Lady Whistledown's Society Papers
Dearest Gentle Readers,
The ton is abuzz with whispers following last night's grand Hawthorne ball, an affair that saw the season's finest parading in their dazzling finery, exchanging pleasantries, and, most importantly, giving us much to discuss. But while the event brimmed with the usual splendor, it was the actions of one Viscount Bridgerton and his chosen companion that have set tongues wagging this morning.
Yes, dear readers,thatBridgerton. The very one who, last season, stood solemnly at the altar only to be left quite alone by Miss Edwina Sharma, who had the good sense to abandon the ill-fated match before any vows are exchanged. One might think such a public spectacle would have left our dear Viscount wary of romantic entanglements. And yet, to our collective astonishment, he appeared utterly entranced last night – by none other than Miss Penelope Featherington.
You hear me correctly, my darlings. Miss Penelope Featherington, who, for the past two seasons, has been more widely known for her unfortunate penchant for yellow than for any romantic prospects. Indeed, her citrus-inspired wardrobe — whether resembling a lemon or a canary – had rendered her a fixture at the edges of ballrooms, her sharp mind overshadowed by her garish gowns. But it seems the ton's perennial wallflower has blossomed.
Resplendent in an elegant mint-green gown that flattered her in ways her previous choices never could, Miss Featherington commanded attention as she descended the staircase. And who should be waiting for her at the bottom but Viscount Bridgerton himself, dressed in a cravat of the same hue. A coincidence, or a deliberate declaration?
The pair shared not one but two dances – an unmistakable breach of decorum for any gentleman not explicitly courting a lady. When not on the dance floor, they were nearly inseparable, strolling arm in arm along the ballroom's edges, speaking in hushed tones that only fueled speculation.
Naturally, one cannot help but wonder: is this the beginning of a courtship? Or is the Viscount merely offering Miss Featherington a measure of sympathy after the rather cruel determination of his brother, Mr. Colin Bridgerton, last season? For those who may have forgotten (though how could anyone?), Mr. Bridgerton was overheard stating he would "never dream of courting Penelope Featherington."
Has the Viscount taken it upon himself to repair the damage done by his younger brother's careless words? Or has he, like the rest of us, come to see the hidden depths beneath Miss Featherington's unassuming exterior?
Whatever the case may be, it is a remarkable turn of events. From being the subject of whispered ridicule to captivating the attention of one of society's most eligible bachelors, Miss Featherington's transformation is nothing short of extraordinary.
But be warned, dear readers: while love might be in the air, so too is suspicion. After all, Viscount Bridgerton is no stranger to failed courtships, and Miss Featherington's family is no stranger to scandal. Should these two unite, one can only imagine the shockwaves that will ripple through the ton.
As always, I shall remain your devoted observer, poised to report on the triumphs, the tragedies, and the truths lurking beneath the glittering surface of our society.
Yours truly,
Lady Whistledown
The Bridgerton drawing room was as lively as ever, its sunlit corners brimming with warmth and chatter. Penelope Featherington sat perched delicately upon the settee, her back straight and posture impeccable, though a keen observer might detect the tension in her shoulders. Her gaze flitted about the room, taking in the familiar surroundings that once felt like a second home. It was a peculiar sensation to return, now as an official guest with a particular purpose – a role she had never imagined for herself.
Gregory and Hyacinth, full of youthful exuberance, clamored for her attention. Gregory recounted an outlandish story about a misplaced cricket ball that had, supposedly, sent a vase toppling, while Hyacinth took Penelope's gloved hand in her own and declared with great authority that she had missed her "most terribly".
"Why, Pen." Hyacinth exclaimed with a dramatic flutter of her eyelashes. "You mustn't ever leave London again. It is far too dull without you to brighten the room."
Penelope smiled warmly, the young girl's earnestness soothing some of her unease. "I daresay, Hy, you manage to fill any room with enough brightness for the both of us."
