Testing Audio -DK Principessa

by kibass91

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17. Bruised not broken

Bruised But Not Broken

EmmyKate88

Summary:

After hearing Colin declare he would never dream of courting her, Penelope Featherington fled into the night with a bottle of wine, hoping to numb the pain. She hadn't planned on falling asleep in the middle of the woods.

"I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington."

The words echoed in her mind, bouncing around and repeating over and over, until each word drowned out the next and it became a horrible low hum, droning on and on. Her feet felt stuck to the ground in her hiding place behind a sculpture in her family's garden.

Colin would never dream of courting her. It was all in her head. The years of pining and wishing and hoping…all for nothing. He'd never thought of her as anything but a friend–perhaps even as an extension of his sister Eloise. Penelope had been a fool.

Somehow she willed her feet to move at last, and she went sprinting across the gardens and up to her room, where she remained hidden until she heard the last of the party guests depart. For a time she laid in bed and listened for anyone who might still be awake and milling about. When it was silent for several minutes, she climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of slippers. Her next stop was the kitchen to swipe an unfinished bottle of wine leftover from the party. She managed to find one that had only a small bit missing. At least one part of her night was going in her favor.

Careful not to make a sound, Pen snuck out the back door off of the kitchens and made her way across the lawn and through an old gate at the far end of the property. It squeaked loudly, stiff from disuse, but was too far away from the house for anyone to hear. From there it was a short walk into the small wooded area behind her family's estate until she reached a small crop of trees. One of them was split close to the ground, curved out wide to make the perfect space to sit or recline.

Heedless of her white nightshift, Pen sat sideways with her back against one side of the trunk and her legs leaning against the other, and put the wine bottle to her lips. The first few sips made her grimace and cough, unused as she was to alcohol, but after that she found she rather liked it. The flavor was smoky, with a hint of cherries and pepper. Truthfully, it was a much finer wine than she would have expected of her mother.

With each sip, she waited for the pain in her heart to ease. Surely at some point, the wine would numb the sharp ache she felt whenever she replayed Colin's words in her mind–which was constantly.

I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington.

The words continued to repeat, haunting her every thought, until eventually the wine and late hour caused her to fall asleep.

Anthony

Anthony returned home from the Featherington ball as soon as he could sneak away without his mother noticing–no small feat. His relationship with Kate was officially at an end and he was in no humor to entertain more mindless debutantes. He thought of drinking himself into a stupor for the next several days, but ultimately opted against it. At the start of the season, he'd set out to find a wife, and that mission remained; he wouldn't get any closer to accomplishing his goal if he was too drunk to even put together a sentence.

He opted instead for sleep. Sleep, however, was not so amenable. He tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up. He pulled on a pair of tan trousers and his black overcoat, not bothering with the rest, and headed out for a walk. The sun was only beginning to rise and the rest of the house was fast asleep.

As he left the house, he walked with no particular route in mind. Eventually he ended up at the park, and then to a small wooded area beyond. A layer of fog rose from the ground, giving the area a mystical feeling. A little ways into the woods, he saw what at first he thought must be a wood nymph, an ethereal creature–or a fever dream of some kind. A woman in white, resting in the curve of a tree.

But as he drew closer, he could see that it was no mythical creature after all. It was Penelope Featherington, fast asleep in the middle of the woods. She was in what appeared to be her nightgown. It was long sleeved with a deep, scooping neckline, tied just under the bust with a full skirt that draped over the tree in a cascade. Her bright red curls hung wild and loose down her back and shoulders and her head rested against the tree trunk. It was a breathtaking sight, and he wondered that he'd never noticed before how attractive the youngest Miss Featherington had become.

Only after he'd taken his fill of the sight of her sleeping form did he notice the empty, upended wine bottle in front of the tree, and her hand hanging down towards it. Had Penelope come out here alone to drink? It seemed wildly out of character for a sweet, innocent young woman like her, but he supposed anything was possible. However he could not, in good conscience, leave her out here where anyone might come upon her.

Approaching slowly, he first spoke her name a few times. When that didn't work, he reached out and touched her leg softly.

"Miss Featherington?" he asked again, shaking her knee gently. "Miss Featherington, are you well?"

Penelope finally began to stir. Her eyes fluttered open and he was suddenly confronted with the biggest, bluest eyes he'd ever seen. The blue was clear and pure, piercing as if she could see into his very soul–that is, if they were not also bloodshot from over-imbibing.

"What…" she muttered before blinking a few times. When she saw it was him, she suddenly sat up, then held her head and groaned.

"Do not move too quickly," he advised, kneeling before her. "Your head will not thank you. I speak from experience."

Pen winced and tried to straighten up. "Lord Bridgerton, what are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question. Young ladies like yourself should not be alone in the woods at this hour. I assume you've been here all night?" He stood and extended his hand to help her up.

"Yes," Pen confessed before taking his hand. "I came out for some…fresh air, and I must have fallen asleep." As she got to her feet, he noticed she wobbled a little and winced again. He knew how her head must be pounding.

Smirking, Anthony bent and scooped up the empty wine bottle, holding it upside down to show her. "Yes, I too often fall asleep in strange places after too much…fresh air."

Penelope blushed and hung her head. "I would be obliged if you didn't tell my mother."

He noticed she was shivering in the early morning chill, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course she would be freezing after being outside in nothing but her nightgown all night. Without a word, he slipped off his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders.

"Allow me to escort you home, and it shall be our little secret. I should hate to risk your reputation by letting it be known you were gone all night." He held out his arm for her to take. "I believe it is early enough that if we make haste, we should get to your house before anyone awakens."

Pen smiled gratefully up at him and took his arm as he began to lead her out of the woods. He could tell by her careful movements that she was bottle-weary. Poor girl was in for a rough day.

"Might I inquire what inspired your sudden need for…fresh air? I don't believe it's a common pastime for young ladies."

"I…I was trying to forget." Her words were short and measured, as if she were choosing them carefully.

"Ah," he sighed. "I see. Are you attempting to forget something, or someone?"

"Neither," she replied sadly. "I am trying to forget the way I once felt about someone I thought I knew."

Anthony took his free hand and patted hers that was resting on his arm. "I know that feeling well. It grieves me that you do as well."

