't the one scheming. You were."

"I admit it." He shrugged. "And I meant she was in on my scheme, which makes her a very sensible girl despite her friendship with a silly girl like Hyacinth," he finished on a chuckle.

"Hyacinth is not silly," Penelope said. "I think she's rather—"

"Very well. Hy's not silly. But nor is she sensible and she'd likely pillory anyone who called her so. But I shall not let you change the subject to my sister when yours is the more pressing matter. Felicity knows which means you told her." He tutted and shook his head, throwing her words back at her with a little grin, "Very dangerous thing you did."

"I didn't just tell her," Penelope insisted.

"Ah, yes. You claim she dragged it out of you because she saw that I sent you flowers," he scoffed.

"She saw more than that."

He frowned now, his playful expression vanishing. "How much more?"

"She saw us from the moment we stepped out of the carriage. The rest she... Well, she dragged it out of me before I could blink." She sighed, looking up at him apologetically. "If it helps, I made her vow not to say anything to Hyacinth, nor to anyone else, obviously."

"God, I can only imagine what Hy might do with such information. Nothing that won't drive us all mad, I imagine." He was still frowning. "As a friend of Hyacinth, do you think Felicity can be trusted?"

"As my dearest sister, I'm certain she can be trusted," Penelope said defensively.

"Hmm. Must be nice. I don't trust any of my sisters," he mumbled. "I trust my brothers a bit more, excepting Greg. He's far too often in league with Hy to be fully trustworthy."

"I suppose I cannot be too angry with you for confiding in your brothers, especially Benedict. He has a certain way about him which moves one to confide. He assured me he will say nothing and I'm inclined to take him at his word, but Lord Bridgerton..." She shook her head. "I confess, the minute you said he knew, I feared he might force us to the altar and that, perhaps, that was your object in telling him."

"Penelope," he said softly, his hand reaching for her arm before he seemed to think better of it. He kept his free hand to his side and leaned in, lowering his voice even more, until his words were no more than a whisper against her ear. "I know you might think me quite ruthless in my proposals, but I would never want you to feel forced to be with me."

She drew back slightly, tilting her head up to him, this man who she had tried so very hard not to love. Forced to be with him? She craved his company, his nearness, even in the moments when she wished him away, she wished him back again just as quickly... which was precisely why she should step away now.

She took a step back, forcing a laugh. "That is a relief to know. I'm... I'm certain you meant no ill in telling... er... you know... the... er..."

"Anthony?"

"Yes," she said eagerly. "Him. Your brother. The viscount. Lord Bridgerton."

"Now that we've established all of his titles..." Colin looked rather amused at her bumbling.

"I'm only being respectful." Penelope lifted her chin. "He is quite intimidating at times. I'm certain I might have confessed to him as well, so I cannot blame you for being compelled to tell him. How did he drag it out of you?" she asked, sparing him a sympathetic glance.

"Well, he... erm... You know how he is." Colin looked less amused now, though he let out a rather nervous laugh. "Very imperious and all that."

"Either way, I'm certain he is the soul of discretion. Surely, he will tell no one."

Colin glanced about. "All this lemonade has left me rather sour. Do you think there are sweets about?"

"Colin," she began suspiciously, "does anyone else know?"

"I suppose they are saving dessert for after supper," he went on, "but I wish—"

"Colin..."

"Colin!"

"Eloise!" Never had Colin greeted his sister so enthusiastically, at least not that Penelope had seen. "We were just wondering where you were. Penelope was just saying how eager she was to discuss the lecture with you. I'd been ready to go off in search of you for her, but well... here you are." He smiled widely.

Eloise smiled back, though hers looked a bit more confused. "And just as I'd been about to scold you for monopolizing her."

"I do not—"

"Oh, but you do. Whenever you're back in town, there you are, talking her to death. Especially this time."

"And here I thought you weren't scolding me." Colin's smile dropped. "And if anyone talks her to death, it's you."

Eloise scoffed loudly. "Well, if that isn't the pot calling—"

"Please don't quarrel on my account. I'm perfectly happy to talk to the both of you," Penelope said before turning to Eloise. "But your brother and I were discussing a matter that—"

"That can wait," Colin said eagerly. "I'm sure the pair of you have much to gab about." He started away.

