The following morning was one of bright sunshine and chirping birds, the kind of day that might inspire levity in the most serious of men. Yet, as Anthony Bridgerton strode up the path to the Featherington residence, a dark cloud of irritation clung to him. The events of the previous evening still gnawed at his pride, not to mention his growing unease over the gaggle of gentlemen seemingly intent on vying for Penelope's hand.
He adjusted his cravat impatiently, nodding briefly to Briarly, the Featherington butler, who welcomed him at the door. Briarly, with his usual polished demeanor, led Anthony to the drawing room where the Viscount expected, as was customary, a private audience with Miss Penelope Featherington.
Instead, the sight that greeted him brought him to an abrupt halt.
The room, decorated in its usual outlandish tones, was abuzz with conversation and laughter. A cluster of gentlemen surrounded Penelope, maintaining a respectable distance but nonetheless exuding an air of keen attentiveness. Lord Remington, ever the polished charmer, leaned slightly forward, clearly captivated by whatever Penelope was saying, while Lord Hensley nodded enthusiastically, his admiration poorly disguised.
Anthony's pleasant expression, carefully rehearsed for the visit, shifted immediately into a frown. His jaw tightened, and the flowers in his hand crinkled slightly under the pressure of his grip. It was Portia Featherington, however, who approached him with an eager smile, her sharp eyes missing nothing.
"Ah, Viscount Bridgerton!" She exclaimed, her voice tinged with a note of triumph. "How delightful of you to call on our dear Penelope this fine morning."
"Lady Featherington." Anthony replied, bowing stiffly. His tone was even, though a thread of irritation wove through his words. "I must admit I was unaware Miss Featherington was expecting so many callers this morning."
Portia, oblivious to the edge in his voice, clasped her hands together in delight. "Neither did we! But after last night's ball, it seems the eligible gentlemen of the ton could not resist showing their interest. Such a pleasant surprise for our Penelope, do you not agree?"
Anthony inclined his head in a tight nod, unwilling to voice the truth: that he found the entire situation anything but pleasant.
Portia, evidently satisfied, turned back to the room and called out with practiced sweetness. "Penelope, my dear, Viscount Bridgerton has come to pay you a call!"
At her mother's words, Penelope turned, her bright smile faltering slightly as her eyes met Anthony's stormy gaze. She rose gracefully, excusing herself from her current conversation with a polite nod to her suitors. As she approached Anthony, her brows furrowed in curiosity.
"My lord." She greeted, her tone warm but measured. "I had not expected you this early. It is always a pleasure to see you."
Anthony managed a strained smile, offering her the flowers he still clutched. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Featherington. These are for you."
"Thank you." Penelope said, accepting the bouquet with a gentle smile. Her sharp eyes, however, did not miss the tension in his posture. "You appear… troubled."
"Not troubled." Anthony corrected swiftly, though his tone betrayed him. "Merely… surprised. You seem to have attracted quite the audience this morning."
Penelope tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "Should I apologize, my lord? It would seem the attention I have drawn displeases you."
Anthony stiffened, unwilling to admit the truth outright. "Not at all. I merely find it curious that the gentlemen of the ton have only now come to appreciate what I have long known."
Penelope blinked, her expression softening slightly before she masked it with a coy smile. "How gracious of you to say so."
Lord Remington, sensing Anthony's arrival had drawn Penelope away, took a step forward, clearly intent on reclaiming her attention. Anthony's gaze flicked toward him, darkening.
"Miss Featherington." Anthony said quickly, his voice firm. "Might I have a word with you in private?"
Penelope hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. If you would excuse me, my lords." She turned towards her other callers.
Anthony offered her his arm, which she accepted with a slight curtsy to the room. As they moved to the quieter corner of the room, Anthony exhaled, though his tension did not entirely ease.
"You are quite popular this morning." He remarked, his tone edged with something between annoyance and begrudging admiration.
Penelope, amused by his demeanor, replied. "Am I to blame for being gracious to those who sought my company? Perhaps, my lord, you should have arrived earlier."
Anthony's lips twitched, but he did not smile. "Perhaps I should have. It seems I have underestimated your charm, Miss Featherington."
Penelope tilted her head, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "A costly misstep, my lord."
Anthony regarded her for a moment, then sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Indeed. One I shall not repeat."
