Colin stared at Ben, quite uncomfortable since Eloise had just left him there, and in the middle of what he thought was a very fraught conversation.

Ben didn't look uncomfortable at all. Then again, Ben rarely looked uncomfortable ever. In fact, he turned to Colin now, looking rather amused. "No success on finding those letters, then?"

Colin tried to shake his head while also shrugging.

Ben seemed to find that amusing as well, chuckling as he nodded at the carpet. "Well, I suppose you found something else to read..."

Colin's eyes widened at the Whistledowns left on the floor. El hadn't quite finished putting them in order. "Yes, I never did look at these things before, so I thought... How's supper? Anything good?" He crawled over, trying to shove the rest back in the box, but instead upended the box, sending even more scattering.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't even changed for supper yet," Ben said, bending to help put them back in.

"No, El gets cross if they're out of order," Colin said, spreading his arms over the mess he made.

"I think she'll be more cross if they're all over the floor, but I'm perfectly fine with not spoiling my night with excess work." Ben strolled over to the corner Colin had crawled away from, picking up the bottle and taking a sniff, then holding it away with a sneer. "How do you drink this rot?"

"I like it fine," Colin said, snatching his bottle back. "I'll have you know any good sailor swears by rum. Anyhow, El thought I needed a drink and that Anthony would miss this the least."

"She's right about that." Ben laughed. "But what do you need a drink for?"

"I... have had a difficult morning," Colin finished awkwardly.

"I can guarantee you that mine was worse," Ben groused. "Hyacinth's snow missiles hit me six times at full force — three times in the head, mind you, but also in the shoulder, chest, and stomach. Not enough to make me drink that, though." Ben narrowed his eyes. "So what's all this El said... about carting Penelope off to Gretna Green?"

"That was just a silly little thought I had." Colin faked a laugh. "So about supper..."

"Colin, I know I have a certain reputation for spilling secrets, but if you are considering something reckless..." Ben faced him squarely. "Well, I give you fair warning that I shall put my secret-spilling to very good use this very minute."

"I wasn't planning nothing," Colin grumbled. "Didn't even get to the planning bits before you popped in."

"Well, good!"

"But it's something to think about." He glanced down at the scattered Whistledowns before meeting Ben's eyes again.

Ben stared at him, laughing, then studied him a bit before saying, more seriously, "No, its not."

"Marrying her isn't even a choice now. It's more like a necessity," Colin said lowly, almost to himself. She needed to be saved from her own reckless behavior.

"Dear God! Why?" Ben demanded, narrowing his eyes. "How much further have you taken things?"

"No, no! Not because of that," Colin said quickly. Whatever Ben was thinking, he might want to, but that didn't mean he would... yet. "Because of... other reasons!"

Ben threw up his hands. "What reasons?"

Colin had no ready answer. It wasn't as if he could tell Ben that Pen needed to be rescued from Lady Whistledown... who she actually was. "Very good ones," he said firmly. "That's all you need to know."

"And these reasons suddenly made themselves known this very afternoon?" Ben scoffed.

"No, but they've certainly made things clearer. And I was going to marry her anyhow."

"When the hell did you decide that?"

"Some time ago," Colin said peevishly, "or, you know... this morning."

"Oh, very well thought out." Ben laughed. "Shall we have Mother plan the wedding breakfast for tomorrow or is that not soon enough?"

Colin pointed at him. "You said before that Mother wanted a wedding."

"I was teasing you!"

"So... she doesn't?" Colin pouted.

"Yes, she likely does," Ben sighed before adding, " and we all rather support this match, but not tomorrow!"

"I'm not saying tomorrow. I just... I'm obviously marrying her. Why not sooner rather than later?" Colin's mind began spinning the scene... "The roads to London have been clearing. I heard Anthony say as much this morning. The roads north must not be far behind. We'd only need some furs and foot warmers and some food and—"

"God, Colin! I cannot decide if you're mad or just drunk!"

"I'll grant you that I'm perhaps maybe a little bit drunk," Colin admitted.

"More than a little," Ben muttered. "Never seen you so disguised."

"But I'm not mad," Colin protested. "This makes perfect sense."

"Why?" Ben demanded.

"Because it won't matter that we're not married once we are married! After that... Well, it's all true, isn't it?"

"Colin..." Ben rubbed at his temples. "You can't marry a girl just because you... you want to make a lie true."

"Well, it's not only for that."

"And I can't believe I even have to say this," Ben went on, looking rather too much like Anthony. He was even getting that little crease between his eyebrows, "but you cannot abduct Penelope to Scotland in the dead of winter, without her family's blessing — or your own family's, I might add!"

Colin poked a finger in his direction. "You implied everyone supported the match!"

"But not like this! Couples who elope face scrutiny, often very unkind, salacious scrutiny about what the hurry was all about," Ben said pointedly. "Those rumors can take years to live down before said couple is accepted in polite society again. That's not to mention the way their families can be dragged down by association with–"

"But our family is very forgiving and... very often forgiven."

"That doesn't mean-"

"I'm sure Daph and Fran and Edwina would take my part. Hy, too, I bet! Yes, El and Anthony might be a hindrance," Colin grumbled, thinking of the odds. "Kate seems to be on my side, but she could default to Anthony. Greg, the little cur, looks at her far too much. But he's too young to object anyhow. And Mother? Well, she loves Pen! Surely she wouldn't mind things being a bit less—"

"Colin!" Ben took him by the shoulders. "This is not being put to some imaginary vote! And you are forgetting the most important voter is Penelope!"

"I am certainly not forgetting her," Colin protested. "She is the bride in question. I'd wager if I asked Pen, right at this moment, if she would like to go to Gretna Green and make our promises over the anvil, she would be delighted!"

"And I'd wager that, once she regained her memories and learned that was her actual wedding," Benedict said quite loudly, for him, "she'd be furious!"

"Yes, but then we'll be married and this will be a simple lovers' spat," Colin drew away and snapped his fingers, "very quickly forgotten."

"You have gone mad," Ben said, rubbing at his temples now.

"I have gone... sensible," Colin said shakily. "This is a very sensible plan that will solve everything."

"Very well. Why don't you tell Anthony your very sensible plan? In fact, why don't I?" Ben started for the door.

Colin gripped his arm. "No! He'll stop me. Good God, he'll probably lock her away."

"And why?" Ben prodded.

"Because..." Colin stared at him a moment before he deflated. "Because I've gone mad." He released his brother and moved to the bed, sitting on it hard.

"Glad to hear you admit it."

"But what am I supposed to do?" Colin sighed miserably. "I can't bear the thought that, once this ends, I lose her."

