Penelope stood in the entry hall of Lady Vienna Mansfield's London townhouse and gaped. She had heard her sister, Prudence, speak of Lady Mansfield, but never had she actually met the woman. And never had she imagined a home that could only be described as eccentric.
The warm light of many candles illuminated the space, allowing Penelope to see with perfect clarity the many jaw-dropping features of the room. Her eyes first settled upon a gigantic round table in the middle of the foyer. The table itself was nothing impressive, but the base had Penelope blinking: a massive and quite startling carved lion head held up the large mahogany table, realistic enough that she wouldn't have been surprised to hear it roar. She turned to take in bright green drapes―hanging over the two main windows to either side of the front door. An ornate longcase clock stood in the corner of the room, fashioned to look as if the base were a woman wearing a dress, complete with slippers peeking from underneath.
"It is something, is it not?" asked Colin, pulling Penelope back into the moment.
"I cannot find the words to describe this home," Penelope said, turning her wide eyes to Colin.
He grinned mischievously. "Look up."
Penelope obeyed and then gasped, "Oh, my!" at a scandalously painted ceiling. Those musicians were so very naked behind their lyres and harps that Penelope wanted to blush or laugh or wrap a shawl around herself. They did look very merry, though.
"Ah―you've arrived!" A cheerful, fluttering voice called from across the foyer.
She tore her gaze from the provocative ceiling and resisted the urge to gape when she finally laid eyes on Lady Mansfield. Penelope had, of course, heard tales of her sister's friend. She was prepared for the woman to be a little out of the ordinary―however, this woman could never be described as anything so pedestrian. Lady Mansfield was an angel in the flesh.
White-blonde curls peeked out from beneath Lady Mansfield elaborately decorated gold silk turban, adorned with glittering jewels and one single large ostrich feather rising from the back. Penelope had never appreciated fabric head wraps before. Lady Mansfield, however, elevated the style and made it look entirely different and highly appealing. Her skin was nearly as milky white as her hair, giving her an appearance more porcelain than flesh. Her bright green eyes glittered as much as the emeralds dotting her turban. Most striking of all was the thin flowing cream gown draped over her willowy figure. Lady Mansfield was nothing less than striking.
The woman swept over to Penelope and took her hand and kissed it. "Miss Penelope Featherington, I presume. I cannot believe this is our first introduction! But I feel as if I already know you from all the stories Prudence has told me over the years. You look exactly as she described: a beauty, with mischievous eyes." She winked and turned her attention to Colin. He bowed and she curtsied. Even her curtsy was impressive. It was both lazy and regal at the same time. Penelope slowly awakened to an uncomfortable sensation growing in her stomach. It was ugly and pinching.
"Mr. Bridgerton, you are going to be the most envied man in the room, walking in with Miss Featherington on your arm." Penelope's eyes followed Lady Mansfield's hand as it reached out and landed on Colin's forearm. "I predict she is going to be the Diamond of the Season. And my predictions are never wrong."
"When is my brother not the most envied man in the room?" said Anthony from behind them.
Lady Mansfield laughed, a lovely, soft, fluttering sound. "Quite right. Such a flirt!" She tossed a saucy look at Colin that peeved Penelope. Her feelings toward the woman were shifting rapidly, and they were beginning to smell terribly of jealousy. "Lord Bridgerton, it is so good to see you out in Society! I was wondering if we would see you at all this Season."
"My wife has stepped in for Lady Huxley to be Miss Featherington's chaperone for the remainder of the Season," Anthony explained, all while peering over to Kate with a look of deep adoration―a look Penelope very much wished that Colin would give her. "Lady Mansfield, allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Kathani Bridgerton. Love, this is Lady Vienna Mansfield. She is Lady Huxley's closest friend."