Penelope was tempted to loudly stomp her foot. "But Colin—"

"Ah, but how remiss of me." He suddenly turned back, taking Penelope's hand. "I wish to claim your first dance, Miss Featherington," he announced loudly, "if you are not otherwise engaged."

"I am not," she said with gritted teeth.

"Excellent," he said before neatly making his escape.

She glared at his back as it disappeared into the throng.

"Lord, I'm sorry I took so long to find you," Eloise said. "If I'd known you'd been stuck with Colin so long, I'd have been more diligent. He does tend to rattle away about his travels."

If only that had been the subject. "I would have liked to have heard more about this last one." She felt she'd been quite magnanimous at him telling two people to her one, but to know that there was a third...

"Well, I'm certain he can tell you during your dance."

"Yes, that's true. There'll be no escape then." She could hear the instruments warming up even now.

"I must apologize," Eloise said with a sigh. "Every time I've turned around lately, there he is. I've tried to save you from him, but people keep getting in the way. Mama always seems to find just that moment to drag me to meet some bore or, a few times now, Lady Danbury has waylaid me before I could come to your rescue. It's quite annoying — and odd."

Penelope frowned. It was odd. Since Colin's return, she'd found herself alone in his company more than ever. And while she hadn't thought herself in need of rescue, it was strange that Eloise was so rarely there to give it. She doubted Lady Danbury was someone Colin would confide in. Penelope might like her very much, but Colin still turned stiff as a board at her presence, as did most men... or most people.

But Violet Bridgerton... Yes, she could see Colin confiding in her. Penelope also knew — after the rather embarrassing events of 1817, in which Colin loudly proclaimed he would certainly not marry her — that the elder Lady Bridgerton had been a proponent of the match, much to Colin's annoyance.

She likes me. Your mother, that is. She can 't see beyond that.

That was what Penelope had said to Anthony, way back then, as he walked her home. She'd even been flattered at the thought that Lady Bridgerton, or anyone, could imagine her with Colin before she reminded herself that Colin could not imagine such a thing at all... until all this madness now.

She'd thought Violet Bridgerton might have given it up, seven years later. And perhaps she had, but if Colin had gone and told her... Whatever fear she'd held that Anthony Bridgerton might force them to the altar paled in comparison to what Violet Bridgerton might do. She might end the night with a sack over her head in a carriage bound for Gretna Green.

"Anyway, enough about Colin," Eloise said, taking her arm.

"Indeed," Penelope agreed eagerly. She'd certainly let Colin occupy her mind long enough.

"I must know your thoughts on the lecture."

"Yes, the lecture." The one she'd barely heard a word of. "I... thought... the discoveries in Mesopotamia were rather surprising." There. That word had been said at least a few times, whether anything about it was surprising or not, she actually didn't know.

"I quite agree. And to think that so much has been preserved for ages and we have but to..." Eloise, bless her, had something of substance to say. While Penelope often found herself without words — outside of the page, that is — Eloise always had something to say.

It was one of the reasons Penelope never quite feared spending the rest of their days together. Spinsterhood didn't seem scary when one had someone interesting to share it with.

Sometimes she wondered what they were waiting for. They were both high up enough on the shelf that their participation in the season was more of an afterthought than something they felt required to do. Penelope was quite certain the only reason Eloise attended most events was because Penelope would be there. And Penelope only attended because Lady Whistledown needed to be present.

With that not being the case any longer, perhaps their happy retirement could begin sooner rather than later. If she could just get Colin to stop his nonsense.

Things had gone too far yesterday. Even Colin had admitted that. But now that three — nay, four — people knew...

"...almost a crime that they acquire these objects, display them, but who shall tell us what it all means?" Eloise said heatedly. "It's more a rich man's hobby than a true scientific study, which I think is a shame, don't you?"

Penelope turned to Eloise, once again wishing she'd paid any mind to the presentation or to anything Eloise had just said. She'd love to have a strong opinion on it, but all she'd thought of was Colin, drat him! "I think yours is a question that requires a lot of thought," she said, hoping that was vague enough.

