The gentle tapping from Briarly's knuckles announced a visitor before the butler himself swept into the Featherington's sitting room with his usual decorum. "Pardon the intrusion, Miss Penelope. Viscount Bridgerton to call."
Penelope glanced up with a serene smile, setting aside her embroidery as Anthony strode through the open doorway. He cut an undeniably rakish figure in his tailcoat and perspicacious waistcoat, every inch the dashing nobleman.
"Penelope." He greeted with a cordial incline of his head. Though his tone remained properly formal, the tender manner in which he caressed her name hinted at far deeper intimacies.
Rising in one fluid motion, Penelope dipped into an elegant curtsy. "Lord Bridgerton. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
His lips twitched with barely restrained amusement. "I have come to issue a request, my lady. If you would permit me to serve as your escort for the evening's.. Engagement?
Ah, so that was his game. Two could certainly play at this. Penelope arched one delicate brow, feigning consideration though her answer was already decided.
"An acceptable proposal." She replied at length with an errant hum. "Though I shall require one.. Stipulation, if you are to claim such an honor."
Anthony's brow furrowed intriguingly, but he accepted the challenge with a slight nod. Whatever her price, he would gladly pay it for the chance to be at her side tonight.
When Anthony Bridgerton arrived later that evening, Penelope was well-prepared for his dashing arrival. She had arranged for her lady's maid to have her finest evening toilette laid out, a stunning empire gown of shimmering emerald silk brought her eyes and fiery curls into vivid relied.
Anthony faltered the moment she swept into view, openly gaping at her exquisite form. A becoming flush stole across his chiseled features as Penelope bestowed him with a slow, coquettish perusal of her own.
"You look.. Ravishing, my lady." He rasped, sounding quite parched despite himself. Penelope smothered a self-satisfied grin – her efforts had achieved the desired effect then.
As she permitted the Viscount to lead her outside where his carriage awaited, she asked lightly. "I trust you have met the requirements for my stipulation this evening, my lord?"
The barest crinkle of confusion appeared between his brows before quickly smoothing away. "Indeed. Your prize awaits within the carriage."
Extending one broad palm, Anthony assisted her up the short step before following closely at her heels. Penelope had just a moment to school her features as she took in the lavish display of sweetly fragrant bouquets artfully arranged across the seat.
Roses, peonies, gardenias – every tempting bloom imaginable seemed represented in lush, overflowing profusion. A sharp inhalation escaped her before she could subdue her reaction. As Penelope settled on her seat, a look of relief and satisfaction crossed her face, and she turned to Anthony with a smile that spoke volumes.
Anthony settled on his own and as he leaned back at the seat, he observed her reaction with interest. "May I ask, Penelope, what are these flowers you've requested for?"
Penelope's smile remained enigmatic as she looked at the beautiful blooms. "You'll know later on, my lord." She replied softly, her eyes meeting his with a promise of secrets yet to be revealed.
She allowed her fingers to trail over a cluster of particularly vibrant peonies, admiring their rich hues and velvety textures.
"Whenever you extend a request or invitation to attend the Smythe-Smith musical, I shall require you to include bouquets of flowers, my lord." She said softly, almost a whisper as she held a little smile on her lips.
Anthony regarded her with wry exasperation, mingled with a tenderness that stole her breath all over again. "Are you quite satisfied now then? With my.. Tribute?"
Penelope flashed him a decidedly impish grin, one she suspected would become quite familiar between them. "For now, my lord. Though I may require fresh persuasion before permitting your company again."
—-
Outside the stately concert hall, Anthony extended his hand to assist Penelope down from the carriage with the practiced gallantry expected of a nobleman. But Penelope waved him off momentarily, gathering up the lush bouquets that still perfumed the carriage interior.
"Take these as well, my lord." She instructed, pressing two of the exquisite arrangements into his hands before claiming two more vibrant clusters for herself.
Anthony blinked owlishly down at the fragrant blooms cradled in his palms but wisely made no protest. Penelope was utterly in her element tonight.
She led the way inside with enviable poise and grace, bestowing gentle nods and dimpled smiles at those members of the ton she recognized along the way. At her side, Anthony puffed out his chest with unabashed pride, ensuring all eyes took note of his role as her honored escort.
Though when Penelope made a determined turn towards the front orchestra stalls rather than ascending to the more elite balcony boxes, Anthony could not quite smother his frown of consternation.