"You might not—"

"Oh, please! I'm not a simpleton. I have spent two days now letting her believe we are married. I have, despite my resolve to stay away and my better judgment, kissed her several times. And that's leaving out the bit where she didn't want to be friends with me anymore before all this started, let alone my wife. Is it any wonder that having this be a fait accompli by taking her to Gretna is better than... all that?"

The door opened then. "Are you still talking about Gretna?"

"El!" Colin stood quickly, guiltily, also unsteadily. "You've been gone for some time."

"Yes! We were wondering what you've been up to," Ben lied. Bless him!

"I was up to better things than you lot," Eloise sneered.

"You mean stealing my smokes?" Ben put in.

"I'll have you know that I was making excuses for my poor, sick brother to Mama, then going to the kitchens and arranging for food to be sent up because this drunken fool," she gestured toward Colin, "needs something in his guts besides rum, and then... Yes, I did steal some of your smokes. Also Mama is expecting you in the dining room," she said to Benedict before turning to Colin, her eyes blazing. "Now, what's this about Gretna?"

Colin put up his hands. "I'm not going to do it now!"

Eloise's eyes widened. "That just sounds like you were considering it before!"

"I think I'd best go down to supper," Benedict said suddenly.

"No, don't leave me," Colin hissed, gripping his sleeve.

"I will return... maybe," Ben added before hastily removing his sleeve from Colin and himself from the room.

Colin turned back to Eloise, trying and failing to laugh. "You know, that bit about Gretna was only—"

"Don't talk anymore," Eloise said, pulling out another patisserie and lighting it. "I might punch you again."

"I wasn't going to do it," Colin mumbled. "I just wanted to."

"Well, that's bad enough. So don't mention it again. And why are you still bent on this ridiculous idea of marrying Penelope?" Eloise asked hotly. Her nasty little pentameters were obviously not as relaxing as she claimed.

"Because Penelope needs my—"

"Yes, your protection, so you say," Eloise scoffed, "a ridiculous, male notion that I fully reject. I expect she would, too, if she has any of the sense I used to credit her for."

"I am going to make her an offer of marriage nonetheless."

"She'll likely feel obligated to accept it," Eloise muttered, "now that you've gone about kissing her and... and God only knows what else!"

Colin turned away, hiding his blush. Yes, there had been kissing. Also just a little God-only-knows-what-else. "It's more than that. There's more than that to me and Pen." Of course there was. There had to be. "She wouldn't simply marry me simply because of some silly indiscretions. If she accepted me, it would be because—"

"Because she loves you, I suppose? Is that what you think?"

"She... might have said something to that effect," he said defiantly. She had. It was almost the only thing giving him hope that she might even deign to speak to him, after all this.

"Do you really think Penelope can be wholly believed at this time, and in this state?" Eloise demanded.

Colin sagged, taking a hard seat on the bed again. Maybe it was just as he feared. "Maybe she can't be. Maybe I'm fooling myself again. It wouldn't be the first time," he said, quite miserably.

"What are you doing?" Eloise scowled at him. "Stop being sad! We're arguing."

"But you're right. I'm doing it again." He stared up at Eloise. "Here I am, no wiser than I was before. Then, I allowed myself to be fooled by a pretty smile and pleasing words with... nothing behind them. Is it any wonder I left the country? I was so foolish." He shook his head. "And now I've done it again." He stood and paced away. "I've been taken in again, but by... myself. Pen doesn't love me either. She only thinks she does because of this lie of a marriage. I've been fooled again."

"Stop talking like that." Eloise tossed her pantaloon out the window.

He stilled and turned back, allowing just a little hope in... "So you think she does love me?"

Eloise's stiffened. "I'm not saying that either."

And there went that hope!

"I'm simply saying that you cannot go about assuming what Penelope does or doesn't feel," Eloise went on. "The only feelings you can know are your own. So?" She crossed her arms, staring him down.

He stared back, not sure if he should have had that last slug of rum. El looked far too hazy around the edges.

"Well? Do you love her?" She was tapping her foot now. "And before you try to say yes, remember that you thought yourself in love with Marina and look how that turned out!"

He paced away again. "Yes, and that's precisely the problem! How can I even pretend to know what love is? I thought I felt it before, but I was obviously an idiot then."

"You might still be—"

"An idiot now?" he finished for her.

"You could have let me say it," she grumbled.

"So how do I even know if I know better now? I thought myself in love with Marina, but the Marina I thought I loved was a figment of my own making." He stilled, shaking his head. "God! When I look back on that time, with Marina, now I can so clearly see the impatience behind her smile, the way she tolerated my silly jokes rather than truly enjoying them." He sighed. "I suppose I couldn't see it then because I... I wanted to badly to... to..."

"To what?" Eloise rolled her eyes and plucked up the bottle of Rum. "I can't decide if you need to drink more or less to finish your damned thoughts!"

Colin snatched the bottle and took a long drink before he answered. "Marina... She was hurting. There was something broken in her. I could see it. She needed... something. And I... I was so eager to be that thing she needed."

Eloise tilted her head, staring at him. "And how is it different with Penelope? Where were these feelings of yours before she hit her head and became a helpless damsel in need of your rescue?"

Was she right? Was he doing it again? He stiffened. "No. No, it's different with Penelope. Because these feelings were there before... they were..." He handed the bottle off to Eloise and strode to the adjoining door, pulling it open. "They were here!" He gestured to the bed, staring at Eloise.

"In her bed?" She stared back, aghast. "Colin, I am not averse to hitting you ag..."

"No, the let...ters," he finished lamely as he turned to the bed, realizing it was now empty and neatly made. "Well, they were here before." He strode around it until he found the letters again, all neatly stacked on the nightstand. "I mean that my feelings were in these," he said, plucking up the stack.

"The letters you wrote? The ones that had no answer?" Eloise narrowed her eyes. "They don't mean you know Penelope best."

"That's not what you asked. You asked what I feel."

Eloise tossed up her hands. "Very well, then. You feel something. That doesn't mean that you know her better than I do."

"You seem so upset about the notion. But what if I do?" Colin countered. "I know she prefers pink to yellow—"

Eloise crossed her arms. "Everyone knows that!"

"I know her dreams because she's told me them. I know she has more of a temper than she wants people to know because she's lit into me with it. I know she's got a biting wit, but she blushes whenever she makes use of it." He moved to Eloise. "And now..." He moved past her, taking several Whistledowns from the box. "Now I know her biggest secret!"

"Well, I knew it first!" Eloise burst out.

There was a knock at the door then.

"And everyone will know it if you don't take care," Eloise hissed, shutting the adjoining door.

"You're the one shouting," he grunted.

