Was it any wonder he could barely sleep? Nearly every time Colin closed his eyes, he saw it.

He'd been so damned distracted, so preoccupied by all Penelope wasn't saying on their long carriage ride. And angry with her, too. He could admit that now. No matter what he said, she kept insisting their friendship was over. He'd been a bit angry with El, too, considering Penelope actually wanted to speak to her...

"Eloise! Please... Wait!" Penelope called out.

Colin glared at El's back, rather annoyed that Eloise was simply walking away from something he'd spent six hours trying to get back. He'd been so caught up in his own resentment that he didn't even see Penelope starting forward until her foot was hovering over the top step, shining with ice even from where he stood.

"Penelope!" he shouted stupidly. He should have grabbed her then. Instead he wasted that precious moment before starting after her. "For God's sake! Don't—" He reached for her, his fingertips barely brushing the edge of her cloak, then gripping... nothing. He stared dumbly at his clenched fist as the screams began.

It was only when his mother grasped him that his horrified eyes slid to her body, feet on the top step, the rest of her sideways, her head resting just off the bottom step, blood puddling around it and spreading in the snow.

He didn't waste another second. Pen couldn't just lay there, not Pen! He only hesitated a moment when he bent to her, scooping her up so carefully, letting out a cry as her head lolled backward. "No!" He firmed up his grip, cradling her head as he carried her, trying to stop the bleeding, but it dripped from her head, warm through his fingers, as he rushed her into the house and upstairs, panting in panic and barely knowing where to go...

His mother, her voice shaking and breathless, yet decisive, directed him to the room that was to be Penelope's. The rest of the house seemed to follow, gathering behind them with some shouts of alarm, some sobs, some whimpers of growing terror... Or was that all him?

Later, Doctor Dorset had tried to quell the alarm, telling them all, in varying states of shock and grief, that head wounds only appear to bleed more than others. "It looks like more than it is and, believe me. It would be worse for her if the blood was not getting out," he'd said, though it did little to reassure anyone at the time, least of all Colin.

All he could see as he gathered her in his arms was the blood, stark even against the red of her hair and even more jarring against her scarily pale skin. It took a full day for her cheeks to regain color. It took even longer for him to stop seeing her blood on his hands.

"I waited too long too move. I let her slip away. My hands..." His voice barely choked out the next words, staring up at his sister now. "They didn't even catch her cape."

"How does that make it your fault?" Eloise was saying, her eyes hard. "How were you to know that she might fall? How is anyone ever to know that such a thing might..." She shook her head. "I was the one who stomped off like a child," she said, her eyes filling. "I was the one who didn't stop when... when she called after me. It was me she was trying to run after when she... when she..."

"El, no!" He stood and pulled her against his chest.

She was stiff at first. Eloise was always a bit stiff when people attempted to embrace her. He rather expected her to pull away, angrily swiping at her eyes because there was nothing El detested more than being caught crying. But then she slumped against him, gripping his vest and burying her sobs in his cravat.

"I never... wanted her... hurt," she said haltingly.

"Of course you didn't. No one thinks that."

"Deep down, you blame me," she sniffled. "You must. You... you barely ever let me alone with her."

"No, that's not... El!" He gripped her shoulders, pulling her back to meet his eyes. "That was never about you. It's me that can't stay away, that can't stop trying to... make her better because I'm the one who—"

"Will you stop that!" She pushed against his chest. "You tried to catch her. I was still walking away when she fell. I didn't even look back until Mama screamed and by then she was just lying there like a broken doll and..."

"But you were too far away to have done anything!"

"Do you think that makes it better? You shall not take the blame. It is mine and I—"

"God, what does it even matter now? The blame," he huffed. "It does no one any good, least of all Penelope. I know, however things stand between you, you care about her as much as I."

"More," she said peevishly, sniffling.

He laughed slightly and pulled her in again and she surprised him by returning the embrace... then dismayed him by wiping her face, nose included, with his cravat. "El!"

"What? It's not like it won't be washed."

