Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,135

“say a word.”

“I beg your pardon.” Penelope let out a little huff of righteous indignation. “I’m the one who said we couldn’t tell her on her wedding day.”

“I was talking to my mother,” he said.

Violet shook her head. “Eloise is going to kill us.”

“She nearly killed us already, running off like an idiot,” Colin said, with uncharacteristic shortness of temper. “I’ve already instructed the others to keep their mouths shut.”

“Even Hyacinth?” Penelope asked doubtfully.

“Especially Hyacinth.”

“Did you bribe her?” Violet asked. “Because it won’t work unless you bribe her.”

“Good Lord,” Colin muttered. “One would think I’d joined this family yesterday. Of course I bribed her.” He turned to Penelope. “No offense to recent additions.”

“Oh, none taken,” she said. “What did you give her?”

He thought about his bargaining session with his youngest sister and nearly shuddered. “Twenty pounds.”

“Twenty pounds!” Violet exclaimed. “Are you mad?”

“I suppose you could have done better,” he retorted. “And I’ve only given her half. I wouldn’t trust that girl as far as I could throw her. But if she keeps her mouth shut, I’ll be another ten pounds poorer.”

“I wonder how far you could throw her,” Penelope mused.

Colin turned to his mother. “I tried for ten, but she wouldn’t budge.” And then to Penelope: “Not nearly far enough.”

Violet sighed. “I ought to scold you for that.”

“But you won’t.” Colin flashed her a grin.

“Heaven help me,” was her only reply.

“Heaven help whatever chap is mad enough to marry her,” he remarked.

“I think there is more to Hyacinth than the two of you allow,” Penelope put in. “You ought not to underestimate her.”

“Good Lord,” Colin replied, “we don’t do that.”

“You’re so sweet,” Violet said, leaning forward to give Penelope an impromptu hug.

“It’s only through sheer force of luck she hasn’t taken over the world,” Colin muttered.

“Ignore him,” Violet said to Penelope. “And you,” she added, turning to Colin, “must head immediately to the church. The rest of the men have already gone down. It’s only a five-minute walk.”

“You’re planning to walk?” he asked doubtfully.

“Of course not,” his mother replied dismissively. “And we certainly cannot spare a carriage for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking for one,” Colin replied, deciding that a solitary stroll through the fresh morning air was decidedly preferable to a closed carriage with his female relations.

He leaned down to kiss his wife’s cheek. Right near her ear. “Remember,” he whispered, “no telling.”

“I can keep a secret,” she replied.

“It’s far easier to keep a secret from a thousand people than it is from just one,” he said. “Far less guilt involved.”

Her cheeks flushed, and he kissed her again near her ear. “I know you so well,” he murmured.

He could practically hear her teeth gnashing as he left.

“Penelope!”

Eloise started to jump from her seat to greet her, but Hyacinth, who was supervising the dressing of her hair, jammed her hand on her shoulder with a low, almost menacing, “Down.”

And Eloise, who normally would have slain Hyacinth with a glare, meekly resumed her seat.

Penelope looked to Daphne, who appeared to be supervising Hyacinth.

“It has been a long morning,” Daphne said.

Penelope walked forward, pushed gently past Hyacinth, and carefully embraced Eloise so as not to muss her coiffure. “You look beautiful,” she said.

“Thank you,” Eloise replied, but her lips were trembling, and her eyes were wet and threatening to spill over at any moment.

More than anything, Penelope wanted to take her aside and tell her that everything was going to be all right, and she didn’t have to marry Sir Phillip if she didn’t want to, but when all was said and done, Penelope didn’t know that everything was going to be all right, and she rather suspected that Eloise did have to marry her Sir Phillip.

She’d heard bits and pieces. Eloise had been in residence at Romney Hall for over a week without a chaperone. Her reputation would be in tatters if it got out, which it surely would. Penelope knew better than anyone the power and tenacity of gossip. Plus, Penelope had heard that Eloise and Anthony had had A Talk.

The matter of the wedding, it seemed, was final.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Eloise said.

“Goodness, you know I would never miss your wedding.”

“I know.” Eloise’s lips trembled, and then her face took on that expression one makes when one is trying to appear brave and actually thinks one might be succeeding. “I know,” she said again, a little more evenly. “Of course you wouldn’t. But that does not lessen my pleasure in seeing you.”

It was an oddly stiff sentence for