How had Penelope gone her whole life without ever having tasted champagne? It was magnificent. And the more she consumed, the more she enjoyed everything. Even Miss Atwood's eyelashes were beginning to look more appealing. Penelope especially liked the way the feather, in the hair of the matron with whom she was conversing, seemed to be dancing. How amusing, to have a dancing feather! Where had the woman found such an accessory? Was there a bird still attached to it somehow?

She had just opened her mouth to ask the woman when Colin's voice boomed, seemingly out of nowhere. When had he even walked away? They had just finished dinner and were waiting again in the drawing room for the butler to announce them into the ballroom for the entertainment portion of the evening, and then Colin had excused himself and left her in the care of...oh, right. He had left her with Kate. Kate! She had lost Kate! ...No, there she was, right beside Penelope, where she had left her. Ever-faithful Kate.

"Miss Featherington, Lady Bridgerton, may I present to you, Lord Debling."

Penelope's eyes widened when she realized the man she had decided to make fall in love with her was standing just before her. And he was staring at her. Why was he staring at her? Had he already fallen in love with her?

Oh. No. It was because she wasn't talking. Were all of these words simply in her head, then?

"Please to make your acquaintan―" Kate started to say but Penelope's voice suddenly realized how to work again and it shot out of her mouth like a cannon.

"So wonderful to meet you, my lord," said Penelope, with a confident smile and a curtsy. There. She had spoken, and she had done such a phenomenal job of it that she rewarded herself with another big sip of the lovely, bubbly drink.

Lord Debling cleared his throat and bowed. "A pleasure, Miss Featherington. And Lady Bridgerton, I offer you my sincerest congratulations on your recent marriage to the viscount."

"Thank you," said Kate, and again Penelope was amazed at her poise. Just as Penelope was about to ask Kate for her secret on being so regal, she covered her mouth to keep the words from escaping on their own. "I feel very lucky to be joined to such a wonderful family." Kate glanced at Penelope, frowning ever so slightly at the hand pressed over her mouth. "And to have gained such lovely friends." Kate removed Penelope's hand from her mouth and wrapped it around her own arm. Penelope thought how nice it was that she wanted to snuggle.

Only, Penelope couldn't really focus on snuggling Kate just then because Colin's face looked pinched, and she wondered why he should be scowling in such a way. "Is your cravat too tight?" she blurted out.

Colin's eyebrows flew up and he looked between Kate and Lord Debling before settling his gaze back on Penelope—a small tentative chuckle escaping from his mouth. "No. Why do you ask?"

"You look grumpy." She noticed everyone's faces suddenly looked as if they had just peeked again at the painting on Lady Mansfield ceiling, and she wondered if she had said something wrong. But…what was it she had said again? Penelope's memory suddenly escaped her. And had her tongue always felt so heavy?

"Perhaps it is a bit too tight. I believe I'll go and attempt to retie it before we move into the ballroom." Tie what? And why was Colin always trying to get away from her lately? Because, he clearly was. It was probably her offensive, shrubbery dress.

"Miss Featherington," said Lord Debling, in his lovely baritone, after Colin walked away. "I understand this is your first Season?"

"Forgive me," Kate interrupted, placing a hand on Penelope's arm. "I must leave you for a moment. I can see that Lord Bridgerton finds himself backed into a corner with Lady Humphrey, and he keeps flashing me the look of the desperate, in need of rescue."

Lord Debling chuckled. "By all means, go save your husband. I, myself, have succumbed to the same fate once or twice and would not wish it upon anyone."

Kate smiled and, with a curtsy, hurried over to Anthony. They were wonderful together. Penelope wanted to be wonderful with someone. She looked back to Lord Debling. Now was her chance to win him over. She took the last gulp of her friendly drink and noticed he was watching her with the hint of a smile. He extended his hand toward her now empty glass. "Allow me." He retrieved it from her and handed it off to a servant.

Handsome and chivalrous!

But, then when he chuckled and thanked her, Penelope realized she had said that thought out loud. Why was she always doing that? Her cheeks filled with heat—or rather, continued to heat, because she felt as if her face had been on fire ever since she had finished her first glass of champagne. She placed her gloved hands on her cheeks to try to cool them, but there was nothing for it. Still hot.

Lord Debling cleared his throat. "As I was saying, this is your first Season, is it not?"

"Yes."

"And…are you enjoying it?"

"Quite." She wanted to say more, but suddenly the room was starting to feel a little wobbly and she was having to use a great deal of energy to remain upright. And her tongue…so heavy. This wasn't normal, was it?

She noted Lord Debling pressing his lips together as if to keep from smiling at something again. But she had no idea what it could be since neither of them had said anything funny. Lord Debling was nice, but not at all as funny as Colin. "And…may I ask what aspects of London you are most excited about experiencing?"

