"Fret not, Ladies! We have returned!"

Penelope glanced at the doorway, where Benedict had announced himself so grandly. She giggled, ready to share her amusement with Colin, but Colin was quite suddenly as far away from her as he'd been when he'd first sat down, and frowning quite heavily at his little plate.

She wished it wasn't so. She'd quite liked the way he'd moved ever closer to her, leaning in and whispering and... Well, it seemed as if he'd been staring at her lips and, while she was sure he'd never do something so improper as to kiss her, here in this room that contained mostly his family, she didn't mind being nearer to him.

"The merriment can now truly begin!" Benedict strutted in, the other men slowly shuffling in behind him.

Eloise approached her brother, drawling, "Do you really think we've been desolate without your lot?"

"I do. And I'm only glad your suffering has ended... Whoa, there!"

Benedict snatched after her as she took his brandy glass, but Eloise was too quick for him, rushing to the other side of the room with a giggle.

Penelope's eyes were then caught by Anthony Bridgerton, stilling in the middle of the doorway as the other men passed him. Penelope wasn't sure what he was about, then he seemed to have caught his wife's eye, at which he pointed up at the mistletoe sprig over his head, smirked, then crooked his finger at Kate.

Kate Bridgerton scoffed loudly, though she did come his way, saying, "You are shameless!" She didn't say such more as he kissed her soundly, then, dipping her backwards, at which there were several giggles, groans, and catcalls from the various denizens of the room.

She thought she should be scandalized, somewhere in there, yet it only made her feel warm inside, seeing their obvious ease and affection.

"Must be nice," she heard muttered beside her.

She turned to find Colin, also staring at the display. "Hmmm?"

He turned to her quickly, holding up the plate between them. "I said these pies must be nice, but you don't... er... you don't have to have one tonight."

She had heard him right the first time, but she decided not to say so. Yes, they were also married and perhaps no one would blink if he kissed her, considering the joyful reaction to his brother and sister-in-law but, as they must be newly wed, he might be a bit more shy about such things. She decided it was rather sweet. "Do you mean you shall spare me the mince for now? I must say, I'm grateful for the reprieve."

"Well, it's only for tonight," he said, in a mock-stern tone. "If I don't see you consuming a mince pie every day hence, for twelve days, then I will think you very foolhardy."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of playing fast and loose with my luck after this." She gestured to her head.

"Speaking of luck, Doctor Dorset's not looking this way yet," Colin said, and rather urgently. "Hang the mince pies. I will not have you deprived of dessert. Quickly, eat something!"

Really, Doctor Dorset hadn't been so severe. He'd told her, if her admittedly bland supper agreed with her, she might have something more, but there was something about Colin sneaking her a secret treat that delighted her. He seemed so invested in it, after all. "An eclair," she burst out, plucking one up. "I think I might like those best!"

"An excellent choice. Go on—"

"I'm trying to." She lifted it to her mouth, then stopped at his rather intense gaze. "It's very strange, being watched while eating, you know."

He put the plate down between them and turned away. "Dash it! I'm sorry, Pen. It's very hard to help. Before you woke up, I'd watched your every sip and swallow. I was always so concerned that—"

"No, I don't mind it," she lied. Yes, it was still strange. But perhaps he was still worried. If this made him feel better, then it was certainly no trouble. "I was... I was teasing."

He turned back to her with a rueful sort of chuckle. "You and everyone else today."

"Well, I shall tease you no more."

"God, I hope not," he sighed.

"Here, I shall have a bite." She did. And... "Good heavens," she moaned. If sin could take a solid form, surely it would be a pastry. Preferably one with chocolate.

"That good, eh?"

Penelope only moaned again, her tongue darting out to catch a bit of the cream filling that looked in danger of dropping, no longer concerned with whether she was being watched... until she caught his eyes again.

They had drooped now, fastened on her lips.

She licked them, certain she was making a mess of herself. "Sorry, it really is that good."

"No, don't be. It's so good to see you... eating," he finished on a breath.

"You must try it." She turned it to him. "It's really quite extraordinary."

"Oh, I'm sure it is." He sat up straighter, shaking himself, his eyes wide now. "But I wouldn't deprive you of—"

"Truly, you would not be." She laughed. He was such a dear. "I could never take it all. It's far too large."