"I appreciate your kindness, my Lord, and I don't wish to seem impertinent, but could we please not discuss my humiliation further?" Her voice wavered and broke at the end. Clearly she'd been through a great difficulty but wasn't prepared to discuss it.

"Of course, forgive me for prying." He walked along with her in silence for a couple of minutes. Soon they were at the back gate to the Featherington estate.

"Thank you for the escort, my Lord," Penelope said with a curtsey.

"When it is just us, you may call me Anthony," he informed her.

"Anthony." She made a curious face, as if she were testing the feeling of the word in her mouth. "You may call me Penelope–Pen, actually. Eloise and Colin do." A grimace quickly flitted across her face, as if the words caused her pain, but was gone in an instant.

"Very well, Pen." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Would you permit me to call on you later today to check on you?"

Pen blushed. "You're too kind, but that's not necessary, my–Anthony."

"'My' Anthony, hm?" he teased.

"Anthony," she corrected herself a bit more forcefully. "It is not necessary to call on me. I will be well soon enough."

"I'd like to make sure you don't fall ill after being out in the cold all night. I won't be able to live with myself until I know you are well. Go get some rest, I shall call on you this afternoon. Goodbye, Pen." He gave a small bow before turning to head for home. His mood at the start of his walk was bleak and hopeless, but now he felt much lighter. Until that day, he'd rarely noticed Pen except as Eloise's closest companion. He suspected that was going to change going forward.

Though their encounter had been brief, he saw a passion and resolve in her that surprised him. He'd always thought of her–when he thought of her at all–as shy and mousy. Clearly he'd been wrong–he suspected all of Mayfair was wrong. And he was determined to get to know who she was outside the pressures of society events and the constant scrutiny of the ton . Since he would rather eat his own arm than dare ask Eloise for insight, he would have to ferret out the real Penelope for himself. Why he felt so motivated, he couldn't say, but it was a welcome distraction from his broken heart and disappointed dreams.

Pen asleep beneath a tree

The house was still asleep when Penelope snuck back in the kitchen door and tiptoed up the servants' staircase to her room. Only when she was about to crawl into bed did she realize she still had Anthony's overcoat draped over her shoulders. How would she explain how she came to be in possession of a man's coat without revealing her ill-advised trip into the woods? More importantly, how would she get it back to him without inciting gossip?

For now, she shoved the coat in the back of her wardrobe and hoped her mother didn't get the sudden urge to purge her wardrobe anytime soon. It seemed unlikely anyway, as Portia seemed happy to allow Pen to wear the same gowns over and over, even though she insisted her elder daughters Prudence and Phillipa always have new gowns for every ball.

Once the coat was safely stored away, Pen climbed into bed, grateful for the down comforter to help her warm up. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep in the woods, but she would forever be grateful it was the Viscount who discovered her and not someone less scrupulous. He had been extraordinarily kind to her during their encounter, surprisingly so.

By all accounts, the eldest Bridgerton was often gruff and snappish, but with her he had been nothing but patient and understanding. There was a gentleness in his eyes that she hadn't expected, and a warmth that had nothing to do with his overcoat.

Somewhere in the process of replaying her conversation with Anthony in her mind, Pen drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened some time later by a soft knock on her door.

"Come in," she mumbled, struggling to sit up. As soon as she did, she had to fight back a violent wave of nausea and only barely resisted emptying the contents of her stomach into the nearest chamber pot.

"Beg your pardon, Miss," her maid Rae said as she entered the bedroom. "But there's a gentleman here to call on you."

Pen blinked, positive she'd misheard. "A gentleman? To see me?"

"Yes, miss. It's Lord Bridgerton."

"Lord Bridgerton?!" Pen swung her legs over the side of the bed, only to be overcome by nausea once more. She made a mental note to move with more care. Hopefully that would help her pounding head as well.

"Did he say what he wanted?" Pen asked once she was sure she was safe from vomiting.

Rae shook her head. "No, miss. He only asked to see you. And he brought flowers."

"Quickly, Rae, help me get ready." As she stood, the room spun and she had to sit back down on the edge of the bed again. "Maybe not so quickly…"

Anthony stood in the garish green sitting room at the Featherington home, grasping a bouquet of pink tulips, and questioned if he was in his right mind for coming in the first place. Portia was practically licking his boots she was so grateful to have him in her home. Philippa and Prudence were across the room, making eyes at him and doing their best to draw his attention to their decolletage–despite Philippa being happily (he assumed) married to a Mr. Albion Finch. Anthony did his best not to notice and examined the green curtains with gold fringe. Horrible.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of managing her fawning mother and simpering sisters, Penelope finally entered the room, in a pink day dress embroidered with daisies. It was a welcome detour from her usual bright yellow. The rosy color brought out the flush in her cheeks and emphasized the creamy-white of her complexion. He thought she looked a touch green around the gils, so to speak, but that was hardly unexpected after imbibing a bottle of wine the night before.

He thought he saw Portia look the gown up and down and scowl when Penelope walked past her, but he couldn't be sure.

"Good day, my Lord," Penelope said to him with a curtsey. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

Suddenly he found himself with a touch of stage fright. When he planned what he might say in this moment, he had neglected to factor in the audience of her family. So he stood there stupidly for several seconds, trying to decide how best to begin.

"These are for you," he finally said, thrusting the tulips out to her with just a little more force than necessary.

"They're beautiful!" Pen exclaimed as she took the blooms from him. "How very thoughtful of you." She handed them off to her maid to put in water.

And now he was back to searching for his words.

"My, er, my sister Eloise mentioned you were feeling unwell. I wanted to check in and make sure you were recovered." It was a flimsy excuse at best, but all he could come up with in the heat of the moment.

"You were unwell?" Portia asked, surprised by this news. Anthony kicked himself for bringing Penelope into his deceit without thinking of her mother's reaction.

Pen turned to her mother. "I was not feeling my best last night so I came in early and went to bed. I didn't wish to disturb you in your moment of triumph at the party."

Stroking her mother's ego seemed to do the trick, as she nodded and settled back in her seat.

Finally, an idea came to him.

"If you are still feeling poorly, perhaps some fresh air would be helpful. I wonder if I might take you for a turn in the gardens?" Her maid would, of course, be with them, but it would give them some more privacy to talk than standing here in the middle of her mother and sisters.

Pen smiled shyly and nodded. "I believe you are right, a walk would do me good."

