Penelope forced herself out of bed at half past six in the morning, which would usually seem like an ungodly hour to wake unless she had a very good reason — such as getting her column delivered if she hadn't managed to get it out the night before — but she had no such reason these days, unless one counted her strange situation with Colin Bridgerton, of all people.

She stared at the roses on her nightstand, fretting.

She'd held herself under her covers for an hour before this, telling herself this was no urgent matter and treating it as such was only making it worse. Yet she couldn't help it. She must speak to Briarly!

Briarly had turned a blind eye so many times, in so many situations. As careful as she was when sneaking out and back in, he'd still let her in through the back door nearly a dozen times, and pretended to believe her when she claimed she'd gone to retrieve her gloves from the carriage and got herself locked out, or that she'd left her shawl at the ball and had rushed back to retrieve it, or that she'd knocked her spectacles out the window and that was why she was wandering in from the back alley.

He must think her very forgetful, indeed, since her bedchamber faced the front, and since she didn't even wear spectacles. And that wasn't counting the necklaces with broken clasps that she somehow found in the gardens at midnight, the reticules she needed to retrieve from her last party...

A dutiful butler might make note of these moments, perhaps alert her mother that Penelope's forgetfulness was most concerning, but Briarly never did. Even on those nights when Penelope stayed awake, shaking in her bed, thinking he'd finally tell her mother all, she'd always come down to breakfast to find the same blissful ignorance of her doings that she'd come to depend upon.

Penelope was positive that Briarly knew all, including where the sudden windfalls that benefited the Featherington family came from. If nothing else, the day when he'd chased her halfway down the street with a previously rolled-up Whistledown draft that had fallen from her pocket might have tipped him off. It become quite unraveled, after all, and much too visible by the time he handed it off. But she also suspected that, as those same windfalls kept him employed, he wouldn't ask too many questions.

Briarly might very well be the best keeper of secrets in all of London. She'd once thought that title should belong to her, with all her years of hiding so successfully, but she'd slipped yesterday.

If she'd not been so set upon her mission to discredit Cressida, she might have looked more carefully in both directions before stepping into her hired hack. Such precautions had saved her in the past, when she'd found her mother, her sister, or Eloise in the vicinity.

She might have noticed Colin watching her, if she'd thought to look for it. But how could she? She'd so long thought herself invisible to the other sex, so much that the only warning signs she looked for on Mount Street involved bonnets. Even Briarly, on the rare times he seemed to see her stepping into a hack, quickly turned away, bless him.

But Whistledown wasn't the secret she needed kept today. And she worried that this secret would be beyond Briarly. He'd made a show of pretending he didn't see her mussed hair and her breathless state, but his eyes were always far too knowing. She must know what he'd witnessed yesterday!

"Yesterday?" he echoed, seeming to search his mind after she cornered him in the butler's pantry. "I saw nothing untoward when you returned from your... outing."

She let out a kept breath. "I'm so relieved. You see, Mr. Bridgerton was only... Well, he was..."

"I thought it very kind of him to take you home," he said when her words failed her.

"Yes! Very kind. You see, our argument was... was not even an argument. Like I said, it was a... spirited debate. Didn't I say as much?"

"Indeed you did, Miss. And though I might be biased, whatever the subject, I'm certain you had the right of it." He stared at her, his eyes hardening slightly. "But if his arguments caused you any distress, I'm certain he could be turned away until he had become more... agreeable."

Dear Briarly. Penelope was quite tempted to tell him to keep Colin away, as he was not likely to become more agreeable until he got his way. "No need for that."

She'd have to make him see sense. And if those roses were any indication, he was still set upon this ridiculous marriage. And speaking of the roses...

"Briarly, does my mother know about the... delivery last night?"

"Of course not," he said. "I'm sure she doesn't need alerting every time you receive a gift from...er..."

"Eloise," she supplied.

"Just so," he said with a nod.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "No need to bother her overmuch." She started away, then pretended she'd suddenly remembered something. "While I think of it, if Mr. Bridgerton might happen to come round to... to..." Damn it all, couldn't she at least remember what to say?

