Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,124

“I told her.”

“He underlined it twice,” Hyacinth added. “If his ink had been any darker, I’m sure I would have had to go out and slaughter a horse myself.”

“Hyacinth!” Violet exclaimed.

Hyacinth just shrugged. “It’s all very intriguing.”

“Actually,” Penelope said, eager to change the subject, or at least to twist it slightly, “what I’m wondering is, what will Colin wear?”

That got everyone’s attention.

“He left home in his afternoon clothes,” Penelope explained, “and didn’t come back. I can’t imagine your sister would accept anything less than full evening kit for her ball.”

“He’ll have borrowed something from Anthony,” Eloise said dismissively. “They’re precisely the same size. Same as Gregory, actually. Only Benedict is different.”

“Two inches taller,” Hyacinth said.

Penelope nodded, feigning interest as she glanced out the window. They’d just slowed down, the driver presumably trying to navigate through the crush of carriages that were choking Grosvenor Square.

“How many people are expected tonight?” Penelope asked.

“I believe five hundred were invited,” Violet replied. “Daphne doesn’t host parties very often, but what she lacks in frequency she makes up for in size.”

“I’ll say,” Hyacinth muttered. “I hate crowds. I’m not going to be able to get a decent breath tonight.”

“I’m lucky you were my last,” Violet told her with weary affection. “I’d not have had the energy for any more after you, I’m sure.”

“Pity I wasn’t first, then,” Hyacinth said with a cheeky smile. “Think of all the attention I could have had. Not to mention the fortune.”

“You’re already quite the heiress as it is,” Violet said.

“And you always manage to find your way to the center of attention,” Eloise teased.

Hyacinth just grinned.

“Did you know,” Violet said, turning to Penelope, “that all of my children are going to be in attendance tonight? I can’t remember the last time we were all together.”

“What about your birthday party?” Eloise asked.

Violet shook her head. “Gregory wasn’t able to get away from university.”

“We’re not expected to line up according to height and sing a festive tune, are we?” Hyacinth asked, only half joking. “I can see us now: The Singing Bridgertons. We’d make a fortune on the stage.”

“You’re in a punchy mood tonight,” Penelope said to her.

Hyacinth shrugged. “Just getting myself ready for my upcoming transformation into glue. It seems to require a certain mental preparedness.”

“A gluey frame of mind?” Penelope inquired mildly.

“Precisely.”

“We must get her married off soon,” Eloise said to her mother.

“You first,” Hyacinth shot back.

“I’m working on it,” Eloise said cryptically.

“What?” The word’s volume was rather amplified by the fact that it exploded from three mouths at once.

“That’s all I’m going to say,” Eloise said, and in such a tone of voice that they all knew she meant it.

“I will get to the bottom of this,” Hyacinth assured her mother and Penelope.

“I’m sure you will,” Violet replied.

Penelope turned to Eloise and said, “You don’t stand a chance.”

Eloise just lifted her chin in the air and looked out the window. “We’re here,” she announced.

The four ladies waited until the driver had opened the door, and then one by one they alighted.

“My goodness,” Violet said approvingly, “Daphne has truly outdone herself.”

It was difficult not to stop and look. All of Hastings House was ablaze with light. Every window had been adorned with candles, and outdoor sconces held torches, as did a fleet of footmen who were greeting the carriages.

“It’s too bad Lady Whistledown isn’t here,” Hyacinth said, her voice for once losing its cheeky edge. “She would have loved this.”

“Maybe she is here,” Eloise said. “In fact, she probably is.”

“Did Daphne invite Cressida Twombley?” Violet asked.

“I’m sure she did,” Eloise said. “Not that I think she’s Lady Whistledown.”

“I don’t think anyone thinks that any longer,” Violet replied as she lifted her foot onto the first step. “Come along, girls, our night awaits.”

Hyacinth stepped forward to accompany her mother, while Eloise fell into line beside Penelope.

“There’s magic in the air,” Eloise said, looking around as if she’d never seen a London ball before. “Do you feel it?”

Penelope just looked at her, afraid that if she opened her mouth, she’d blurt out all of her secrets. Eloise was right. There was something strange and electric about the night, a crackling sort of energy—the kind one felt just before a thunderstorm.

“It almost feels like a turning point,” Eloise mused, “as if one’s life could change completely, all in one night.”

“What are you saying, Eloise?” Penelope asked, alarmed by the look in her friend’s eyes.

“Nothing,” Eloise said with a shrug. But a mysterious smile remained upon her lips as she hooked her arm