"God help me," he choked out, shaking his head.

"Just one tiny little bite," she said, remembering how he'd cajoled her with the mince pies.

"No, I've had plenty of eclairs. I'm sure this is just as good as another in the grand scheme of—"

"You must!"

"Oh, very well." He took a bite, and she noted that he didn't seem to regret it. "Good God!"

"That good, eh?" she said, tossing his own words back at him with a laugh.

"In my defense, Anthony has a new chef," he said thoughtfully. "I had not yet tasted his eclairs. I will not be making that mistake going forward."

He looked so serious about it that she couldn't help laughing again, especially considering he had cream all around his mouth.

"What?"

"You've got a little bit..." She swirled her finger around her lips.

He licked his lips, but wasn't close to catching it.

"It's all over your... beard, I suppose."

He reddened, swiping at it with his hand now. "It's not much of a beard. But I suppose it's enough of one to make a mess. I apologize. I'd meant to have a shave, but... Well, with everything, I've not been able to sit still long enough for—"

"No. I like it," she said quickly. "It looks quite... distinguished."

He stared at her, his smile widening. "You said that before."

"Did I? I don't remember..." She gasped. "Oh, before before!"

His eyes widened now. "I didn't mean to bombard you with the past... I shouldn't have said... Really, it was just some little comment, barely—"

"No, I like knowing that!" She couldn't resist reaching her hand up, touching his roughened cheek, thumbing at a bit more of the cream in the hair just under his nose, the roughness stark against the softness of his bottom lip. "Is that why you grew it? For me?"

He leaned his cheek into her hand just a little. "Well... if I'd known..." He trailed off on sigh.

"It's a bit scratchy, but pleasantly so. I really like the feel of it." Just stroking that bit of hair with her thumb made her feel warm all over. Yet, she hadn't felt chilled before this.

Colin seemed to be enjoying it, too, closing his eyes rather like Newton — who she'd met properly earlier — getting a particularly good scratch.

She giggled a bit at the thought, then regretted it, as it seemed to break the spell... yet not completely. He clasped her other hand, still holding the eclair, his eyes boring into hers as he took another bite.

That was when she heard a strange, wet, splattish sound. She looked down to discover that a large, yellowish blob of pastry cream had slid from the other end of the half-eaten eclair and landed between her breasts.

They both drew back, letting the empty carcass of the eclair fall to the plate between them. "Well, now, that's embarrassing," Penelope said, deciding that the only way to avoid dying of mortification was to state the painfully obvious, hoping Colin might laugh along.

She looked back up to find Colin's eyes glazed over and half-lidded, staring at the mess that was half-on her skin and half-on her nightgown. "Your... robe," he breathed.

"Oh, has that dratted thing opened again?" Kate had helped her with that before, as the robe obviously had a tricky clasp, but it must have undone itself once more, perhaps to save itself. "Don't worry. I'd rather the nightgown took the brunt of it." Whoever was washing her clothes, it would be easier to take the stain out of the cream-colored muslin than the pink damask.

She wasn't certain Colin agreed as he looked quite horrified as he stood. "I suggest... napkins."

"Oh, yes. That would certainly—"

"I'll get them," he said, already hurrying away.

She glanced around the room, hoping no one else had noticed her faux pas. But it seemed the family were still making merry. Violet, Lady Mary, and Francesca were still engrossed in their game, though the older ladies groaned loudly as Francesca slapped down her cards, obviously besting them. Edwina hovered over her mother and seemed quite keen to join in on the next.

Hyacinth had taken her book of tales to Daphne and Simon now, both of whom seemed quite enchanted with her animated performance.

Anthony and Kate were sharing a large chair by the fire, quite wrapped up in each other, while Benedict was regaling Dorset with some tale that had him setting his brandy glass aside as he laughed uproariously, while Eloise sidled up, joining in the laughter a moment before she took Dorset's brandy as well.

Penelope frowned a bit at that, not sure why. Perhaps Eloise was just very fond of brandy. She tried to remember if she was, but she couldn't recall if she'd ever tasted it.

Gregory was standing in the doorway, nibbling at a biscuit and glancing around occasionally, as if waiting for something.

There was a certain delightful chaos in this house and she was glad to be a tiny little part of it. She glanced down, amending that she was a very clumsy little part of it.