He groaned and fished a handkerchief from his pocket, grateful when she took it and blew her nose into that instead.

"I suppose you're right," Eloise mumbled into the handkerchief.

"Well! I've never heard those words from you. Could you say them louder, perhaps open the door and shout them?"

She slapped at his arm. "Placing the blame changes nothing. It's not going to undo all this."

He sighed. "The important thing is that she's getting better and... Well, she is beginning to remember things."

"Yes. She remembered her name."

"Well... only because we told her, but that's still—"

"No, you idiot. She remembered her last name," Eloise said with a withering glance. "It was when she woke up this evening. It was just there for her. Perhaps sleeping — while not unconscious, that is — helps her."

"And she remembered how she takes her tea... or how her mother prefers her to take her tea."

"Oh, that nonsense," Eloise groaned. "Trust her to remember that. I'd give Lady Featherington a piece of my mind if she wasn't so terrifying. She barely lets her have biscuits."

Colin gaped at her. "Now that I think of it, she did try to refuse dessert." A horrifying idea.

"She remembered something about Druids and Greeks and mistletoe as well."

"Greeks? What do they—"

"Oh, you and Greece!" Eloise rolled her eyes, then pretended a snore.

It was irritating, but he preferred it to her crying, he supposed.

"Go and ask her about it," Eloise groaned.

"Perhaps I will," he said. "And, you know, it might help her remember other things."

"I have to admit, she dragged a few answers out of me and Hy." Eloise laughed. "She's very tricky that way. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, considering—" Eloise seemed to cut herself off, her laughter fading.

"Considering what?"

"Just... considering she's a... curious sort of person," Eloise finished, then went silent a moment. "God, I'm horrible," she said suddenly.

"What? El, if you are still blaming yourself, I beg you—"

"No. It's not that. It's... Oh, God! I need a drink for this." She moved to the sideboard.

"I think you've had enough. Though I will say, you are very articulate for a person who's had four brandies and a whiskey."

"Well, you shouldn't be surprised. I always did very well in diction and elocution. Better than Daphne, even." Eloise lifted her chin. "But, believe me, I haven't had nearly enough to articulate this. And let's not forget the fruity ones. I had those, too," Eloise said. "Where's that stuff? I liked that best."

Colin considered lying, but that would be no way to end this night and this very good fight. "It was ratafia and water," he confessed.

"You cheat," she hissed, then sighed, "which one?"

"Brownish red one."

She poured herself some, skipping the water. It didn't really matter, as that stuff was more sugar than anything else. She sat down again, staring into her glass, not even attempting a sip.

"El, what's the matter?"

"I'm trying to work out how to say it. Because it's such a horrible thing to say."

"It can't be so bad that—"

"This Penelope, the one we have now is. You see, she's so much like the Penelope I thought I knew and..." She shook her head, then took a long sip before going on. "I know she's not whole because she doesn't know but... You see, if she doesn't know, then it feels easy to pretend that I don't know."

"I still don't know what you know that I don't know."

"And you won't," Eloise snapped. "So just accept that. I will not be telling you nor anyone what she... she..."

"What?" He sat, staring at her closely. "What could Penelope — sweet Penelope, of all people — have done?"

"Sweet Penelope! God," Eloise groaned. "Perhaps she's not the only one who thinks she's in love."

Colin ignored her flippant little remark. He would not be put off the subject. "Did she do something or did she say something? At least tell me that. Perhaps you misunderstood it and—"

"Both," Eloise said, lifting her glass before taking another sip. "Things were done and things were said. By both of us. And there is no coming back from them."

"That doesn't answer anything!"

"Well, how do you think I feel? Do you think I want this?" Eloise tipped her glass back, drinking the remainder. "It's like this strange sort of... What do the papists call it?" She snapped her fingers several times before saying, "Purgatory! It's this state between Heaven and Hell, yet neither. That's what she is, right now, to me. She does not know and I... I can pretend not to know. So I keep telling myself to enjoy it now, like some Christmas reprieve. Yet I can't enjoy it because I know it won't last. Can you even fathom what that's like?"

