Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,17

at last night’s birthday ball at Bridgerton House was not the rousing toast to Lady Bridgerton (age not to be revealed) but rather Lady Danbury’s impertinent offer of one thousand pounds to whomever unmasks . . .

Me.

Do your worst, ladies and gentlemen of the ton. You haven’t a prayer of solving this mystery.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 12 APRIL 1824

Precisely three minutes were required for news of Lady Danbury’s outrageous dare to spread throughout the ballroom. Penelope knew this to be true because she happened to be facing a large (and, according to Kate Bridgerton, extremely precise) grandfather clock when Lady Danbury made her announcement. At the words, “One thousand pounds to the person who unmasks Lady Whistledown,” the clock read forty-four minutes past ten. The long hand had advanced no farther than forty-seven when Nigel Berbrooke stumbled into the rapidly growing circle of people surrounding Lady Danbury and proclaimed her latest scheme “scrumbly good fun!”

And if Nigel had heard about it, that meant everyone had, because Penelope’s brother-in-law was not known for his intelligence, his attention span, or his listening ability.

Nor, Penelope thought wryly, for his vocabulary. Scrumbly, indeed.

“And who do you think Lady Whistledown is?” Lady Danbury asked Nigel.

“No earthly idea,” he admitted. “Ain’t me, that’s all I know!”

“I think we all know that,” Lady D replied.

“Who do you think it is?” Penelope asked Colin.

He offered her a one-shouldered shrug. “I’ve been out of town too often to speculate.”

“Don’t be silly,” Penelope said. “Your cumulative time in London certainly adds up to enough parties and routs to form a few theories.”

But he just shook his head. “I really couldn’t say.”

Penelope stared at him for a moment longer than was necessary, or, in all honesty, socially acceptable. There was something odd in Colin’s eyes. Something fleeting and elusive. The ton often thought him nothing more than a devil-may-care charmer, but he was far more intelligent than he let on, and she’d have bet her life that he had a few suspicions.

But for some reason, he wasn’t willing to share them with her.

“Who do you think it is?” Colin asked, avoiding her question with one of his own. “You’ve been out in society just about as long as Lady Whistledown. Surely you must have thought about it.”

Penelope looked about the ballroom, her eyes resting on this person and that, before finally returning to the small crowd around her. “I think it could very well be Lady Danbury,” she replied. “Wouldn’t that be a clever joke on everyone?”

Colin looked over at the elderly lady, who was having a grand old time talking up her latest scheme. She was thumping her cane on the ground, chattering animatedly, and smiling like a cat with cream, fish, and an entire roast turkey. “It makes sense,” he said thoughtfully, “in a rather perverse sort of way.”

Penelope felt the corners of her mouth twist. “She’s nothing if not perverse.”

She watched Colin watching Lady D for another few seconds, then quietly said, “But you don’t think it’s her.”

Colin slowly turned his head to face her, raising one brow in silent question.

“I can tell by the expression on your face,” Penelope explained.

He grinned, that loose easy grin he so often used in public. “And here I thought I was inscrutable.”

“Afraid not,” she replied. “Not to me, anyway.”

Colin sighed. “I fear it will never be my destiny to be a dark, brooding hero.”

“You may well find yourself someone’s hero,” Penelope allowed. “There’s time for you yet. But dark and brooding?” She smiled. “Not very likely.”

“Too bad for me,” he said jauntily, giving her another one of his well-known smiles—this one the lopsided, boyish one. “The dark, brooding types get all the women.”

Penelope coughed discreetly, a bit surprised he’d be speaking of such things with her, not to mention the fact that Colin Bridgerton had never had trouble attracting women. He was grinning at her, awaiting a response, and she was trying to decide whether the correct reaction was polite maidenly outrage or a laugh and an I’m-such-a-good-sport sort of chuckle, when Eloise quite literally skidded to a halt in front of them.

“Did you hear the news?” Eloise asked breathlessly.

“Were you running?” Penelope returned. Truly a remarkable feat in such a crowded ballroom.

“Lady Danbury has offered one thousand pounds to whomever unmasks Lady Whistledown!”

“We know,” Colin said in that vaguely superior tone exclusive to older brothers.

Eloise let out a disappointed sigh. “You do?”

Colin motioned to Lady Danbury, who was still a scant few yards away. “We were right here when it