Lady Mansfield laughed again. "I doubt Lord Huxley would appreciate me still holding that title, but I do love Prudence dearly, so I shall claim it proudly. Lady Bridgerton, welcome to my absurd home! I hope you find it...amusing." Shocked by those words, Penelope looked at Lady Mansfield to judge her meaning. But she appeared neither sarcastic or self-deprecating. Instead, she looked rather pleased and joyful.
"I can honestly say that I am pleased to be here," said Kate with a curtsy, looking at ease and confident, as always. "I have heard endless tales from your parties. I am extremely intrigued about what entertainment we may encounter this evening."
Lady Mansfield smiled a little wickedly. "All I will say is, you will not be disappointed."
Just then, the butler opened the front door again and a new line of guests gathered behind them. Lady Mansfield excused herself to welcome the newcomers. The four of them moved into the expansive drawing room, and Penelope watched with dismay as Kate and Anthony were almost immediately pounded on by those already assembled. Would she be next? She didn't feel ready. Her legs felt weak and she feared she looked ridiculous in her brightly-colored gown.
Colin must have sensed her nerves because he guided them toward the edge of the room, farthest away from the other guests. Part of her hated that he knew how she felt before she expressed it. Actually, all of her hated it. It was annoying for him to be so in tune with her and yet to not have more tender feelings toward her. It made not loving him all but impossible.
"What do you think so far?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"A little stunned. Does Lady Mansfield know her décor is garish?"
Colin chuckled a little and retrieved two flutes of champagne from a tray as a footman breezed passed. He handed one to Penelope and she eyed it, realizing she had never tried the drink before. Wine, yes. Although, to be frank, she did not care much for its bitter flavor. This drink, however, looked light, airy, and promising.
"Would it surprise you to know Lady Mansfield had this whole house designed with only the intention of making her guests laugh?" Penelope watched Colin put the champagne glass to his lips and take a sip. Never had she envied glassware before.
She forced her mind back to their hostess. "It does not surprise me in the least. She seems like a fun sort of person, and so confident." She eyed Colin, searching his face for any signs that he harbored feelings for their beautiful and eccentric hostess. Not that she had any right to care about such things. Colin was her friend. Nothing more. Heavens, she was growing weary of having to constantly remind herself of that fact. The sooner she could find someone else to distract her mind, the better.
Penelope took a tentative sip of the bubbling drink and was surprised to find that she liked it. She liked it quite a lot, in fact.
"She does give that impression. But when you look closer, you'll see something different," said Colin.
"What can you mean? You do not find Lady Mansfield confident?"
He shrugged and took another sip of drink. "She will try her best to convince you that she is. But in my experience, sometimes confidence can simply be a mask—something to hide behind so others cannot hurt you." His eyes locked with hers and Penelope suddenly felt like maybe they weren't talking about Lady Mansfield anymore. Colin was the epitome of confidence. His manners were engaging, his whole person was beyond attractive, and Penelope was certain Colin could flirt with a fern and make it blush. But she also knew the parts of him he kept hidden—his deepest injuries. She had always assumed his personality was a product of overcoming his childhood hurts. Like losing his father at such a young age… Never, until that moment, had she considered it could be his mask.
This, however, was not the place to engage Colin in a deep discussion.
She raised her glass to her lips again, casting her eyes out on the quickly filling room. "This is an annual party that Lady Mansfield hosts, is it not?" She took another sip, realizing for the first time that the walls were pink. Actually—everything in the room was pink. The curtains, the settee, the rugs. Had there ever been a more absurd room?
"Yes. She's been hosting it since she inherited her late husband's fortune years ago. You must count yourself lucky. It is ridiculously difficult to secure an invitation to one of her parties."
"More difficult than procuring a voucher to Almack's?"
Colin chuckled. "Exceedingly. In fact, Lady Jersey and her whole set have never once been able to garner invitations to Lady Mansfield's. It's rumored that she's been so ill about it that she's tried to have the Watch shut it down for several years now."
Penelope laughed, feeling a little lighter with every sip of her new favorite drink. "And what is it that makes this party so fantastic?"