"None of it." Oh, blast! She shouldn't have said that. "I mean, all of it."

He gave a half-smile. "No, I do not think you meant that, Miss Featherington."

"No," she sighed. "I did not." She wished the bloody floor would stop shifting.

"You are a daughter of Baron Featherington, are you not?"

Penelope narrowed her eyes, focusing on Lord Debling's grey ones and trying to block out the way the room was starting to turn on its end. "Yes, one of four, my lord. My younger sister is Lady Prudence Huxley, and my elder sisters are Miss Phillipa Finch and Miss Felicity Featherington." She paused. "Wait, no. That's not right. Lady Huxley is my eldest sister! That's it."

Again, he pressed his lips together, as if holding back a fierce laugh. "I am well acquainted with Lady Huxley. I believe my eldest brother vied for her hand during one of her Seasons."

Penelope gave a short snort. "He and every other man in Society. They all wanted her dowry." The words flowed freely from her mouth, completely unbidden. And why had Lady Mansfield made her rooms so wobbly? Horribly rude.

"I don't believe my brother was after her dowry, if that helps remove his name from your black books," said Lord Debling.

Penelope waved him off. "Doesn't matter a drop to me. Prudence will be the first to tell you she can take care of herself. Trust me. She doesn't need my help in the least. And you can tell your brother she settled for nothing but a love match, so there's no need for him to feel slighted by her."

Lord Debling's brow pulled down. "My…brother is no longer with us. He died two years ago, I'm afraid."

A large puff of air released from Penelope's cheeks. "Well, then it's rather a good thing Prudence didn't choose him, isn't it?" Wait a moment. Was that a rude comment? ...Yes. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she realized her words had, once again, exited instead of staying in her head where they belonged. And why was she talking so loudly? How did one lower one's voice? Just another thing she failed at. "I'm terribly sorry," she said, trying to lower her voice unsuccessfully and deciding to convey her apology by grabbing his arm instead. But it felt wrong—so she placed her other hand on his other arm to balance out the gesture.

There. Steady as she goes.

What was that snooty matron scowling at? Penelope nearly told the woman to pull the tack out of her slipper before she was distracted by Lord Debling. He must have heard something funny again from someone else, because Penelope could see him chuckling behind his closed lips, shoulders slightly shaking. She wished he would share the joke with her. She loved to laugh!

"Miss Featherington," he said, barely hiding his amusement, "are you feeling quite well?"

She pulled away with wide eyes and placed her hand on her chest. "Moi? Oh, I'm feeling phemmminonial." She frowned at her words. "Phem-en-om-in-al. Oh, you know what I mean!" She leaned in to whisper to him. "But, I do wish Lady Mansfield had not made these rooms so wobbly. They are quite frustrating."

Was Penelope swaying? Yes. She definitely was. Something was off.

Colin had tried to keep his distance that evening—distance for himself, and distance for Penelope. Flirting with Miss Atwood seemed like the most natural way to remind himself that his destiny had already been carved out before him as Charming, not as Penelope's husband. In fact, she had expressed interest in Lord Debling, and as much as the idea hurt, Colin knew it was for the best. If Lord Debling began courting Penelope, and then married her, Colin would never have to acknowledge his feelings for her.

Of course, he would then have to spend the rest of his life looking on as Penelope shared her life with another man, which did not sound too appealing either. What choice did he have? He wasn't willing to tell Penelope of his own feelings. She deserved nothing but the best, and the truth was, Lord Debling fit the criteria much better than he did.

But then, why was his heart protesting so much at the thought of Penelope in the arms of another man?

Colin re-entered the drawing room and pushed through the crowd. A buzz of excited energy filled the space, in anticipation of the moment when the doors to the theater room would open to reveal whatever eccentric entertainment Lady Mansfield had planned for the evening.

As he drew closer to where Penelope stood in the corner of the room, he could verify that she was indeed swaying like a tree in the wind. And, also, that Lord Debling was still with her. The man had claimed her attention ever since Colin had introduced them after dinner. His teeth clenched together even though he knew he was being ridiculous. Good for Pen, catching the eye of the Unobtainable. If anyone could, he knew it would be her. Which is why he had wanted to shake the annoying Miss Atwood for even suggesting it. He felt like an invalid, faced with a horrible, yet necessary, remedy. Penelope being taken off the market was the cure, but he just couldn't bring himself to swallow the medicine. It tasted too much like poison.

Colin had almost made it to Penelope's side when he heard her laugh such a boisterous, shrill laugh that it caused him to cringe. This was not at all like her. Something was definitely amiss.

He stopped beside Penelope and Debling. "Enjoying yourself tonight, Pen—Miss Featherington?" he corrected, feeling unnecessarily angry that he must address her formally.