"To finish your debate?" Briarly prodded.

"Yes, precisely," she said eagerly. "It's such a nonsensical thing. I would much rather not have Mother roused too early for such silliness. I will meet him in the library, should he come." Her mother barely ever frequented the room, after all. And the drawing room might remind him of... other things that should not be repeated.

"Just so," he said again. "I shall direct him there, should he come, where you will be waiting for him. Alone."

She did detect a note of disapproval, then. A part of her wished to assure Briarly that she knew what she was about. But how could she? It wasn't like she knew what to do with... whatever this was. She wasn't even certain Colin would call today.

She had no idea what to do when he did... if he did. She shouldn't flatter herself that he would. Yes, he sent the roses, but he'd likely done that without thinking. Perhaps after a night to sleep upon it, he'd given it more thought and realized that a marriage to Lady Whistledown would be more trouble than it was worth.

Well, that was a relief.

Or it should be.

Why wasn't it?

Dear God, was she wishing he would renew his attentions? After she'd very clearly told herself not to? She shouldn't.

She reminded herself that Colin was under duress. He wasn't thinking clearly. He would regret it and she didn't want him, not this way.

But it was very hard to weigh the events of yesterday after years upon years dreaming of him, craving his company, his attention, his regard, his praise, his glances in her direction...

But what of all the effort it took to convince herself that Colin Bridgerton was not for her? His words to his brothers, years ago now, hadn't done the job just because they were said. It took a very long time to convince herself that his kindness to her wasn't hiding some hidden regard.

She was a fool. Did she truly think, if he asked again, she could be strong enough to resist?

Then again, perhaps he wouldn't ask.

She would prepare herself regardless.

That was what had her dressing in her best blue morning dress, the one Jenny said matched her eyes, and bidding Jenny to take care with her hair, but not too much. She'd long done away with the tight, fussy curls her mother preferred in favor of much more practical twists or chignons, but nothing so tight that some curls might not gently drape in careless whorls about her face, as if by accident.

She should look her best, so she had the confidence to refuse him. That was the only reason. "Now that I think on it, I look quite pale." She looked terrified. "A bit of rouge, perhaps?"

"Has this to do with the roses?" Jenny had inquired with an altogether too cheeky grin.

"The roses?" Penelope had echoed, feigning surprise. "Why would you think that?"

"Because we've both seen Eloise Bridgerton's handwriting," a voice said from behind her, "and we both agreed it's much larger and loopier."

Penelope glanced up to find her younger sister lingering in the doorway. "Have you been listening all this time? I should inform Mama that you have entirely too much time on your hands."

Felicity didn't even blink. "If you do that, then I shall inform Hyacinth of all I know."

"What... What precisely do you think you know?" she scoffed, hoping she sounded disinterested, but... God help them all if Hyacinth Bridgerton had an inkling of yesterday's events.

"Ah, look how she blushes, Jenny." Felicity laughed. "She doesn't need any rouge now."

Penelope gave her maid an accusatory glance. "Did you two read the note?"

"No, but we saw the name upon it," Jenny said with a slight blush.

"It only said 'Pen.' Now who do we know that calls you that?" Felicity tapped her chin. "Only one person I can think of."

She turned in her chair, ignoring her sister and facing Jenny. "You said no one saw—"

"I did not," Jenny said, glancing at the floor, "I said your mother didn't see. I didn't say—"

"I told her not to tell you I saw. I also bid her to tell me who you might claim the flowers were from, knowing it would be a blatant falsehood, which only confirmed my suspicions... after what I saw yesterday," Felicity said quite smugly, to Penelope's mind.

"Yesterday?" Jenny was glancing between them. The girl was too observant by half. As was her sister.

"Thank you, Jenny," Penelope said, trying to sound calm. "I feel I've been sufficiently primped."

Jenny looked disappointed, but she dipped a curtsy and left, thankfully closing the door.

