This kiss certainly hadn't been in Colin's plans. In fact, his plans had specifically said not to kiss her — also not to flirt with her or receive her flirtations or ogle her or gaze at her overlong as, these days, such things led to ogling.

But he just couldn't take it anymore!

Granted, Colin had not flirted with her, but he couldn't control her flirting with him and it was all so... awkward and silly, also so damned adorable. The moment when she fanned herself with a plate should have made him laugh — which it did, of course — but the fact that she was doing it for his benefit also made his blood sing. And she didn't need to flirt! She didn't need to do anything! All that was needed for her to be in the room and his eyes were drawn to her above everything.

And that was saying a lot, as his mother fashioned her Christmas Tree, a new yet welcome tradition, after that of Queen Charlotte, covered in gold paper stars and tiny candles and sweetmeats and sugared nuts. If Pen wasn't here, he'd have set up camp beside it and devoured every candied almond from it before Greg and Hy could get their greedy little hands on them. But as Penelope was here, the only thing he wanted to devour was her.

Yet he took his time with this kiss, caressing her lips softly. Last night's kiss, his very first kiss, had been so sudden, so bloody urgent, and so overwhelming that he could barely register it was happening before the heat was clawing under his skin.

This time, he wanted to explore her lips slowly — that gorgeously plump lower lip, that sweet little Cupid's bow on her top lip, that unbearably tempting line where her lips gave way to the soft, moist flesh inside. Just feeling it against his lips made some devil inside him eager to kiss her harder, grip her greedily... But there was also something about the soft shivers running though him as he savored her. Though he did give in to that little devil, just a bit, as he dipped his tongue in almost hesistantly, sliding along her lower lip with slow strokes until she gripped his shoulders and met it with her own, a soft moan emanating from her that he answered with a growl of his own.

He pulled her closer, tighter, no longer able to resist indulging in her. He'd started with his hands lightly gripping her waist, but soon it wasn't enough. Soon he was encircling her, and tightly, until there was no space between them. He wanted more than that. He wanted to slide his hands to her bottom and perhaps lift her against him, take her to the sideboard and wrap her legs around him, shove all the dishes and desserts to the floor and... No!

No, that was certainly too much to do in broad daylight while in a drawing room that anyone might pass at any moment.

Also, he would never treat dessert in such a careless way.

He pulled away reluctantly, wondering what to say as her eyes stayed closed, lashes fluttering lightly against her cheeks. He couldn't even imagine apologizing. He was not sorry. He needed her to know...

"I can't bear you thinking that I don't want to be around you," he whispered, even as his arms loosened.

Her eyes opened slowly.

"I want it too much. That's the problem."

She shook her head. "But why is it a problem? We are husband and wife. Surely, spending our time together is not so—"

"It's not the time," he said, pulling his arms away. She reached after them, but he took her bewitchingly tiny hands in one of his, resolutely giving them a friendly little pat with the other. "It's what we might do with the time that concerns me most."

Her eyes slid downward demurely. "You mean enjoy it?" Then they slid up again with a look so tempting that, if he hadn't known Penelope half his life, he'd think her a well-trained courtesan.

Oh, good God. Now he was imagining Pen traipsing about scantily clad with painted lips and darkened lashes in a brothel.

He may not have ever partaken but it's not as if he hadn't ended up there late at night sometimes, humoring his friends. He'd only ever taken one lady upstairs and that was an older Italian courtesan named Lucia, who regaled him with tales of the dishes and desserts he might sample on his travels. Lasagna sounded delightful. Gnocchi sounded intriguing. Parmesan ice cream sounded just awful... but he would be trying it at the first possible opportunity.

Their last rendezvous had been a very nice conversation about a pudding called zuppa del duce, a decadent creamy thing involving chocolate, coffee, soaked biscuits, and a sweet cheese — which he was happy to find in Sienna. He not only sampled it, but glutted himself, testing the wares of every panetteria in town.

As for the wares at the brothel, he'd always found them garish and intimidating and certainly not tempting. But now... Imagining Penelope dressed in such a way, sat in his lap, perhaps whispering descriptions of decadent desserts in his ear, was... a very bad idea!

He released her hands and paced to the highest of the high-backed chairs, getting himself safely behind it. He was certain Penelope had never seen a man in his condition — or he damned well hoped she hadn't. God, if he ever got wind she had, he'd knock the blighter flat. He was furious even imagining some vile rake leering at sweet, innocent Pen, visibly aroused—

He took several deep breaths, reminding himself that Pen was still an innocent and had likely never suffered such things. And if anyone was leering and aroused, it was him. What had she even said last?

