Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,91

Penelope thought wryly, had little to do with the party itself and everything to do with the continued speculation over why on earth Colin Bridgerton would choose a nobody like Penelope Featherington to be his wife. It hadn’t even been this bad when Anthony Bridgerton had married Kate Sheffield, who, like Penelope, had never been considered a diamond of the first water. But at least Kate hadn’t been old. Penelope couldn’t even begin to count the number of times she’d heard the word spinster whispered behind her back during the past few days.

But while the gossip was a bit tedious, it didn’t really bother her, because she was still floating along on the cloud of her own bliss. A woman couldn’t spend her entire adult life in love with one man and then not be almost stupid with happiness after he asked her to marry him.

Even if she couldn’t quite figure out how it had all happened.

It had happened. That was all that mattered.

And Colin was everything anyone could dream of in a fiancé. He stuck to her side like glue the entire evening, and Penelope didn’t even think he was doing it to protect her from gossip. In all truth, he seemed rather oblivious to the talk.

It was almost as if . . . Penelope smiled dreamily. It was almost as if Colin were remaining by her side because he wanted to be there.

“Did you see Cressida Twombley?” Eloise whispered in her ear while Colin was off dancing with his mother. “She’s green with envy.”

“That’s just her dress,” Penelope said with an impressively straight face.

Eloise laughed. “Oh, I wish Lady Whistledown were writing. She would skewer her.”

“I think Lady Whistledown is supposed to be her,” Penelope said carefully.

“Oh, pish and tosh. I don’t believe for one moment that Cressida is Lady Whistledown, and I can’t believe that you do, either.”

“Probably not,” Penelope allowed. She knew that her secret would be better protected if she claimed to believe Cressida’s story, but anyone who knew her would have found that so out of character that it would have been quite suspicious indeed.

“Cressida just wanted the money,” Eloise continued disdainfully. “Or maybe the notoriety. Probably both.”

Penelope watched her nemesis, holding court on the other side of the room. Her regular crowd of cronies milled about, but they were joined by new people, as well, most likely curious about the Whistledown gossip. “Well, she’s succeeded with the notoriety, at least.”

Eloise nodded her agreement. “I cannot even imagine why she was invited. There is certainly no love lost between the two of you, and none of us like her.”

“Colin insisted upon it.”

Eloise turned to her with gaping jaw. “Why?”

Penelope suspected that the main reason was Cressida’s recent claim to be Lady Whistledown; most of the ton wasn’t sure whether or not she was lying, but no one was willing to deny her an invitation to an event, just in case she really was telling the truth.

And Colin and Penelope shouldn’t have had any reason to know for certain otherwise.

But Penelope couldn’t reveal this to Eloise, so she told her the rest of the story, which was still the truth. “Your mother didn’t want to cause any gossip by cutting her, and Colin also said . . .”

She blushed. It was really too sweet.

“What?” Eloise demanded.

Penelope couldn’t speak without smiling. “He said he wanted Cressida to be forced to watch me in my triumph.”

“Oh. My. Word.” Eloise looked as if she might need to sit down. “My brother is in love.”

Penelope’s blush turned a furious red.

“He is,” Eloise exclaimed. “He must be. Oh, you must tell me. Has he said so?”

There was something both wonderful and horrible in listening to Eloise gush. On the one hand, it was always lovely to share life’s most perfect moments with one’s best friend, and Eloise’s joy and excitement were certainly contagious.

But on the other hand, they weren’t necessarily warranted, because Colin didn’t love her. Or at least he hadn’t said so.

But he acted like he did! Penelope clung to that thought, trying to focus on that, rather than the fact that he’d never said the words.

Actions spoke louder than words, didn’t they?

And his actions made her feel like a princess.

“Miss Featherington! Miss Featherington!”

Penelope looked to her left and beamed. That voice could belong to no one other than Lady Danbury.

“Miss Featherington,” Lady D said, poking her cane through the crowd until she was standing right in front of Penelope and Eloise.

“Lady Danbury, how nice to see you.”

“Heh heh