"Take Rae with you," Portia commanded. Pen rolled her eyes out of her mother's view.

"Of course, Mother."

Anthony held out his arm, which she took, and soon they were outside, walking in the gardens, with her maid far enough away to give them privacy if they were quiet about it.

"How is your head?" He asked her, leaning in close so as not to be overheard.

Pen groaned. "It feels like it might implode at any moment. And my stomach is…precarious."

"Ginger tea will help," he said with an amused chuckle. He'd never had to advise a young lady on hangover cures before. "And ask your maid to have your cook prepare you a Prairie Oyster. They should know how to make it."

Pen's face contorted in disgust. "That sounds quite vile and I do not even know what goes in it."

"Best not to," he advised.

They walked along in companionable silence for a minute or two before Pen spoke up.

"Why have you really come to call, my Lord?"

"Anthony," he corrected gently.

"Lord Bridgerton," she insisted. "Why? Surely it was not only to relish in my humiliation."

"I do not consider you to be so. No one came up on you but me, and you may rest assured I will not breathe a word of it to anyone." Their interaction went from cordial to combative in the space of a moment. What had he said to affect such a change?

"Why, then?" She pushed.

"I came to ask you a question." He found his palms sweating and his heart speeding up.

"Very well," she said with a sigh. "What is it?"

He pulled her to a halt and turned her so they were facing each other. Taking both of her hands in his, he looked deeply into her eyes.

"Penelope Featherington, will you marry me?

Pen's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she exclaimed, "I beg your pardon?"

"Marry me, Penelope," Anthony repeated. So she had heard him correctly after all. "From what I gather from our last conversation, we've both just had our hearts broken. I don't know about you, but I for one am in no hurry to go through that again."

"I still do not understand…" Her head was spinning, both from his sudden declaration and from the wine she drank the night before.

"I think we could do well together," he went on. "Ours could be a match based on friendship."

Pen scoffed and pulled her hands free. "Friendship? You cannot be serious. I do not believe we have ever had an actual conversation before this morning. How can you possibly presume to call us friends based on that alone?"

"I can feel it," he insisted, reaching for her again, but she stepped out of his grasp.

"Do you think I am so desperate, so hopeless, that I would accept any proposal? You do not know me, my Lord." She blinked angry tears away. "You are not thinking straight. You only ended your courtship with Miss Sharma last night. Give your heart time to heal and I am certain you will think differently."

"Will you give me a chance to prove myself?" Anthony pleaded. "Let me show you that I am serious. Please."

His last word caught her off guard. This was a Viscount, a man who could demand anything of almost anyone and have it be done, was asking her, sincerely, for her time and attention. When had anyone else in her life bothered to ask? Besides, maybe it would give her a distraction from thinking about Colin's painful words the night before.

"Very well," she finally agreed. "You may court me." It was stupid and impulsive, but she couldn't very well turn down the only man to show genuine interest in her—even if he was probably on the rebound and would back out in a day or two. She would make the most of that day before resigning herself to a life of spinsterhood.

His entire body relaxed and his face lit up. "I promise you won't regret it."

Tucking her hand back in his arm, he walked her back around to the front of the house. With every step, Pen wondered if she was being dishonest by not disclosing that the one who had broken her heart was his own brother. Surely it would only cause problems.

They stopped in front of the steps leading to her front door.

"Will you do me the honor of joining me for a promenade tomorrow?" he asked, facing her once more.

His request caught Pen off-guard. A promenade was very public.

"Are you certain, my Lord?" she stammered. "People will see us."

He smirked. "That is the point, Penelope. Let us show the world that we will not be beaten down by mishaps of the heart. If you are to be my wife, the ton shall have to get used to seeing us together, won't they?"

She blushed. "I have not agreed yet, Anthony," she reminded him.

His smirk blossomed into an outright grin. "Yes, but you just called me Anthony, so it appears I am making progress."

She could see there was no talking him out of it. Briefly her mind wandered to what would happen when he inevitably lost interest in her and moved on, or went back to his opera singer mistress, but she pushed those thoughts aside. She would focus on now and worry about the future as it came.

"I will meet you tomorrow to promenade," she finally agreed with a sigh.

"I've only just begun to woo you and you're tired of me already?" Anthony asked with a gleam in his eye.

"I have yet to see this wooing in action, sir," she teased him back. "Until then, I withhold judgement."

Anthony lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Until tomorrow then, Miss Featherington."

She curtseyed slightly and replied, "Until tomorrow, Lord Bridgerton." As he began to walk away, she remembered the item hiding in the back of her wadrobe.

"Wait!" she called when he was a few paces away. She quickly caught up with him. "I neglected to return your overcoat this morning when you brought me home. How shall I get it back to you? I don't wish to rouse suspicion."

"Keep it," he replied. "I have others. It will come back to me when we wed." With a confident wink and a grin, he turned and continued down the walk in the direction of the street.

Pen smiled to herself until she reached the house. As she entered, it occurred to her that, whether it be from the walk outside or the fact that something was finally going her way, she did feel much better. The rest of the day was spent dodging questions from her mother and sisters, all of whom were desperate to know how she, the plainest and stoutest of the Featherington sisters, merited a call from one of the most eligible bachelors in Mayfair. In truth, she was as confused as the rest of them. One conversation apparently had Anthony convinced that they were well-matched, though she couldn't begin to guess why.

She chose her dress for the next day with great care, while also preparing herself for the possibility that he would wake up, realize his grievous error in judgement, and find a tactful way to put an end to their—whatever it was. Either way, she was determined to hold her head high and look her best, such as she was capable of.

Despite leaving the Featherington home without an accepted proposal, Anthony found himself feeling rather upbeat as he returned across the lane to his family's home. Penelope hadn't accepted him, it was true, but she also hadn't rejected him.

He couldn't blame her for doubting his sincerity, between their lack of contact until that morning and his recent entanglement with Kate Sharma. It would be his primary objective to show her over the coming days that he was sincere in his attentions to her and that they would be a good match. Their marriage would not be a passionate love story, but one based on friendship and respect for one another. For some, that might sound like a dull prospect, but to Anthony who had known such pain and heartache already in his life, it sounded like bliss. He would, of course, make sure that Penelope wanted for nothing and that she was content in their life as well.