"Put those away!"

Colin stared at the pamphlets in one hand, the letters in the other, not sure which she meant. He tucked the letters into the pocket inside his jacket, then stared at the Whistledowns, wondering if they would fit as well.

Eloise steered him to her bed. "Stop lolloping about and look sick." She stuffed the pamphlets under her pillow before pushing him down and tugging the covers half over him. "Coming!"

Colin had no idea how to "look sick," but he closed his eyes, turned his head to the side, and let out a moan as Eloise opened the door.

"Yes, put it on the night table," he heard her say. "Is that for both of us? I am caring for him, you know."

"It is enough for two." That sounded like Footman John, grunting as he set the tray down. "But I can bring more if you—"

Colin let out a moan at that and started to sit up, thinking he should pretend to wake up and confirm that "for two" was not nearly enough. He hadn't had a bite since breakfast and this certainly wouldn't suffice.

Eloise pushed him down hard, however, her hand smushing his head into the pillow. "Poor Colin. He's beside himself. I'm sure this will do. And thanks ever so much!"

John laughed. "Anything for you, Miss Eloise. As always."

Eloise laughed as well, yet it seemed less genuine. "I'm certain you have many other duties. Off you go!"

Colin waited until he heard the door shut before he sat up. "John was one of them, wasn't he?"

Eloise leaned against the door, shrugging. "I have no idea what you're speaking of."

"Anything for you, Miss Eloise. As always," Colin repeated. "You roped him into your schemes and rallies, didn't you? He's entirely too pleasant to say no." Colin knew it well. "For shame," he tutted.

Eloise strode to the bed and tugged the Whistledowns from under the pillow. "As if you and Ben haven't made use of John's good nature."

"Never said we hadn't." John had always been the one to stay up and open the servants' entrance on late nights when Benedict had taken him out on the town and the night had got away from them and turned into morning. But it was rather nice to know they weren't the only ones.

"Eat your food," she huffed, staring at the pamphlets, then at the box Colin had tried and failed to put back in order. "Try to leave some for me after I put this right. You mucked it up again!"

"I can't promise anything." Colin sat up and stared eagerly at the tray before plucking up a chicken leg and taking a large bite out of it before staring at his sister. "Why do you care if they're mucked up?" he asked around a mouthful of perfectly roasted chicken.

She glanced up, annoyed. "Like I said, I like to have control over at least one—"

"Yes, so you said, but it doesn't seem right to me. You've never been one to keep things all organized. So why this?" He held her stare.

"Maybe it's because..." She glanced down at the pamphlets. "Because this is bigger than me. It's bigger than... Pen, even though she's the one who did it. It's something that... changed things in our stupid little, unchanging world. And I'm the only other person who knows about it. It feels like keeping this... secret means keeping it all in order."

"Like maybe that makes you part of it?" He sat up, putting his food, of all things, aside. "Do you wish you were part of it?"

"I wanted to be, before I knew it was Pen." She let out a quite humorless laugh. "I imagined meeting Lady Whistledown and us exchanging ideas, us becoming... friends of a sort."

"But then she turns out to be your very best friend. Shouldn't that have made you—"

"Happy?" Eloise finished for him. "How could I possibly be happy about that? Yes, she was my very best friend and she didn't respect me enough to tell me." Eloise stood. "It would be nice if you would have some sympathy, any at all, for what this feels like for me! Yet this entire time, you keep defending Penelope," she huffed. "But of course you would be on her side. You've been ever so eager to get back in her good graces."

"That's not why I def... I'm not even defending her," Colin growled, standing and pacing now. "And I am not taking sides. I have only been trying to understand this entire situation after knowing only a few hours, not months and months like you."

"Well, who says I'm any closer to understanding it?" Eloise burst out.

"None of it makes sense. If Penelope is some selfish, self-serving schemer, then why would she expose Marina when her own family was ruined by association?"

"You're the one who thinks she loves you so much," Eloise said, quite mockingly. "Perhaps she wanted you for herself."

"Do you think that could be why?" Something inside him heated at the idea. "My, she's quite a jealous little thing, isn't she? Marking me as hers," he whispered.

"Ugh! Don't you start lusting about her again. I won't have it!" Eloise said loudly, swiping a chicken leg. "And I read that issue, same as you. Pen didn't mark you as hers."

There went that warm feeling. Eloise did love to ruin his fun.

"She didn't even mention herself," El went on. "She exposed Marina, ruining her life, I might add!"

"But how? Marina is now married to the man who bears Sir George's title, the title of the man she loved."

"That's not the same as—"

"Her son will have the properties and rank that should have been his in the first place. I dare say she's better off with him than she'd have been with the third son of a viscount," he grumbled. "And she seems quite content with it."

"Th-that is entirely beside the point," Eloise scoffed. "You and Marina deserved to have a chance, but you had little choice in the matter once Whistledown—"

"Did what? Told the truth?" Colin exclaimed hotly. "That's precisely what she did even though I was positive it was all lies at the time. But Anthony said — and quite rightly — that Whistledown's column was the only thing keeping our family from ruin, from people believing I was the father of Marina's child... or children, as the case may be," he muttered. "You asked me before if I forgive Pen for exposing Marina..."

"Yes," El said. "Something you never actually answered—"

"Well, I don't forgive her. Because there's nothing to forgive." He let out another humorless laugh, reaching for his bottle again and taking a swig before he went on. "If anything, I should thank her."

"Surely you shouldn't go that far."

"Indeed, I should. I could only see later that Anthony was right. I have long since considered myself, and our family, indebted to Lady Whistledown for that particular—"

"You are only saying this because you now know Lady Whistledown is Penelope." Eloise stood, jabbing a finger at him. "She was the means of hurting you greatly, yet you refuse to—"

"Marina was the means of hurting me greatly, something for which she feels no remorse for, to this day," Colin burst out. "And yes, it truly did hurt to discover her deception before we eloped, but imagine if I discovered it several months after, when she gave birth to children that were too hale and hearty to be mine. I'd have known then, El. And it would have hurt so much more!"

Eloise opened her mouth, as if to argue, but nothing same forth.

"So yes. It did hurt," Colin went on. "And that wasn't Lady Whistledown's doing. It was Marina's. And it would be nice if someone, anyone, would acknowledge that," he finished brokenly. "You talk of me not having sympathy for you, but when was any shown to me?"