Since she still had a large blob of cream to contend with, in the interest of avoiding waste, she scooped some up with her fingers and put it into her mouth just as Colin returned.

He stared at her, his hands going limp and dropping several linen napkins. Luckily, they had fallen into her lap. "Oh, thank you. I've already got most of it but—"

"That eclair was rather dry," he said suddenly.

"Really?" She glanced down, mopping up the remainder with a napkin. "I'd think the opposite is—"

"Well, what's left of it is. You need tea," he said, staring at the ceiling now, then turning on his heel. "I'll get it."

She stared after him, feeling just a little bit lonely as she'd rather have his company than more tea. She'd had several cups after supper and... Well, certain needs might make themselves known soon enough.

Her solitude didn't last long, gladly. Eloise dropped heavily onto the sofa at her side, letting out a long sigh. "Would you look at that little goblin?" Eloise gestured widely with her now-empty glass toward Gregory, still in the doorway. "Perching under the mistletoe like that, waiting for a kiss. I don't know why he bothers. His odds aren't good at all."

"Oh, the mistletoe! Is that why he's standing there?" Penelope turned to her, laughing. "What's wrong with his odds?" Penelope shrugged. "I was kissed by two people, once on each cheek, the moment I came in."

"Yes, but that was Mama and Daphne. They just kiss everyone. Look..." She pointed and, indeed, both Violet and and Daphne had approached Gregory now, laughing as they bent to peck his cheeks from either side.

"It's sweet of them!"

"He doesn't think so," Eloise laughed, as Gregory scrubbed at both his cheeks the minute his mother and sister moved away.

"They are only wishing him luck for the year to come. Mistletoe is very lucky. The Druids set store by its healing properties and the Greeks used it in wedding ceremonies and..." She trailed off, frowning. "Yet another thing I remember when I can't remember so many other—"

"Don't, please." Eloise grasped her hand. "It will come in time. No one is in a rush for you to be... to return to..." She shook her head, smiling suddenly. "Anyhow, you are missing the point. There are, as of this moment, fourteen people in this room, besides Gregory. Five of them are men, four of them are his sisters, one is his mother. We've established how he feels about kisses from that end. I highly doubt he wants a kiss from Lady Mary, as she's of an age with Mother, and Kate has been our sister long enough that he'd likely swipe his cheek some more. So that leaves you or Edwina to put him out of his misery. He blushes every time either of you talk to him, the little imp."

"Me?" She could see why he might blush around Edwina. She was absolutely lovely, but she... Then again, Penelope still didn't know quite how she looked. Perhaps she was just as lovely. The thought made her blush and she diverted the conversation. "There is one more person in the room. Let us not forget Newton. He kissed my hand earlier and I was delighted."

"Well, obviously we all want kisses from Newton." Eloise stared over the back of the sofa. Penelope did, too. Newton was on his back, his eyes closed, his paws occasionally batting at the air. "But I think we can exclude him as well," Eloise said. "Now what I think is that we should not put him out of his misery. Let's see how long he stands there waiting, in the interest of science."

Penelope let out a horrified laugh.

Eloise was not dissuaded in the least. "You are still quite weakened, so you are not likely to stroll by, and Edwina seems determined to take on Francesca at Commerce next. I don't see why. It won't end well for her. Frannie's a card sharp. Anyhow, between the pair of you, he could be standing there indefinitely."

"This is a very mean experiment," Penelope said, still laughing. "Poor Gregory. For him to stand there all—"

"Oh, he won't last all night," Eloise scoffed. "I'd wager he'll only stand there until he wants another biscuit. He's finished what he had. He's got nothing now and, while he's no Colin, he does not enjoy being empty-handed when sweets are in sight," Eloise said intensely, as if this was all very important. "So what does he want more? A biscuit or a kiss? This is for science, you know."

"Can't he have both?" She turned to Eloise. "It is Christmas. I'm not sure if a kiss from me will suffice, but I've a good mind to hop over there right now and end his—"

"Oh, never mind!" Eloise huffed. "Edwina's ruined it all!"

Penelope's eyes slid to the doorway where Edwina had bumped into Gregory, perhaps on her way to get more tea. Noting the mistletoe, she laughed and bent to kiss his cheek. He did not wipe it away this time, blushing heavily as he headed to the dessert table.