"Sadly, I can." God, it was horrible to think, but when she started remembering, when he grasped her hands in excitement, he also had this horrible vision of her remembering everything, and of her then pulling her hands away, her eyes cold.

And he still didn't know why that other Penelope, the one he spent six hours in a carriage fighting to keep, didn't want his friendship. Yet this Penelope... She looked at him with such warmth, even more than before. To have that warmth turn to indifference would be devastating.

It was the opposite for Eloise. "But it's your choice," he said, envious of that. "Whether it's Heaven or Hell... This Purgatory of yours could lead to Heaven if you want it to. She wanted your friendship."

Eloise stared at him a moment. "And yet you are her husband in this farce, aren't you? The one she thinks she loves most."

"And perhaps the one she will hate most, in the end." What the hell had he got himself into?

Eloise didn't try to reassure him. They both knew it would be false. She said not a word as she stood... then swayed. "Oh, my! Shouldn't have had that last ratafia!"

Colin rushed forward and caught her. "I think it's the whiskey that's hitting you know. And I think you need to go to bed."

"No," Eloise groaned into his shoulder. "I don't want to go to bed. When I close my eyes, my head spins too much. I'll get sick. I know it."

"Then perhaps some fresh air. I know it's cold, but perhaps—"

"Yes!" Eloise said, straightening up, opening her eyes as wide as they'd go. "Let's go outside." She smiled. "But we need Ben! Let's find Ben!" She rushed for the door, pulling him along, nearly pulling them both to the floor when she opened it.

He righted them quickly. "El, are you mad?" He took her hands and placed them on the door jamb. "You hold on to this and stay here. Unless you want Mama to see you like this."

"Oh, God! Not Mama!" Her eyes widened and she hugged the doorway so hard the door itself swung into the wall, and quite loudly.

Colin winced, thinking someone might come rushing from the drawing room at that, but there was sudden shouting and laughter from across the hall, loud enough that he supposed they hadn't heard a thing.

"Get Ben," El hissed. "Tell him..." She leaned in, whispering loudly, "Tell him I want to go outside and smoke with him. Don't worry." She nodded. "He'll know what it means."

Colin drew back, holding in a smile. "I'm not sure he can decipher such a mysterious message, but I shall try. You stay here."

He approached the drawing room door, noting that everyone was on one end of the room... and so were all the chairs, even two big ones, in a circle. They must be playing Move-All, something confirmed when Kate, keeping herself out of the fray rather than in the middle, shouted those very words...

"Move all," she called out, as everyone scrambled for a seat. Hyacinth was left out, landing on Lady Mary's lap as she took the chair the both of them had aimed for.

"Drat!" Hyacinth laughed as she then slid off and landed on the floor.

He noted that Penelope was sitting near, but not playing, thank goodness. He shouldn't like her to fall down.

"What do you forfeit?" Kate shouted out merrily.

Hyacinth stood and shook out her skirts. "Isn't having to stop playing enough of a forfeit?"

"Poor Hyacinth." Lady Mary started to stand. "I shall surrender my chair if you—"

"No, no. You won it, fair and square. Here is my forfeit." Hyacinth took a bit of holly from her hair and put it in Lady Mary's. "Just be sure to beat Gregory and I shall be happy enough."

"Hey, now!" Gregory protested.

Colin saw Benedict was already out of the game, pulling a chair from the circle, so he moved to take it from him. "Eloise needs to see you... outside."

"I wondered where she'd got off to. Thought she'd taken to bed. Saw her sneak at least two brandies."

"It was four, actually. And a whiskey." He didn't count the ratafia.

"Oh, no," Ben groaned. "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough that Mother shouldn't see, but I've seen worse." Hell, he'd been worse. Colin put the chair down and pulled Ben to the doorway. "But perhaps some fresh air and those awful little cigars of yours might help."