"What did you see?" Penelope turned and leveled a stare at her sister. She also wanted to ask what would it take for her to unsee it, also to never, ever tell Hyacinth, but she wouldn't give Felicity such leverage unless needed. Felicity might be pretending she saw more than she had.

"When do you mean?" Felicity strolled about the room in a leisurely manner. "This morning, when I woke, I first saw my canopy, and then dear Jenny fussing about, and then my clock, and then..."

"Felicity," Penelope droned. "I do not have time for your playacting."

Her sister frowned. "Well, you should. It's one of my greatest talents. Just imagine me yesterday, at our family meeting, feigning interest in Nigel's sudden interest in entomology, so much that I sat upon the window seat — to spot any insects that flew by, of course, not because I was bored silly." She grinned. "I wasn't bored for long."

Damn it, she'd seen enough.

Yesterday, Penelope had comforted herself that no one else on Mount Street had looked their way, but she hadn't thought of her own house, outside of Briarly's notice. She might have been more careful, even two weeks before this. Her ability at keeping secrets had been obviously obliterated since she'd laid down her quill.

"Felicity, whatever you thought you saw—"

"Nay, nay! I saw nothing. Well... nothing I could prove."

Penelope might have relaxed at that, if she didn't know her younger sister all too well. Prudence and Philippa had barely ever noticed her doings, but Felicity was sharper and not as likely to let things slip by.

"What do you want?" Penelope sighed. "Or, should I say, how much?"

"How much?" Felicity was frowning at her. "Am I to understand you are offering to bribe me?"

"Yes. Name your price." If Felicity required more pin money to keep silent, she could certainly spare it.

Felicity's lips thinned further. "Never mind. You have my silence." She started away. "And I have yours, as always."

"And what do you mean by that?"

Her little sister turned back. "I mean that I thought we were a pair. Prudence and Philippa have their little secrets and whisperings and I always hoped, when I was old enough, you'd care to let me into your secrets. But you never have and I suppose you never will."

"My secrets?" Penelope struggled to look aghast. "What secrets do you imagine I have?"

"More than you're willing to tell. I've sometimes thought of following you, you know, on your strange little trips to the modiste or the milliner's or the lending library, after which you never come back with anything, you know. Mama might not take note of it, but I do."

She'd never really thought of Felicity noticing such things. "Well... They're sent later. You just do not see it." She shook her head. "Felicity, you are quite the prettiest and liveliest of us all. Surely you have better to do than notice my comings and goings. It's all quite a bore, I assure you."

"How flattering of you," she answered slyly. "But I don't mind being bored, now and again. The next time you go on one of your errands, I'd love to accompany you. It's much better than you going alone, without even a maid. I wonder that Mama hasn't remarked upon it. Perhaps she doesn't know. Perhaps she should know."

"Very well," Penelope said on a groan. Her days as Lady Whistledown were at an end, save for one last column that she was determined to deliver. What did she have to hide now? Then again, Colin had prevented her from leaving it. She would have to find another way. And she didn't want her little sister following her for that. She'd have to give her something. It was just a question of what. "You promise that you will never, ever tell anyone anything. Not Mama."

Felicity stared at her with great and sudden interest. "Well, of course I wouldn't—"

"And not even Hyacinth!"

She thought her sister might balk at not telling Hyacinth, but Felicity stood straighter, thrusting her chin out. "No! I shall not say one word to Hy about it. Or I swear I shall never touch a paintbrush again!"

"My, that is dramatic!" Penelope stalled. "Are you certain keeping my silly little secrets is worth such a price?" Felicity did so enjoy her watercolors.

"It's no price at all as I'd never tell your secrets. Not to anyone. Not if you trusted me with them. And I've no one else in this family that I can talk to about anything," Felicity said with wide, pleading eyes. "Oh, Penelope, please!"

Penelope's eyes softened. She'd never imagined Felicity felt shut out of this family the way Penelope always had. Felicity was so very pretty. But she was also clever and, though her family might reward prettiness, they had no use for clever girls.

Lady W was hers and hers alone — apart from Colin's discovery — but she saw no reason to hide everything. Strange as it felt, it could be nice to have someone in this house she might confide in.