"Hurrah for Gregory," Penelope said on a giggle, clapping her hands a little as she turned to Eloise.

Eloise wasn't giggling along. She was actually staring at her quite morosely.

Penelope put her hand over Eloise's. "Is something wrong?"

Eloise turned her own hand over, then stared down at their entwined fingers. "I missed this. I... I didn't know if we would ever laugh or scheme or even talk ever again."

Penelope wasn't sure what to say to that, though she tried. "I know it must have been worrying, but I'm well now and... Doctor Dorset believes my memories shall return in time and then... Well, then we shall be as we were before."

"As we were before..." Eloise met her eyes again, shaking her head sadly. "You don't really know what before means, do you?"

"Well, I know that not two minutes before, I quite liked scheming and laughing with you," Penelope said lightly, "even at poor Gregory's expense. If we were anything like that..."

"Yes, we were, but—"

"So I've got the tea..."

Penelope glanced up to find Colin, trying to hold three cups and saucers between his two hands and not doing a very steady job of it.

"... but I didn't know how you take yours," he said in a rush, "so I got black, milk and sugar, then cream in case you're feeling... Blast!".

She quickly reached for the one in the middle before it ended up chasing the custard down her bodice. "This one looks perfect. Thank you," she said, not quite sure which she'd taken. Really, as much as she had wished for Colin's company again, she'd rather he'd have taken a little longer with the tea as Eloise had pulled her hand away and didn't seem interested in continuing their conversation.

She didn't seem interested in the tea either as, when Colin offered her one of the cups remaining, she stood.

"Thanks all the same, but I've not the taste for tea tonight," she said, her voice falsely bright. "I'm off to find something better." She clapped Colin on the shoulder, then leaned in, saying something into his ear that Penelope couldn't hear properly.

He drew back slightly. "What?"

Whatever she'd said, Eloise didn't clarify, walking off, swaying a little on her way to the door.

"What's the matter with her?" Colin asked, staring after his sister as he sat down.

"I don't know enough to be certain." There was a certain melancholy about Eloise. Perhaps she was still simply worried. But Penelope felt fine... apart from the returning ache in her head and a growing need for the chamberpot, which was probably not helped by the tea she was now sipping. She tasted milk and sugar and stared into her cup a moment. "Oh, dear. What would Mama say?"

"Hmm?" Colin turned to her, absently sipping from one of his cups before he winced. "Ugh! Black. How do people do it?"

"I'll take that one. You can take mine," Penelope offered. "Mama prefers I take my tea without adornments."

"What?" Colin held the cup back.

"It's only until I've lost a stone and then..." She smiled suddenly. "I've remembered that!"

"I'd rather it stayed forgotten," he said before drinking it down himself. "I'll not have anyone drinking plain tea at Christmas."

"Yet you did."

"Yes, as a sacrifice." He set both the empty and full cup on the side table, then turned more fully to her. "Why would your mother deprive you of cream and sugar? That's just cruel."

"Oh, no. It really started because... because..." She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories to come. "I can't remember further," she said, her hands shaking a little.

He quickly took her cup as well, then grasped her hands. "So you are remembering something? Simply because of... tea?"

"Well, Doctor Dorset said this might happen. That the memories might come about from mundane, inconsequential things. He said he heard a soldier once remembered his entire life just from the sight of a particular sort of soup."

"Is... is that happening now?" His eyes were wide.

"I... I... I wish it was," she finally said. "I'm sorry it's not. I will try harder."

"No, it's good. You need not... No one expects you to remember all at once." He gave her a reassuring smile. "You've only been awake since this morning." His eyes grew strangely sad, much like Eloise's had.

She found her mind turning to more recent memories. "What did Eloise say to you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Never mind Eloise. I think she's had one too many brandies."

"Nonsense. She's only had two," Penelope said, moved to defend El without even thinking. "Not that I know much about brandy, but—"

"Then I'll just inform you that two is too many, especially for El. I don't think she's had more than weak madeira up to now. Now she's had my brandy and Simon's."

"Nay, it was Benedict's and Doctor Dorset's."