"What?" Eloise blinked at him. "Of course we had sympathy for—"

"When? When Anthony and Mama were insisting we act as if nothing had happened? Even Daphne told me I should be grateful to have learned Marina's secret now, as if I was a mere fool. Yes, she arranged a meeting for us, a meeting where Marina confirmed that everything Whistledown wrote was true and that she never loved me at all. And then after that, Daphne later told me she was moved to help Marina get a letter to the man she actually loved." Colin sat hard on the bed. "I suppose Daph thought I'd be happy for Marina, for what love I'd borne her, but all I felt was... almost jealous. And not of that man, but of Marina. She got more comfort than I did, after everything."

Eloise sighed, staring at her feet. "That's not to say we didn't feel any sympathy. I might not know what it is to have my heart truly broken, but I... I imagine it's not a pleasant thing."

"To say the least," Colin grunted.

"I was actually more worried about Penelope at the time. I even suggested to Mama we postpone my attendance at parties to—"

"Yes. And I'm certain that was all for Penelope and not at all about yourself," he said dryly.

"I am simply saying that we... while we might not have shown it, we all felt for you, but I suppose we thought — or at least I did — that you'd rather not be reminded of the whole mess." She took a seat on the bed beside him. "It's rather like how, when Anthony had to take things over once Papa was gone, we simply stayed out of his way and gave him as little trouble as possible."

"From what he says, if you think you gave him no trouble, you are sorely mistaken."

She pushed at his shoulder. "You know what I mean. Anthony wants his... solitude at certain times."

"I think Anthony only thinks he wants his solitude so we never see him as anything but stoic. In any case," Colin said, "I'm not Anthony."

"So you wouldn't have minded me barging into your cocoon of misery and talking your ear off about my Lady Whistledown theories?"

"Likely not." He smiled. "We'd have worked out her identity much sooner, with me on the—"

El shoved at his shoulder harder.

"What? We might have done," Colin insisted. "Perhaps if I didn't actively avoid reading Lady Whistledown, I might have recognized a few turns of phrase that could only belong to Pen."

"Well, it doesn't signify now," Eloise sighed. "S0 Marina... You said she is happy now?"

Colin sighed as well. "I wouldn't say that Marina is happy. But she seemed perfectly content. And perhaps that's enough for her. Sometimes I think she would not be happy no matter what her status, no matter who she married. Because me, Sir Phillip... Neither of us were who she truly loved."

"You don't know that," Eloise said weakly. "The pair of you might have also been perfectly content together if you'd not been driven apart."

"You really need to stop blaming Whistledown for that. Marina didn't love me, El," Colin broke in, almost soberly. "Even when I asked her if she did love me, despite her lies, she couldn't even... pretend to say it. At the very most, she claimed to respect me and that's... Well, that's not enough for me."

"Yet you claim it's enough for Marina. How do you know she is even truly content with this Sir Phillip person," Eloise sneered. "He might be a brute, a lout, an inveterate gambler, a—"

Colin let out a laugh at the idea. "I don't think he's the sort. He seems too much of a scholarly man – a botanist, actually – to be a brute or even a lout. I wouldn't mind seeing him again — that is, if Marina hadn't made it quite plain that she found my visit unwelcome and even, dare I say, annoying. But I found a sort of kinship with him. People who have passions and purposes are always good company. I suspect I like him more than Marina does. He even found my travels quite fascinating. We talked of olive groves and—"

"Oh, God help us all," Eloise cut in, laying back on the bed and fabricating a snore. "Very well, this Sir Phillip is a scholarly paragon of a man who is fascinated by your travels. Perhaps you should have married him."

Colin laughed. "Well, he does have a title and lands. I could do worse." He nudged her. "I'm only saying that if Marina's supposed ruin is something you hold against my marrying Penelope, then..." He shrugged. "Honestly, El, she wouldn't have been happier with me. She might have been less so. I dare say my travels are even less interesting to her than Sir Phillip's plants."

"Plants? What a silly hobby," Eloise snorted. "I only pretended to attend flower arranging classes and was bored quite out of my mind reading up enough to convince mother I actually had. I'm certain I made up half the Latin names."

"Maybe you should have attended at least one class for real."

"Oh, Mama didn't know the Latin names either." Eloise waved him off. "And why would I willingly subject myself to someone talking about flowers?"

"Well, Marina shared your disinterest. And he... I could tell that Sir Phillip knew it, as he took himself off to bid the children goodnight, leaving us alone."

"You never told me all of this." Eloise sat up and turned more fully to him.

"I actually never told anyone. I felt so foolish after," Colin shook his head, "almost as foolish as when she made it clear she never loved me. And yes, I'd accepted that. But I also thought she might have had just enough affection that... Well, it just felt like something I needed to do at the time, to see her, to be certain I hadn't... broke her heart."

Eloise humphed. "From the sound of it, she hasn't one to break."

"Well, not by me." He sighed. "All through my travels, I only thought of my own hurt feelings. It was only when I was home and settled that I finally started to think of how I might have hurt her." Colin laughed then, perhaps a little bitterly. "Marina made it clear that I hadn't hurt her. That she'd spent little time thinking of me, if any. She told me I needed to stop romanticizing the past. She even mentioned Penelope."

Eloise leaned forward. "In what way?"

"Just as someone I should look to, along with my ever-loving family — you aside, I assume — for my happiness."

Eloise frowned. "Is that why you have this notion that you could be happy married to Penelope? Because of what Marina said?"

"No, that's not even part of it. At the time she said it, I only thought... Well, I thought how lucky I was to have a friend like Pen, a friend who cared for me like she did, a friend who confided in me like she did. Like I said before, I like people with passions, people with purposes. I like the way they get excited when invited to talk about the things they love. It's like, when Penelope was talking about her purpose, her eyes were—"

"Can we at least finish this conversation before you start mooning over Penelope again?" Eloise groaned.

"It was just another example." He picked up his bottle and nudged her with it. "I might say that you could be a very interesting person to talk to, when you get passionate about the rights of women. I mean, I might be interested to hear more — if you didn't immediately follow it with telling your brothers they're dolts and your sisters that they're sheep and—"

"I don't say that... all the time," El finished weakly.

"I'm just saying that, if you didn't have a way of turning everything into an argument rather than a healthy discussion, I might like to hear more. I've actually been quite curious about your rallies. Perhaps I might have escorted you to one, see how the other half lives."

"You mean the other ninety-percent... if not more," El corrected.

"I quite believe it. It might be that I don't know my own country as well as I think. It's funny, as I've dined with sailors and craftsman, people I'd not been exposed to here among the ton. My travels have shown me people from so many walks of life, and yet—"

Eloise laid back on the bed, letting out a loud snore... again

"Perhaps I should take this tray to my room." Colin started to stand, but El pulled him back.

"No need for such drastic measures. I'm only teasing!" El was quiet a moment. "So... tell me."