"They're called papelates," Benedict corrected. "And Eloise started me on them, I'll have you know."

"I don't much care what they're called," Colin sighed. "I can't stand the things."

"You've got no fondness for cigars, either." Ben ruffled his hair. "Such a good little boy, you are!"

"Oh, shove off!" He pushed Ben away. "Far be it for me to deprive anyone of their vices, especially at Christmas. But God help you both if Mother found out... if she doesn't know already."

Ben's smile dropped. "Perish the thought."

"Just try to keep her up a bit longer or it'll be worse for her tomorrow. And do not suggest your 'simple remedy' to her," Colin said, miming a flask.

"Do you think me mad?"

"Well, you've offered me the hair of the dog several..."

"Yes, but corrupting you is one thing. Our sister is entirely different." Benedict sighed. "I shall see to Eloise and get her to bed with Mother none the wiser."

"Good, good," Colin said, barely hearing him as his eyes lit upon Penelope again. She still seemed mightily amused by the game afoot but, thankfully, not joining in it. She tilted her head his way quite suddenly, almost as if she knew he was looking, giving him a questioning glance.

He nodded, vaguely waving his hands in what he hoped was an "all is well" sort of gesture. It seemed to placate her, if her relieved smile was any indication.

"And I suppose you shall see to Penelope to bed." Benedict leaned in. "Do you think she wonders..."

Colin knew Ben was setting him up for some sort of teasing and he really shouldn't jump at the bait, but he likely wouldn't stop until Colin had taken it, so... "Wonders what?" he asked, turning a withering glance to his brother.

"Well, she thinks you her husband. Yet you do not share a bed." Benedict patted his back. "Good luck explaining that," he said before strolling away.

Colin's eyes widened. He hadn't even thought of that. His panicked eyes flew back to Penelope... Yet there was no Penelope there!

He glanced over the room, still not finding her until he caught her... trying to walk past him, of all things. He caught her arm. "Penelope!"

"Oh, Colin. I'd hoped you'd not..." She glanced down, her cheeks coloring. "I was only leaving the party for a moment. I shall return very shortly."

"What do you need?" he demanded. "You need not get it yourself. I can—"

"No. It is only a silly thing. I shall visit my room and be back before anyone even notes that I am gone."

"Nay, I must insist that you allow me to aid you!" He clasped her hand.

"I'd rather you didn't." She stared up at him, her face pained. "I know you are my husband, but I'm certain some things should be... private."

He drew back slightly, though he hadn't released her hand. "Things like... beds? If you were wondering why we don't... You see, that's actually a long story that..." God, he didn't know why he started to explain. He had no explanation. Damn it, this was far too much to be confronted with without preparation...

"Things like chamberpots," she whispered, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I need to make use of one, you see." She glanced up at him, then quickly away. "As my husband, I... I hope that's not too..."

"Oh, no, Pen! Don't be... There's nothing wrong with... that," he sighed. He had not been present for certain things in her care, but he wasn't such an idiot as to think they weren't part of it. Yet he supposed he could see why she wouldn't want his assistance there, yet he still didn't like the idea of her going upstairs alone. "I should at least escort you to your room to—"

"Oh, Penelope! Are you going up?" His mother approached them, moving away from the circle of chairs. She must be out of the game as well. "I didn't want to say before, but I suppose it is getting late."

There were several groans from those left in the room, especially Gregory. "But we have two chairs remaining!"

He wasn't surprised to see Greg and Frannie left on the floor. Greg was always stubborn about proving himself a winner, while Fran... Well, she was always a stealthy competitor. Often, one barely knew what she was about before she'd snatched her victory, all sudden-like, right from under her unwitting opponent. But it was quite gratifying to see Lady Mary still in the game.

"Oh, no!" Penelope protested. "I was only... Please don't stop all the fun on my account."

"Nonsense," Violet turned to the others. "It is nearing eleven and there is church in the morning."

"That certainly stops the fun," Gregory sighed.

"I say we declare Lady Mary the victor," Colin called out, eager to help Penelope escape.