Penelope's eyes went as wide as saucers and she leaned toward him. "Oh, yes!" Colin blinked at the smell of champagne heavy on her breath. "The mooost fun! Lord Devlin is verrry gentlemanly." She winked at Debling, unaware that she had mispronounced his name.

Oh, no. Was she…? Blast. The woman was completely foxed!

Colin looked hesitantly to Debling, wondering what he thought of Penelope's lack of decorum, and was a bit—though he would deny it until the day he died—pleased to think that maybe this would scare the man off. But why did he feel that way? Colin couldn't—wouldn't— act on his feelings, and he couldn't reasonably expect Penelope to remain single her whole life.

No. He cared deeply for Penelope. He wanted her happiness. Which is why he needed to save her just then.

However, Debling spoke first. "Bridgerton, I believe Miss Featherington has suddenly"—he gave Colin a meaningful look that said he would be the one doing the rescuing—"taken ill. You are a close friend of hers, are you not? Would you be able to escort her to Lord and Lady Bridgerton's and inform them of her illness without the room raising questions?"

Hang Debling. This was what Colin had already planned to do. Now it sounded as though Debling was the one to ensure Penelope's wellbeing.

The man continued, leaning closer to Colin so Penelope would not overhear. "I would escort her myself, but I do not wish for Miss Featherington to feel any more embarrassment than she likely already will tomorrow."

Colin smiled tensely. "Of course."

Oh. Wonderful. He was going to act like a jealous fool now.

Debling lifted a brow in the haughty way of the aristocracy and smiled tentatively before turning his attention back to Penelope, who appeared to be deeply enthralled by something on the ceiling. "Miss Featherington?" Her head flew down, and the sudden movement seemed to knock her off balance. Debling and Colin both lunged to grab an elbow, and she giggled—the sound jolting him back to a time when a ten-year-old Penelope had begged Colin to help her play a lark on his brother, Benedict, by gluing his boots to the floor. Colin wished he could glue Debling's boots to the floor right then and run away with Penelope.

"Miss Featherington," said Debling, "I will leave you in the care of Mr. Bridgerton now."

Colin pulled Penelope to his side and flashed a tight smile to Debling. "I'll take the lady from here. Good evening, my lord."

The marquess bowed and watched as Colin wrapped Penelope's arm securely through his and then managed to somehow get her safely out of the drawing room. He caught Kate's eye, however, just before they exited the room, and she immediately noted the urgency of his look. He watched as she quickly excused herself from the group of tabbies surrounding her and rushed from the room with an elegance that would make the previous Viscountess Bridgerton, Lady Violet, proud.

Once into the hallway and safely away from the judgmental eyes of Society, Colin wrapped his arm around Penelope's shoulders and guided her toward an empty parlor at the front of the house.

"What's happened?" asked Kate in an anxious tone, after stepping into the parlor and closing the door behind her.

Colin sat Penelope down on a settee and she immediately started to fall over. He sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder again to keep her upright. And then Colin met Penelope's wide eyes.

"She's foxed," he said bluntly.

"Oh, blast." Kate crossed her arms in front of her. "We need to get her out of here or this will follow her through the whole Season."

"I agree."

Penelope seemed to become alert to the world around her for the first time. She sat up straighter and looked at Colin, "I'm not d—drunk!" she nearly shouted, all while hiccuping. She gave a crooked grin and then put her finger on the tip of his nose. "You're drunk—k, Colly!" She chuckled. "Drunky Colly."

"All right, Pen, I'll make you a deal," he said, removing her finger from his nose and trying not to laugh. "I'll let you call me Drunky Colly, but only if you promise to walk with me out of this house and to the carriage, all while trying to be very, very quiet."

She saluted him. "Yes, sir, Drunky Colly."

Kate's face reflected both the amusement and the horror of what they were about to attempt. It would be a miracle if they got her out of there without anyone realizing Penelope was drunk as a wheelbarrow. "I'll go fetch Anthony. It's not even necessary for me to ask you to remain here with her, is it?" She gave him a smile that said she meant more by that statement. Did she know? How? He'd been so careful the past couple of days to not show his affection. He'd even been forcing himself to flirt with other ladies all evening.

He shook his head and tightened his arm around Penelope's shoulders. Kate left and Penelope laid her head on Colin's shoulder, the sweet smell of strawberries and cream flooding his senses. Must she make this so difficult for him? Only Penelope could make intoxication look lovely.

He felt her take in a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling in a way that reflected contentment. He relished too much in her closeness. And the realization that she fit perfectly beside him made him ache. Colin peeked down just as Penelope's eyes slowly fluttered shut and nestled into his side, the heat of her body radiating into his. She was smiling softly. Did she feel as comfortable tucked up next to him as he felt holding her there?