Eventually an heir would need to be produced, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. Based on what he could tell of her figure in her nightgown, taking her to bed would be no hardship, and he was more than willing to give her an education in that department. Based on how ill-prepared Daphne had been when she wed his friend Simon, Penelope was likely equally in the dark.

Thinking about Penelope in his bed caused a stirring in his breeches, so he quickly searched for a way to divert his thoughts. Luckily it presented itself in the form of Colin stomping around the front hall of their home.

"Brother, what seems to be bothering you?" Anthony asked as he handed his hat and coat to the butler.

"My travels have been delayed due to repairs needed on the boat," Colin explained with a scowl. "It shall be another two weeks at least before I can leave."

"Why the rush?" Anthony asked. "The continent will still be there two weeks from now." He signaled for Colin to follow him into his study and went to his liquor cabinet to pour them each a drink. Colin flopped into he nearest chair.

"You do not understand, Brother. When I travel, I'm not Colin Bridgerton, third son of the Eight Viscount Bridgerton. I am simply Colin."

"Yes," Anthony agreed, handing him a glass with two fingers of scotch. "What a burden it is to be known wherever you go for your charm, looks and wealth. How exhausting it must be."

Colin glared at him over the top of his glass. "You do not understand."

"That's correct." Anthony set his glass down a bit harder than he intended, but the audacity of his brother was staggering. "I do not get to simply set sail and leave my identity behind. My duty requires that I remain here to take care of our family and make sure everyone is provided for—including you, I might add."

Colin rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, we've all heard about your duty to the family. How did that work out with Miss Sharma?"

Anthony gripped the edge of his desk to keep himself from reaching over and punching his brother. "It was a mistake to pursue her in the first place. Our temperaments are too much alike. I see that now."

"What is the Young Viscount's plan now?" Colin prodded, still slouched in his seat.

"I still intend to take a wife. I have hopes of securing her hand before the week is out."

Colin raised his eyebrows and sat up at attention. "Really? Who did you find so quickly?"

"Penelope Featherington."

All the blood drained from Colin's face as he looked up at his brother in disbelief.

"You cannot be serious."

"I assure you, I am quite serious," Anthony replied as he raised his glass to his lips. After taking a long sip, he continued, "I proposed to her this morning."

Colin leapt to his feet, more angry than Anthony had ever seen him. He'd expected his younger brother to be happy to welcome his dear friend Penelope into the family fold, so this anger caught him quite by surprise.

"But you can't!" Colin exclaimed. "She's not the woman for you. She's…she's Pen."

"I thought you would be happy to be able to call her your sister after being friends for so long." Anthony watched Colin's expression shift from anger to sadness, and it clicked.

"Oh." He set his glass down "I see."

"See what?" Colin demanded.

"You wanted her for yourself." This did bring an added complication to matters. His brother was in love with his soon-to-be fiancee.

"No…That's not it." Colin shook his head before draining his drink in one swig. "Pen and I are friends."

"Then why should you object to my courting her?" Anthony asked, trying to follow his brother's logic. "Do you assume that because you don't want her, no man should?"

"Not a man like you," Colin spat with surprising venom. Where was this coming from?

"A man like me?" Anthony leaned against his desk. "Explain."

"Pen is an innocent, a gently bred lady. And you are…a Rake."

Colin's assessment, while true, stung Anthony's pride. It was true, he'd had a reputation amongst the ton as a rake, but this last year pursuing Kate had broken him of his womanizing ways.

"Not anymore," Anthony replied solemnly. "I am reformed."

Colin snorted and stood to pour himself another drink. "Of course. Until another beautiful and willing woman comes across your path."

"You are quite wrong, brother. You'll see."

For a moment, they both enjoyed their drinks in silence. Then suddenly Colin slammed his on the desk and leaned over it to get in Anthony's face.

"You cannot marry her!"

Anthony took a breath to fight down the urge to slam Colin's head into the polished wood surface of the desk. For one thing, it would dent the wood, and it was his father's desk.

"You still have not told me why," Anthony remarked through gritted teeth while he fought to keep his temper in check. It was clear Colin had feelings for the redhead across the street, even if he hadn't yet admitted them to himself. What was yet to be seen was if she returned those affections. Anthony would make a point to find out before cementing their attachment.

Colin's expression turned to one of panic as he foundered and searched for a reason.

"Brother," Anthony said. "If you wish to court her, tell me know and I will release my suit to clear the way for you. If not, give her leave to have a chance at happiness with someone else. She is joining our family to promenade tomorrow morning. You will conduct yourself properly or else."

"Or else what?" Colin shot back petulantly.

"Trust me when I say you do not want to find out."

Colin's scowl deepened as he slammed his empty glass down on the desk, turned on his heel, and walked out. Not the reaction Anthony had expected at this news, but it was good to know the truth. Colin loved Pen, but did Pen love Colin?

All at once her comments about trying to forget feelings for someone returned to him. He sank down into his chair, feeling like he had the wind knocked out of him. Was she referring to Colin? Had something happened between them? Had Colin compromised the young lady and then changed his mind? All of these were questions he was determined to get to the bottom of. Tomorrow's promenade would be enlightening.

Dearest Gentle Reader,

This author comes to you with news of a most unexpected sort. Our favorite Rake, Lord Anthony Bridgerton, was seen entering the Featherington home with a bursting bouquet of pink tulips, the flower of passion. Could it be the eldest Featherington has caught the Viscount's eye? For we all know a certain wallflower who bears a striking resemblance to citrus fruit would never be able to make such a conquest.

Rest assured, Dearest Reader, this author will stay on the case and inform you of any new developments.

Lady Whistledown

Penelope

Portia Featherington paced the sitting room, waving the latest Lady Whistledown column around and declaring "Outrageous!" Every few words.

"How can she compare you to citrus?" Portia demanded. "Yellow is such a happy color."

"There is no accounting for taste, mama," Pen replied. She was referring to her mother's, but her mother didn't seem to pick up on the subtle dig.

"I hope Mr. Dankworth doesn't see this. What if he backs down because he believes Lord Bridgerton is interested in Prudence?" Portia's face lit up. "But what if it's true?"

Pen rolled her eyes. "Mama, Lord Bridgerton called on me just yesterday, do you not recall? If he were interested in Prudence, he would have called on her."

Portia frowned and scowled at the column once more. Pen just sighed and returned to her book as she sat situated in the seat by the window overlooking the street, and with a clear view of the Bridgerton residence. She used to spend hours staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Colin. Now she found herself hoping to see an entirely different brother step outside.