Francesca and Benedict, standing off to the side, exchanged knowing glances. Francesca offered Penelope a soft smile, her tone light but sincere. "It is good to see you again, Penelope. The house has been too quiet without your clever remarks to balance out Eloise's litany on women's suffrage."
Before Penelope could respond, the door opened, and Viscount Bridgerton entered with his characteristic commanding presence. The room shifted, all eyes instinctively drawn to him. Anthony's dark gaze immediately sought Penelope, his lips curling into a warm smile that, despite herself, made her heart skip.
"Miss Featherington." He greeted as he approached, bowing slightly before taking her gloved hand. His lips brushed her knuckles in a gesture so deliberate it sent a ripple of giggles across the room. "You look so beautiful today."
Penelope felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She knew this was all part of their carefully constructed performance, yet the sincerity in his touch and the intensity of his gaze made her stomach flutter. "My lord." She replied, her voice soft and melodic. "You are too kind."
Anthony's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than propriety might allow, his thoughts briefly scattered. How had he never noticed before the remarkable shade of blue in her eyes, like the clear skies after a storm? She was radiant, her delicate beauty more pronounced with every passing moment.
The spell was broken by a subtle clearing of Violet Bridgerton's throat. "Anthony." She said with a bemused smile. "I trust you find Penelope's company agreeable, but you mustn't forget that there are others in the room."
Anthony released Penelope's hand with a sheepish chuckle and settled beside her. Benedict, ever the mischief-maker, seized the opportunity. "Late morning for you, brother." He remarked casually, though his tone held a teasing edge. "Did the Hawthorne ball wear you out so much, or was there another cause for your tardiness? You missed breaking your fast this morning."
Anthony stiffened, his mind racing for a suitable answer that would not betray the memory of their clandestine meeting that involved a hackney ride unchaperoned, and the secret delivery of Whistledown's latest column.
Before he could speak, Hyacinth piped up, saving him from his internal struggle. "Oh, Anthony, what Lady Whistledown wrote today – about you and Pen sharing two dances and being inseparable –isit true?"
All eyes turned toward him, save for Eloise, who buried her nose further into her book with an exaggerated air of disinterest. Violet's teacup hovered near her lips, hiding her smile as she watched her son's struggle with poorly veiled amusement.
Taking a steadying breath, Anthony stood, his decision swift. He extended his hand toward Penelope, who hesitated only briefly before placing her own within his. Rising to stand beside him, she cast him a fleeting, curious glance.
"Indeed, it is true." Anthony began, his voice resolute. "Allow me to make this moment official, here among my family. Indeed, I am courting Miss Penelope Featherington, with the intention of making her my wife before this season concludes."
The room erupted in joyous exclamations. Francesca rose to embrace Penelope, while Benedict clapped Anthony on the shoulder, a wide grin lighting his face. Gregory cheered enthusiastically, and Hyacinth clapped her hands together, declaring. "I knew it!"
Only Eloise remained silent, her book poised on her lap.
"Congratulations, Anthony." She said dryly, glancing up at her brother with an arched brow. "I'm certain you'll both beveryhappy."
Anthony frowned slightly, but before he could address his sister, Violet intervened, her voice calm but firm. "Eloise, my dear, perhaps it is time to set aside your book and properly welcome Penelope."
Eloise's lips pursed, but she complied, standing with an air of reluctance as she remembered her conversation with Anthony in his study. "Welcome back, Penelope." She said curtly, before returning to her seat.
Anthony tightened his hold on Penelope's hand, sensing her unease, and leaned closer to her. "Pay no mind to Eloise." He murmured for her ears only. "I've already spoken with her. She will come around."
Penelope nodded, though her heart ached at the cold reception from her once dearest friend. For the sake of appearances, she donned a smile and returned to her seat, as the family began to chatter eagerly about the upcoming plans for the couple.
Anthony, however, kept his gaze on Penelope, silently vowing that whatever reservations she harbored, he would ensure that their future together – real or otherwise – would be nothing less than remarkable.