what?” he interrupted, his voice pure menace.
“But—but—”
“It’s all right, Colin,” Penelope said hastily. “I—”
“No, it is not all right,” he exploded. “I’ve never given any indication I’m the least bit interested in Felicity.”
Felicity appeared in the doorway, clapped her hand over her mouth, and quickly disappeared, wisely shutting the door behind her.
“Yes,” Penelope said placatingly, shooting a quick look at her mother, “but Felicity is unmarried, and—”
“So are you,” he pointed out.
“I know, but I’m old, and—”
“And Felicity is an infant,” he spat. “Good God, marrying her would be like marrying Hyacinth.”
“Er, except for the incest,” Penelope said.
He gave her an extremely unamused look.
“Right,” she said, mostly to fill the silence. “It’s just a terrible misunderstanding, isn’t it?”
No one said anything. Penelope looked at Colin pleadingly. “Isn’t it?”
“It certainly is,” he muttered.
She turned to her mother. “Mama?”
“Penelope?” she murmured, and Penelope knew that her mother wasn’t asking her a question; rather, she was still expressing her disbelief that Colin would want to marry her.
And oh, but it hurt so much. You’d think she’d be used to it by now.
“I would like to marry Mr. Bridgerton,” Penelope said, trying to summon up as much quiet dignity as she could manage. “He asked me, and I said yes.”
“Well, of course you would say yes,” her mother retorted. “You’d have to be an idiot to say no.”
“Mrs. Featherington,” Colin said tightly, “I suggest you begin treating my future wife with a bit more respect.”
“Colin, it’s not necessary,” Penelope said, placing her hand on his arm, but the truth was—her heart was soaring. He might not love her, but he cared about her. No man could defend a woman with such fierce protectiveness without caring for her a little.
“It is necessary,” he returned. “For God’s sake, Penelope, I arrived with you. I made it abundantly clear that I required your presence in the room, and I practically shoved Felicity out the door to fetch her watercolors. Why on earth would anyone think I wanted Felicity?”
Mrs. Featherington opened and closed her mouth several times before finally saying, “I love Penelope, of course, but—”
“But do you know her?” Colin shot back. “She’s lovely and intelligent and has a fine sense of humor. Who wouldn’t want to marry a woman like that?”
Penelope would have melted to the floor if she weren’t already holding on to his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, not caring if her mother heard her, not even really caring if Colin heard her. Somehow she needed to say the words for herself.
Not what she thought she was.
Lady Danbury’s face swam before her eyes, her expression warm and just a little bit cunning.
Something more. Maybe Penelope was something more, and maybe Colin was the only other person to realize that as well.
It made her love him all the more.
Her mother cleared her throat, then stepped forward and gave Penelope a hug. It was, at first, a hesitant embrace on both of their parts, but then Portia tightened her arms around her thirdborn daughter, and with a choked cry, Penelope found herself returning the hug in equal measure.
“I do love you, Penelope,” Portia said, “and I am very pleased for you.” She drew back and wiped a tear from her eye. “I shall be lonely without you, of course, since I’d assumed we would grow old together, but this is what’s best for you, and that, I suppose, is what being a mother is all about.”
Penelope let out a loud sniffle, then blindly reached for Colin’s handkerchief, which he had already pulled from his pocket and was holding in front of her.
“You’ll learn someday,” Portia said, patting her on the arm. She turned to Colin and said, “We are delighted to welcome you to the family.”
He nodded, not terribly warmly, but Penelope thought he made a rather nice effort considering how angry he’d been just moments earlier.
Penelope smiled and squeezed his hand, aware that she was about to embark upon the adventure of her life.
Chapter 15
“You know,” Eloise said, three days after Colin and Penelope made their surprise announcement, “it’s really a pity that Lady Whistledown has retired, because this would have been the coup of the decade.”
“Certainly from Lady Whistledown’s viewpoint,” Penelope murmured, lifting her teacup to her lips and keeping her eyes trained on the wall clock in Lady Bridgerton’s informal drawing room. Better not to look at Eloise directly. She had a way of noticing secrets in a person’s eyes.
It was funny. Penelope had gone years without worrying that Eloise would discover the