Colin's eyes filled with amusement. "The entertainment, of course. She converts her ballroom into a staged theater for the occasion." Penelope's excitement grew at the eagerness in Colin's voice. "Every year, Lady Mansfield hires some sort of entertainment, but manages to keep it completely under wraps until it is revealed the night of the party. One year, Lord Byron performed a reading of one of his poems that scandalized the entire room. The next year, Lady Mansfield somehow arranged for an exclusive bout between two prizefighters. No less than five ladies fainted dead away at the sight of so much blood."
Penelope could easily imagine it. Prudence and Phillipa were always saying the ladies of the ton adored fainting. It made them interesting, apparently.
"Last year's party," continued Colin, "was much less bloody, but certainly no less shocking. Beau Brummel himself walked onto the stage in his underclothes and proceeded through his dressing routine, step-by-step with his valet, for the next three hours. Gentlemen all through the crowd requested pencils and notepads to record the way he tied his cravat." He chuckled. "At least three ladies fainted that night as well."
Penelope laughed, feeling a bit lighter and more at ease. As much as she adored the country, it was wonderful to finally be in Town sharing this moment with Colin. Her nerves calmed a trifle, and her trepidation receded a touch. For once, she hadn't been left behind. She wouldn't have to hear the tales second-hand from Colin when he came to stay for the summer. She was here, experiencing the eccentrics of London with him—her best friend, the man she loved.
Penelope stared at Colin with her lips poised against her champagne glass. If only she possessed a bit of Kate's confidence, perhaps she would be able to tell Colin how she felt about him. Risk everything and declare her love. She wasn't sure how she could feel so bold when it came to climbing out of windows, but act like complete mush when it came to sharing her heart. Because at that moment, wearing the brightest color gown she had ever worn, and standing amidst an event that she felt like she was sneaking out of the nursery to attend, she didn't feel at all confident.
And she still wasn't sure what to make of the way Colin had reacted to the sight of her. It certainly hadn't done anything to lessen her anxieties. He had reacted so strangely when she first walked down the stairs, as though he wanted to be anywhere but there with her. Perhaps it was pathetic, however, despite her confirmed suspicions regarding Colin's lack of romantic feelings toward her, that part of her was still hoping he would see her in that gown and find her breathtaking.
It wasn't fair that, instead, she felt exactly that way about him. Really, must he wear such formfitting jackets? Did he perform some sort of exercise to build the muscles tugging against his jacket? What would it feel like to run her hand up his arm and over those broad shoulders?
"What are you thinking of that's making you blush so suddenly, Pen?" asked Colin, his deep blue eyes sparking with amusement, a devilish smile on his lips.
Drat. He'd caught her ogling him.
Penelope shook her head lightly, "Oh, nothing. I'm simply…" She was going to say that she was simply warm, but the sound of another woman's voice interrupted her.
It seemed they had finally been discovered in their blissful little corner.
"Mr. Bridgerton!" A petite, dark-haired young woman moved to stand far too close to Colin. Did every woman have to look at him in that kiss-me-here-and-now way? Penelope certainly understood the desire, but must they wear it so plainly on their faces? "I hoped you would be in attendance tonight. How dashing you look in your dark green jacket! It is my favorite color in your wardrobe." She reached out and ran her hand slowly down the length of his arm. Penelope narrowed her eyes. Did every woman pet Colin in such a way?
"Ah―Miss Atwood. You are also looking radiant tonight." Oh? Miss Atwood looked radiant while Penelope simply looked well? Penelope bit the inside of her cheek. This was precisely why she must move on from Colin: she needed comments such as those to lose their sting.
Miss Atwood feigned embarrassment as she coyly sided closer to Colin. "I knew I could count on you to notice my new frock. It was made especially for the occasion. And, if I am remembering correctly"―the blasted woman bit her lower lip―"this particular shade of blue is your favorite color, is it not?"