"Does Lord Bridgerton intend to call again today?" Portia asked sharply.

"He has invited me to promenade with him and his family this morning."

"Well then why are you sitting here buried in a book? Make haste and get ready! If Lord Bridgerton is sincere in his interest in you, we must secure a proposal as quickly as possible, before he loses interest."

Pen was about to reveal that a proposal had already been issued, but then her mother made the comment about him losing interest, so she kept it to herself. Of course that was exactly what was holding Pen back from accepting–fear that he would regret his choice–but she rather hoped her own mother would have higher regard for her than she did for herself. History had shown her many times that that would not be the case, but still she had hope.

Two hours later, Pen was strolling the park with her maid, Rae, and looking for the Bridgertons. She had chosen a sage green day dress with a ruffled edge along the neckline and the short sleeves. The material was layered in such a way that it seemed to float around her as she walked. He rmother, of course, hated it because it wasn't yellow or orange, but fortunately she had left with Prudence to go to the Modiste before Pen came out of her room.

Luckily, given the large party the Bridgertons presented, it didn't take long to find them. She watched as Anthony scanned the crowed, presumably looking for her. As soon as he spotted her, his face lit up in a bright smile and he walked swiftly to her side.

"Miss Featherington," he greeted her with a tip of his hat.

"Lord Bridgerton," she returned with a curtsey. He extended his arm, which she took right away, and they began to walk side-by-side, with Rae a few paces behind to chaperone.

"Thank you for agreeing to join us on this lovely day," he remarked.

"It was my pleasure," Pen replied with a smile. "I am always grateful for an excuse to leave the house on the days Lady Whistledown publishes." She finished her statement with a roll of her eyes.

"Yes, I, uh…I noticed your family was mentioned this morning." He grimaced.

"As were you," she reminded him. "How does it feel to be declared the favorite Rake in Mayfair by the renowned Lady Whistledown?"

He groaned. "It is a title I could well forgo." He pulled her to stop and turned to face her directly.

"I want you to know that my days as a Rake are behind me. Should you accept my hand, you may assured of my fidelity." He gave her hand a soft squeeze in added reassurance. Pen blushed and looked down.

"I thank you for that, my Lord. But it is not necessary. I understand that gentlemen such as yourself have…needs, and I am surely not enough to fulfill those needs."

He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. "I don't know who told you you are not enough, but they are quite wrong. Never doubt your own worth in this world, Penelope."

If a meteor had fallen from the sky, Pen could not have been more surprised than she was in that moment. No one had ever said such things to her before. For a moment she just stared into his eyes. They were brown and warm, without any hint of deceit or mockery. He was sincere.

"Thank you," she said softly. A polite cough from behind them, from Rae, reminded them that they were, in fact, standing in the middle of a lane in the park. Anthony immediately dropped his hand from her chin and stepped back to a respectable distance.

Turning side-by-side once more, they continued on their walk. The rest of his family was ahead of them, with Violet too preoccupied with keeping Hyacinth and Gregory from beating each other to a pulp to pay much attention to Anthony and Pen. Colin stayed ahead of the rest and very intentionally did not look back at them.

Eloise kept looking back at Pen, then glaring at Anthony. Pen guessed that Anthony had warned his sister not to interfere with their time to get to know each other, and his sister resented it.

Anthony led her down a side path that was less populated than the main walkway.

"Have you come to a decision on my proposal?" He asked her. "I do not mean to pressure you, I was merely curious to know your mind on it."

"I am still debating, my Lord," Pen replied honestly. "It is the most importand decision I will make in my life, and I would like to be sure."

Anthony nodded. "I can respect that. I certainly have no wish to rush you into a choice you may later regret."

How ironic that he was trying to save her from the same fate from which she was trying to save him.

Anthony opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he were getting ready to say something.

"I have a question for you," he finally began. "It may be impertinent, and I apologize, but I must know the answer before things progress between us."

Pen swallowed a ball of dread and stopped. "Very well."

He turned to her and took her hand. Looking down at it, he asked, "Do you have an attachment to my brother?"

She had better sense than to pretend not to know which brother he referred to. For a moment, she considered lying, but knew that would inevitably come back to bite her at some point in the future.

"There is no mutual attachment, no," she began. "But I was quite attached to him for some time. Until recently."

"Until the night of the party," Anthony guessed. She simply nodded. "What happened?"

She relayed to him the conversation she had overheard between Colin and his friends. Anthony's grip tightened on her hand and his face set like stone.

"My brother is a thoughtless cad," he spat out. "To disparage you so publicly, to risk damaging your chances of finding a match, and then acting so—" He swallowed and she watched him fight to compose himself.

"You have my most profound apologies for my brother's behavior," he finally said. "Had I known at the time, I would have intervened, you have my assurance."

Pen nodded. "I appreciate that. But in a way, I am glad it happened."

"Glad? Why on earth would you be happy he said such a thing?"

She shook her head. "I am not grateful he said it. But I am grateful it pulled the veil from my eyes. I now know I was wasting my time, and I can move on."

"For that much I am grateful," Anthony allowed. "I am sorry though for how it came about."

"You had no part in it and nothing to apologize for."

He shook his head. "I am the head of my family. Everything my siblings do is a reflection on me. Colin behaved badly, which means I failed in showing him the proper way to conduct himself. That is my fault."

"I disagree, but I can see why you might feel that way." They resumed their walk, her hand in the crook of his arm. Conversation floated to less weighty topics, and Pen found herself enjoying his company more than she could have anticipated.

What surprised her even more was that he seemed to enjoy hers as well. When he asked a question, he seemed genuinely interested in her response. She told him about a new book of poetry she'd acquired, and he confessed he had no head for poems, so she recommended a couple of novels he might enjoy. He explained he seldom had time to read novels, but would make a point to track down and read those she suggested.

For the first time, she began to entertain the idea that they might be well-suited after all. The scales began to tip ever so slightly towards accepting his proposal.

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Wonder of wonders, it appears this author was mistaken. With whom was the Viscount Bridgerton seen promenading just yesterday? The walking overripe citrus fruit herself, Miss Penelope Featherington. One can't help but wonder what he, a man who could have any woman in Mayfair, sees in a woman so bookish and plain, but the heart, as we all know, can be unpredictable.