"Does it?" Eloise seemed surprised. "I thought you'd see it as I do. After all, haven't we often agreed that knowledge should not be an endeavor only for the wealthy?"

"Well, I... er... I was thinking of it more philosophically," Penelope tried.

Eloise seemed intrigued then. "How do you mean? If you're thinking that those with wealth have a duty to... Oh, good Lord! Colin!"

"Oh, it's Colin!" Penelope turned, dubiously grateful for his presence now. Here she was, trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. As for the devil, he was approaching with a strange smile on his face. It wasn't the same one he'd been sporting all evening. That one had been more mischievous. This one seemed almost... befuddled.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing seemed forthcoming.

Eloise spoke first. "Can't you take her second dance instead? We were in the middle of a very interesting debate."

"Now, Eloise, I did promise him," Penelope said, choosing the devil and taking his arm. She actually felt more prepared for that debate. If they were truly to finally put this nonsense behind them, there were several things they needed to address.

*****************

Colin was not in the mood to talk, so he was quite grateful the first set was to be a country dance. They might exchange pleasantries as they spun and stepped, but there wasn't room for excess conversation. Still, he chided himself for asking for her very first dance.

At the time, he thought was a very suitor-like thing to do, perhaps even some sort of swain requirement. But as the musicians played their fanfare and couples had already begun spilling onto the floor, he lamented that there had been so little time to compose himself, to plan his next move.

Even sitting next to her during the lecture, he'd not heard a word of it, yet he also made no plans. He'd only sat there, acutely aware of Penelope's every movement. Every time she pulled away, he was practically chasing her with his knee, his arm, his elbow. It was like a little game, invading her space. He'd been so caught up in it, he only noticed the speech when it looked like The Duke was finally finished. Whether he was or not, Colin stood and applauded as if to say they'd all suffered enough.

He certainly had. He had an objective this evening – to make it clear to Penelope that he would court her... and properly now.

Did he even know how to court a woman properly? He'd done nothing of the sort with anyone else. And his time spent wooing Penelope so far had been anything but proper.

He'd only had a few minutes to hunt down a whiskey in the games room and pour it down his throat, chasing that lukewarm lemonade, then dodging many pleasantries from many men who suddenly decided they "hadn't seen him in an age."

He did find another whiskey as he made his escape. It was actually in Gregory's hand, and he'd decided his little brother was better off without it before the gambling started in earnest, despite Greg's protests.

He was waylaid a last time by none other than Cressida Cowp... No, it was Lady Twombley now. Not that her name mattered. She was still the same old... Well, he couldn't think of a word to call her that wouldn't have him excised from polite society.

He was ready to push past her and the simpletons surrounding her, likely hoping she'd pick one of them to be the next in her bed, without a thought when she actually placed a hand on his chest, of all things.

"Oh, Mr. Bridgerton," Cressida cooed. "How nice to see you've finally escaped Miss Featherington."

He stilled, staring her down. "I beg your pardon?"

"You certainly should," she said with what she probably thought was a seductive pout. "It's been so long since we last danced."

"No, I meant that you should speak more plainly," he said, not giving her an inch with which to take her mile. "Why should I escape Miss Featherington? I enjoy her company and always have."

"Yes, of course. Always. Poor, dear thing." Cressida smiled, then. He didn't like the look of it. "She's been around so long. Most of her peers have married and yet... there she always is."

Not for long, he thought with a sort of relish. He'd like to say it, if only to wipe that smirk off her face. "I wonder why you take such an interest in Miss Featherington," he said, then snapped his fingers. "Ah, but of course. You watch everything. You claim to be Lady Whistledown."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, though she kept her shark-like smile. "I hope you're not accusing me of a falsehood."

God, why was he even challenging that? Didn't he want her to take the blame? That was just the problem, though. For Lady Twombley, it was just another thing to enjoy lording over her underlings. And he didn't think she deserved to enjoy anything. "Unless and until Lady Danbury is convinced, I shall withhold my judgment. Wasn't there supposed to be some sort of proof, after all?"