This was a frozen moment, a stolen bit of time that he knew would take yet another piece of his heart and surrender it to the woman who he would never let himself have.

His eyes traced a line from her earlobe, down her neck to the top of her shoulder where it lingered on the cap sleeve of her gorgeous gown. She had been too much for him that night. Forcing himself to stay away and allowing her to befriend Debling felt like the worst sort of torture. But it was what was best for her—his sweet, wild-hearted Penelope.

Colin lifted his hand and, without thinking, wrapped one of her soft, face-framing red curls around his finger. The tips of his fingers brushed against her temple. He noticed that her smile broadened and the hairs stood up on her arms. "Colin," Penelope murmured with a sleepy slur, but sounding so at ease and comforted.

He allowed himself the moment to rest the side of his face against the top of her head. "Yes, darling?"

"Do you find my dress rep—p—pulshive?" That last word was a mouth full for her, but she eventually got it out.

He shut his eyes and smiled. "No, Pen." For a moment, he considered leaving it at that. But something about that night, the smell of her hair, and the realization that she would not remember anything he said was bewitching him. He could not hold his words inside him any longer. "You must know, the way you look tonight—and every second of every day for that matter—drives me mad." He held his breath, waiting for her response, but she only sighed. He looked down and ran his knuckles against her jaw, eliciting a dimpled smile. He whispered, "You are beautiful, my darling." He was counting on the promise of her inebriation that she would not remember his words tomorrow. But if he were being honest with himself, part of him hoped his words would sink into her heart and she would never forget them.

A second later, the door opened and the moment was pierced. Colin dropped his hand to wrap around her shoulder once again while Kate and Anthony snuck into the parlor. Anthony paused and gave Penelope a pitying look before squatting in front of her and taking her hand, coaxing her to open her heavy eyes.

She blinked at Anthony with a frown.

"Poor, poor Penelope," said Anthony, smiling kindly at the nearly incoherent woman. It wouldn't be long until the room was spinning wretchedly. Colin doubted the carriage would come away unscathed from their trip home. "You mustn't feel too badly. We've all been a little jug-bitten at some point in our lives." Anthony placed a hand under Penelope's elbow and gently pulled her to her feet. "Let's get you back to Bridgerton House."

It was selfish, but Colin wished Anthony and Kate had not been so hasty in coming to Penelope's rescue. He would have liked a few more minutes to sit with her in his arms.

"Here," said Kate, taking Penelope's arm in hers. "Let me be the one to escort her out. It will look more natural and I can hold her up without anyone thinking it too odd."

"No," Colin's voice shot out too quickly. "I shall escort her out." He felt reluctant to leave Penelope in her state.

Kate shook her head. "We need you to stay behind and spread the rumor of Penelope's sudden illness. Hint at a fever and let everyone begin to draw their own conclusion. But whatever you do—do not outright say that she has influenza, or else no one will believe you. People like to feel as if they are intelligent enough to crack a code on their own." Leave it up to Kate to concoct a scheme. And as much as he didn't want to leave Penelope, he knew Kate was right. He needed to give a reason for Penelope's sudden disappearance that would draw sympathy for her rather than raise eyebrows.

Penelope stumbled a little bit to the side, her eyes looking glazed and heavy as she swung them to Colin. "I don't know what you all are talking about. I'm perrrfectly sober. In fact, I have something I wish to say to Colin." She stood straighter and squared her shoulders at him, but still looked like she could fall over at any moment. "Colin, I am tired of hiding it. I—" but he didn't know what Penelope was going to say because Kate clapped her hand over Penelope's mouth.

"Shhhh. Yes, Penelope, I'm sure you are quite sober, but let us wait until after we've had a good night's rest to talk with Colin."

It was on the tip of Colin's tongue to protest, but Penelope spoke again. "I am not tired," she said with a yawn, stumbling over her own steps as Kate dragged her toward the door.

Anthony moved ahead of them and peeked his head out the door, and then waved them forward when the hallway was clear. "Thank you for your help, Colin," said Kate before she, Anthony, and Penelope slipped out the door.

Then they were gone, and Colin was alone in the parlor. He was thankful for Kate, he really was. But he would be a liar if he said he didn't miss the way life was before Anthony had married. He missed the time he had spent with his brother. He missed how uncomplicated his relationship had been before he was aware that Penelope was maddeningly beautiful and he would have to let someone else marry her. What was his place in his family now? Colin's family had been his grounding force his whole life...

But now, he felt a little washed out to sea—unsure of who he was or where he belonged.

A/N: I truly feel for Colin in this chapter―so many changes going on in his life and he isn't sure how to deal with them. :(

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