Penelope could only blink at Miss Atwood's forwardness. And also at how startlingly long her lashes were. Good heavens, but they looked terrifying―like spiders perched above her eyes, waiting to crawl off and bite someone at any moment.
Even more startling was the charming smile Colin returned to her. "Your memory serves you well, Miss Atwood. It is indeed my favorite color." This party was becoming less and less enjoyable by the minute. As though he could hear her thoughts, Colin looked her way. How good of him to remember I exist. "Forgive me, Miss Featherington, have you and Miss Atwood been yet acquainted?" With that look, Penelope's heart sank even further. His face looked different―his smile bright and welcoming, of course, but also devoid of the intimacy and warmth she usually felt from him. It was as if he had put on a new man, one too pleasant for his own good, suddenly treating Penelope as if she were nothing more than a mere acquaintance.
"I have not had the pleasure," said Penelope, burying her feelings down deep, to be examined later.
Miss Atwood's eyes slid to Penelope, deliberately assessing her slowly from head-to-toe in a way that made Penelope wish to hide behind the drapes. She felt ridiculous enough as it was in this dress. She didn't need Miss Atwood's help to feel any more a spectacle.
"A pleasure, Miss Featherington." Somehow Miss Atwood managed to make even that small statement sound condescending. Her dark—nearly black—eyes turned back up to Colin and she fluttered her spider-lashes at him. "Now that you are back in Town, I do hope you will join Mama and me for tea one day soon." She turned her eyes to Penelope, a sneer marking her pouty lips. "Of course, you are also welcome, Miss Featherington. It's only that Mr. Bridgerton has always been a frequent visitor to our home, and Mama does so dote on him." The woman's face molded back into a flirtatious smile as she looked up at Colin. "She will be most disappointed if made to endure another week without your company."
Could the woman be any more obvious? Her meaning came through loud and clear—she was staking her claim on Colin Bridgerton. Well, Penelope had news for Miss Atwood: she would not be entering the competition. A friend was all she would ever be to Colin. Unless, of course, he were to…no. It was past time for her to stop wishing for the impossible.
Colin's eyes darted to Penelope—holding her gaze for the briefest of moments—and then back to Miss Atwood. "I should not wish to disappoint you or your lovely mother for the world, Miss Atwood. I will call within the week," he said. His words felt like daggers to Penelope. But why?
Penelope had known Colin was a flirt. That was nothing new. But some small part of her had hoped that maybe, just maybe, when she came to London, he wouldn't flirt with anyone but her. Now, she felt stupid and small for ever entertaining such a hope.
The last few bubbles slid across Penelope's tongue as she finished off her drink. She cast her eyes out over the now crowded drawing room and thought of the plan she had been concocting in her mind all day; it was time to act on it.
Her eyes raced over each of the different well-dressed ladies and gentlemen in their finery. She was vaguely aware of Colin and Miss Atwood continuing their flirtations, but the sounds around her all faded to a muffled hum as she searched for the right person—the right man.
Her eyes bounced, sorted, and measured each person in attendance until her gaze landed on a tall gentleman in the back corner of the room. And there her gaze lingered. He was much taller than the other men gathered around him, and he was dressed in the height of fashion. He had blonde hair—closer to the color of honey—with a short-cut beard to match, and a nice, lazy sort of smile. He was handsome, exuding a quiet confidence. Penelope was determined to detach her heart from Colin, and this man just might be the one to help her do it.
Miss Atwood's voice suddenly cut through Penelope's thoughts. "I see you've noticed Lord Debling."
Penelope chose to ignore her smug tone and use the opportunity to her advantage instead. "Yes—I admit I have." She resisted the urge to look at Colin. She turned her eyes to Miss Atwood instead. "What can you tell me about him?"
Miss Atwood let out a short laugh and managed to move even closer to Colin, casting her eyes toward Lord Debling. Penelope's feet itched to step on the woman's toes, but she refrained. She had no claim on Colin.