"No, no. When I came in, she took mine. Then later I heard her asking Simon if he was going to finish his and—"

"And I saw her take two others..." Penelope trailed off. "Oh, no. That is certainly too many. I should be sure she is—"

"No, I will." Colin pressed down on her shoulder as she tried to rise. "If Eloise needs to be carried to bed, I'm more likely to be up to the task than you are."

She sighed. "You are probably right. I'm likely to need to be carried off to bed myself."

Colin stared at her strangely. "Quite so," he said before rushing off.

Before she could blink, she found his seat taken by Hyacinth. "I thought he'd never go. Now... Have I told you the tale of Rumplestiltskin yet? I think I might have, before, but you weren't awake. I've been practicing since and I think I've gotten very good at not only the translation, but doing all the voices."

That was one thing about these Bridgertons. She was never alone for long.

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

Colin hated leaving Pen by herself, even at her request, but... God, he was being ridiculous. She was in a room full of his siblings. None of them would be able to resist nosing in for long. Even as he left, he saw Hyacinth taking his place beside her.

His place.

How presumptuous of him. Eloise seemed to think so.

Can't let me have her to myself for a second, can you? It was bad enough before.

That's what she'd whispered. He'd put it down to two brandies — or four, he amended — but there'd been resentment brewing between them all day.

But before, they'd got on well enough. While Pen slept, they'd seemed to have a silent agreement that, as those closest to Pen, they would be the ones at her side, sometimes together, sometimes trading off. And yes, he might have been a little bit... managing about things at times, but now that Pen was awake, he'd hoped El might put that behind them and perhaps even forgive him for the whole mess... and the mess before, if only in the spirit of Christmas.

But that was obviously not to be.

It was time. It was past time. She could say what she wished. He would take it. He deserved it.

He suspected he might find her in Anthony's study, in search of something stronger than tea, and his suspicions proved correct as he approached the door, hearing shuffling, muttering, and at least one loud thump.

He let himself in quickly, hoping he could clean up whatever it was before Anthony came this way. When he'd last left Anthony, he'd been nuzzling Kate, so he probably wasn't long for the drawing room, but he might stop in if he heard all this.

He shut the door behind him, eyes widening as he saw Eloise pulling books from the shelf, letting them fall where they may. One was lodged between the wall and Anthony's prized globe, which looked ready to topple. "El, what are you doing?"

She turned and shushed him loudly. "You'll mess me up!"

"You're the one making the racket... and the mess," he hissed, rushing to rescue the globe before it rolled off its pedestal and smashed against the opposite wall. He picked up several more books while he was at it. "Is this how you're treating books now?"

"This bit's all agriculture. No one cares about that rot." Eloise said, pulling at another, which also flopped to the floor. "I'll be careful if we get to anything good, not that Anthony has any of the good stuff. And speaking of the good stuff, which one of these books makes the secret brandy appear?"

"None of them," Colin said, grabbing up several others.

"Nonsense. One of these is a secret lever or something and it opens a secret shelf. Didn't Ben say something like that? I can't remember, but—"

"No, it's the wainscoting, not the books." Damn it, why had he said that?

"Well!" Eloise stood back, hands on her hips. "That's not nearly as interesting. Ah, well." She dropped to her knees and started pressing on the paneling.

"El, can you stop?" He put several books back on the shelves, not even bothering with order. Whatever he did, Anthony would know it was all wrong. He'd find some excuse for the mess tomorrow if Anthony kicked up a fuss, perhaps one that did not involve Eloise.

"I cannot," she said, "now that I've started my mission. This library shall reveal its secrets to me."

"This isn't the library."

"Shh! This is important"

"Not as important as talking to me."

Eloise scoffed loudly. "My, you think a lot of yourself, don't you?"

"Very well. Yelling at me, if you wish," he said, putting the last of the books up.

She stilled, swiveling her head his way. "Why would I wish to yell at you or anyone? I am feeling quite... floaty tonight."

"Yes, I imagine you are, but I will not be put off the subject. You're angry with me."

"I'm angry with this wainscoting." She turned back, pushing at more panels. "You are more of an annoyance, as always." She huffed and moved to the sideboard. "I guess it's going to have to be some of this other swill, then. Can't abide the smell of it. But I didn't much like Brandy till the second glass. I guess I got the taste for it after a bit." She started taking lids off the decanters.