"But where's the fun in that?" She drew nearer. "Just because I am a widow doesn't mean I don't require," here she slid a finger over his lapel, "some amusement."

He was tempted to grasp her hand to stop it, but he couldn't help feeling she would only see any touch as some form of encouragement. He stepped back instead, letting her hand drop limply from him. "I suspect I have no interest at all in your kind of amusements, Lady Twombley. I bid you good night," he said before walking away. It was the closest he could get to giving her the cut direct without causing a stir.

He did understand now, at least a little, why Penelope was so against Cressida of all people claiming to be Whistledown. She was enjoying the notoriety. Even if everyone thought Cressida was lying, she could pass it off as her having a laugh and still come out unscathed. Even in her reduced circumstances, she wielded power by being just cruel enough that people feared her vicious little barbs.

Penelope had no such cruelty, not even with Lady Whistledown's razor sharp quill. She might savage a silly gown, but never the wearer of it. People would eventually work it out that Cressida could not be her. If Cressida had attention and anonymity, she'd have been even crueler than she was in public.

His only hope was that this hunt would die down and that Lady Danbury's bounty would go unclaimed. Cressida's lie would linger and fade. Perhaps that would satisfy Penelope.

He stilled as he spotted her not far from where he'd left her... or rather something in him stilled. Perhaps it was the whiskeys taking hold or perhaps it was just... Penelope.

There was something about her, about that first time seeing her after a long journey. Whether it was coming upon her at Number Five or seeing that flash of auburn at a ball, she was a comfort. Even now, with her secret looming over them, the sight of her was a balm. He sighed and smiled as he approached... until his sister made him feel very unwelcome indeed.

He was gratified when Penelope took his arm rather than continuing her debate with El. Until she spoke...

"Are you going to tell me?" Penelope hissed beside him as he led her to one of the lines now forming.

Ah, yes. She wanted to continue their debate. Not that it would truly be a debate. It would likely be more of a berating of him and all the ways he'd mucked things up. Surely such a thing could be put off. Yes, this was the woman who was to be his wife and there should be no lies between them, but somehow the thought of telling her that yet another person knew of their peculiar situation made him uneasy. "That you look lovely tonight?" He smiled. "Did I neglect to say so before? That shade of blue is lovely on you."

She groaned as she took her place across from him and curtsied. He felt a bit peeved at that. Yes, he was avoiding other topics, but that didn't make his compliment less true. "I mean it," he said as they skipped toward each other, linking arms. "It's nice to see you in the family colors. You must have thought of that while dressing."

"I certainly did not." She blushed as the dance separated them.

"Not even a little?" he prodded when they joined again, facing forward with another couple on either side before they split. "Many call that color 'Bridgerton Blue' did you know that?" Colin said as they met again, circling each other. "But of course you do." He leaned his head closer, whispering. "I think Lady Whistledown herself coined the term. One of her best moments."

"I didn't believe you thought she had any," Penelope countered before the dance parted them again.

"I don't think that's fair," Colin said when they finally met again, a tepid grasp of her gloved hands that left him wanting more. "Lady Whistledown, for all her faults, has kept all of London in her thrall for years now. I'm starting to wonder how I didn't know it was you." He couldn't even look at another. He kept his eyes on her as she moved away, even as he twirled with others, dipped and stepped his way down the line again, she was all he wanted to see.

Penelope looked irritated when they drew close again. "I will not be put off by your flirting. We must discuss—"

"If my flirting puts you off, I must be doing it wrong. I shall change tacks." He slipped his ungloved hand around her bare upper arm, knowing very well that every other gentleman's hand was gloved and resting lightly on their lady's shoulder, leaning in. "Has anyone told you how maddening those little curls that hover over your neck are?"

"Colin, please, just tell me if—"

"It's a much more pleasing topic than you being cross with me." He noted, with some satisfaction, her little shiver as his breath stirred those little hairs.

"I am not cross," she said, stiffening. "Even though I only told one person and you told three now..."

"Sounds cross to me," he got in before the dance parted them again.

He'd seen it time and again. Not with his own parents. He'd been far too young when Father passed to truly observe them at odds, but he'd seen enough with his siblings by now, when half the couple — usually the female half — claimed not to be angry while quite obviously holding a grudge. It was actually very wifely behavior from Penelope. Perhaps he should find it encouraging.