Perhaps Lord Bridgerton grows tired of the eager, fawning young women who fall at his feet at every ball–perhaps most notably Miss Cressida Cowper who at last ball was seen treading on Miss Featherington's gown. I will leave it up to you, dear reader, to determine whether this was a careless misstep or an act of sabotage.

My hearty congratulations to Miss Featherington for her mighty conquest. I wish her the best of luck in succeeding where so many young ladies have failed. Lord knows she'll need it.

Lady Whistledown

"When do you next see Lord Bridgerton?" Portia demanded of her youngest daughter as she paced the drawing room what the latest Lady Whistledown column clutched in her hand.

"I believe he will be at the Hartigan ball tomorrow night," Pen supplied, having no idea if that was actually true.

"You must see him today. Secure an engagement as soon as possible! He's been calling every day for a week–I don't understand what could be taking him so long!" Portia's voice got higher and higher along with her anxiety level.

"Mama, what is this urgency for?" Pen asked.

"This!" Portia replied, waving the paper around. "If Lord Bridgerton sees this, sees you referred to as bookish and…" she consulted the paper to get the words right. "And an overripe citrus fruit, he may change his mind."

Pen rolled her eyes. "He has seen me, Mama. He knows what I look like. And I doubt he puts much stock in anything a gossip-monger might publish."

Portia crossed the room to stand in front of Pen. "I have no idea why Lord Bridgerton suddenly decided to offer his suit, but you must secure him before he changes his mind!"

"I see." Pen's heart sank at her mother's lack of faith in her. "You believe he's out of his mind over losing MIss Sharma, and I am but a temporary distraction. You believe his regard for me could not possibly be real."

The anger quickly faded from Portia's face, transformed to motherly concern. "Dearest, I only want you to be happy and taken care of. Surely you know that men like Lord Bridgerton require a certain beauty and personality to hold their interest."

Pen hung her head and looked down as she wrung her hands. "I know I'm not beautiful, Mama. I know it makes no sense that a man like Anthony would want me. But he does. I had hoped that you would be happy for me and my future, not waiting for it to all fall apart because I lack the beauty and the figure to please a man."

Portia reached for Pen, but she stood and moved away. "I need some air. I shall take Rae and go for a walk."

She left without waiting for her mother's permission.

By the time they were halfway through the park, Pen still hadn't been able to shake the conversation with her mother. Part of her wanted to admit that Anthony had already proposed, and it was hers to accept or reject. But then her mother would pressure her to accept, and Pen risked jumping in too fast.

As much as she hated her mother's theory that Anthony would wake up one morning and change his mind, if that was the case, the last thing she wanted to do was force him to keep up their relationship out of duty. Better to let him back away before any official attachment became known.

"Penelope!" chirped an all-too familiar voice from behind her.

Cressida.

Steeling herself, Pen turned to face her lifelong bully and the most divisive lady currently on the marriage mart.

"Good morning," Pen greeted her in short, clipped tones.

Cressida sported her usual overdone, ridiculous coiffure and outrageously ugly dress that she thought was cutting edge.

"I saw you and I both featured in the newest Lady Whistledown," Cressida said, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"Did we?" Pen asked, feigning ignorance.

"Indeed. It seemed she noticed Lord Bridgerton sniffing around your house." Cressida sighed dramatically. "It really is not fair how she talks about you."

"Oh?" Pen decided to play along if for no other reason than to get the conversation over with sooner.

"I think it's rather gallant of him to pay you attention to cover up for his brother's impropriety."

Pen stopped in her tracks. "I beg your pardon?"

"Everyone knows Colin's behavior to you has been scandalous. It's a miracle it hasn't been brought up in Whistledown. But then I'm sure even she has enough heart not to want him trapped with someone so dull and…well-fed, shall we say. Clearly Anthony shares her desire to keep Colin out of your clutches so he's playing nice to to make it all go away."

"That would be Lord Bridgerton to you," Anthony's voice boomed from behind Cressida, who jumped at his interruption.

Cressida curtseyed low. "My Lord, please excuse my–"

"I will not," Anthony replied. "You have neglected to address me with the respect that is due my position in society, Miss Cowper, and have spoken rudely to a dear friend of my family. Unless you can offer a sensible explanation for either action, I suggest you continue with your walk and leave Miss Featherington to hers."

Cressida resembled a fish for a moment as her mouth opened and closed, waiting for words to come. Eventually she huffed, forced a demure smile, and bowed her head again.

"I do apologize for my poor choice of words, my Lord." With that, she stood with as much dignity as she could muster, and walked away.

Never in his life had Anthony been even the slightest bit tempted to put his hands on a woman in anger, until he overheard the vile way Cressida Cowper was speaking to Penelope in the park. It was all he could do to resist hauling Miss Cowper away by her hair and tossing her in the nearest lake. Fortunately his breeding and well-ingrained manners prevented such a display.

By the time Cressida skulked away from him, he was feeling quite proud of his self-control. When he turned to inquire how Pen was doing, he found she'd walked away. Looking around, he spotted a brief glimpse of blue fabric disappearing beneath a curtain of willow branches from an enormous, old willow tree off to one side of the park.

He crossed the large swath of grass between the path and the willow, and after making sure no one was looking, ducked under the branches. Sunlight glittered between the fronds as they waved softly in the breeze, but otherwise it felt completely closed off and separated from the rest of the world.

Pen was standing by the trunk, facing it, her shoulders shaking softly. As he listened closely, he realized she was crying.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly as he approached her.

She jumped at his voice and spun around, swiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Lord Bridgerton!" she exclaimed. "I did not hear you coming."

" You may call me Anthony," he reminded her with a smile. Having reached her now, he put his hands on her arms in comfort. "How are you?"

Pen sniffled and looked away. "I will be fine."

"She's gone, by the way. Probably halfway home by now, propelled by abject humiliation."

Pen gave a short, wet laugh. "Thank you for that."

"I have heard tales of her comments and treatment towards you from my sister, but I had not realized now…now venomous a snake she truly was. I am sorry I wasn't here to stop her sooner." His thumbs moved softly back and forth across her smooth skin and from this close angle he watched her chest rise and fall while she tried to regain her composure.

"Normally Cressida has no power over me. I do not take what she says to heart." Pen looked down at her gloved hands and picked an imaginary thread from one of the fingers.