"I agree!" Hyacinth shouted. "She wore my holly, you know! I knew it meant she'd win!"

"You are not impartial on the matter," Greg protested.

"I also agree," Kate said, while Anthony pulled her against him, chuckling.

"Neither are you," Greg muttered.

"So do I," Edwina added.

"And I," Penelope said, squeezing his hand. Colin noticed she hadn't moved away, strangely... gratified.

Colin also noticed Gregory suddenly had no protest now, mumbling, "To Lady Mary." He sighed and plucked up a biscuit from his plate. "My forfeit."

"Oh, let's not be sore about it. I also agree," Francesca said, moving to Lady Mary. "My forfeit," she said, kissing Lady Mary on the cheek and saying sweetly, "Not everyone can hold their own against us awful Bridgertons when a game is afoot."

"You say that as if you aren't the craftiest of us all." Daphne laughed. "If you didn't spend half the year in Bath, we'd all be at a loss in every—"

"Oh, hush!" Frannie said.

Lady Mary laughed. "While I won't agree with anyone here being awful, I shall take my winnings where I can." She took Greg's biscuit, holding it in both hands like a trophy, to several shouts of "Hurrah!" and "Well played!"

"Yes, yes. We have all had a merry night," Mother said, "but there's still the morning, so all you little heathens—"

"But look!" Hyacinth called out. "Colin and Penelope have been under the mistletoe! Shouldn't they be kissing? It's bad luck if they don't!"

Anthony strode forward, not chuckling now. "Hyacinth! That's a very naughty thing to suggest."

"It can't be too naughty." Penelope laughed, glancing up at Colin. "We are married, after all."

Colin stared back down at her, at her lips, in the silence that followed.

Then there were several varying mutters from the room.

"Er... yes, of course."

"Indeed. I was just going to say..."

"Are we still preten..."

"Really nothing naughty about it."

"I, for one, think..."

"Kiss her!"

Colin's head shot up at that last, not sure who'd said it until his eyes landed on Hyacinth, who was staring at them and clutching her book.

"Well, it worked for Briar Rose," Hy said. "She woke up from a hundred years of slumber. Who knows what it can do here?"

Colin rolled his eyes toward his mother, thinking she might put a stop to Hy's fairy-tale fancies, but she was also staring at them... silently... expectantly...

Even Anthony who was, from what he knew, the most likely to protest, was still, not stopping this... perhaps due to Kate's arm across his front as she also stared at Colin, not saying a word... waiting...

Colin's gaze was drawn back to Penelope, strangely... giddy in this moment. All day, all night, he'd been told to keep his distance from her, yet here she was, and no one was telling him to pull away.

He squeezed her hand, still in his. It had been there, he noted, for far longer than was proper. And though Penelope saw nothing "naughty" about their closeness, she was also the only person who thought them married in truth. "It's...." He swallowed hard. "It's bad luck if we don't," he said softly. "Hyacinth did say..."

Penelope laughed, her eyes lifting to his. "She is the expert. She knows the tales. She does all the voices."

He let out a breath of a laugh. "Yes."

She leaned up, sort of gripping his hand for purchase as she did so. His eyes widened as he realized that he'd never been kissed, not on the lips.

He'd come close. Three times, to be exact.

The first had been Cressida Cowper, actually. She'd somehow talked him into walking with her in her family's very small garden, something about prized roses that his mother would envy. He'd actually thought she was sincere until he saw the sad little patch of bushes with barely any blossoms... and then Cressida herself, her eyes closed as her head leaned toward his. He'd cleared his throat and pulled them forward, quite loudly asking where these blooms were as he saw nothing of note here. He'd taken pains not to be alone with her since.

The second had been Marina Thompson, during Daphne's wedding breakfast. She had asked him to take her somewhere private, where she might catch her breath. In retrospect, it was nothing more than what Miss Cowper had done but, at the time, he thought himself her savior, her favorite, her gallant knight. So he'd taken her to Anthony's study at Bridgerton House and even closed the door. It was something he only saw as folly later.

