the Duchess of Hastings. The following year Anthony had married Kate. There had been a bit of a lull after that, but both Benedict and Francesca had married within a year of each other, Benedict to Sophie, and Francesca to the Scottish Earl of Kilmartin.
Francesca, unfortunately, had been widowed only two years after her marriage. She now divided her time between her late husband’s family in Scotland and her own in London. When in town, however, she insisted upon living at Kilmartin House instead of at Bridgerton House or Number Five. Penelope didn’t blame her. If she were a widow, she’d want to enjoy all of her independence, too.
Hyacinth generally bore her mother’s matchmaking with good humor since, as she had told Penelope, it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to get married eventually. Might as well let her mother do all the work and then she could choose a husband when the right one presented himself.
And it was with this good humor that she stood, kissed her mother on the cheek, and dutifully promised that her main focus in life was to look for a husband—all the while directing a cheeky, sneaky smile at her brother and sister. She was barely back in her seat when she said to the crowd at large, “So, do you think she’ll be caught?”
“Are we still discussing that Whistledown woman?” Lady Bridgerton groaned.
“Have you not heard Eloise’s theory, then?” Penelope asked.
All eyes turned to Penelope, then to Eloise.
“Er, what is my theory?” Eloise asked.
“It was just, oh, I don’t know, maybe a week ago,” Penelope said. “We were talking about Lady Whistledown, and I said that I didn’t see how she could possibly go on forever, that eventually she would have to make a mistake. Then Eloise said she wasn’t so sure, that it had been over ten years and if she were going to make a mistake, wouldn’t she have already done so? Then I said, no, she was only human. Eventually she would have to slip up, because no one could go on forever, and—”
“Oh, I remember now!” Eloise cut in. “We were at your house, in your room. I had the most brilliant idea! I said to Penelope that I would wager that Lady Whistledown has already made a mistake, and it’s just we were too stupid to have noticed it.”
“Not very complimentary for us, I must say,” Colin murmured.
“Well, I did intend we to mean all of society, not just us Bridgertons,” Eloise demurred.
“So maybe,” Hyacinth mused, “all I need to do to catch Lady Whistledown is peruse back issues of her column.”
Lady Bridgerton’s eyes filled with a mild panic. “Hyacinth Bridgerton, I don’t like the look on your face.”
Hyacinth smiled and shrugged. “I could have a great deal of fun with one thousand pounds.”
“God help us all,” was her mother’s reply.
“Penelope,” Colin said quite suddenly, “you never did finish telling us about Felicity. Is it true that she is to be engaged?”
Penelope gulped down the tea she’d been in the process of sipping. Colin had a way of looking at a person, his green eyes so focused and intent that you felt as if you must be the only two people in the universe. Unfortunately for Penelope, it also seemed to have a way of reducing her to a stammering imbecile. If they were in the midst of conversation, she could generally hold her own, but when he surprised her like that, turning his attention onto her just when she’d convinced herself she blended in perfectly with the wallpaper, she was completely and utterly lost.
“Er, yes, it is quite possible,” she said. “Mr. Albansdale has been hinting at his intentions. But if he does decide to propose, I imagine he will travel to East Anglia to ask my uncle for her hand.”
“Your uncle?” Kate asked.
“My uncle Geoffrey. He lives near Norwich. He’s our closest male relative, although truth be told, we don’t see him very often. But Mr. Albansdale is rather traditional. I don’t think he would feel comfortable asking my mother.”
“I hope he asks Felicity as well,” Eloise said. “I’ve often thought it foolish that a man asks a woman’s father for her hand before he asks her. The father doesn’t have to live with him.”
“This attitude,” Colin said with an amused smile that was only partly hidden by his teacup, “may explain why you are as yet unmarried.”
Lady Bridgerton gave her son a stern glare and said his name disapprovingly.
“Oh, no, Mother,” Eloise said, “I don’t