Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,42

that you have piles and piles of cousins as well, and—”

“Enough,” he warned. But he was grinning as he said it.

Penelope stared down at her hand in his, then said, “Lots of people will want to read about your travels. Maybe at first it will only be because you’re a well-known figure in London, but it won’t take long before everyone realizes what a good writer you are. And then they’ll be clamoring for more.”

“I don’t want to be a success because of the Bridgerton name,” he said.

She dropped his hand and planted hers on her hips. “Are you even listening to me? I just told you that—”

“What are you two talking about?”

Eloise. Looking very, very curious.

“Nothing,” they both muttered at the same time.

Eloise snorted. “Don’t insult me. It’s not nothing. Penelope looked as if she might start breathing fire at any moment.”

“Your brother is just being obtuse,” Penelope said.

“Well, that is nothing new,” Eloise said.

“Wait a moment!” Colin exclaimed.

“But what,” Eloise probed, ignoring him entirely, “is he being obtuse about?”

“It’s a private matter,” Colin ground out.

“Which makes it all the more interesting,” Eloise said. She looked to Penelope expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Penelope said. “I really can’t say.”

“I can’t believe it!” Eloise cried out. “You’re not going to tell me.”

“No,” Penelope replied, feeling rather oddly satisfied with herself, “I’m not.”

“I can’t believe it,” Eloise said again, turning to her brother. “I can’t believe it.”

His lips quirked into the barest of smiles. “Believe it.”

“You’re keeping secrets from me.”

He raised his brows. “Did you think I told you everything?”

“Of course not.” She scowled. “But I thought Penelope did.”

“But this isn’t my secret to tell,” Penelope said. “It’s Colin’s.”

“I think the planet has shifted on its axis,” Eloise grumbled. “Or perhaps England has crashed into France. All I know is this is not the same world I inhabited just this morning.”

Penelope couldn’t help it. She giggled.

“And you’re laughing at me!” Eloise added.

“No, I’m not,” Penelope said, laughing. “Really, I’m not.”

“Do you know what you need?” Colin asked.

“Me?” Eloise queried.

He nodded. “A husband.”

“You’re as bad as Mother!”

“I could be a lot worse if I really put my mind to it.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Eloise shot back.

“Stop, stop!” Penelope said, truly laughing in earnest now. They both looked at her expectantly, as if to say, Now what?

“I’m so glad I came tonight,” Penelope said, the words tumbling unbidden from her lips. “I can’t remember a nicer evening. Truly, I can’t.”

Several hours later, as Colin was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the bedroom of his new flat in Bloomsbury, it occurred to him that he felt the exact same way.

Chapter 8

Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington were seen in conversation at the Smythe-Smith musicale, although no one seems to know what exactly they were discussing. This Author would venture to guess that their conversation centered upon This Author’s identity, since that was what everyone else seemed to be talking about before, after, and (rather rudely, in This Author’s esteemed opinion) during the performance.

In other news, Honoria Smythe-Smith’s violin was damaged when Lady Danbury accidentally knocked it off a table while waving her cane.

Lady Danbury insisted upon replacing the instrument, but then declared that as it is not her habit to buy anything but the best, Honoria will have a Ruggieri violin, imported from Cremona, Italy.

It is This Author’s understanding that, when one factors in manufacture and shipping time, along with a lengthy waiting list, it takes six months for a Ruggieri violin to reach our shores.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 16 APRIL 1824

There are moments in a woman’s life when her heart flips in her chest, when the world suddenly seems uncommonly pink and perfect, when a symphony can be heard in the tinkle of a doorbell.

Penelope Featherington had just such a moment two days after the Smythe-Smith musicale.

All it took was a knock on her bedroom door, followed by her butler’s voice, informing her:

“Mr. Colin Bridgerton is here to see you.”

Penelope tumbled right off the bed.

Briarly, who had butlered for the Featherington family long enough so that he did not even so much as bat an eyelash at Penelope’s clumsiness, murmured, “Shall I tell him you are not in?”

“No!” Penelope nearly shrieked, stumbling to her feet. “I mean, no,” she added in a more reasonable voice. “But I will require ten minutes to prepare myself.” She glanced in the mirror and winced at her disheveled appearance. “Fifteen.”

“As you wish, Miss Penelope.”

“Oh, and make certain to prepare a tray of food. Mr. Bridgerton