Even in his sympathy for her last year, he knew that there was something calculating in the way she protested that they should not be alone, yet immediately persisted in leaning toward him, her lips inches from his before it was he who pulled away, insisting on maintaining her honor and his. It was actually the least foolish thing he'd done. For what happened after... Well, he was a fool several times over.

The third had been a very buxom older lady in Greece. She had been more forward than the other two, and quite nice-looking, considering she was... Well, not as old as his Mother, but certainly older than the debutantes he'd become accustomed to. Yet he had resisted her. He actually, considering his vow to forswear the company of women, thought this quite impressive. He'd even thought of it, when talking to Penelope, at that very odd party where all Edwina's suitors were showing their skills, as some sort of testament to his strength of will.

Then Penelope had said that she was a woman and he, in his fervor to assure her that he would never forswear her company, had clarified to her that she did not count. Of course she didn't count.

Pen existed in this strange place between and betwixt all the other ladies. She was too innocent to be flirted with, too important to be trifled with, too necessary to be avoided. It seemed so simple, yet too complicated to explain, even to himself. To him, Pen was... Pen!

And now... Well, she was still Pen. Yes, she was still innocent and, perhaps, even more important to him and definitely not to be flirted or trifled with and he still had no wish to avoid her and... and her lips were nearly upon his.

He didn't wish to avoid that either. Something about it seemed... more than unavoidable, almost inevitable as he leaned down.

He closed his eyes.

He felt her lips on... his cheek.

Of course.

Obviously, on his cheek. Not as if they'd land anywhere else.

Yes, he might have thought they might touch his lips ... for the barest of seconds. Hardly even a thought, it was so fleeting!

He might have also stared at her lips the odd hour ago and noted their plumpness and that little tilt at the corner when she smiled and wondered what they felt might feel like and perhaps looked a bit too closely, perhaps even leaned close in a manner than seemed like he might, but did not result in, him kissing her.

And yes. He might have also felt a strange sort of envy earlier, watching Anthony and Kate and their antics under the mistletoe and wondering what it must be like to so freely...

See, but Anthony and Kate were husband and wife in truth. He and Penelope... Well, they obviously were not. In fact, he was glad this had been no more than a peck on the cheek. Glad and not at all disappointed as Penelope stared up at him, her breath coming in shaky little pants against his cheek before she pulled away.

"Merry Christmas... to all," Penelope added hastily before she scampered away.

He started to grasp for her, thinking there was some reason she shouldn't go, but... He quite forgot why.

His mother gave him a strange look as she followed. "Penelope, Dear! Let me assist you..."

Colin turned, sort of swinging his arms from front to back as he faced the rest of the party, sort of gaping at him from the drawing room.

"Yes. What she said. Merry... Chrrssmsss," he finished on a mumble as he also took himself upstairs. It was unavoidable. It was inevitable. He had to admit it, if only to himself, that he'd wanted to kiss Penelope Featherington, and twice now.

His life as he knew it was over.

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

Penelope could not find it in her to sleep, not after sleeping most of the day away, and certainly not after what a ninny she'd made of herself. The only use she had for her pillow was pulling it over her head and screaming into it.

Why couldn't she have just kissed him properly? He was her husband! Hadn't the viscount and his wife, illustrious figures that they must be, kissed quite thoroughly under that same little sprig of mistletoe not even an hour before? There was obviously nothing wrong with kissing in the eyes of the family — some groans aside.

Several times that night, and countless more since she'd first seen him, she'd noted Colin's lips — that full lower lip, that gentle curve of his top lip, that sweet little tuck at the edges. It looked as if he was always smiling, just a little. And that slight roughness around his lips — scratchy, yet soft. How she'd longed to feel it with more than just her fingers. She certainly hadn't been planning any sort of kissing scenarios, but she also thought it might be nice and, if the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn't miss it.

And what had she done? Kissed his cheek.