"Tell you what?" Colin pouted, still not sure he wouldn't be absconding with the tray. He took another long drought of the rum instead, though the bottle was closer to empty now.

"You said Penelope told you her dreams, talked of her purpose," Eloise prodded. "What was it?"

Colin turned to her, a bit surprised. "I thought you, of all people, would know that."

"Yes, but as we've now established, Penelope has not been as forthcoming with me as she ought to be. Did she hint at anything involving gossip or columns or exposing her supposed friends?" El seemed like she was trying very hard to sound cavalier, but was too curious too carry it off.

"She didn't actually say what it was, rather what she wanted it to be. She imagined it to be something both 'animating and satisfying.'" God, he could see her now, squinting in the harsh late afternoon sunlight, her curls, not quite as tight as they usually were, lifting slightly with the breeze. He could remember every word, even drunk as he was... "'The type of venture that speaks not to who I am but rather who I am to be,' she'd said."

El humphed, "Well, that's quite vague, if you ask—"

Colin held up a hand. "'My purpose will challenge me to be brave and witty. My purpose will propel me far beyond the watchful glare of my mama. My purpose shall set me free." He cleared his throat. "That's what she said, at least. And I knew, right then, that Marina was right. That Penelope was... special. I even told her so and she said the same to me. It made it hurt so much more, you know, when she ignored my letters, when she told me our friendship was over. It hurt more than what Marina did because that... that was a shock, but at least I felt I'd not done anything wrong in that matter."

Eloise's hand hovered over his before she pulled it away and nudged his shoulder instead. "You didn't, you know, do anything wrong. None of us think so."

"Well, I felt all wrong, inside," Colin groaned. "I felt like a prize fool. Then Pen, she said, 'You merely believed yourself in love. One should never apologize for that. One finds oneself in such an incredible position, and, well, one should declare it... assuredly, fervently... loudly.'"

"So Pen was the wise woman," Eloise said thoughtfully.

"She's wiser than most girls I know."

"I hope that's not some dig against me after I've provided you food and liquor and an attentive ear," Eloise scoffed. "No, I mean, you said before that a wise woman once said that. Of course, you were talking about me and Theo—"

"God, you remember everything."

"Apparently, so do you — at least everything Penelope has to say."

"I can't seem to help it," Colin sighed. "Sometimes I come back to her words and they make me feel so much lighter. She always does that, reassures me and makes me feel so much... better than I am or ever could be." He turned to El. "And what about this Theo? Did he make you feel that way? I mean, before..."

"In a way, he did. It was nice to talk to a person of your species who cared what I thought and encouraged me."

"Yes," Colin said breathlessly. "See, that's what Pen does. She encourages—"

"Pardon me, but I believe we were talking about me for once," Eloise cut in with a withering glance.

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that." Colin took another drink, noting that the rum inside was splashing louder, as there was very little left.

"It felt nice, being listened to. No one else did. Even Pen, when I told her about Theo and my outings, she seemed to warn me away. Of course, now I know why," she said with a glare. "She wanted me off her trail."

"To be fair, I think I would have warned you away, too."

"Why?" Eloise demanded. "Because he was not of our ilk? Because he wasn't born with a title and—"

"No, because you were traipsing about London unchaperoned."

"So did your precious Pen!"

"Do not worry. I will be having words with her on that," Colin growled. "I shall certainly put a stop to that nonsense!"

"You are positively primeval!" Eloise kicked at his ankle. "If you think you can tell her what to do—"

Colin scooted a bit further away on the bed. "Anyhow, outside of his treatment of you, in the end, I have no ill opinion of your Mr. Sharpe. His lack of money and status... That would mean nothing if he truly made you happy. I'm certain Mama and Anthony would feel the same."

Eloise snorted. "I think you give them far too much credit."

"They might have come 'round, if you were set upon him."

"I thought I might be. I thought, possibly, that this was the sort of great romance that all the poets and playwrights went on about. It didn't matter that we came from different worlds. It was a meeting of minds that only lacked a meeting of lips."

Colin could certainly relate. The way Pen had always made him feel, it was like they were only missing that one thing...

El shook her head. "But when he moved to kiss me, I thought that I would finally know what it was to be, not only respected, but wanted. I thought it might be the culmination of everything..."

Yes! Kissing her felt like the natural progression of everything they had been, could be, should be...

"And then he leaned toward me," El went on, "and... I didn't want to."

Colin certainly could not relate to that. God, kissing Pen felt far more right than every moment resisting it. "Why not?"

"I don't quite know. He was everything I thought I wanted, yet I couldn't bring myself to kiss him. It's mad, but it felt... like a force was pulling me away."

"No. I... I actually understand that." He'd been there, after all. Not with Penelope, God help him! But before... "I never told anyone this, but Marina... I nearly kissed her, you know, before I proposed."

"Nearly?" Eloise leaned forward then. "You proposed marriage to her before even kissed her?"

"El! What a scandalous thought! Of course I did not kiss her!"

"Well, I thought you must have! Don't you boys always go about kissing girls willy-nilly?"

"We men," he corrected, "gentlemen at least, do no such thing! I certainly hadn't been trying to kiss her that day. It was at Daph's wedding. I wouldn't have put on such a display."

"Oh, you noble thing." Eloise slowly clapped her hands. "Should you like a parade or will a statue do well enough?"

"Ha-ha. I was very noble that day, and solicitous," Colin insisted. "Marina had been feeling faint and begged me to take her somewhere private to catch her breath. So I brought her to Anthony's study to recover and she bade me to close the door, which I did, and she said we should not be alone and I agreed, and then she..."

"Ah, so she kissed you?"

"She did not! Though she tried. Her lips were... God, they weren't even an inch from mine, but I... I couldn't. It felt wrong, so I stopped it. I told her that I must maintain her honor, and mine. She seemed a little offended, though she denied it, and she looked as if she might quit the room, so I—"

"So you proposed?" Eloise scoffed loudly. "Because she seemed a little offended?"

"Look, it just came out!" Looking back, Colin hadn't known what he'd been feeling at the time, there was so much going on. He'd been overwhelmed by her attentions, sad that he'd disappointed her and extremely aware that he'd brought her into a room and closed the door. Yes, that was at her urging, but he was a man alone with an unmarried woman and, at the time... "It felt like the right thing to do. I also felt like, maybe it didn't feel right to kiss her because we'd made no promises. Once I asked for her hand, then I..."

"Then you kissed her, I suppose," Eloise said, scrunching up her nose.