"Only that he is a marquess and referred to as the Unobtainable. Many a woman has set her cap for him, but none have ever caught his eye." Interesting. For some reason, Penelope liked that thought. It was exciting, and goodness knows she liked excitement. "Not only has he never courted a woman, but he never dances at balls and very rarely pays attention to any females." Her eyes slid like serpents back to Penelope. "But by all means, try your hand at the man, Miss Featherington."
Penelope could feel Colin's gaze burning into the side of her face. Did he disapprove of her forward questions? It didn't matter. She couldn't allow his opinion to hold weight anymore. As much as it pained her, it was time for their relationship to undergo a change.
"Are you acquainted with the marquess?" Penelope asked Colin this time.
He held her eyes—face nearly expressionless. "A bit." His voice was quiet.
"If you will both excuse me, I see a friend who has just arrived. But do find me later Mr. Bridgerton. We have much catching up to do." Miss Atwood fluttered her lashes at Colin and dropped a curtsy before walking off. But Penelope did not miss the way Miss Atwood's fingers lightly trailed over Colin's elbow as she passed him. A possessive fire swept through Penelope's body, and she had to force her gaze to her feet in an attempt to smother it.
Jealousy. Anger. Hurt. Longing. It all washed over her like a wave. Penelope didn't want to feel these things, but her mind insisted on replaying every single moment that had transpired between Colin and Lady Mansfield, Colin and Miss Atwood, and Colin and every other woman with whom she had seen him interact. It wasn't fair. She had shared so much of her life with him, and he had this whole other life out in Society that he lived without her. Now that she was here and seeing it first hand, it made her ache. She was present with Colin, but she still was not truly able to share it with him. They were friends. Nothing more. She could not trail her fingers across his elbow. She could not dance fluttering eyelashes in his direction.
He will never love me in that way.
"You're frowning," said Colin.
She lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his eyes. Friends. She knew her place. "No. Only lost in thought."
"And what thoughts would those be?"
"I was only thinking of Miss Atwood, and wondering what your opinion is of her?" For so many years she had been forced to hear about the latest young woman to steal Colin's attention. By reopening that line of communication, she was inserting herself back into the role of devoted friend.
His boyish grin made her insides ache. "I think her eyelashes are quite fantastic. Do you agree?"
She couldn't answer the question, and she was angry at him for finding the woman—and her obvious attention—attractive. Penelope dug her nails into her palm. "Mr. Bridgerton," she forced her voice to stay calm and unwavering as she faced him. His smile dropped entirely at the formal use of his name. She hoped he wouldn't notice that her hands were actually trembling. "I would like to make Lord Debling's acquaintance. Would you be able to make the introduction for me?"
His eyes remained fixed on her for two breaths—his face unreadable. Was he contemplating? Was he irritated at the idea? Jealous? ...No. Penelope wouldn't let herself hope for such a thing.
The same cold and disconnected smile from a moment ago spread again over his mouth, and he nodded. "Of course. I'd be more than happy to make the introduction. Debling has a good reputation. I think you two would…deal well together." She noticed Colin tug at the top of his cravat, but other than that, he seemed completely at ease with the idea.
"Wonderful." She smiled, and then took another glass of champagne from a tray when a footman came around again. She was going to need all of the liquid courage she could get if she was going to attempt to become exactly what Lady Mansfield had predicted.
Penelope was done being the adventurous young girl. She was quite through being infatuated with Colin Bridgerton. It was time to shake off her nerves, step into the role her mother had worked for years to mold Penelope into, and claim her heart back from a man who would never love her in return.
She was going to become the first and last woman to catch the eye of the Unobtainable Lord Debling.
A/N: I know that things are developing on the slower side of things, but keep in mind that this is a slow burn. I promise that when Colin and Pen finally decide to quit being stubborn and finally act on their feelings, I will make it well worth your wile! ;)
Also, Lord Debling finally makes an appearance (only mentioned, but he will actually have some things to say to our Pen in the next chapter!).
Until the next chapter,
-Dev