And though there was a certain thrill to the feel of his stubbled cheek against her lips, she'd wanted more... At least the feel of those lips for a moment, but then in half second before she'd darted her eyes to the doorway and it felt as if there were over twenty eyes upon her... perhaps because there were.

It wasn't as if the kiss between Kate and Anthony Bridgerton was hidden from sight, but it also wasn't quite so... scrutinized. It felt as if everyone was gaping at them. And she had also quite desperately wanted to relieve herself. It just didn't feel... right then.

Yet now, alone in a dark room, she felt restless, as if she'd missed some golden opportunity and, even thinking that, she knew it must be ridiculous. They were married and it wasn't as if the chance to kiss would never come again... or would it?

Were they the sort of couple who rarely kissed? Was that why everyone was watching them so closely? The fact that she didn't know, the fact that she couldn't remember her wedding day or — she blushed at the thought — her wedding night also made her restless.

She pulled the pillow from her face and huffed in the silence, wishing she hadn't bid Violet to blow out the candle. Really, after her mother-in-law had assisted her, with her still shaky legs, to make use of the chamberpot, she'd been so red-faced, she didn't want to be seen by anyone ever again.

And though she'd assured Penelope that there was no shame in needing help, Penelope still felt quite wretched about it.

"Would you rather a maid assist you? I confess, the staff are having their own little party downstairs, but I'm certain no one would mind—"

"Oh, no. I've no further need of anything, only sleep," she'd said. It hadn't been a lie at the time.

Violet had helped her into bed and made certain she had a glass of water in reach. "You've had a very eventful day, so I don't blame you," she'd said softly, taking the chair. "I'll just stay a moment, give Benedict a chance to sneak my poor, soused daughter into her room."

"You knew?" She'd thought she and Colin were the only ones who'd noticed El's sort of drunken state.

"There's not much I miss. It's not something I think she'll make a habit of, especially with the headache in store. She'll be miserable enough in the morning without thinking I knew what she was up to." Violet winked. "You won't tell her, will you?"

Penelope shook her head.

"And talking of headaches..." Violet peered at her closely. "Is your head paining you? Do you have need of laudanum?"

"It's more a dull ache, but I'm not sure I want to take anymore of that... it... Well, it gave me strange dreams."

"I hope not frightening ones. I confess, I've dealt with taking laudanum a time or two and the dreams can be... disconcerting."

"Yes, mine were also... uncomfortable." Penelope frowned as well, recalling those bits with the shrewd-eyed woman or Colin laughing as he said her name... Well, her maiden name, she supposed. And there was also Eloise with her blazing eyes and sneering words and... While she wouldn't call those parts frightening, precisely, she'd rather they were just dreams rather than memories.

Whatever they were, they were a far cry from the comfort she felt with Violet Bridgerton. Even with all the attendant embarrassment of the last few moments, she now wished she'd stay a bit longer. "You were there, in my dreams."

"Was I?"

"Yes, but your parts were very nice," she said quickly.

Violet laughed. "It's something I haven't thought of before and I suppose I have no control over it, but I'm glad to know I am nice in your dreams."

"Everyone here has been so kind to me and I... I hope I deserve it."

"Penelope! What a thought to have. Of course you do."

It was something she found hard to shake, this feeling that came with those dreams, that there was something about her, something... wrong with her, something that deserved derisive laughter and angry gazes and annoyed looks and...

"You are one of the most delightful people I know," Violet Bridgerton said now, tucking her covers over her chest. "You are kind and clever and sweet and I was so happy Eloise had found a friend like you."

"Is that how Colin and I met?" Penelope couldn't help but ask. "Through Eloise?"

"It was actually—" Violet stopped herself, casting her eyes downward.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm not supposed to ask, but... It's so hard not knowing."

"No, don't be sorry. I'm sure little trifles like this will not muddy your mind too much, but..." Violet seemed conflicted before she sighed. "Colin met you first," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "He likes to make sure Eloise knows that. The two of them have bickered over the point of who is your oldest friend ever since."