"God help us all," Colin muttered as he put them back. "With what you said before, it seemed you were more than annoyed."

"Wouldn't you be?" She turned, poking at him slightly. "If one is going to have a secret shelf in a library, it should open with a book. Everyone knows that."

"Not that," he sighed, leading her to a chair. "And this isn't the library."

"Well, it's got books!"

"Here, sit. I'll make you something." Watered-down ratafia in a brandy glass had satisfied Greg. Perhaps El, after how much she'd drunk, wouldn't protest either.

El tossed it back the moment he handed it to her. "That is not bad at all. Surprisingly fruity." She held her glass out again. "Another."

He sighed and did as she bid, holding the glass back slightly before releasing it. "Now sip this one carefully or you'll have an awful headache in the morning," he lied. Really, after four brandies, she was going to suffer that no matter what he gave her. "Now as to what you said..."

"I say a lot of things," Eloise sighed, leaning back and swirling the liquid in her glass like some bored dandy at the club. "To be honest, I don't remember half of them."

Colin gritted his teeth and took the chair across from her. "You said that I couldn't let you have Penelope to yourself for a second — and that it was bad enough before."

"Oh, that." She shrugged. "It's true."

"Look, I understand you — among others — might think I've been a bit overbearing at times in my concern for Penelope over these last—"

El snorted. "To say the least. But I'm not talking about that."

"Very well. Perhaps it's about the... husband situation."

"Ah, yes. That situation won't blow everything to pieces at all," she drawled.

"Meaning?"

"She thinks you her husband. Have you thought about what that means?"

"But it's only... It's not as if I'm going to do husbandly..." God! It was hot in here, too. Was the fire banked? He looked to see that it was. Perhaps it should be put out all together. He might have leaned toward Pen a bit, but he'd also stopped himself, hadn't he? He wasn't even the one who started this whole husband business. "Look, Pen made the mistake and... Well, actually Mrs. Harris did and I'm just... I'm only trying not to upset her and to... to... It's really Doctor Dorset who thinks — and I quite agree, as does Mama, I might add — that I might be a guide of sorts."

Yet even as he made the excuses, he knew that they didn't wash. Was leering at her part of guiding her? Yes, he could tell himself he was doing it in a protective manner all he wished, but that did not excuse the alarming amount of times his gaze had ended up on her bodice. And it wasn't the first time.

Still, this had never been quite so much of a problem before. The way Pen normally dressed, there were so many bows and flowers and little beaded appliques to catch the eye. And standing a respectable distance away, really, he could only see hints of the shadowy divide between her breasts. It made it easy not to think of her as having breasts.

Most times, it was only when standing close, perhaps too close, that he could even see the flesh swelling above her bodice. But there'd not been many of those glimpses. But now, between her overly-snug carriage dress and her nightgown, which was more naturally fitted to her form, he now knew what Penelope's other dresses hid.

And even if she were to wear them again, hide herself again, he'd know it was still there underneath. And it did things to him, things that could only be resolved when he was alone in bed or perhaps the moment he closed his bedroom door. He'd like to resolve things until his knees were weak and his hand was aching. The problem was that, considering Penelope was the catalyst, he might end up resolving things with her face, her lips, and her... snowy hills in his mind. Also her words...

I'm likely to need to be carried off to bed myself... I could never take it all. It's far too large... Good heavens!

For the last, it wasn't so much the words as the way she'd moaned them while taking a bite of that damned eclair. He wasn't sure if he could ever taste one again without having to quit the room and resolve things hastily.

He had to admit it now, at least to himself, that it was not as if Penelope hadn't come to mind in moments of... resolution before, but she was always pushed away as quickly as she appeared. Penelope wasn't some hussy to be used for such prurient purposes, not even in his mind. How could he face her later, in her sweet, almost girlish dresses, smiling up at him so innocently and...

"Colin!" Eloise was snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Are you even listening?"

He started guiltily, appalled at where his thoughts had wandered. "Yes, you said something about her thinking me her husband and what that means and I assured you that I will not do anything—"

"It means she very likely thinks the pair of you are in love, you dolt!" Eloise sat back. "How do you think she will feel once she realizes that it's all based on a lie?"

"I... I... I haven't thought that far—"

"No. You haven't thought much at all! Yes, she might have gotten the mistaken impression that you're married, but you didn't have to agree with it and then continue on with it."