"What you saw yesterday was... I mean, it wasn't... There's no reason to think anything of it because you see..." Penelope trailed off. Yes, it might be nice to confide in someone, but that didn't make it any easier to share, not for someone so accustomed to secrecy.

Felicity's eyes were so eager. But what could she tell her? About her wanton behavior, the unrepentant way she let him kiss her, bare her breasts? How she'd have let him do much more if the bloody carriage hadn't stopped?

She couldn't. She wouldn't want to encourage such behavior in her little sister. So she confessed what she could. "Colin Bridgerton has proposed to me, but I—"

"Oh, I knew it! I just knew it!" Felicity rushed to her, squeezing her quite hard. "I knew he would! I told Hyacinth this year, but she thought he was still too dunderheaded and that it should surely take another year entirely, but I just knew it would be sooner."

"What? Why in the world would you two talk about Colin and I as if there's some sort of... of..."

"Oh, we talk about everyone. Always have. We like to watch people, especially people we know. It's been ever so much easier since we both came out. Sometimes I think the two of us could give even Lady Whistledown some competition if we so choose. I'm quite certain we know everyone's secrets before they do."

"Colin... Mr. Bridgerton and I," Penelope corrected hastily, "don't have any secrets. Or at least not before yesterday, which was only a—"

"Oh, yes, you do. You've never hidden your preference well," Felicity said as if she knew all, "but he's much more obvious about his than he realizes and we knew it was only a matter of time before—"

Penelope cut her off, forcing a laugh. "Well, this certainly explains all the whispering and giggling the pair of you do at every ball. I shall grant you that I once had a certain... preference for Mr. Bridgerton. But it has long since passed. And this ridiculous notion that Colin... That Mr. Bridgerton—"

"Come, sister. What's ridiculous is how you can attempt to deny it. Your preference is plain to see. But so is his."

"Wh... What do you mean?"

Felicity leaned closer. "Every time Mr. Bridgerton comes back from one of his little voyages, he finds his way to you before anyone else," she paused, "...well, after his family. But now that he has new lodgings, I dare say, at the odd party he attends alone, he seeks you out even before them!"

"Only because he considers me a friend."

"Then he must consider you a very good friend. Each time he walks into a ball, he's always looking about aimlessly until he finds you, even as well as you hide yourself, and then—"

"That's only because his mother kindly tasks him to dance with me. He's simply getting his duty out of the way."

"Hy says she doesn't even tell him anymore," Felicity countered.

"He's a good son who doesn't have to be told every time. If he forgot, I'm sure Lady Bridgerton would remind him."

"But he never forgets. And he rarely dances with another. He also gazes at you after the dance. Not quite as much as you gaze at him, mind you—"

"I do not... Well, perhaps I once did, but surely I no longer—"

"Oh, you do. But so does he. He looks at you more than anyone or anything else. I doubt he even realizes how much his eyes land upon you, but Hy and I do. And then he spends the better part of the evening conversing with you, either mostly you or only you, before he leaves early. I wonder that no one else has remarked upon it. Hy and I often say we must be the only ones with any sense."

Penelope wanted to shake her sister and tell her to stop. How many years had she spent convincing herself that Colin Bridgerton was not and would never be for her? She was not about to throw all that hard work away because of one obviously duty-bound proposal and because her sister thought he looked at her too much.

"How... How do you even know what he's looking at? It could be something near me. I'm often near the refreshments and we all know Colin loves his—"

"It's you. Hy and I are certain. Yes, he does sometimes partake of the refreshments, but not always. Yet his craving for conversation with you is consistently—"

"Felicity," she began slowly, patiently, "if Colin Bridgerton had... tender feelings for me, he would not hesitate to say so." If she'd learned anything after the events of this last week, it was that he was certainly not shy about speaking his mind.

"Not if he didn't know it, himself. I have it on good authority that he is an absolute idiot."

"From Hyacinth, you mean?" Penelope scoffed and paced away. "All sisters think their brothers are idiots."

