Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,51

you right here.”

Colin took his time while he changed into Gregory’s clothes, taking more care with his cravat than he had in years. Finally, when he was convinced that Eloise must be grinding her teeth, he reentered the hall.

“I heard you went to see Penelope today,” she said without preamble.

Wrong thing to say.

“Where did you hear that?” he asked carefully. He knew that his sister and Penelope were close, but surely Penelope wouldn’t have told Eloise about that.

“Felicity told Hyacinth.”

“And Hyacinth told you.”

“Of course.”

“Something,” Colin muttered, “has got to be done about all the gossip in this town.”

“I hardly think this counts as gossip, Colin,” Eloise said. “It’s not as if you’re interested in Penelope.”

If she had been talking about any other woman, Colin would have expected her to give him a sidelong glance, followed by a coy, Are you?

But this was Penelope, and even though Eloise was her very best friend, and thus her finest champion, even she couldn’t imagine that a man of Colin’s reputation and popularity would be interested in a woman of Penelope’s reputation and (lack of) popularity.

Colin’s mood shifted from bad to foul.

“Anyway,” Eloise continued, completely oblivious to the thunderstorm that was brewing in her normally sunny and jovial brother, “Felicity told Hyacinth that Briarly told her that you’d visited. I was just wondering what it was about.”

“It’s none of your business,” Colin said briskly, hoping she’d leave it at that, but not really believing she would. He took a step toward the stairwell, though, always optimistic.

“It’s about my birthday, isn’t it?” Eloise guessed, dashing in front of him with such suddenness that his toe crashed into her slipper. She winced, but Colin didn’t feel particularly sympathetic.

“No, it’s not about your birthday,” he snapped. “Your birthday isn’t even until—”

He stopped. Ah, hell.

“Until next week,” he grumbled.

She smiled slyly. Then, as if her brain had just realized it had taken a wrong turn, her lips parted with dismay as she mentally backed up and headed in another direction. “So,” she continued, moving slightly so that she better blocked his path, “if you didn’t go over there to discuss my birthday—and there’s nothing you could say now that would convince me you did—why did you go see Penelope?”

“Is nothing private in this world?”

“Not in this family.”

Colin decided that his best bet was to adopt his usual sunny persona, even though he didn’t feel the least bit charitable toward her at the moment, and so he slapped on the smoothest and easiest of his smiles, quirked his head to the side, and asked, “Do I hear Mother calling my name?”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Eloise said pertly, “and what is wrong with you? You look very odd.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You look as if you’ve been to the dentist.”

His voice descended into a mutter. “It’s always nice to receive compliments from family.”

“If you can’t trust your family to be honest with you,” she volleyed, “who can you trust?”

He leaned fluidly back against the wall, crossing his arms. “I prefer flattery to honesty.”

“No, you don’t.”

Dear God, he wanted to smack her. He hadn’t done that since he was twelve. And he’d been horsewhipped for it. The only time he could recall his father laying a hand on him.

“What I want,” Colin returned, arching one brow, “is an immediate cessation of this conversation.”

“What you want,” Eloise needled, “is for me to stop asking you why you went to see Penelope Featherington, but I think we both know that isn’t likely to occur.”

And that was when he knew it. Knew it deep in his bones, from his head to his toes, his heart to his mind that his sister was Lady Whistledown. All of the pieces fit. There was no one more stubborn and bullheaded, no one who could—or would—take the time to get to the bottom of every last piece of gossip and innuendo.

When Eloise wanted something, she didn’t stop until she had it firmly in her grasp. It wasn’t about money, or greed, or material goods. With her it was about knowledge. She liked knowing things, and she’d needle and needle and needle until you’d told her exactly what she wanted to hear.

It was a miracle no one had found her out sooner.

Out of nowhere he said, “I need to talk to you.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her into the nearest room, which happened to be her own.

“Colin!” she shrieked, trying unsuccessfully to shake him off. “What are you doing?”

He slammed the door shut, let go of