Ah, yes. She'd suggested they should enjoy their time together.

"Aye, but we can't because the... the..." How in all hell was he to finish this sentence? "Because of the quarrel," he said, latching onto what she had said previously. "You see, it was not you who did something. It was I. I hurt you in some way."

"In what way?"

"I... I actually don't know," he said, wanting to be truthful, as much as he could. "But you do. Or you... you did."

"Then I forgive you," she said eagerly, taking a step toward him.

He put up a hand and moved behind the sofa now, which wasn't quite high enough. He gripped the back, leaning over it, hunching as much as he possibly could. "You don't know what you're forgiving."

She followed him. "Neither do you, so why should we dwell..."

"But something was wrong," he said, belatedly turning away, "between us. And when you remember what it was, you might not be so eager to be around me." There. That felt true. All too true. Whatever he'd done to anger her before, this would be even worse, when she remembered all.

"Oh, Colin..." She laid a hand on his back. At her touch, he froze, then melted a little at her fingers lightly caressing him, practically leaning into her like an eager cat. He swore he could feel her touch, even through the layers, as if it were directly on his skin.

He knew he shouldn't do it, but he turned.

"I can't think of anything," she stepped toward him, sliding her hands to his shoulders, "that would make me," then she slid them into his hair, "wish to be away from you." She drew closer now, her lips straining toward his.

She was now on the tips of her toes, trying to meet his lips, his little goddess. All he had to do was bend.

He let out a groan as he tore himself away instead. "We should tidy this up a little, should we not?" he asked, his voice suddenly unnaturally high. He knew full well the servants would be coming any moment to do that very thing, but he needed them both to do something that might keep them a room apart. "I shall take this side, and you that one, unless it's too much for you to—"

"No, of course not," she broke in. Her voice was unnaturally high as well. "I suppose it wouldn't be in the Christmas spirit to leave messes about," she said with a smile that did not meet her eyes, disappointment heavy in them.

He watched as she, thankfully facing away, bent to snatch up some discarded ribbons and candy papers, hoping she kept her balance. Dorset had said something about excessive bending. If he had to rush to the floor and catch her, hold her against him until she got her breath, rise with her while her body slid against his, keep her close until she found her bearings... Yes, all of that would be dreadful.

He sighed and told himself he was relieved when she straightened, but he could not shake away his guilt at that look in her eyes. "I wish I'd had something to give you for Christmas," he said, having nothing better.

"I wish I'd had something to give you... or anyone," she added with a slight laugh. "But I wouldn't worry about me. You've already given me what I wanted most."

"What did I... Did Mama give you something and say it was from me?" He shook his head. "She used to do that for all of us when we were little, but I'm far past the age of—"

"I was talking of just now." She said, glancing up as she stopped by the the fireplace, nodding up at the mistletoe still dangling temptingly over her.

He rather wanted to leap over the space between them and give it to her again. Of course, he wouldn't, but if she was flirting again, he hoped that meant she wasn't still under this ridiculous assumption that he wished to be away from her. "Er... My family likes to switch about the seating at Christmas supper," he said merrily as he gathered up bits of string and paper, "but I do hope we are seated together. How else will I ensure you do your daily duty?"

She stilled, giving him a shy smile, this one much more genuine. "My duty is done. I've already suffered through one of your wretched little mince pies."

Colin let out a horrified laugh. "Wretched little... We are British. Those may well be treasonous words, Pen. I'd watch your tongue."

"All the time? Should I keep it displayed for your perusal?" She turned to him as she gathered up more ribbons, sticking her tongue out.

He laughed. "You know very well that I meant I'd watch your tongue if I were you."

"Huh?" She glanced down, her eyes crossing slightly, before taking her tongue back in. "No. Far too likely to give me a headache." She giggled. "I'll just keep my tongue to myself, shall I? We shouldn't like it to slip," she finished with a wry look.

If it were up to him, her tongue would slip all over... No! He held his large wad of paper a bit lower. She wasn't even trying, that was the worst part. Pen was just being silly and he was still afflicted. He'd never been this afflicted for so long! Surely this was unnatural or, perhaps, something easily fixed by the right doctor. While he couldn't imagine talking to Doctor Dorset about such a thing, perhaps he could find another, two or three villages over, to evaluate his condition.

