The warm glow of candlelight softened the edges of the Bridgerton sitting room as evening settled over Mayfair. What had begun as afternoon tea had seamlessly transformed into dinner, with a hastily dispatched note to Portia Featherington ensuring propriety was maintained.
Now, as the younger Bridgertons reluctantly retired for the evening, Penelope found herself alone with Lady Violet Bridgerton, whose gentle expression held all the warmth of a mother's love. The older woman's kind eyes were fixed on her, exuding a maternal care that Penelope had often imagined but rarely experienced in her own household.
"My dear." Violet began, her voice soft yet brimming with sincerity. "It brings me such joy to see you here, seated among my family. I meant every word I penned in my letter to you. From the moment I met you since you were but a child, I knew you possessed a rare quality – a quiet strength that this family would be lucky to claim. And now, with Anthony… well, I can scarcely contain my happiness."
Penelope, already flushed from the day's events, felt her cheeks grow warmer. "Lady Bridgerton, your kindness overwhelms me. You have always been so gracious, so welcoming… It is no exaggeration to say that your support was a great factor in my agreeing to this courtship. I have long admired you and the way you've guided your family with such love and wisdom. To hear your words now…" She trailed off, emotion thickening her voice. "I can only hope I prove worthy of the role you and Anthony have entrusted me with."
Violet reached across the space between them and took Penelope's hand in hers, her touch firm yet gentle. "Penelope, there is no 'proving' necessary. You are everything I could wish for in a daughter-in-law and more. Anthony is the fortunate one in this arrangement, let me assure you."
Penelope's laugh was soft, almost shy, as she lowered her gaze. "You are too kind, Lady Bridgerton."
"Violet. Must I remind you?" The older woman corrected with a smile. "If you are to be my daughter in truth, then I insist you call me Violet."
"Violet." Penelope echoed, the name tasting unfamiliar yet comforting on her tongue.
The dowager viscountess' expression grew thoughtful, and she leaned back slightly, studying Penelope with maternal concern. "I have noticed." She began delicately. "A certain tension between you and Eloise. I do not wish to pry, my dear, but I hope you will take heart. Whatever the matter may be, I am confident it can be mended. I have seen your patience and kindness firsthand, Penelope. You have shown it with all my children, even when they hardly deserve it." her lips quirked in a knowing smile.
Penelope hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her gown. "Eloise and I…" She began cautiously. "We have had our differences of late. I fear I may have disappointed her, though it was never my intention."
Violet nodded, her expression one of understanding. "Eloise has always been strong-willed, and her passions sometimes make her blind to reason. But time has a way of softening even the most stubborn hearts. I know she values your friendship deeply, even if she struggles to show it now."
Penelope's heart ached at the thought of Eloise, still she nodded slowly despite her firm resignation that she will not engage Eloise in any way to keep her peace of mind. "I hope you are right, Violet. She has been my dearest friend."
"You will see." Violet assured her, her voice filled with quiet conviction. "Patience and love work wonders, my dear. And as for Anthony.." She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "He is no less stubborn than Eloise, I fear. But I know you will keep him grounded. You have the strength to stand beside him, Penelope, not behind him. That is what he needs, and that is what you are."
The blush returned to Penelope's cheeks, and she looked down overwhelmed by Violet's faith in her. "I will do my best." She promised softly.
"I have no doubt of it." Violet replied warmly. "Now, enough of this solemn talk. We must go to the modiste tomorrow. We must get you dresses in Bridgerton blue. Have you realized how beautiful both of you are wearing matching colors?"
The shift in conversation was a welcome relief, and Penelope found herself smiling once again.
Just as Violet began extolling the virtues of soft greens and blues for Penelope's complexion, the door opened, and Anthony entered with his usual commanding presence. His dark eyes immediately sought Penelope, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that was both genuine and practiced.
"Ladies." He greeted, bowing slightly. "It seems I am intruding on a rather animated discussion."
"Not at all, dearest." Violet replied warmly. "Penelope and I were merely planning an outing to the modiste. It is high time she commissions some dresses that truly do her justice. No more of those unfortunate yellows."