He stared at Pen, down the line, grasping hands with some older fellow, barely noting the lady he was now partnering, who seemed to think it very important that he know that she thought this spring was especially cloudy.

"Yes, it's England," he said absently before forgetting her existence completely.

He really didn't want a marriage filled with bickering and grudges. It would be best to confess all now. Anthony, in particular, had once advised him that it's no use postponing the inevitable. "I can try to tease or please Kate all I want," he'd said, "but that will only make her angrier when it's time to discuss how it's all my fault."

Having known Anthony longest, Colin couldn't help but agree with Kate as to who was likely at fault. Anthony was the one who'd landed Colin in boiling water now. Really, if Pen should be angry with anyone, it was Anthony, so why should Colin protect him at his own peril?

"I didn't tell anyone else," he said quickly when they finally met again.

Penelope blinked up at him. "Then why did you say—"

"But Anthony might have told Kate," he broke in. "I told him not to, but he—"

"Kate? Oh!" Penelope laughed then. "Oh, thank goodness!"

They bowed and dipped, realizing the dance had ended. He let out a relieved laugh as well. Apparently, he'd been worried for nothing. "Why? And who did you think I told?"

She laughed again, shaking her head. "It was actually a terrifying thought, but... Oh, never mind. Kate would never tell. She and I have a certain understanding, wallflower to wallflower."

Colin scoffed. "Kate is certainly no wallflower."

"Not now. Though she certainly started out that way." Penelope tilted her head as she took his arm easily. "But I could tell it was never the life for her. She was far too outspoken to be on the wall with the likes of me."

"The likes of you?" He placed a hand over the one linked through his, drawing her closer. "You think you're not outspoken? Considering your secret doings, I'd beg to differ."

Penelope seemed to realize how close they were then, drawing away, keeping her arm only loosely looped through his... damn it!

"My secret doings are all over now," she said a bit shyly. "Anyhow, I have no fear Kate will tell. All this can be put behind us now."

"Indeed."

She gave him a surprised glance. "So you agree?"

"So you're truly not cross with me?" he countered.

"I told you before that I wasn't." She sounded a bit impatient now.

"Yes, but I thought you were doing that wifely thing where you say you're not angry, but you very obviously are and are only waiting to—"

"Wifely thing?" She gripped his arm harder, pulling him tightly to her side. He'd be thrilled about it if not for her next words. "Colin Bridgerton..."

He laughed. "Both names! Oh, my!"

"Why must you say such things?" Penelope's voice was an angry hiss. "I thought you just agreed that we were to put this behind us!"

"If by this, you mean our quarrel, then yes. I agree it's in the past. As to the future—"

"Are you still insisting..." She stilled, turning to face him fully. "I thought, after yesterday, that we both understood that things had gone too far..."

"Yes, much too far to be remedied by anything but a trip to the altar," Colin pointed out.

"Please don't, Colin..." She was begging him now. "Can we not stop this now? Can we not part as friends?"

He stared down at her face, genuinely moved. Her eyes were sincere — sincere and a little bit scared. He'd do anything to make her feel safe again. He'd give her anything she wanted.

Anything but this.

"No. We don't part as friends, Pen," Colin said firmly. "We don't part at all."

***********************

More to come! This chapter was getting long. What can I say? Once I got Colin publicly wooing Pen, I realized that I wanted MORE of it!

Thanks so much for your patience. I can't believe this sat for so many months without an update. I'm going to work on The Lady in Disguise and You Must Remember This for a while now, in hopes of finishing the latter, but I promise it will not be as long a wait before I'm back to this one.

I borrowed the characters of Edward and Fanny (The archaeological enthusiast Duke and Duchess of Dartmore) from my original Regency series. They re just side characters, but I liked giving them a little moment here. Thank you for putting up with their sweet, silly selves for a sec. There might be a few more of my OCs showing up (Hell, I created them. Might as well use them once in a while), but never in an intrusive way. :)

You can look me up on on my profile if you want to see more of my original characters.