He may have felt overcome enough to take himself in hand on occasion, but usually with thoughts stored away from throughout his week... or several days or... Hell, when he first discovered such a thing could happen, he'd had to take himself in hand several times a day. But those days were long over — or at least they should be.

"Anyhow," Pen went on after a moment. "I'd wager I could find someone to switch our place cards. Francesca or Daphne certainly would. Edwina, failing them."

He stilled. "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. They are great champions of our marriage." She tilted her head. "Did we not have a proper honeymoon? Is that why they're so keen on helping us?"

Colin nearly dropped his papers. "Helping us how?"

"Just little things. They seem to think we need more time alone and that... well..." She didn't finish, blushing heavily as she busied herself picking up more ribbon.

His own work was bringing him closer to her now. "No, tell me," he said, forcing a laugh. "Never say they've plans to spike our tea with love potions!" God, that would be all he needed.

"Nothing so nefarious as that. Though they did put more mistletoe about." Penelope grinned as she stopped in front of him. "They simply think you are being far too honorable with me because of my condition and you might need to... loosen your cravat a little." She gave him a siren's smile. "I do agree about that. Having seen you without it, I much prefer—"

"Oh, those little scamps," he broke in, faking another laugh as he found another bit of paper to crumple into his ball since she was still dangerously close to the mistletoe... the mistletoe his blasted sisters had strewn about in God knew how many places!

He had things besides kissing on his mind now. His thoughts veered more toward snowballs satisfyingly exploding on the faces of his sisters... and his sister-in-law. Edwina didn't receive immunity just because she came along later.

"They mean well. And I'm glad we've had this time to... talk, among other things," she finished shyly. "I really had begun to think I'd only dreamt our kiss."

And now his mind was back to kissing. He stepped toward her, wondering if he could just toss their balls of paper and ribbon into the fire and pull her close for just one more...

"...but we really MUST collect the REST of the PRESENTS." He recognized his mother's voice, near shouting from the front hall.

"Mama, must you talk so loud?" he heard Eloise groan.

"Go," he hissed, hastily striding away from Penelope in search of more paper. She also rushed about, collecting more bits, though they'd got most of it by now.

"I don't see why no one else has to help," El was protesting. "Greg and Hy make most of the mess. They should—"

"Yes and they will leave even more mess if they deign to help," his mother answered.

"Aye, but are we forgetting I am ill?" Eloise grumbled loudly.

"And whose fault is that?" Mother countered.

Their little argument was getting closer, but luckily, there was now as much distance between him and Pen as the room would give.

Eloise was hemming and hawing. "Er... I didn't really... I only..."

"You likely stuffed your breakfast down too quickly, Darling," his mother said, obviously taking pity on her.

"Yes. Breakfast," Eloise agreed quickly. Poor El. She did deserve some sympathy after their talk last night and the likely state of her, after all that drink. Also, she was presently the only sister he could trust.

"Oh! Colin, Penelope!" His mother appeared in the doorway now, quite patently faking surprise. "We didn't leave you two to clean up. But it is very kind of you to—"

"What the devil are you doing, Colin, letting Penelope exert herself?" Eloise demanded. She marched to Pen and took her little bundle, before striding over to shove it at Colin, quite erasing his charitable thoughts.

"I was watching her closely," he said, peeved, "very closely." Eloise likely didn't want to know how closely.

"Well, I will watch her from here while you help Mama. Come, Pen. We shall go to your room and help you settle for a nice long nap until..."

Colin stared at the doorway El had just dragged Pen through, crumbling his paper and Pen's into an ever smaller ball. Pen hadn't seemed in need of a nap. It was more likely that El wanted one. She always had to drag her away when... No. No, he was grateful for El. He'd been alone with her long enough. And he supposed he'd rather Pen was not exerting herself anyhow.

"You two did an excellent job," his mother was saying. "There's naught but a few little presents to clear."

"Well, let me help you, then," he offered.

"Oh, no need. I've got the last of it now," Mother said, shaking her basket.

"I should at least get my own—"

"I've already put them in your room, Darling."

He glanced at the sofa he'd set camp on, seeing it was indeed, quite empty. He'd barely noticed. "Is there anything I can do?" God, he needed something!

"Whatever you like," Mama said merrily. "It is Christmas, after all. I give you carte blanche."

She really shouldn't do that. If she knew what he'd like to do most... God, she probably did. Fran, Daph, and Edwina weren't the only ones who'd conspired to leave him alone with Pen. His ball of paper decreased in size as he squeezed it further. "What are you playing at, Mother?"