"Why was today different, if I might ask?" He knew it was none of his business, but a fiercely protective urge came over him. If there was another obstacle to Pen's happiness, he wanted to help her overcome it.

She shook her head and took a shuddering breath. "I had a…less than reassuring with my mother this morning. That combined with Cressida's comments were…overwhelming."

"What did your mother say?" Portia Featherington had never been Anthony's favorite person, but she was quickly tumbling in his estimation.

"She said I should secure your proposal as soon as possible, before you…" Her voice cracked and she took a moment to regain her composure. "Before you lose interest. She wants a public attachment so you can't walk away if someone better crosses your path."

Anthony's hands stilled on her arms and he was tempted, for the second time in the span of ten minutes, to strangle a woman. Portia was putting her own quest for wealth and social standing ahead of her daughter's well-being.

"She's right!" Pen wailed before covering her face with her hands and bursting into tears again.

Anthony took her in his arms and patted her back to comfort her. "She could not be more wrong," he assured her softly.

Pen looked up at him. "No, she's right. What could I possibly have to hold your interest? You, who could have any woman in Mayfair with the tilt of your head." She put her hands on his chest to pull away but he held fast, both to continue to give support and because he found he enjoyed holding her. She was soft and warm, everything her mother and sisters were not.

"I agreed to this ridiculous idea on a whim," she continued, "But we must end it before my reputation is risked any further. I can't…I can't take another public rejection. Not after what Colin said at my mother's party."

Anthony hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his eyes.

"Penelope, you have had my interest since the moment I found you sleeping on that tree. I find myself anxious to hear your thoughts each day, to peel back the layers of timidity and self-doubt to see the true woman inside. I have a feeling she is a sight to behold."

Slowly, giving her time to pull away or slap him across the face, Anthony bent his head and kissed her. It was gentle at first, a whisper of lips against lips, but then she made a needy little noise in the back of her throat, and tightened her grip on his jacket, and he was lost. He wrapped an arm around her waist and cupped the back of her head with the other, and deepened the kiss, using his tongue to part her lips. When she opened her mouth slightly, he plundered it with his tongue, reveling in her sweet taste and the floral scent of her skin.

He felt her tug on the lapels of his jacket, drawing him in, and he pulled her tight against him with the arm around her waist. Pressed together as they were, she would be able to feel exactly the effect she had on him, which she betrayed with a little gasp, and he grinned against her lips.

"You see what you do to me?" he murmured, his mouth a breath from hers. "You could never bore me, Penelope. I find you fascinating, a puzzle I cannot wait to solve."

Having said his piece, he claimed her lips again and picked up where they left off. His hand traveled from the back of her head, down her neck, further down until he cupped her breast through her gown and stays. He squeezed and was rewarded with something between a moan and a purr from Penelope.

A clear but polite cough from the other side of the tree snapped him out of his lusty haze. Pen's maid Rae was standing there, pulling aside the fronds from the willow tree just enough to give him a warning glare.

With more reluctance than he had ever felt in parting from a lady before, Anthony released his old on Pen and stepped away. They were both breathless, rumpled, and slightly dazed. He straightened his jacket and hair before helping Pen arrange her hair back into the complicated updo. It wasn't perfect when he finished, but it would get her home without rousing suspicion.

"Meet me tonight," he said in her ear as he stood behind her. "At the tree where we met."

He'd known who she was before that, of course, but the moment he really met Penelope was that early dawn meeting the morning after the Featherington ball.

Pen swallowed hard and nodded. "I shall try."

"And I shall wait all night."

He placed one last, brief kiss on the area of skin between her neck and the neckline of her gown and gave her a light nudge towards Rae. "Go now. I hope to see you tonight."

Pen cast a shy smile at him over her shoulder as she returned to her maid and he watched her steps retreat through the curtain of the willow. Once she was gone, he leaned back against the tree trunk, looked up into the branches, and took a deep breath. Asking Penelope to marry him had seemed like a sensible choice at first, but now he wondered if he hadn't perhaps bitten off more than he could chew–and it would be a pleasure finding out.

Chapter 6

Summary:

Anthony puts some pieces together, and Pen confronts Colin about his careless words.

Chapter Text

Anthony

When Anthony had left the house that morning, he hadn't had a firm plan as to his destination. He'd been at the Featherington house calling on Penelope every morning of the previous week, and still she had not accepted his proposal–though she also had not outright rejected it. He had set out of the house to get some air in hopes that it would clear his thoughts and help him come up with a plan to eliminate any doubts Pen might have in regards to their possible union.

Returning home later that morning, he felt considerably more hopeful about the whole situation. He hadn't planned on kissing Penelope when he followed her under that willow tree; he only wanted to help cheer her up. But he also couldn't say he regretted the kiss, not one bit.

Asking her to meet him that night was…risky. If anyone saw them together, her reputation would be ruined and they would be forced to marry–which didn't bother him, as that was his end goal anyway, but he wanted their union to be because Pen chose it, not because she was forced into it. On the other hand, it would give them a chance to get to know each other out of the watchful gaze of the ton, or their respective families. Overall he felt it was a risk worth taking. If Pen disagreed and stayed home, he would respect that choice.

In the meantime, while he waited for nightfall, Anthony tried to work on estate business. He reached for a stack of documents and found the latest Lady Whistledown resting on top. No doubt Eloise had left it there to irritate him. He made no secret of his distaste for the busybody.

Picking it up, he scanned the words, sneering at the outright disdain this woman apparently felt for Pen, and was about to toss it in the fire when he recognized a passage.

A man who could have any woman in Mayfair.

Pen had spoken those exact words to him under the willow.

"It couldn't be…" he whispered to himself. It couldn't possibly be that little Penelope Featherington had been fooling the ton all this time.

Sinking back into his chair, he began to recall some details he'd never cared enough to notice before. Lady Whistledown was always quick to call a member of society out on their foibles or misdeeds, but seemed to always save her most cutting attacks for Penelope and her family. Of course Pen would be hardest on herself. It threw suspicion off, because who would ever write about themselves in such a manner? But he suspected it also revealed how she truly viewed herself.

Colin's near-miss with Marina was entirely due to Whistledown. Who else but a member of the Featherington household would have known about the secret pregnancy and missing lover? Anthony made a mental note to thank her for that. She had saved not only Colin but the entire family.