"But... that was only to..."

"But I'm not surprised you took the opportunity," Eloise drawled, "after everything!"

Colin stood. "Oh, so here it is. The real reason you said what you said! Why did you deny it in the first place? You resented me being there while she was ill. You wanted to be the only one—"

"What? I'm not talking about when she was abed — though, obviously, yes. You were unbearable. I'm talking about before."

"Before meaning what?"

"Before meaning always!" Eloise stood as well. "Every time I go looking for Penelope, there you are! And when she comes to talk to me, there you are again, putting your oar in and making your little comments. And the worst part is how she hangs on your every word, soaks up every little bit of your false flattery—"

"False flattery?" He echoed loudly.

"You're a flirt! You've even admitted so yourself!"

"There's nothing false about my flirting with... I... I don't even flirt with Penelope! And if I flatter her, it's because I like her," he said hotly. "I know my friendship with Penelope is nothing to yours, however little you value it, but it means a lot to me!"

"However little I—"

"At least I've never dragged Pen away from you in the middle of a conversation, yet you do that to me all the time! She's the only person who listens to me, who doesn't roll her eyes every time I talk about my travels, who thinks my search for purpose is a meaningful pursuit, not some silly thing I should have somehow magically worked out already. Or at least she was!" He moved to the sideboard, pouring himself a whiskey now. He'd not had a drop all day and it was now long overdue.

"What do you mean about me not valuing her?" Eloise demanded behind him. "I'll have you know that my friendship with Penelope was the most important thing in my life!"

"Oh, was it? Because she seemed to think you ended it like it was nothing. In fact, her only purpose in coming here was you, never mind me!" He tossed back a finger of whiskey before pouring another... two, then turned on her. "Do you even know how it felt to have her ignoring my letters? My life is... less without her! God, every sight I see, means less without her to tell about it. Yet all she cared about, that whole damned journey here, was you! So there! I hope that makes you feel important," he finished.

Eloise sat down heavily. "What did she say?"

Colin stared into his glass. "She said she came to mend things with you, not me. She told me our friendship was over, that it had to be. And I have turned those words over in my mind so many times, yet with no answer as to why, unless..."

"Unless what?"

He met her eyes. "Your quarrel... Did it have something to do with... me?" His conversation with Kate had put the thought in his head and now he wondered if there was something to it.

But apparently not, with the way Eloise rolled her eyes so high, it was a wonder they came back down. "Not everything has to do with you, Colin!"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? She stopped writing to me and then I find out the two of you are no longer friends. Yes, she had some words about our letters being improper and perhaps I might agree with that now, but I know that's not all there is to it. She'd been so cold to me when she'd never been before. I didn't even know the pair of you were quarreling until she said she came to mend things with you."

"We were not quarreling. How can two people be quarreling when they do not speak?" Eloise muttered.

"Then why is she angry with me?"

"How on earth should I know? I haven't spoken nor written to Penelope in half a year and it's got nothing to do with you!" Eloise finished her drink, slapping her glass on the side table with such force it was a wonder it didn't crack.

"Then what has it got to do with... What is the thing it has to do... Why, damn it?" he finally burst out.

"That's not your business," Eloise said, suddenly prim and very invested in smoothing her dress over her knees.

Colin's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

Eloise's head shot up. "What did I do? Why must I be the one to blame?"

"I know you and I know Penelope and, of the pair of you, she's always been the more sensible—"

"Oh, that's a laugh! If you truly knew how backwards you have it—"

"Well, I can't know unless you tell me."

"Well, I'm certainly not doing that."

"Then, I suppose there's no point in this conversation."

"I suppose not." Eloise sat back and crossed her arms.

They stared at each other, balefully and silently a moment. He didn't like this one bit, this idea that Penelope could have said or done something bad enough that Eloise no longer wished to speak to her.

"At least tell me this," he said after a moment. "Do you want your friendship to be mended?"

Eloise stared at her lap. "I was so angry, I couldn't bear to look at her, let alone speak to her and it... it didn't get better with time. The more I thought about it, the angrier I was. And then she was there in front of me and I... I still couldn't look at her because I can't reconcile the Penelope I knew with... See, but now she's...." She shook her head. "I don't know."

