The opening strains of a waltz filled the air, and before Penelope Featherington could so much as draw breath, Anthony's arm snaked possessively around her waist. His other hand captured hers aloft as he deftly guided them into the prescribed frame, bodies aligned with a pen as breadth separating them.
"Lord Bridgerton.." Penelope managed through a thicket of nerves. So close now, the sandalwood and citrus of his cologne enveloped her senses utterly. "Might I inquire as to your precise intentions this evening?"
One elegant chestnut brow arched as Anthony met her questioning gaze head on. "My intentions, my lady?" His tone was all bland innocence despite the tiny upturn of his lips. "Why, to dance with the most captivating partner present, of course."
She leveled him with a flat look as they began to revolve in time with the swelling music. "You know precisely what I refer to, my lord. The machinations that led me quite literally cornered into sharing this dance with you, despite–"
"Despite your declaring an end to our engagement just days before?" Anthony finished for her, that maddeningly insouciant smile never wavering.
Penelope's frown deepened at his lack of circumspection. She opened her mouth to protest further, but Anthony expertly cut her off once more.
"Peace, my love." He murmured, pulling her infinitesimally closer with each turn. "While I acknowledge certain... lapses of your memory may have contributed to your reservations, you'll forgive me for remaining utterly unable to relinquish you so easily. A temporary confusion on your part. One I have no plans to indulge, despite your insistence otherwise."
Penelope felt her jaw drop slightly at the sheer audacity of his words. She hastily shuttered her features, lifting her chin in prim defiance.
"I do not consider it mere confusion, my lord. I spoke with utmost certainty in requesting we terminate our betrothal. Your unwillingness to abide by my stated desire is most ungentlemanly."
Anthony's fingers tightened fractionally on her waist, his expression turning intent. "I vehemently disagree, my lady. To release you from the connection we have so painstakingly cultivated based on your present lack of memories would be the greater offense against honor and truth."
His words were like a forceful caress against her senses. Penelope's treacherous heart kicked up its cadence as they continued to gaze, unblinking into each other's eyes. Her breath hitched at the undisguised tenderness in his voice, the scorching heat of his gaze. Despite every rational instinct, Penelope found her resistance waning beneath the sincerity of Anthony's ardor. This close, she could map every tiny laugh line at the corners of those whisky-warm brown eyes, the angle of his jawline that begged for the graze of her fingertips..
"You have simply been.. Disoriented by the trauma of your accident." Anthony continued in tones of liquid seduction. "Your mind has defaulted to how you perceived me before - as your friend's elder brother, rather than the man who has spent months earnestly attempting to court your affections."
They turned again in a warm swirl of skits and coats, bodies brushing with infinitesimal friction. Penelope's throat felt dry as sunbaked earth.
"Be that as it may.." She managed in a subdued murmur. "You cannot simply disregard my stated objections and proceed as if they held no merit, my lord. That is hardly the makings of an equal partnership between husband and wife."
Anthony slanted his mouth in a rueful smile that set Penelope's nerves utterly a jitter. "An equal partnership is precisely what I aim to share with you, Penelope. Which is why I must disabuse you of these misgivings brought on by your lack of recollection on our relations, not hastily acquiesce to them."
His thumb caressed a searing line across her knuckles as they continued to turn amidst the other dancers.
"I vowed to pursue you with the full force of my being until I had thoroughly claimed your heart. If that path now requires me to patiently, steadfastly re-pursue you until your reservations abate and your memories of your love return.." Anthony gave an artfully careless shrug, though there was nothing nonchalant about the burning feeling in his gaze. "Then that is the path I shall wholeheartedly embrace."
Emotion swamped in Penelope's chest at his words, a keen anguish and strange sort of yearning tangling inside her. She could not comprehend the imperative driving this outrageously stubborn, impossible man's adherence to their attachment.
Yet one thing was inescapable: Viscount Anthony Bridgerton's feelings clearly ran deeper than she could recollect. And even without those crucial memories resurfacing, a traitorous part of Penelope felt herself tilting irrevocably into their soul-deep undertow once more.
For the remainder of the waltz, Penelope Featherington held her tongue, far too awash in the emotional tumult of Anthony's proximity to give further voice to her objections. His warmth, his scent, his blazing gaze.. It roused impressions and responses within her that Penelope's rational mind could not begin to parse.
For now, the only recourse seemed to be basking in the singular experience of being so utterly cherished by a man as extraordinary as Anthony Bridgerton while her heart decided its own truth.
