Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,78

of course not,” she said hastily, even though she hadn’t truly accepted the fact that he even intended to offer for her.

“Then this is an excellent time,” he stated, his tone inviting no further protest.

“But it’s—”

“What?”

Tuesday, she thought miserably. And it was just past noon, which meant—

“Let’s go,” Colin said, striding forward, and before she could stop him, he pushed open the door.

Colin’s first thought upon stepping into the drawing room was that the day, while certainly not proceeding in any manner he might have anticipated when he’d risen from bed that morning, was turning out to be a most excellent endeavor. Marriage to Penelope was an eminently sensible idea, and surprisingly appealing as well, if their recent encounter in the carriage was any indication.

His second thought was that he’d just entered his worst nightmare.

Because Penelope’s mother was not alone in the drawing room. Every last Featherington, current and former, was there, along with assorted spouses and even a cat.

It was the most frightening assemblage of people Colin had ever witnessed. Penelope’s family was . . . well . . . except for Felicity (whom he’d always held in some suspicion; how could one truly trust anyone who was such good friends with Hyacinth?), her family was . . . well . . .

He couldn’t think of a good word for it. Certainly nothing complimentary (although he’d like to think he could have avoided an outright insult), and really, was there a word that effectively combined slightly dim, overly talkative, rather meddlesome, excruciatingly dull, and—and one couldn’t forget this, not with Robert Huxley a recent addition to the clan—uncommonly loud.

So Colin just smiled. His great, big, friendly, slightly mischievous smile. It almost always worked, and today was no exception. The Featheringtons all smiled right back at him, and—thank God—said nothing.

At least not right away.

“Colin,” Mrs. Featherington said with visible surprise. “How nice of you to bring Penelope home for our family meeting.”

“Your family meeting?” he echoed. He looked to Penelope, who was standing next to him, looking rather ill.

“Every Tuesday,” she said, smiling weakly. “Didn’t I mention it?”

“No,” he replied, even though it was obvious her question had been for the benefit of their audience. “No, you didn’t mention it.”

“Bridgerton!” bellowed Robert Huxley, who was married to Penelope’s eldest sister Prudence.

“Huxley,” Colin returned, taking a discreet step back. Best to protect his eardrums in case Penelope’s brother-in-law decided to leave his post near the window.

Thankfully, Huxley stayed put, but Penelope’s other brother-in-law, the well-meaning but vacant-minded Nigel Berbrooke, did cross the room, greeting Colin with a hearty slap on the back. “Wasn’t expecting you,” Berbrooke said jovially.

“No,” Colin murmured, “I wouldn’t think so.”

“Just family, after all,” Berbrooke said, “and you’re not family. Not my family, at least.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Colin murmured, stealing a glance at Penelope. She was blushing.

Then he looked back at Mrs. Featherington, who looked as if she might faint from excitement. Colin groaned through his smile. He hadn’t meant for her to hear his comment about possibly joining the family. For some reason he’d wanted to retain an element of surprise before he asked for Penelope’s hand. If Portia Featherington knew his intentions ahead of time, she’d likely twist the whole thing around (in her mind, at least) so that she had somehow orchestrated the match herself.

And for some reason, Colin found that exceedingly distasteful.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said to Mrs. Featherington.

“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “We are delighted to have you here, at a family gathering.” But she looked rather odd, not precisely undecided about his presence there, but certainly unsure of what her next move should be. She was chewing on her lower lip, and then she darted a furtive glance at Felicity, of all people.

Colin turned to Felicity. She was looking at Penelope, a small secret smile fixed to her face. Penelope was glaring at her mother, her mouth twisted into an irritated grimace.

Colin’s gaze went from Featherington to Featherington to Featherington. Something was clearly simmering under the surface here and if he weren’t trying to figure out (A) how to avoid being trapped into conversation with Penelope’s relations while (B) somehow managing to issue a proposal of marriage at the same time—well, he’d be rather curious as to what was causing all the secret, underhanded glances being tossed back and forth between the Featherington women.

Mrs. Featherington cast one last glance at Felicity, did a little gesture that Colin could have sworn meant, Sit up straight, then fixed her attention