—-
The early afternoon sunlight cast a golden hue across Hyde Park, dappling the ground through the sparse foliage of late spring. The gentle hum of London's fashionable set promenading filled the air, their laughter and conversation mingling with the clip-clop of horses from nearby carriages. Among them walked Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and Miss Penelope Featherington, an ostensibly serene pair, though a closer look revealed undercurrents of tension brewing between them.
Anthony strode with purpose, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he fought to maintain a semblance of composure. Penelope, in contrast, moved with an unhurried grace, her gloved hands clasped lightly around her parasol, its lace casting delicate patterns on her face. The contrast between his agitation and her calm only heightened the storm gathering within him.
For three days now, the pattern had been unbroken: every time Anthony called upon Penelope, another suitor was already there or soon arrived, eager to bask in her attention. That, however, was not the worst of it. No, it was the camaraderie – the growing ease – between Penelope and Lord Remington that needled him like a thorn under his skin. And today, his patience had reached its limit.
"Penelope." Anthony began, his voice carefully measured but with an unmistakable edge. "It has not escaped my notice that you are in exceedingly high demand of late."
Penelope tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Indeed, Anthony. It would appear that my charms, long overlooked by society, are finally being recognized. Quite gratifying, wouldn't you agree?"
Her tone was light, but there was no mistaking the barb beneath her words. Anthony stiffened, his jaw tightening as he struggled for an appropriate response.
"I cannot help but observe." He continued, ignoring her subtle jab. "That one particular gentleman has been rather… persistent in his attentions."
Penelope feigned innocence, tilting her parasol slightly to shield her from the afternoon sun. "Oh? To whom do you refer?"
"You know very well to whom I refer." Anthony snapped, his composure slipping. "Lord Remington."
Penelope's smile widened, though her eyes remained sharp. "Ah, yes. Lord Remington has proven himself quite charming company. He is an excellent conversationalist, and I find his wit… refreshing."
Anthony's brows furrowed deeply. "And what, pray, do you discuss that is so invigorating?"
"Many things." She replied airily, enjoying his discomfiture. "He has a particular fondness for Lady Whistledown's writings, which is quite rare among gentlemen, I assure you. His insights are most —"
"Lady Whistledown." Anthony interrupted, his irritation becoming evident. "Surely, you do not base your esteem for a man on his opinion of the anonymous gossip writer."
"Why not?" Penelope countered, her voice calm but her eyes glinting with mischief. "It shows he is willing to appreciate wit and cleverness, even if it comes from an unexpected source. A rare quality, wouldn't you agree?"
Anthony's frown deepened, his irritation bubbling dangerously close to the surface. He stopped abruptly, turning to face her. "Penelope." He said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "You seem to forget that you and I are to marry. These… interactions with other gentlemen are becoming increasingly inappropriate."
Penelope met his gaze evenly, her expression cool. "Forgive me, my lord, but I have forgotten no such thing. You, however, seem to forget that while the Queen has decreed our union, we are not yet engaged. Until that time, I am still a debutant and, as such, perfectly within my rights to receive and entertain suitors."
Her words, delivered with calm precision, struck their target with unerring accuracy. Anthony's jaw clenched and his fists curled at his sides. He could not refute her argument, infuriatingly true as it was.
After a tense silence, he said. "Very well, if that is how you see it. Perhaps we should expedite matters."
Penelope arched a brow. "Expedite matters?"
"Yes." He said, his voice resolute. "I shall propose at once. That will put an end to this nonsense and ensure no gentleman entertains any delusions about claiming your hand."
Penelope's lips curved into a slow, calculating smile, her eyes gleaming with challenge. "And what makes you think, my lord, that I would accept such a proposal delivered out of jealousy rather than good reason?"
Anthony's lips parted, caught off guard by her sharp riposte. "I –"
"You seem quite confident in your position." She continued, her tone as icy as her gaze. "Yet you fail to recognize that my acceptance of your suit is not genuine, only to humor the Queen's decree. Perhaps you should consider what it is that makes your proposal preferable to the attentions of, say, Lord Remington."
Anthony stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words. The formidable Viscount, master of negotiations and leader of his family, found himself utterly unprepared for the fire in the eyes of the woman before him.
Penelope turned her gaze back to the path ahead, her expression serene once more. "Shall we continue our walk, my lord?" She asked sweetly, leaving him to stew in his thoughts as they resumed their promenade.