She stilled in the middle of plucking up Auggie's toy boat, then turned to him. "Whatever could you mean, Dearest?"

Yet more pet names. His mother was generous with them, he'd grant that, but more so when she was up to something. "Penelope thinks she's my wife," he said, further shrinking his ball. "She thinks she loves me. Letting us be alone together is a dangerous—"

"How silly! It's no such thing. Why would it be?" she asked, with a look that clearly said butter would never dare to melt in her mouth. "Penelope is your dear friend. You've been in each other's company time and again. I'm certain she's safest with you. And you've been taking such good care of her." She smiled fondly. Perhaps butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

He flushed, tossing his ball from hand to hand to distract himself from his shame. "I suppose you are." The nerve of him, thinking his own mother part of some conspiracy, while she was tidying up toys, no less! He remembered her doing so when they were little, even when their nurses or governesses insisted she shouldn't be the one to deal with the children's mess. "Nonsense. They are my children. They are my little messes," she'd say.

How could he have thought ill of Mama? She did not deserve his ire. Certain other ladies, however...

"I'd better see what the rest have got up to," he said, as the servants began filing in. He tossed his ball to that new giggly maid, who caught and, of course, giggled, before making his way to the music room.

It was empty, however. No Fran and no Edwina to be found. He wasn't about to knock on Daph's bedroom door, in case she and Simon were still up to... whatever it was they were up to. He preferred to think they played cards when they were alone. It was best that way.

No one was in the library either, nor in Anthony's study. It was odd how, whenever he wanted a moment of peace, every room was rife with siblings, but when he wanted them, they were nowhere to be found.

He heard a shout from outside Anthony's study, nearest to the back of the house. It was actually more like a scream of bloody murder.

He decided he'd best be certain bloody murder was not afoot, making his way to the back, not bothering with his coat and scarf. He wouldn't linger long, only make sure everyone still had their limbs intact.

Outside, he could clearly see no one was murdered, though Hyacinth seemed to have perfected her battle cry. She had both Greg and Ben defending themselves against her snowy missiles.

He stood with his hands on the railing, cleared of snow by their diligent staff, but still cold. He didn't mind the cold at the moment.

Somewhat closer to him, he could see Francesca and Edwina building up a hill — so Auggie could be crowned king of it, he supposed. The little thing was standing to the side, scratching under a circle of holly on his head.

It would all be very sweet if he wasn't so angry.

"Isn't he precious?"

He could hear Daphne close behind him. Good.

"Last Christmas, Auggie couldn't abide the snow," she said, sidling up to him. "Anything wet and cold just made him cry, the poor little darling. But now he wants to be out here all day long."

"Yes. He's delightful," Colin droned, "but not enough to distract me from your machinations."

Daphne started sidling away from him at that, but he gripped her arm.

"What in hell do you think you're doing?"

"Me? Nothing," his sister said with wide eyes. "I was merely watching my sweet little boy play. Just look how he—"

"With Penelope, Daph." He turned more fully to her.

"How is dear Penelope? I hope she is not too tired from the morning's—"

"She's perfectly fine. In fact, she's quite delighted that we finally had some time alone, for which she was singing your praises, along with Fran's and Edwina's."

Daphne looked quite surprised at that. "Edwina? Really?"

"Yes, she seems to be on a similar bent. Not sure how she's specifically been 'helping.' Perhaps she's also been strewing mistletoe everywhere."

Daphne laughed nervously. "It was hardly that much—"

"Apparently, all of you are great champions of our marriage. Pen seems to think it's because we didn't have a proper honeymoon, also apparently I'm being too honorable and need to loosen my cravat."

"Now that you mention it, your valet knots it far too tightly. I worry for your health."

"Daph..."

"Anyhow, I'm sorry you had to hear that. Dear little Penelope. I should have made it clear that mum's the word on—"

"Are you trying to get her compromised?" Colin burst out.

Daphne laughed, a bit more genuinely now. "I'm sure things haven't gone that far?" She leaned in slightly to whisper, looking intrigued. "Have they?"

"Of course not," he hissed, dropping her arm, noting that some of the revelers downstairs had turned their way.

"I thought as much," she sighed. "I know you well enough. I'm quite surprised you unbent enough to kiss her."

"Y-you know about that?" he asked, moving slightly away.

"Not with much detail. And thank goodness. You are my brother, after all. But I'm happy to know it's working."