"And what of the Smythe-Smith musicale. Didn't he spend the entire night at your side, and then held your hand at the Macclesfield Ball for far too long?"

"But that was only because... he... Well, he was..." She couldn't think of a blasted thing to finish that with.

"Not only did he stare at you all night, but it was like he was tethered to you," Felicity was saying. "And now you tell me proposed to you the next morning? Forgive me if I'm not surprised."

"No, he was just being silly. You see, that afternoon, we'd quarreled and I... I asked him to kiss me," she said, suddenly realizing that must be why. "Even without what happened in the carriage, he—"

"He kissed you?" Felicity practically screamed.

Penelope rushed to her sister and covered her mouth. "For heaven's sake, do you want all of London to hear?"

Felicity licked her palm, letting out a laugh when Penelope quickly pulled her hand away with disgust. "I knew it! Briarly said you had a visitor, but that I was not to disturb you. And when I passed the drawing room door, it was almost closed."

"Yes, he kissed me, but not really," Penelope said quickly. "I asked him to... Truly, I practically forced him into it! And I told him it didn't mean anything," she said, convincing herself as she said it. It made perfect sense. "I'd wager that, last night, he wanted to be close to me to... to assure himself we were still friends after my forwardness. Nay, I'm sure of it."

Felicity stared at her for a moment. "So, if that's what the two of you were arguing about in the carriage, why did it result in mussing your hair and skewing your bodice?" She leaned back, waiting.

Penelope had no ready answer for that, but she was starting to see the carriage incident and the subsequent proposal more clearly. "Obviously, after the kiss," she said, almost to herself. "Colin's sense of honor had weighed upon him. That was why he was so solicitous after. I'd bet he was foolish enough to think he needed to court me in the eyes of the ton, even before the carriage. Then after the carriage, he must have felt even more obliged and that is why—"

"Yes, if you could say what happened in the carriage... and with great detail, I'd be much obliged. I've not been kissed anywhere. Is it better in a drawing room or a carriage? Has he kissed you anywhere else?"

She flushed, thinking Felicity was far too young to hear the answer to how many places Colin's lips ventured yesterday. "Of course not! Only in those... locations."

"So there was kissing in the carriage!" Felicity sounded far too satisfied.

Drat! Her sister was a very tricky girl. Penelope couldn't imagine where she got it.

"Oh, don't shutter up on me now. It's just getting good," Felicity giggled, skipping to Penelope's bed and tossing herself upon it. "Hy thinks a carriage a very unromantic place to kiss and that the whole thing would be a mess with all the shaking. She professes she will accept a rose garden for her first kiss and nothing less. I think any place would be nice if the man knows what he's about. Miss Gladstone told us Mr. Hartley once trapped her in the garden and—"

"Felicity, you shouldn't be discussing such things and neither should Hyacinth."

"Why not? Just because we haven't done it doesn't mean we shouldn't speak of it. Geoffrey won't kiss anything but my hand. If us girls were limited to what they've done, we'd likely sit in silence at every tea."

"Well, that's just..." Penelope paused before going on, "... reasonable, actually."

She might not be Lady Whistledown any more, but those instincts were still there, the ones that railed against a society that trapped young girls in ignorance, never answered their questions, and always treated what they had to say with an indulgent pat on the head, as if they were particularly amusing puppies.

She sighed and sat next to her sister's prone form on the bed. "Very well. What did Miss Gladstone say?"

Felicity sat up eagerly. "Well, he'd been courting her for a week, so she'd been looking forward to it, but she said it was dreadful. He slobbered all over her and stuck his tongue in her mouth and squeezed her bottom. She gave him two slaps. Now, I would have kicked him, too. But then Miss Steele says Mr. Beaumont kissed her in a library and it was much more pleasant when he stuck his tongue in her mouth. Of course, she didn't give us any more than that, but they are engaged now, so he must have been particularly good at it if she wants to keep doing it."

"I suppose," Penelope breathed, thinking about her first kiss with Colin. He'd certainly stuck his tongue in her mouth, but it was more of a caress. And he'd grabbed her derriere, while she was thinking of it. And his tongue had ventured other places. But there'd been nothing dreadful about any of it. Even remembering it all made her...