"No. I did not. I did consider it, after she accepted me, and quite enthusiastically, but I..." Colin cleared his throat. "Well, surely it was improper to take such liberties before we were publicly betrothed. It would be best to wait until we had declared our intentions to all. So after we announced our engagement, I... Well, I suppose I could have kissed her then, but I decided that perhaps such things were best left for the wedding. That would make it feel right, right and honorable."

"I have to wonder where this vaunted honor of yours was with Penelope," Eloise said with narrowed eyes. "You are neither engaged nor married, yet you kissed her on at least six occasions!"

"Nay, it was only four occasions, really, and perhaps a wee bit more within those—"

"You beast!" Eloise slapped at his arm. "Ben said it was only once, but I just knew there were more!"

Colin caught her hand. "What a nasty trick! You are using my inebrillated state against me!"

"It's inebriated, you absolute libertine!" She tried to wrestle her hand from his, but he was still a bit stronger.

He caught her other hand as it struck at him. "I'm not a libertine!"

"You certainly took liberties," Eloise growled, "so that is the very definition—"

"I notice you're quite eager not to talk about kissing your Theo anymore."

"I told you before. There was no kissing." She pulled her hands away. "I wanted my first kiss to feel right."

"Well, so did I!"

"Your first? Surely not!"

"Surely so!"

Eloise drew back further, her eyes wide. "So Penelope was your first kiss?"

"First and only." He lifted his chin. "She will be my last as well."

"Why must you be so bloody sincere?" El groaned, sliding from the bed to the floor, leaning her head against the side. "It makes it much harder to hit you."

"So? What of your Theo?"

"He's not my Theo. Unlike you, I didn't propose marriage simply because he seemed offended, so I can congratulate myself on that much."

Colin couldn't help laughing at that.

El laughed as well, but a bit bitterly. "Anyway, as I said. It never felt right to kiss him. Later, I blamed Penelope. She had claimed people were talking about us, Theo and I, which was obviously not true. She was the only one who knew and she hadn't told, not even as Lady Whistledown. But she wasn't why I couldn't kiss him." Eloise sighed, but didn't elaborate.

"Why, then?" Colin prodded.

"I don't know. As his lips neared mine, I... I think I knew then that I was confusing our friendship, and my hunger for his good opinion, with attraction. He was the first man to make me feel... heard, but that didn't mean I wanted more than that. I didn't mean to lead him on."

"But you didn't."

El frowned heavily. "Perhaps I did. With the things he said when I refused his kiss... Well, I felt awful. I thought he was right, that I was just some rich girl toying with him, some silly—"

"No. You felt something for him. Maybe it wasn't what he wanted you to feel. But that's not your fault." Colin slid to the floor beside her. "You weren't obliged to return his affections, El. You did nothing wrong."

Eloise let out a sad little laugh. "I suppose that's nice to hear." She turned to him, putting her hand over his "And you did nothing wrong with Marina."

"That's also nice to hear." Colin turned his hand to grasp hers. It was also nice to just... be with El this way. When they were little, they got along famously. He might have pretended to complain about her tagging along when they were young, but no one could climb a tree like El or catch a frog or hook a worm when he got too squeamish about that part of fishing. It was only when they suddenly had to grow up that this ridiculous divide happened. Perhaps they had finally crossed this new gulf between them.

"I think the both of us just... got ourselves mixed up with the wrong people. Is that something all Bridgertons must do?" El tilted her head, considering it. "I mean, Anthony also proposed to the wrong girl first."

"Let's not forget Daphne." Colin laughed. "She was halfway to the vicar with the Prince before Simon came up to scratch."

Eloise laughed as well. "Perhaps it's all lessons learned. We Bridgertons simply must get it wrong at least once before getting it right."

"Really, Anthony led by example," Colin snorted. "Now the rest of us know not to take the wrong one to the altar."

"In front of the Queen, no less," Eloise giggled. "But you nearly took yours to the alter... or to the anvil, so judge not."

"God, I'd be lucky to get my proposal accepted with the right one this time. Because I did something wrong," Colin said, with a heavy sigh, "and I still don't even know what it was."

"With Pen..."

"Hell, maybe I did everything wrong." He turned to his sister. "El, she wanted to end our friendship completely and I'd give anything to have that back."

"Even marrying her? And you are still set upon it?"

"I am more set upon it than ever," Colin said firmly.

"But you don't know her," Eloise said.

"You keep saying that, as if you know her so much better than—"

"I don't know her either. I've had months to think upon it and I still don't understand her, yet you want to marry into this... this mess?" Eloise turned and dug into her box. "See here... 'Consider the household of the Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless mama...'

"Yes, I read all that." Colin frowned. "Why must she mock her own family? God, she paints our family better."

"Not always true. She had some opinions about Anthony chasing away Daphne's suitors in the next."

"Aye, but he deserved that."

Eloise conceded with a nod. "I suspect, if she didn't savage the Featheringtons, it would be quite suspicious," El said. "They are not well-respected. And Lady Whistledown tends to repeat what she hears."

"Still, Lady Whistledown could soften the blow, could she not?" Colin grumbled.

Eloise rolled her eyes. "She is Penelope. Are you still having trouble grasping that?"

He was. Lady Whistledown might be one of his, now, three Penelopes. But she was the one he understood the least. Yes, now that he'd sat down and read most of her work, he might admire her wit, her puns, her turns of phrase that made what he thought was his cleverest wordplay shrink to nothing in comparison. But he didn't understand why she must...

"'Miss Penelope Featherington did not dance at all,'" Eloise read on, "'which was no surprise as the poor girl looked more like an overripe citrus fruit than a debutante at...'"

"Why must she mock herself more than anyone?" Colin burst out. "All of these pamphlets and, do you know what I never see? A good word about Penelope Featherington."

"I told you, she can't go about praising herself. It's all to draw suspicion away from—"

"It can't be just for that." Colin cut in, feeling incensed on her behalf. "It's as if she truly believes what she writes, as if she's some unmarriageable spinster with no prospects. And she's... she's not that. I'm not saying she should be complimenting herself, but she could be kinder."

"True enough. This one is quite unkind to her." Eloise plucked up another issue, this one near the edge of the pile, unfolding it. "She put it in right after the sheet that damaged me." Eloise glanced up at Colin. "Do you think she... No. Never mind."

"What?"

"Sometimes I think she saw it as some sort of penance," El said softly. "Because even if someone said that about her, why would she repeat something so awful?"

"Repeat what?" Colin grasped for it. "I never got to the later ones."

"It's all about some blighter calling her unworthy of courting." El pointed to the passage.

Colin stared at it, the words doubling a bit, putting the column right up to his eyes until Eloise snatched it back.