"Happy to..." He lowered his voice. "And what precisely is your object here? Do you want to see Penelope ruined?"

"Surely not." Daphne tilted her head. "But I must say, I'm quite gratified she is even in danger of such a thing. We'd nearly given up all hope."

"Oh, and who's we?"

"More than me." Daphne lifted her chin. "And that's all you need to know."

"Well, she's... she's in no danger from me," Colin said, aghast, now wondering how much of his family was conspiring against him. "I'd never dream of—"

"So you didn't kiss her?"

"Apparently, you already know that I... I did perhaps—"

"I mean today, dear brother," she clarified with a butter-wouldn't-melt smile that was all too like Mama's — only less genuine.

"N-no," he lied. "Despite your best efforts, I... was a gentleman." And he was. He stopped kissing her, didn't he? And it actually took herculean effort! And, really, he'd only kissed her because he couldn't stand her thinking he wished to avoid her just now. As for before... Well, she kissed him first!

"How disappointing," Daphne was saying, staring at him closely. "It seems your iron will cannot be broken. A pity, that. I suppose I thought, with how much you seek her out and touch her and gaze at her and take her hand and cart her from rooms..."

"Wh-what?" he sputtered. "Penelope is my dearest friend. And those are all completely innocent things with very good explanations. I even told Anthony and—"

"No, no. I see it now. I mistook your attentions for being affectionate, but that is clearly not the case."

That wasn't true. He had great affection for Penelope and always had. But it wouldn't do to say that to Daphne now. And yes, this unnatural affliction of his was clouding his previously very innocent affection for Pen, but he would work it out somehow... Well, he knew how. And this time, he would not think of her as he did it.

"But all is well," Daphne went on blithely. "You aren't the only man in England."

The blood left his face. "What do you mean by that?"

"Penelope is quite lovely, something the men of London have been woefully ignoring for too long. I think that will be easily remedied. Doesn't she look tempting with her gorgeous curls tumbled over her shoulders?"

"I hardly noticed—"

"It's not in fashion, of course, but that would only make her stand out against the crowd this season. And her new dress is stunning!" She smiled. "I hope she orders a dozen more like it. Don't you think it accentuates her... coloring?"

He was relieved she didn't finish that with a different word. "Penelope was fine before," he grunted.

"The way her mother dresses her? Certainly not. Even Eloise, who never talks of dresses, has noted Penelope's dissatisfaction with the way Lady Featherington—"

"I will not sit about discussing dresses," Colin broke in. "You're just trying to distract me from your dastardly deeds again."

"What clever wordplay!" She applauded just a little. "You could give Lady Whistledown some competition!"

"Daph," he said impatiently.

"I assure you. There's nothing dastardly in my deeds. I'm trying to help Penelope. She would be much happier married and settled than at her Mama's house. I'm certain of it."

"But—"

She put up a hand. "And I now know that you might not be tempted, but once the others see her—"

"The others?" Now he was yelling again. "The... others?" he repeated more softly.

"Do you really think, once she steps into a ball, that half the gentlemen won't notice?"

"You mustn't blame Daphne," he heard a voice say behind him, and quite out of breath.

He turned to find Francesca must have rushed up the steps while he'd been distracted by Daphne's duplicity. That actually was quite clever wordplay. He should incorporate more of that into his own... Damn it! Now he was distracting himself. "I most certainly do blame Daphne," he said. "But—"

"I had my part to play as well," Francesca said, twisting her mittens in her hands.

"Yes, I was just about to say that. And I'm particularly surprised at you, Francesca," Colin chided her. "Have you no care for a vulnerable young lady's reputation?"

To his satisfaction, Francesca flushed and looked down.

He turned to Daphne again. "And you, with your talk of tossing her at every blasted roué in town, are even worse!"

"Don't listen to him, Frannie." Daphne sighed. "He's just miffed because he's only just realized that other young men might look at Penelope, as they should."

"That has nothing to do with anything," he growled. "The pair of you, conspiring to get us alone, have put her reputation at risk!"

Daphne regarded him with a smile. "How so? Nothing happened, after all."

Damn it, it was almost like she knew, as if she'd been peeking in the window. Impossible, as the drawing room windows were far too high off the ground outside. No. She knew nothing and he'd keep it so. "Aye, but... but it could have if I were some unscrupulous rake or—"

"Oh, Colin," Fran said, sighing, "we all know you are the furthest thing from a rake."

"Yes, he's more like a vicar," a new voice said softly behind them.