"So Mr. Bridgerton must be more like Mr. Beaumont. You did let him kiss you twice, after all," Felicity surmised. "And now you're to be married, so he must have—"

"Felicity, we are not to be married! I refused him."

"Oh." She fell back against the pillows, frowning. "So he's bad at it, after all? I'd been hoping for better... for you. After all those years of—"

"It's not that. Colin Bridgerton kisses... quite well," she said, knowing it was an understatement, "but there is more to marriage than kissing and... and I refused him because I won't allow him to marry me out of—"

"Are you mad?" Felicity shot up then. "You're not going to marry Colin Bridgerton? Do you realize a chance like this doesn't come along every—"

"If you're trying to say I'm not likely to do better, I am quite aware—"

"Not that!" Felicity gripped her hand. "You are lovely and intelligent and I'd wager you'd have left a string of broken hearts all over The Ton if you only knew that and stopped hugging the walls at every ball. But your heart has always belonged to him. Why not marry the man who holds your heart?"

"Because he doesn't hold my heart! Not anymore. I've taken great pains to make it so," Penelope said hotly. "So I will not accept a proposal from Colin Bridgerton. I have worked too hard to... to accept that... that it won't..."

"What? That it won't happen?" Felicity scoffed loudly. "Even after it did? Pray, tell me... What is your reasoning now?"

Penelope was saved from answering by a knock on the door.

"Miss Penelope? You have a visitor," Jenny said from the other side, "in the library."

"I wonder who that could be," her sister queried, quite smugly.

Penelope couldn't argue that her sister wasn't right, unless Eloise had suddenly taken to waking before ten. Even her publisher wouldn't accost her before nine o'clock. She rushed to the mirror and stared at herself a moment. She certainly didn't need rouge. Nervous as she was, her color was high. She splashed some water on her face, hoping it might cool her face... and her nerves.

"Who is it, Jenny?" Felicity called out, sounding quite alarmingly like Penelope herself.

"It's Mr. Bridgerton, Miss. Mr. Colin Bridgerton."

"Tell him I shall be down directly," Felicity called out, still in Penelope's voice, before giggling and linking her hands behind her head. "I will be waiting for a full report," Felicity said, laying back against the pillows.

"I long for the days when sneaking you extra biscuits was enough to placate you," Penelope said before smoothing her skirts and moving to the door.

"You can bring some up when you're done," Felicity called after her. "We will need sustenance for our very long talk — that is, if your fiance leaves us any. Hy says he's the worst."

"He's not my fiance," she hissed before leaving. But she couldn't argue the rest. Colin was never likely to leave biscuits uneaten.

Blast Felicity, anyhow. She'd distracted her. Penelope had meant to be in the library before he arrived so that he would come upon her, calm and reading something nice and dry and silently repeating her resolutions.

You will not give in to him. He is only asking out of duty. You have your own money. You don 't need to marry. So why marry a man who will only resent you, in the end? He might be miffed about it now, but it's for his own good and — for God's sake — don't let him kiss you again or you might forget everything else!

She repeated them now, as she moved down the hall, descended the steps, then again as she made her way through the front hall and approached the library.

But what if I kiss him?

She wouldn't put it past herself. After yesterday's events, she wasn't quite sure she wouldn't grip his cravat and pull him down and meet his lips the moment she saw him, perhaps while sliding her hands over his shoulders, down his back, under his shirt to feel his heated skin again as she...

She pressed her hand against the door, taking several deep breaths, strengthening her resolve, telling herself that she was perfectly capable of keeping to her plan — as long as she also kept her distance.

Stay across the room. Don't let him get close, she reminded herself as she gripped the door handle, ready to sail in confidently, preparedly, assuredly.

It didn't quite turn out that way, as the door was jerked before she could turn the handle and she didn't so much sail in as fall in... right into the arms of Colin Bridgerton.

TBC

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

That Felicity is one sharp tack.

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