A note had fell from the fabric when she had ruffled it mercilessly, and when her eye caught it, she retrieved it from the ground and it said:

My lady, have a good time at the ball,

Madame D.

A faint smile peeked through her somber countenance as she read it. Madame Delacroix had been kinder than most for her lately. The dress caught her eye again, she caressed it again, lifting the plush fabric up close, to her face, sniffing in. Then, in an instant, something changed in her being, as if a premonition came to her or a brilliant idea from above and her feet moved up the stairwell with excitement and a little bit of hope.

And that was all that she needed in that moment.

It could not be said whether it was her hair, or her dress or something else entirely because she, herself, couldn't take her eyes off of her radiant self in the looking glass. Did the lord have mercy on her? Or has she finally stepped into womanhood? Whatever it was, the way she moved and her eyes, especially… her eyes, oh my! They possessed an enigma, an allure…of confidence. She didn't quite recognise the Penelope she saw.

The shimmering blue turned heavenly as her pearlescent skin glowed beneath it. Her eyes, tender and striking, both at the same time.

When she stepped in the ballroom, she could feel her heart thumping against her chest violently. The dance, the music had already been commenced. Being late was never her forte. Nevertheless, the time was not proper to mull over it.

For all the eyes darted upwards, all the way up the bifurcated staircase… where she stood.

She felt cold and hot both at the same time, feeling a surge of confidence and anxiety trip over her. She wasn't quite sure what she felt. It all felt like a dream but one as fragile as a glass.

The bustle that engulfed the ballroom beforehand had been dampened, nearly died as she barged through those doors.

Oh god, all their faces…it's unbearable, truly! And with this thought, she felt overwhelming sensations kicking in her gut. She should be in the crowd, hiding somewhere, she told herself.

As she strode in, losing herself in the crowd, she heard people's hushed chatter, inaudible but evidently there. She kept her gaze glued to the ground, avoiding every pair of eyes.

Hurrying stealthily towards the area where the refreshments have been laid. Her mind being vacant, couldn't conjure up much, so, a lemonade, martini or red wine, anything would do.

Or maybe, she would slow her stride for in the way, she had nearly collided with a gentleman, a dark haired man who turned to face her in surprise.

"My apologies, your grace." She tilted her face downwards, feeling her cheeks getting hotter with embarassment. And as she turned to look up at the lord, she soon found that the face, indeed, had been unfamiliar. However, just then, a strange pair of eyes bore into her, belonging to a man standing a feet away from the unfamiliar face she had expressed her apologies too.

She blinked quickly, regaining her will to look back up at the gentleman. Not the unfamiliar but the one who had been a feet away.

As she quickly went past the crowd, it was soon discovered that the strange pair of eyes, watching her had seemingly been lost. The tempo of the music went up, the violin cutting through the air around her, causing tension. She turned around, her ocean eyes, intrigued and in search….

Those eyes…had someone really been there?

"Penelope." And that's when she heard a voice coinciding with the upbeat music, causing to startle her.

"COLIN!" She blurted out, adjusting her hair, which didn't need adjusting.

"You seemed to be lost or… in search of someone." He took a step closer to her and she lifted her gaze to meet the deep blue in his eyes.

She felt a painful nostalgia loom around her as she inhaled the scent she had known all too well. The scent of Mr. Colin Bridgerton.

"I…No, I was…" She couldn't say Eloise anymore, "looking for my mother. Have you seen her?"

"Oh, she's conversing with your sisters over there." He pointed towards the right somewhere but Penelope didn't bother noticing.

"Colin, thank you…" Penelope broke away her long gaze, the shine in his eyes seeming slightly deflated as she did, "I must get going."

"Pen!" He called out to her as she had been moving away from him.

"Yes?"

He advanced nearer, closing the distance between them, "I…"

"Is there something Colin?"

He pursued his lips together before speaking, "You seem different." He took the tiniest step towards her even though he knew there was barely any distance between them, "Something about you is unmistakably different."

"Is that a compliment?" Her eyes had a tinge of something unpleasant.

"Oh, Pen, obviously, I'm sorry. What I meant was…."

"It's okay, Colin."

"No Pen, I mean it."

There was silence between them. She hadn't forgotten about his comment last season.

"Very well." She smiled mechanically and strode off.

Where was she heading? She asked herself. If not Lady Featherington then, who? Before she could find Lady Featherington, she found Penelope, "Oh Penelope, it warms my heart to see you here. You look stunning, oh lord!" She took Penelope's hands in hers.

"Hey! What's that dress?" Someone cried out from behind. It was Prudence.

"It's gorgeous!" Philippa added

"Too gorgeous for you." Prudence said quickly after

"Mama, why'd you make me wear frills and this lacey stupid gown when she gets to wear that!" Prudence said

And the family banter had begun.

Eloise had been watching Penelope from closeby, with Cressida standing to her left.

"Eloise?" Cressida startled her a tad bit

"Oh yes! Cressida!" Eloise said

"Penelope, isn't it?"

*What?"

"You're observing her, aren't you?" Cressida squared her shoulders.

"No!" Eloise blurted out, "I mean, yes but no …"

"What do you mean?" Cressida frowned and her voice slightly irked up.

"Look, over there!" She hushed into Cressida's ear.

"Yes, I see PENELOPE!" Cressida sounded annoyed.

"Exactly and what else do you see?" Eloise whispered again

When Cressida truly observed, she noticed Penelope engaging in a discourse with Mrs. Featherington. Though, a man, with steely blue eyes stood a feet away from Penelope. That man, she hadn't quite known who he was but she observed the most obvious. And that was the man's face. His way of being, of staring, staring at Penelope particularly, like he knew her. But he did not. Not in the least.

"Who is he?" Cressida spoke in a hushed tone, her gaze still on that man.

"How would I know? I just know that he has not been able to keep his eyes off of Pen…" Eloise cleared her throat, "Penelope, I mean. Do you see his face? He appears to have been spellbound or lost or…"

"Eloise, are you sure? I do not think that. Why would he look at PENELOPE that way? Do you see her?" Cressida made a face like she had just seen something utterly gross.

"Ohhh….Look! Pen's leaving. PENELOPE." Eloise cleared her throat again, "She looks upset."

"Who cares!" Cressida spat out

"Oh good lord! Do you see that man now?" Eloise said like it was a matter of fact.

Penelope's sisters did not bear much of wits so, it couldn't be discerned if it was her sisters or her dear mama who had led her in the state of despair again. That was not a matter of concern for there was something else that bore much prominence. Eloise and Cressida had already took note of it.

Those pair of eyes, the ones from before that Penelope had caught sight of for a mere split second had been on her the entire night. Whether she had been near the refreshment bar, conversing with Colin, or with her mother and sisters, he had been noting her every move. Not just Eloise and Cressida but many others took note of it. The gentleman didn't seem too good at hiding what coarsed through his racing mind.

He did note the agony wash over Penelope's face and in an instant he was after her, when she had been seen exiting the ballroom. The gentleman's eyes that once bore curiosity, and a slight tinge of madness somewhere now had turned to unsettling concern in his eyes. She wasn't aware and he barely knew her.

Yet the madness….

But tonight's ball shall be remembered. For Lady Whistledown, who took such immense pride in precise observation, had failed to take note of a matter of such deep eminence.