He turned to find Edwina there, hands daintily tucked in her muff as she neared them. He glanced to find Hy, Ben, and Greg now attending Auggie, who was wielding a stick to defend his position as king of the hill. They were all flailing about as if injured gravely before getting up to attack him again.

"Oh, woe for my kingdom!" Hyacinth shouted in agony as she fell dramatically into the snow.

"Or at least I thought so upon meeting you, Mr. Bridgerton," Edwina went on, now joining his sisters, as if to say they were all against him now. She turned to Fran. "He was always so studiously avoiding the young ladies or..." She smiled as if bemused. "Or all but one, of course."

Colin was too outraged to answer. Here, he'd thought Edwina a very nice, sensible sort of girl, but even she was making ridiculous assumptions about his very innocent friendship with Pen... or it was at the time. Once he corrected this affliction of his, it would be again.

"A vicar!" Daphne laughed. "Oh, Edwina, that is so fitting. Colin would make a fine vicar, would he not? He is far too virtuous to be tempted, after all."

Colin drew himself to his full height. He had nothing else as he was clearly outnumbered. "And since when is virtue a bad quality?"

"Oh, we are not suggesting it is, brother," Francesca said sincerely — or at least sounding so. He shouldn't be fooled by it. She was the best of them when bluffing at cards. "We are very glad that Penelope is safe with you. And, really, we never doubted it."

"Yes, our object was never compromising Penelope," Daphne put in. "We did hope some time alone might help you find clarity as regard to your feelings for her, I confess."

Colin didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't found clarity. He only found confusion. "Well... Still, you shouldn't have—"

"But it's worked," Francesca said cheerily. "We now know for certain that you feel nothing but friendship for her."

"Friendship of the most virtuous sort," Daphne added, also with a smile, though hers was exceptionally sly. "I applaud your scruples, Brother."

"But if that weren't the case," he mumbled, now feeling quite peeved because he was starting to hate their insistence that it was, "then your efforts to get us alone would have—"

"Oh, you'd not have been forced to the vicar," Frannie said quite serenely, "don't worry."

"Aye, even if I did see something," Edwina was adding now, "I should quite studiously pretend that I hadn't." She turned to his sisters again. "Wouldn't you?"

"Without a doubt," Francesca supplied. "Really, no one in this house would see Penelope compromised!"

"I'd personally never like to see another couple forced into matrimony," Daphne said, shaking her head. "It may have worked out quite well in my case, but not every man is my dear Simon."

"You are so very lucky, to have found such passion in your marriage," Edwina enthused. "We can only hope Penelope can find the same."

"Yes!" Fran was joining in now. "She deserves passion and romance. We must simply find the sort of man who can give it to her."

"Colin was obviously the wrong sort of man for that," Daphne added.

So now he was a passionless vicar devoid of romance? They wouldn't say so if they knew where his mind had been these last days... not that he'd be telling them. Really, wasn't it better that they thought him a prig rather than a degenerate? Still, it was galling! And they weren't even finished.

"Don't worry, Colin," Daphne went on. "We can help you find love as well."

"Perhaps a girl who reads nothing but Fordyce," Edwina supplied enthusiastically.

"Our own vicar does have three unmarried daughters," Francesca said, still looking quite sincere, the odious little bluffer!

Colin sputtered, "You three... I will not... I... I'm going in." He started away, then turned back. "The weather out here is most unwelcoming!"

He stalked off, only getting six strides away before he heard the suppressed snorts and giggles behind him.

"Vicar's daughters," he muttered. He'd seen the daughters in question. One would slap you with her hymnal for even looking her way, the other never looked anywhere but at the ground and yelped every time a man spoke to her, and the youngest was all of twelve years old!

"Ho, there!"

Colin could hear Benedict behind him, but he didn't stop. He'd had quite enough of his siblings for today! Even the comparative warmth inside the house did nothing to soothe his ire.

"Colin! Would you slow down?"

"No! I am finished with the lot of you today." He stilled and turned, then, making a liar of himself, but it must be said, "And you may call me a vicar, but I know I'm right!"

Ben tilted his head. "I've no idea what that means, but I'm glad you feel secure in your... principles?"

"That wasn't for you," Colin sighed, realizing that Ben hadn't been a part of all that, though he had aided everyone else in clearing the room, leaving Penelope at Colin's mercies. But he'd not mocked him... much. "It's that damnable Daphne and Edwina, and even Francesca," he said peevishly. "They were torturing me!"