"Oh, let me! You drunken lout," El sighed, before clearing her throat, reciting in that rather imperious nanny voice, "'One might think the Misses Featherington would be the belles of the ball in their own home, but alas... Mrs. Finch (formerly Phillipa Featherington) kept her vigil by the charcuterie table with her cheese-minded husband, while Miss Prudence Featherington was not spied dancing at all, not even with her (now suspiciously absent) fiance. Miss Penelope Featherington did dance briefly with Mr. Colin Bridgerton, but such charitable attempts have never had any effect on tempting anyone else to dance with the poor girl.'"

"Charitable?" Colin scoffed. "She said something like that before, implying I dance with her only out of some sort of obligation. Ridiculous! Do you have a quill? We should cross that bit out. I don't dance with you for your gratitude! I very clearly said that to her." He started to grab for the pamphlet.

Eloise held the paper away. "Did you?"

"Yes. On our journey here. So that is a spurious claim. Let's strike that off!"

"Six months after she wrote it?" Eloise drawled. "I don't think that counts as printing a retraction. Can I go on or do you have more corrections to make that no one will ever see?"

"Well, it's not true," he grumbled. "This woman writes as if Penelope is some poor girl who none might care to dance with or even look at!"

"Once again, this woman is Penelope," Eloise groaned.

"Yes, yes, I know, but... it's... I don't like to hear anyone speak badly of Penelope, and that includes herself! All this charity talk..." He hated hearing it now, even more than when she'd said it the first time...

"Whatever the reason," Penelope had said, "it's very kind of you to dance with me, but with you being the only one... It looks like I'm pitifully dangling after you."

"I would never think that!"

"Perhaps you don't, but others do."

"She happens to be a delightful dance partner," Colin said hotly.

"Noted," Eloise said, "reading on..."

"It's not your fault the way people talk." God, he could still hear her, so cold and clipped over their lunch at The Holly Hock. "But it still needs to stop. I cannot be seen leaving the room with my hand in yours or be found in rooms alone or—"

"But I never intended—"

"Believe me, I know. I know you didn't intend any of that in a scandalous way. You've made that perfectly clear."

Something about her words pricked at him now, in a new way. It wasn't just the remorse that came later, after simply everyone pointed out how dangerously free he'd been with Penelope, but there was more...

"...imagine if someone besides my mother had walked into that drawing room." That's what Pen had said. "She knows you would never touch me, but another might think me, at best, a careless girl who lets men toy with her or, at worst, a lightskirt..."

God, how her words tortured him then, so deeply offended at the very idea that anyone would think a paragon like Pen might be a woman of easy virtue.

Yet they tortured him in a another way now. Hadn't he been toying with her, touching her? Did she think she couldn't tempt a man to touch? He was living proof that...

"'...and the youngest Miss Featherington was not spied dancing again,'" Eloise was still reading, still in that annoyingly imperious Nanny voice. "In fact, she seemed to quit the ball entirely before the needlessly garish fireworks display, though that didn't necessarily mean she was not thought of.'"

He straightened, listening more closely to Lady Whistledown's words now, more bitterly. Of course Pen was thought of. She'd looked quite fetching that night. Her gilded dress was still a bit girlish, but with her up-swept hair, her neck bare but for little curls that escaped, she'd looked rather...

"'In fact, a group of young men could be heard giggling at the mention of her name,'" Eloise read, "'one even declaring, teased at the prospect of wooing the unfortunate girl, that he would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington.'"

Colin froze. Yes, he'd heard tales of the quote in question, but hearing the very words made him feel almost sick.

Because he didn't just hear them in Eloise's voice, but... in his own.

God, then he heard Penelope's voice at their luncheon, echoing after it...

"After all, it's common knowledge you would never court me..."

He heard it again, but so clearly in his own voice, his tone strident and even on the verge of laughter... "Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington..."

He stood, then, dropping his empty bottle to the floor, gasping, "No!"

"Indeed, some absolute cur said that," El sneered. "Anyway, it goes on, 'From the laughter that ensued, it seemed the other gentlemen agreed. While I would not normally deign to speak for another young lady, I hope Miss Penelope bids the gentleman in question a very good riddance.'" Eloise folded the paper then. "It had to be Fife. He's the worst of them. I've been certain of it for a long time."

"No," Colin found himself saying dully, "it can't have been Fife." Because there was more to what was said. He could hear it now...

Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife...

"Why didn't she call the blighter out? I would have named him, and shamed him to boot!" Eloise frowned at the pamphlet. "But maybe this was just something overheard. Maybe she didn't know precisely who said it."

"No, she knew. She knew quite well," Colin said weakly. God, he wished it was someone else — or anyone but him. But Pen wouldn't have been so angry at him in particular if that were the case.

"After all, it's common knowledge you would never court me..."

He didn't blame her for being angry. He'd been quite incensed himself.

"I'd like to know who is talking about you like this. I'll correct them at dawn if I need to!"

He'd said that, and to Penelope, not knowing who the blighter in question was.

Could a man meet himself for pistols at dawn?

He should. Someone should. Someone should punish him.

He squeezed his eyes shut He'd drank so much that night — not just at the ball, but at the club after — that the earlier parts had only come to him in bits and pieces. But now, just hearing those words, he could finally see and hear all of it...

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

Six months earlier

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

Colin had always been the tallest of his brothers, but never had he truly felt it was so.

Anthony was the head of the family, almost a father at times. Benedict had so many talents and such purpose. They had had always been so sure of who they were, of their place in this world, that Colin had always felt dwarfed by them.

Yet there was something about tonight that made him feel like the tallest man to ever walk the earth.

You were astonishing, Colin.

Those words echoed in his mind, making everything right. He'd felt like a fool for believing Jack Featherington even for a second. Once his suspicions had been raised and he'd investigated, he felt it might be too late.

He'd glanced at Penelope a number of times as he danced with that beastly Cressida Cowper. She'd looked troubled. He didn't blame her. The girl had been horrid to Pen on more than one occasion that he saw, and had surely been so more often out of his sight. He'd not have danced with her at all, except that Penelope had not been wearing one of the ruby necklaces in question.

If she had, he'd have preferred to slip it from her neck. He wouldn't even have needed to employ a ruse, and the dance and conversation with Pen would have been much more enjoyable.

Yet all was well, when he took Pen's hand as soon as the dance ended and led her away. Her smile was so lovely and trusting. Yes, he wanted to prove her cousin's deception, but he also wanted her to know, above everyone, that he wasn't dancing with that awful Cowper girl out of any desire to do so.

Pen still looked strangely upset when he closed the doors and exposed Jack Featherington's misdeeds, and he feared she might be upset with him still. Perhaps it was all the shock of what he'd revealed. She seemed to bear him no ill will when she found him later, enjoying a second hastily gulped glass of champagne. He'd never exposed a criminal before and found the activity made him quite thirsty.