Anthony chuckled, crossing the room to stand before Penelope. Without hesitation, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles. His eyes lingered on hers, and his voice dropped slightly, becoming softer. "A most splendid idea, mother. Penelope deserves nothing less than perfection."
Penelope offered him a warm smile, though her calculating gaze betrayed the performance beneath her composure. "You are too kind, my lord."
The scene brought a glow to Violet's cheeks, her heart swelling with delight at the apparent devotion between the two. "Anthony, you will be pleased to hear I have been persuading Penelope to embrace colors that better suit her. I daresay Madame Delacroix will work wonders."
Anthony straightened, his tone light. "I could not agree more. In fact, I have already opened an account for Penelope at the modiste. And, mother, you and my sisters must take advantage of it as well. I fully expect to see a rather exorbitant bill on my desk by the day after tomorrow."
Penelope's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "That is far too generous, Anthony. I would be happy to commission new dresses, but I shall pay for them myself. I cannot impose on you so."
Anthony's brow arched, and he tilted his head, his voice firm but teasing. "Nonsense. It is entirely customary for a suitor to provide for his intended, particularly when said suitor has every intention of marrying her."
Violet chimed in with a knowing smile. "Indeed, my dear. Such gestures not only display Anthony's affection but also reinforce his commitment to the ton. Let this be an opportunity for you to shine, Penelope."
With both Bridgertons aligned against her, Penelope could do little but concede. She sighed softly, her smile returning as she stood. "You are both insistent, I see. Very well, but only on the condition that I shall not be extravagant."
Anthony offered his arm, his smile growing. "Shall we?'
Penelope bid Violet goodnight, and together with her lady's maid, Rae, she allowed Anthony to escort her home.
The walk back to the Featherington estate was deliberately unhurried. Anthony had chosen a less conspicuous route through the rear gardens, a decision that Penelope noted with silent understanding. Rae, Penelope's maid, trailed discreetly behind until Anthony gave her a subtle nod. Penelope, catching the signal, turned to Rae. "Go ahead inside. I shan't be but a moment."
With a curtsy, Rae disappeared through the servant's entrance, leaving Penelope and Anthony alone amidst the shadowed blooms.
He turned to her, his expression unusually earnest. "Thank you for spending the day with my family. It means more to them – and to me – than you may realize."
Penelope folded her hands before her, her voice steady. "Your family has always been dear to me. Though, I must admit, the day was longer than I anticipated."
Anthony chuckled. "I shall consider that a challenge to make your next visit even more enjoyable." his tone turned serious as he continued. "I also wanted to apologize for Eloise's behavior. I've spoken with her the day we arrived back home."
Penelope nodded, her tone cool. "As we agreed, Anthony. I will not be expected to engage Eloise beyond what I find tolerable. That has not changed."
He dipped his head, conceding. "Of course. I merely wished to assure you that I am addressing the matter."
A moment of quiet passed between them, and just as Penelope prepared to take her leave, Anthony stepped closer, his face mere inches from hers. The unexpected proximity made her breath hitch, and her pulse quickened.
"Anthony.." She began, her voice faltering. "What are you –"
A smile played at the corners of his mouth – that same rakish smile that had likely conquered countless hearts in London's ballrooms. He leaned closer, so near that propriety seemed but a distant memory. His fingers tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, his touch sending an unexpected tremor through her. And then his lips descended to her soft skin.
The brief kiss to her cheek was both shocking and improper.
"What are you doing?" Penelope demanded, stepping back.
"Merely being intimate with my… lover." He teased, the word rolling off his tongue with deliberate ease.
Her response was a derisive scoff. "We need not maintain this charade when we are alone."
Anthony's smile grew more pronounced. "Who says it is a charade?"
The challenge hung between them like a delicate thread, vibrating with unspoken tension. Penelope, unwilling to engage further, turned and walked away – leaving Anthony watching her retreat with a triumphant expression.
The night wrapped around them, holding the secrets of their complicated arrangement – a performance that seemed to be blurring the lines between calculated strategy and something far more predictable.