"Is it as bad as what Hy did to me?" Ben took off his coat, tossing it to a bench. "I think I shall be bruised for days."

"So shall I," Colin said peevishly, walking on. "Not... literally, of course. But... Really, girls are quite evil when they gather in a pack. They poke and poke and they..."

"Our dear, dulcet sisters? Never!" Benedict said with a laugh as he caught up to him, putting an arm about his shoulders and strolling toward Anthony's study. "I'm sorry they are needling you, but I am also glad to see things have improved for you. Last we spoke, you seemed quite overwhelmed by our dear Penelope." Ben ushered him in and, of course, went right for the trick shelf behind the wainscoting. "However did you find your bearings?"

"I... I simply did not allow myself to be tempted." Colin stared at the floor as he took a seat in one of the chairs. It was a lie, but since none of them could disprove it.... "Despite Daphne's dastardly efforts," he said, hoping he sounded firm, "I remembered that I am a gentleman."

"Good God, you sound like Anthony." Benedict poured them both a brandy before handing one to Colin. "But very well. Good for you. You seemed to be apprehensive of being alone with her after our talk, but you stayed steadfast."

"Yes, I did," he said, thinking it wasn't truly a lie. He could have kissed her for a good quarter-hour, but he did not.

"You even thought you'd be in danger of taking advantage of the situation, toying with her feelings," Ben tossed himself into a chair. "But you stayed strong and true."

"Thank you," Colin said, not meeting his brother's eyes.

"Truly, I admire your restraint. We could all take our cues from your strength of character, your dogged determination to resist the feminine wiles of—"

Colin decided that was enough, standing now. "We're you watching us?"

"I knew it." Ben laughed. "You kissed her again!"

"I didn't mean to," Colin said, pacing now. "In fact, I tried very hard not to, but then there was Daph and Fran tossing mistletoe everywhere and telling Pen we need time alone and Edwina... Well, I don't know what she's done, but Pen was flirting and fanning herself with a plate and what man wouldn't—"

"Yes, I am understanding none of this. Perhaps if you finish your drink... then three more?"

"It doesn't matter how it happened. I failed." Colin sank to the sofa again, dropping his head into his hands. "There's something wrong with me. I must see a doctor."

Ben chuckled again. "We do just happen to have one in residence if you—"

"Not Dorset," Colin groaned loudly. "But I must find out what's wrong with me. It's not even just the kissing. Though that is certainly a problem. I'm like a man possessed. And I can't stop looking at her and I can't stop thinking about her, and in ways that are so wicked that even you would blush if I told you—"

"I highly doubt that."

"Well, it's not like me. I must cure this... this unnatural affliction before I do something I truly—"

"Colin, stop!" Ben moved to sit near him on the couch. "Stop torturing yourself. Nothing is wrong with you. And there's nothing unnatural about your... affliction."

"But I've never been like this before. Surely something must be terribly wrong!"

"There's nothing more natural, believe me. Now I, unlike Anthony, have never lamented not taking you to brothels, but we did both fail you in one way. We should have at least told you that—"

"You did. It was an excruciating conversation, but it was a relief to know touching it wouldn't make me go blind or any of the other claims those—"

"Not that. I'm certain you know all about that, with how much time you spent in your bedroom from about thirteen to seventeen. I meant what to expect the first time you desired someone in particular."

Colin rolled his eyes. "I've desired someone before. I'm not a eunuch."

"Desire for someone standing in front of you?" Ben prodded.

"Well.... There was Marina."

Ben shook his head. "Really? Her?"

Colin huffed, "I proposed to her, didn't I?"

"Still, I never saw strong desire for her on your part. Lots of mooning and sighing, yes. But... Tell me, when you stood close to her, what did you feel? What did you want to do to her?"

"Nothing! She did try to kiss me, but I was a perfect gentleman. I resisted her easily and we became engaged instead. As was proper." Colin shrugged. "Perhaps I might have had the urge to be nearer to her still, perhaps hold her ungloved hand or smell her hair, but I never acted on any of—"

"That's not desire. That is calf love. That is infatuation," Ben said firmly, "very mild infatuation, by the way. And it was not returned in the least. I'm surprised you didn't see it until that ridiculous visit of yours."

"I needed to do that," Colin grumbled, "so I was certain Marina was well, that her life was not ruined."

"She married a baronet with a large estate who is, incidentally, blood to her children, one of which will inherit a title. I dare say she was better off. So let's forget her and focus on Miss Featherington. What do you want to do when you stand close to her?"