Penwlope smiled. "That does sound like them. From what I've seen only today, they tend to bicker. But they've both been very good to me."

"They have been at your side constantly for days." Violet laughed a little. "I did try to get them into their own beds, but they wouldn't have it, not if it meant leaving you. This will be the first time you've slept unattended since your fall." She frowned suddenly. "Are you quite certain you shall be—"

"Oh, of course. I shouldn't like to keep anyone from their own beds any longer, including you."

Violet smiled in a resigned sort of way as she stood, then moved a little bell closer to her on the night stand. "Promise me you'll ring if you need anything," Violet had said, then gestured to the candle. "Should you like me to leave this lit?"

"Oh, no. I'm sure I shall be asleep in moments," she'd said and, once again, it hadn't felt like a lie at the time.

Now, what felt like hours later, she stared at that bell in the scant light from the fire, wondering if a candle counted as something she needed enough to ring for it.

She glanced toward the door on the inside wall, thinking Colin must surely be on the other side of it, sleeping away in the chamber adjoining hers. And she rather wished... But no. She would not disturb his rest simply because she was so restless. Violet had said that he'd not slept properly for days.

Though she had heard both Daphne and Kate talking of their rooms in such a way that it seemed they shared them with their husbands and thought perhaps was only the case because the house was so full of people. Or maybe their marriages were different from her own.

There had been a moment, when she had leaned up, her lips nearing Colin's, just before he closed his eyes, that they looked wide and almost... frightened.

She had the terrible thought that she must look an awful fright up close and wanted to reassure herself that must not be true. Her gaze fell on the darkened mirror over the dressing table and she pulled her covers back. Even approaching it, what light there was from the fire and the windows showed her little indeed. She leaned over, nearly pressing her nose up against the mirror, but it showed her only a vague, darkened shape.

She had looked down at herself herself and noted that, while she couldn't see much past her bosom, she felt that there was a bit more to her than the other young ladies — all of them either slender and coltish like Hyacinth and Eloise, or more softly formed like Lady Mary and Edwina, or tall and womanly like Kate. Daphne had a bit of roundness to her, having just had a child, but she was still lithe and lovely. And every single one, she noted with chagrin, was taller than she.

But there must be something lovely about her, considering a man as tall and handsome as Colin Bridgerton had married her. She could go on no longer with her own face remaining a mystery to her. She'd noted there had been candles placed about the room, at the ready, but when she felt about the dressing table, several mysterious items fell to the floor with a clatter. She squinted her eyes, looking about till she found the candle on her night table. It was quite low, but it would give her enough light to see herself by.

She was a woman grown, was she not? Surely she knew how to light her own candle.

"A spill," she whispered to herself. "One lights a candle with a spill." She moved to the fireplace, grateful that was easy to see, though the fire was quite low. She found the jar on the mantle, though she did knock it over in her excitement at the sight of it, watching it and the spills fall to the floor. It didn't break, thank heavens, thudding to the carpet, but she did hate that she was making yet more of a mess. But surely once the candle was lit, she could rectify that.

She dropped to the carpet, grasping for one of the spills then stood, feeling quite accomplished... until she noted the fireplace screen was quite tall, much too tall for her to bend over to light her spill, as she soon found. She sighed and grasped the edge of it, wincing at the heat of it in her hand. She took the bottom edge of her nightgown and put it over her hand, gripping it again, then cringing at the loud scraping sound against the stones as she attempted to pull it back.

She stilled, gratified that she heard no shouts of unrest at all her noise, then gave it another pull, gritting her teeth at the awful sound...

It was then that her door swung open.

Penelope froze in the light from the doorway behind her. With her nightgown pulled up, a jar of spills scattered on the floor, a candle that had now fallen into the fire, and God only knew what she'd knocked from the dressing table, it probably looked like she'd been wrecking the room. "Please don't be alarmed. I was simply lighting a..." She sucked in a breath when she finally turned to the doorway. "Colin," she breathed before landing on her bottom.