"Penelope?" He ventured uncertainly as she selected seats mere rows from the stage itself. "Are you quite certain –?"
His words stuttered to a halt as realization struck, features contorting into an expression of abject horror. Of course she'd chosen such an.. Undesirable location! This entire endeavor was no doubt another ploy to subtly torment him for her own amusement.
Unable to protest without causing a most ungentlemanly scene, Anthony could only trail helplessly in Penelope's wake. He allowed her to claim the chairs in the very front row, extending his hand wordlessly for her to deposit her own bouquets in his care.
They settled in with a rustle of silk and perfume that did little to settle Anthony's apprehension. In a hushed undertone, he leaned close to murmur. "Penelope, I had intended for us to have the use of my family's private balcony box this evening. We should be far more comfortable there, away from the.." He trailed off delicately.
But Penelope only favored him with a serene, secret smile that simultaneously inflamed and doused his myriad concerns. Before he could argue further, a distinct "Ahem!" sounded from the neighboring aisle.
"Well, well. If it isn't two of my favorite young people." Croaked the unmistakable timbre of Lady Danbury. Her wizened features crinkled with mischievous delight as she stood in front of them. "Here to support our erstwhile musicians, I presume?"
"Lady Danbury." Penelope and Anthony responded in unison, inclining their heads respectfully. Pleasantries were exchanged with Penelope's customary grace, but Anthony couldn't tear his attention from the fragrant floral bounty on the seat beside him. Trust the perceptive old woman to instantly deduce the situation.
"You are too good a patroness, Miss Featherington." She praised Penelope with an approving nod. "Not all would willingly endure such.. Unique talents as displayed by the Smythe-Smith ladies."
"Someone must offer them encouragement, my lady." Penelope replied simply, with no trace of artifice. "Even if only from the front row with the most dreadful vantage. It is the least I can do. Despite the discomfort their music may bring, seeing a friendly face in the front row can mean the world to them. It is a small sacrifice for their encouragement."
Anthony, absorbing Penelope's words, felt a swell of pride. Her earnest explanation landed squarely in his chest, filling him with profound affection and esteem. All along he thought that Penelope was just putting him in another of her ploys to have her revenge from his actions back in the Abernathy Ball. But the truth is, Penelope was just extending her kindness and empathy to the Smythe-Smith ladies, her qualities that know no bounds, shining through that only heightens his admiration for her. An unspeakable gift she would prove as Viscountess.
Lady Danbury's sharp eyes noticed the shift in his expression, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, Lord Bridgerton." She teased. "It takes true bravery to sit up front, knowing your refined taste in music."
Anthony found he could only shake his head in wonderment. "Wherever Miss Featherington dares to tread, Lady Danbury, you may be certain I will follow her as her devoted and committed fiancé, if she permits it." He rumbled. "No matter the... discomforts to be endured."
He earned a rich chuckle from the dowager at that, her laugher rich and knowing. "A wise answer, Viscount. So brave and gallant. Though we shall see if your heroic fortitude holds once the.. Musicale commences. But as much as I wish to show them support as well, my old ears would not survive such close proximity to the music. I shall take my leave."
With that ominous parting remark, Lady Danbury excused herself, pleading advanced years and a desire to escape the punishing acoustics up close. Alone once more, Anthony turned a wry look towards his unfailingly poised companion.
"Tell me true.." He murmured, unable to resist sliding one hand over to cover her lace-draped fingers. "The flowers, are they for the quartet?"
Penelope's expression turned impish, though she made no move to dislodge his caressing thumb from where it stroked tender patterns over her knuckles. "However did you guess? I should like to gift Honoria and the others with tokens. Receiving tokens after a performance is deeply fulfilling for an artist. It's a gesture of appreciation, as you no doubt once did for your former paramour, the opera singer.."
Any response from Anthony was rendered obsolete seconds later as a hushed silence descended over the hall. The Smythe-Smith Quartet took the stage in a flutter of muslin and candlelight – utterly oblivious to the true ordeal they were about to commence.
Anthony steeled himself with a resigned inhalation as the first warbling strains of Mozart's concerto sliced through the sacred quiet. Then, lips twitching despite his most valiant efforts, he turned towards the one person whose presence could render even this auditory onslaught bearable.
After all, he thought ruefully, torment though they might be – at least he suffered it with Penelope together.