—-
The final chords of the waltz faded, leaving Penelope Featherington acutely aware of the rapid tattoo of her heart against her ribs. As Anthony Bridgerton escorted her back through the dispersing crowd, she caught sight of their mothers - Lady Portia Featherington and Lady Violet Bridgerton - watching their approach with undisguised interest.
To her surprise, Lady Abernathy and Lord Preston had apparently moved on during their dance. Penelope couldn't deny a tiny flicker of relief at being spared further awkwardness in that particular set's company, with how Anthony brushed off the young man.
As they neared the matriarchs, Anthony's hand bore down ever so lightly on her waist. "You'll forgive me for a brief moment, my lady." He murmured, lips caressing the whorls of her ear. "I should return presently with refreshment."
Before she could protest the proprieties, he'd extricated himself with a shallow bow and melted into the milling guests. Penelope found herself the focus of somewhat too-avid gazes.
"Well?" Her mother's voice broke the silence first. "Was Lord Bridgerton at least a tolerable partner for the dance?"
Penelope fought a grimace, tamping down the memories of Anthony's searingly candid words still searing along her nerves. "Quite tolerable, indeed." She managed, aiming for a neutral tone.
Violet's look remained inscrutable, though the faintest creases formed at the corners of her eyes. "I should certainly hope so, my dear. We Bridgertons do make a concerted effort at being such."
She allowed a pregnant pause before continuing breezily. "In fact, I had hoped you might indulge us with your delightful company more frequently in the coming days. There are still several delightful outings, salons and concerts I'd dearly love your attendance for."
Portia's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Penelope merely fixed the Bridgerton matriarch with a wry look. "How very kind of you to think of me, Lady Bridgerton. Though I fear my company may bring about certain.. Undue complications, given the circumstances."
Penelope thought she caught a fleeting tightness around Violet's mouth before the older woman rallied smoothly. "Nonsense, my dear. Your absence during my birthday celebration was keenly felt, I shan't be rebuffed again so easily."
Violet's next words carried the barest edge of gentle rebuke. "Surely you would not deny an old woman's simple pleasures on matters of mere propriety?"
Penelope opened her mouth to decline, but Violet's gentle reminder of how much she had missed Penelope during her birthday made her pause. The young Featherington felt a pang of guild. She had always admired and respected the dowager Viscountess deeply. "Of course not, Lady Bridgerton." She replied, her voice soft. "I would be delighted to be in your company."
Soon after, Anthony returned, holding three glasses of lemonade. He handed once each to Lady Featherington and his mother before offering the last to Penelope. "For you." He said, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he flashed her a seductive smile. Penelope could only say thanks as she felt a hesitant blush creep up her cheeks.
Anthony and Violet stayed close to the Featheringtons, ensuring no other suitors could approach Penelope. Despite that, Violet kept a watchful eye on the ballroom, checking that her daughters were well. Eloise remained with their second brother Benedict, who had his eyes fixed on Francesca, who was currently engaged in conversation with some lord. Satisfied, Violet resumed her small talk with Portia.
As Penelope finished her lemonade, Anthony wanted no time in inviting her for another dance. "Would you honor me with another dance, Penelope?" He asked, his tone both polite and insistent.
Realizing that this was part of Anthony's plan all along for the evening, Penelope accepted without much protest. She knew how the Bridgertons could be stubborn and relentless in their pursuits. As she placed her hand in his, she resolved to find a way to get back at him for cornering her so effectively tonight.
Anthony saw the flicker of determination in her eyes and could not help but give her a playful, wicked smile. He was enjoying this more than he had anticipated. It was oddly satisfying to tease his already annoyed fiancée, and he relished the challenge of winning her back.
They took their place on the dance floor, the music swelling around them. Anthony's grip was firm yet gentle as he led her through the steps. "You know, Penelope.." He murmured, leaning in just enough so she could hear. "I've missed dancing with you."
Penelope glanced up at him, her expression a mix of exasperation and curiosity. "You are relentless, my lord." She replied, her voice a whisper. "But I promise you, I won't make this easy."
Anthony chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
His smile was pure sin given form and consciousness. As he led her once more into the swaying throngs of dancers, Penelope could not share the intoxicating allure of being so utterly, dizzyingly seen by this man. Past, present, future – none of it seemed to hold any import save the blazing truth of his presence claiming every fiber of her existence.
As they moved gracefully across the floor, Penelope could not help but feel the stirrings of old emotions. Anthony's determination and charm were formidable, and despite her best efforts to remain detached, she found herself drawn to him once more.
For the rest of the evening, they danced and conversed lightly, the tension between them slowly easing. Penelope was still wary, but Anthony's persistence and genuine affection began to wear down her defenses. By the time the ball was winding down, she felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, their engagement wasn't as doomed as she had feared.