"God, I want to do many things that I can't... No! I will not discuss such things," Colin said peevishly. "Not about a gently bred young woman like Penelope."

"Then don't. Just let me assure you that, when you are standing in front of an attractive young woman who is also attracted to you, it's the hardest thing in the world to resist. Your body is tempted to do what the both of you want, often beyond your mind's will to forbid it."

Forbid it. Yes, his mind should continue to forbid it. It was... forbidden. God, that only made him want it more.

"Now, luckily for me," Ben went on, "I have no qualms about giving into such temptations as my partners are, happily, not so gently bred. But I know this is torture for you, with your high ideals of gentlemanly behavior. I do not envy your situation."

"That's rather nice to hear," Colin sighed, especially after those wicked girls out there. "It's been very hard."

Ben snorted. "I'll bet it has. I'm quite surprised it's taken you this long to be so afflicted. Then again, you always did lag behind. I remember your fear of swimming in the lake. God we had to watch you dip your toes for hours before you'd even paddle about the shallow end, and then longer before you'd—"

"Insulting me now?"

"Distracting you, actually." Ben nudged him with an elbow. "Is it working?"

"For now." He did feel a bit better, or at least he wasn't fleeing to the nearest doctor. "I just wish I could stop myself from thinking of her when I... well..."

"You can't." Ben said with a sort of resignation. "In cases like these, the more you push it away, the worse it gets."

"But... what about when I see her again?"

"I've found that thinking of less tempting thoughts can help keep your beast at bay. You could imagine our mother was in the room. That could make you behave. Or her mother, or..." Here, he laughed uproariously. "I once imagined Anthony in a very frilly morning dress, flirtatiously fluttering a fan. If that doesn't help, I don't know what—"

"Pardon?"

They both stilled, then slowly turned to find the worst person possible leaning in the doorway.

"Brother!" Ben exclaimed with false enthusiasm. "So glad you could join us. Won't you have a glass of—"

"Of my brandy. Yes, I think I will." Anthony strode in and took Ben's glass. "I'm tempted to top the bottles off with ipecac, but I'd rather not spoil it just to thwart you," Anthony droned. "So what's this about me in a morning dress?"

"A very frilly morning dress," Benedict amending, apparently deciding to brazen it out. "I'm sure such a thought will cheer Colin up immensely."

Colin just sat there frozen, wondering just how much Anthony might have heard.

"Yes, I heard you guffawing about it and I agree. It certainly works for me," Anthony said, perching a hip on his desk. "And I don't even need to imagine to see you in a dress, Ben. I can just remember the time you let Daphne and Francesca dress you in Mama's old morning dress and rouge your cheeks and top it all with a bonnet made from a fruit basket, then had you attend their tea? What was your name again?" Anthony tapped his chin. "Ah, yes. Miss Posy Pittlepottle."

Colin let out a relieved sort of laugh. If he was teasing Ben rather than scolding him, it seemed he was in no danger.

"He thinks to embarrass me," Ben said, leaning back and nudging Colin's shoulder, "but I'm quite proud of that. I think I gave a verrry convincing and arrresting performance," he finished, rolling his Rs and affecting a voice that sounded nearly like their Queen's, "especially when I displayed my talents. I could have traveled the world with my recitation of The Wife of Bath."

Anthony rolled his eyes heavily, then nodded to Colin's glass. "I see he's drawn you into his thievery."

Colin held his brandy up. "You can have this back," he grunted. "I've not the taste for it today."

"You've not the taste for anything." Anthony narrowed his eyes as he took it. "You left the table before you finished even half your plate. Are you still on this hunger strike nonsense of yours?"

"No, it was only—"

"Because you need not keep worrying about Miss Featherington. The girl seemed to have a healthy appetite this morning."

Ben snorted, then covered it with a cough, at which Colin tossed him a glare.

"It's your health I'm concerned about now," Anthony went on. "If I don't see you tuck in properly at supper, I shall have Doctor Dorset examine you. This is positively unnatural."

Ben seemed to be choking now.

Colin rapped him hard on the back. "Careful there, Brother," he sneered, then addressed Anthony. "Perhaps Benedict is the one you should be worried about." He turned back to Ben. "That cough might be deadly."

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

Note: Zuppa del Duce is a very early name for what we now know as Tiramisu, which actually means "pick me up." It was very popular among courtesans for its stimulating and aphrodisiac qualities. :)