for any sign of sanity in her companions. Surely they realized that the world was not drawing to a close just because Lady Whistledown had decided to end her career.
“You’re right, of course,” said Lady Bridgerton, jutting her chin out and pursing her lips in a manner that was probably supposed to convey an air of practicality. “Thank you for being the voice of reason for our little party.” But then she seemed to deflate slightly, and she said, “But I must admit, I’d grown rather used to having her around. Whoever she is.”
Penelope decided it was well past time to change the topic. “Where is Eloise this evening?”
“Ill, I’m afraid. A headache,” Lady Bridgerton said, small frowns of worry creasing her otherwise unlined face. “She hasn’t been feeling the thing for almost a week now. I’m starting to grow concerned about her.”
Penelope had been staring rather aimlessly at a sconce on the wall, but her attention was immediately brought back to Lady Bridgerton. “It’s nothing serious, I hope?”
“It’s nothing serious,” Hyacinth answered, before her mother could even open her mouth. “Eloise never gets sick.”
“Which is precisely why I’m worried,” Lady Bridgerton said. “She hasn’t been eating very well.”
“That’s not true,” Hyacinth said. “Just this afternoon Wickham brought up a very heavy tray. Scones and eggs and I think I smelled gammon steak.” She gave an arch look to no one in particular. “And when Eloise left the tray out in the hall it was completely empty.”
Hyacinth Bridgerton, Penelope decided, had a surprisingly good eye for detail.
“She’s been in a bad mood,” Hyacinth continued, “since she quarreled with Colin.”
“She quarreled with Colin?” Penelope asked, an awful feeling beginning to roil her stomach. “When?”
“Sometime last week,” Hyacinth said.
WHEN? Penelope wanted to scream, but surely it would look odd if she demanded an exact day. Was it Friday? Was it?
Penelope would always remember that her first, and most probably only, kiss had occurred on a Friday.
She was strange that way. She always remembered the days of the week.
She’d met Colin on a Monday.
She’d kissed him on a Friday.
Twelve years later.
She sighed. It seemed fairly pathetic.
“Is something wrong, Penelope?” Lady Bridgerton asked.
Penelope looked at Eloise’s mother. Her blue eyes were kind and filled with concern, and there was something about the way she tilted her head to the side that made Penelope want to cry.
She was getting far too emotional these days. Crying over the tilt of a head.
“I’m fine,” she said, hoping that her smile looked true. “I’m just worried about Eloise.”
Hyacinth snorted.
Penelope decided she needed to make her escape. All these Bridgertons—well, two of them, anyway—were making her think of Colin.
Which wasn’t anything she hadn’t been doing nearly every minute of the day for the past three days. But at least that had been in private where she could sigh and moan and grumble to her heart’s content.
But this must have been her lucky night, because just then she heard Lady Danbury barking her name.
(What was her world coming to, that she considered herself lucky to be trapped in a corner with London’s most acerbic tongue?)
But Lady Danbury would provide the perfect excuse to leave her current little quartet of ladies, and besides, she was coming to realize that in a very odd way, she rather liked Lady Danbury.
“Miss Featherington! Miss Featherington!”
Felicity instantly took a step away. “I think she means you,” she whispered urgently.
“Of course she means me,” Penelope said, with just a touch of hauteur. “I consider Lady Danbury a cherished friend.”
Felicity’s eyes bugged out. “You do?”
“Miss Featherington!” Lady Danbury said, thumping her cane an inch away from Penelope’s foot as soon as she reached her side. “Not you,” she said to Felicity, even though Felicity had done nothing more than smile politely as the countess had approached. “You,” she said to Penelope.
“Er, good evening, Lady Danbury,” Penelope said, which she considered an admirable number of words under the circumstances.
“I have been looking for you all evening,” Lady D announced.
Penelope found that a trifle surprising. “You have?”
“Yes. I want to talk with you about that Whistledown woman’s last column.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Lady Danbury grumbled. “I’d be happy to talk with someone else if you could find me a body with more than half a brain.”
Penelope choked on the beginnings of laughter as she motioned to her companions. “Er, I assure you that Lady Bridgerton—”
Lady Bridgerton was furiously shaking her head.
“She’s too busy trying to get that oversized brood of hers married off,” Lady Danbury announced. “Can’t be expected to know