"Well, I do," he said softly. "I want her back."

"Yes, obviously so. Since you're willing to allow her to think she's in love with you just to have her hanging on your every word again," Eloise sneered. "God, sometimes I wonder if she wasn't halfway there before."

"What?" He stared at her hard. "Why would you say that?"

"No, never mind. I'm not participating in... in whatever this is you're doing," she finished gesturing vaguely to him before leaning over and taking his whiskey.

He let her, confusion and guilt warring within him. He was still no closer to knowing what he might have done to cause Penelope's coldness. And he would be much less conflicted accepting her warmth now if it was not under false circumstances. But his intentions weren't bad.

She tossed back the whiskey, then choked out a gasp. "Lord! That's awful! How does anyone—"

"I'm not doing anything," Colin broke in. "None of this is by design. I am simply trying to help her the best I can as—"

"Yes, as a guide, you said." Eloise cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. "So let's imagine it's all for the best. Let's imagine that your stalwart presence," Eloise said bitterly, "aids her immeasurably in remembering her previous life. Congratulations, I suppose. What then?"

He had nothing to say to that.

"I know Penelope," Eloise went on. "I know her much better than you do. I've seen her tears. I've also seen her anger. When she remembers how things truly stand between you, she will be more than embarrassed. She will be humiliated."

Colin shook his head. "Or not. She might be happy to be whole again, glad for the care we've given her in not... not contradicting things so she can come into her memories on her own," he tried desperately. "The Doctor even explained it to her, that we needed to step back and allow her, even if she's wrong, to find her own way... So she might surely understand, if she regains her memories, that this was all in aid of it."

"Spoken like someone who doesn't know Penelope."

"I know her nearly as—"

"Do you know how many times I've told her to just ignore what people say, to not let them have the satisfaction of upsetting her? Yet, every time, even when she pretends she's laughing it off, I can see the cracks in her little facade." Eloise shook her head. "Sometimes Cressida and her little friends do this little game where they draw her in, pretending to be nice at first before dropping a nasty comment and walking off, laughing all the way. And it's not their japes that bother her so much as the fact that she dropped her guard, that she was fooled, even for a second, into thinking they might be kind this time. I can only imagine how she'd feel if she'd been taken in for days upon days only to find a cruel joke at the end."

Kate had said something about Anthony fearing he would "give her false hope" or "toy with her affections" and he'd found it preposterous because... Well, of course he'd never toy with Penelope. But he hadn't actually pondered the idea that there were affections there to be toyed with, at least not beyond friendship. He swallowed hard. "Do you think she has feelings for me?"

"I never said that," Eloise insisted, pointing at him. "She's never said a word to indicate any sort of..." She trailed off, glaring into her empty glass. "Then again, it wouldn't be the first time she's held her own counsel."

"Very well, then. Perhaps she doesn't." He wasn't sure how to feel about that... considering he'd only entertained the idea that she did seconds ago. God, it was still so blasted hot in here. He pulled at the space between his neck and cravat. "If she doesn't, then surely she won't be—"

"I never said that either," Eloise cut in.

"Whether she does or doesn't—"

"Whether she does or doesn't," Eloise drawled, "right now, she undoubtedly thinks she does."

Colin deflated. "But I'd never speak cruelly to her, nor laugh at her."

"You think that will make her feel any better? When this is over, she might never wish to see you, nor any of us, ever again."

He felt his anger returning. "Then I suppose you will have your wish."

Eloise stood now. "I might be angry with her, but that does not mean I wish to see her hurt by your carelessness!"

"I didn't say—"

"I didn't wish to see her hurt in the first place!"

Colin stood as well. "And now we have come to it. Finally. The true reason you're angry!"

"Oh, and what is that?" Eloise demanded. "Enlighten me!"

"You obviously blame me for her fall," he said brokenly.

Eloise shook her head. "When I have I ever said I—"

"You didn't need to say it. It's been there all along. The way you've been so damned quiet with me, tonight notwithstanding, obviously," he added, his anger fading into the guilt he was so much more at home with these days.

She let out a loud and bitter laugh. "I'm sorry, do you think I've been talking everyone else's ears off? If I've been quiet, it's because I—"

"I failed to catch her," he said, sinking to his chair again, staring at his hands — his useless hands.