And, once Penelope was in his sights, he found himself also quite in need of a dance. He felt full of pent-up energy. God, why hadn't it been a reel or a country dance or something more energetic? Yet he couldn't regret the dance was slower and didn't separate them. It allowed them to talk as they had not, at least not at length, since the wedding that never was. There, he had been impressed by her, by her fine words about her purpose. To find her impressed by him now...

You were astonishing, Colin. I can't thank you enough for looking after us.

God, it was a heady feeling.

He assured her that he always would look after her, that she was special to him, gratified when she said the same. He wasn't even thirsty after their dance. His next two glasses of champagne were purely in celebration. Not just of his own triumph over Lord Featherington, but of Anthony's seeming meeting of minds with Kate. Benedict might know a bit more about that whole thing, but he'd suspected they might suit from that game of Pall Mall and was happy to see them come together.

Really, it was a fantastic night all around. By the time Fife and his cronies joined him, he was in high spirits indeed, enough to even tolerate Fife and his cronies. He owed a debt to Mr. Monrich. Perhaps he could persuade them to...

"Ah, Bridgerton," Lord Cho was saying. "We were just asking Lord Fife about his disappearance from the ball, about the same time as Miss Goring, if I'm not mistaken."

"Come now, a gentleman never tells," Fife drawled, lighting his cigar. "At least not until he has serious designs. Some girls are for courting and some girls are for... elsewise."

"Elsewise?" Colin echoed. "I should think none of these girls were for the latter." He'd just exposed one scoundrel tonight. He would not be averse to unmasking another. Then again, he'd not want to expose poor Miss Goring to further talk. He didn't know her well, but he didn't like Fife making her out to be... elsewise. "If your suit was unsuccessful, Fife, why don't you just say so, rather than exposing the girl to ridicule?"

Fife seemed unbothered, as always, staring at his cheroot's fiery tip. "I've not said a word against her, at least not directly. If people infer otherwise, that is certainly not on me." His eyes gleamed as they met Colin's. "And I am not the only one who disappeared from the ball tonight? Didn't I see you leave the ballroom for a clandestine meeting as well?"

Colin stiffened, hoping he wouldn't say...

"With Penelope Featherington?"

Colin stiffened further.

"She was looking less... infantile than usual," Fife drawled. "I would not blame a man for—"

"My family and hers are long-standing friends," Colin said quickly. "I'll have you know her mother joined us shortly after, as did Lord Featherington." They didn't need to know the rest of it, not yet. The rest would be known if Jack Featherington put things right.

Fife seemed determined to press him on it. "Still, for you to leave the ballroom with her seemed to imply... elsewise."

Damn it, he would not have her reputation called into question. Colin forced a laugh, not sure what else to do but make the notion seem ridiculous. "Penelope Featherington?" He was relieved when the others joined in.

Fife didn't, the blighter. "The way you were dancing with her looked rather... interesting. You courting the girl, Bridgerton?" Fife prodded.

"Ah—" Of course, to Fife, girls were only for courting or trifling with. Nothing else. "Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington — not in your wildest fantasies, Fife."

There was more laughter and Colin felt vaguely annoyed about it. But his fifth champagne, finally hitting him as the fireworks started, made it a bit more like a low hum of irritation.

Fife scoffed "I assure you, if I had fantasies about Penelope Featherington, they would not involve you courting her. Perhaps they might involve lower bodices."

"I mean that she's my friend," Colin protested, his teeth clenched, his blood boiling.

"You stand awfully close to your friend," Fife chuckled.

"Well, can one blame him?" Lord Cho snickered. "He's certainly the tallest of us. That must grant him quite a view with the littler of the ladies."

The men around him laughed again, the fools. Of course Fife and his fellows hadn't the capacity to understand a friendship like theirs. "I assure you, I don't use my height in such a manner."

"If I were you, I would," Sir Something-Or-Other said. "That Miss Meade has certainly grown, and not in height."

"Nay, Lady Winnifred is much more impressive," Mr. What's-His-Name said. "And she gives a deep curtsy."

Colin forced a laugh, though he tossed a glare at Fife. Really, he was only too relieved the gentlemen had stopped talking of Penelope's... attributes. Penelope was too good to be talked of in such a way, to be played with, trifled with, courted... Actually, yes, she should be courted, perhaps by some man in some far-off future, but not now. Penelope was young, untried, naive, trusting...

You were astonishing, Colin.

Her words still made him feel that he might be better than he was. He meant what he'd said that night in Lady Danbury's parlor, watching all those silly swains courting Miss Edwina Sharma's favor. Even when he declared he had sworn off women, he could never swear off Penelope. She was too important.

But he couldn't expect Fife and the rest to comprehend that. Still, there was one thing he could make them all understand. He had a debt to pay, after all. "I think we could all use a stiffer drink. And I know just the place..."

"Colin? Are you even here?" Fife was snapping his fingers in front of his face. "Where are you?"

"Mondrich's." That's where he was going....

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

"Colin!"

He pushed El's hand away. "What?"

"God, you went so still. It looked like you'd been struck by lightning."

"No. Not lightning," he droned. "I was struck by a memory," he said miserably. God, he wished he could forget it. It wasn't a good one. Someone should punish him, he thought again. And El was the perfect person to do so. "It was me, El."

"What was you?" El had gone back to putting her Whistledowns in the box, all in little rows. "I think I've got them all put to rights again."

Never mind how well they'd been getting on. El was the only one who cared for Pen as much as he did. Their quarrel hadn't changed that. She would not take this well. Still, he spoke, "I said it."

She glanced up. "Said what?"

He stood, staring down at her. "It wasn't Fife. Yes, he's the absolute worst man I know, but he wasn't the one who said he would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington." He lifted his eyes to hers. "I was."

Eloise stared at him for a long time before standing herself.

He was expecting her fist to come.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

It hit his eye, this time, not his stomach, and much harder than before.

And just as Benedict opened the door.

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

Sorry this chapter took such a long time to write. And that it was so dang long. I had a lot to say, mostly in rebuttal to Pen's anti-fans, and I gave it all to Eloise.

Not that Eloise is a full-on hater. She wants to be. She's trying very hard to hold onto her grudge, but her loyalty to Penelope can't help peeking out a little here and there... or a whole lot at the end.

There's a couple Easter Eggs in there for any of you who might be Philoise girlies, BTW. ;)

I'm going to take a wee break to update my other Polin fic that's been languishing since Fall. But I will be back here for the finish as soon as I can and hope to get this all done before season 3 comes!