But then there was that article about Eloise. Surely Pen could never have written something scandalous about her dearest friend? There had to be a logical explanation. He could not see her doing something so drastic without a very good reason. Another question to bring up if she met him that night.

How could he have missed this? For two years she'd been stringing the whole of Mayfair along, and she'd been right under his nose the whole time. He knew he should be angry at her deception, and for the times she'd brought his family into her deceit, but instead he felt…proud. It took a person of exceptional strength of character to wield the power Whistledown had and not go mad with it. Whistledown only revealed enough to reveal a person's true character. She was never cruel, and to his knowledge had never lied.

As he continued putting the pieces together, Anthony became more sure than ever that Pen was the right choice for him.

Penelope

Pen felt as if she were floating the rest of the day. If Rae hadn't been looking at her with alternating shame and pride, she would begin to doubt the kiss had happened at all. But it did, and she spent most of the day reliving it while she hid in her room. It had been, without a doubt, the most incredible moment of her life, better even than when her first publication of Whistledown came out and the ton gobbled it up.

Soon it was nightfall. Pen changed into her night dress and wrapped her hair up in a scarf to keep it from getting tangled in the night. And she went back and forth as to whether she should meet ANthony or not. It was reckless, certainly, and could lead to ruin if they were found, but she couldn't deny the idea was quite exciting.

As she was sitting at her dressing table, debating with herself, there was a tapping on her window. Her heart leapt in her chest as she thought it might be Anthony, too impatient to wait for her to meet him.

Her hopes were dashed, however, when she ran to her window to find Colin Bridgerton in the tree outside her window, not his eldest brother. Her excitement quickly turned to irritation.

She unlatched the window and opened it a few inches.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed at him.

"I need to talk to you," Colin said, grunting as he tried to arrange himself in a more comfortable position in the tree.

"This could not wait for daylight hours?" she pushed.

"You avoid me during the daylight hours." Colin's pout was positively juvenile. Had he always been this childish and she'd just been too in love with him to notice?

"Has it occurred to you that I have no wish to speak with you?" Pen snapped.

"How can I apologize if you refuse to even be in the same room as me?" He adjusted in the tree again. "May I come in?"

Pen scoffed and crossed her arms. "Absolutely not. Say what you have to say and be gone before someone sees you."

Colin sighed and hung his head. "I know you heard what I said to Lord Fife and the others at your mother's ball, and I am truly sorry. I was in my cups and spoke without thinking. You must know I hold you in the highest regard."

"So high you chose to publicly disparage me in front of half the eligible gentlemen of the ton," she snapped back. "If I learned one thing from my father's shortcomings, it is that a man is never so honest as when he has overindulged. You spoke the truth then, that you would never dream of courting me. And so I must find someone who will."

"So you decided to attach yourself to my brother as payback?" Colin asked.

"It has nothing to do with you. He offered his suit, and I accepted. Who his family is had nothing to do with it. He showed me kindness when there was none to be found elsewhere."

When he grimaced at her dig, she went on.

"I wish to marry, Colin. To do that, I have to stop wasting my time around young men who announce to all their friends that I am not worth courting. Go home. If someone sees you here, my reputation will be destroyed and we will have to marry, and we both know how you feel on that particular subject. Go find a new toy to play with. I am finished."

Having finally said her piece, she shut the window without giving him a chance to refute her claims or spin some lovely words to convince her to forgive him–as she always did. After avoiding that by shutting him outside, her next fear was that someone would see him climbing down her tree, get the wrong idea, force them to marry, and she would be stuck with him forever. It struck her as ironic that what was her worst nightmare now had been her life's dream two weeks ago. How quickly things had changed.

She heard some muted cursing and shuffling as Colin climbed back down the tree. Once she confirmed he was gone, she grabbed her shawl and padded noiselessly down the hallway, down the stairs, across the kitchen, and out the back door. Soon she was outside and hurrying across the lawn to the rear garden gate. As she passed by a tree, a low-hanging branch caught the scarf in her hair and pulled it off, allowing her red curls to tumble wild and free down her back.

In the dark, without aid of the full moon and a broken heart to guide her, it took Pen longer to find the tree than it had last time she'd been there. She hoped Anthony hadn't ogtten tired of waiting and left. But he did swear to wait all night, and he seemed like a man of his word. When she rounded the last bend in the path, she saw Anthony pacing just ahead. With every step closer she took, her heart beat just a little faster.

She stepped on a twig and saw his head snap up. He turned and reached her with long, easy strides, but when he reached her, he didn't have his usual, warm smile. Instead, he looked at her assessingly, as if he were trying to figure something out.

"This place is much harder to find without half a bottle of wine in me," she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Anthony didn't smile. Instead, he walked over to her and cupped her face in one hand, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Thank you for meeting me, Pen," he said quietly, not wishing to ruin the quiet of the woods.

"Or should I say, Lady Whistledown."

"Or should I say, Lady Whisteldown."

Pen froze. The moment she'd been dreading for two years had finally come. Someone had caught onto her. And not just anyone, but the man who had asked her to be his wife; the man she was very quickly coming to care for. She could see her chance at happiness vanish before her eyes.

"I…That…" she stammered, wide-eyed and frantically racking her brain for what to say. She could deny it, of course, but Anthony would surely see through her lies, and she had no wish to deceive him now that he knew the truth.

"How did you figure it out?" she asked at last. He had put pieces together no one else had been able to, and she was eager to know where she'd misstepped.

"It started with today's column. It mentioned I could have any woman in Mayfair. And then you said the same to me under the willow." His expression was inscrutable. Was he angry? Offended? Ashamed? In the darkness, she couldn't tell.

"After that," he continued, "Other pieces began to fall into place. How Lady Whistledown is always harder on you than any other young lady, how she always knew more about my family than even an interested outside observer could know…"

"I never said anything about your family that was said or done amongst only family. I only said things that anyone might have seen or put together." Panic rose hot and bitter in her throat.

"Shh, calm down," Anthony murmured, running a hand over her hair. "Breathe, Penelope."

"Are you very angry?" she choked out.

He didn't answer for a few seconds, and she began to fear the worst. Perhaps he was holding his temper in check until now to gauge her reaction.

"I know I ought to be," he said at last. "But all I can feel is…proud."

One could have knocked her over with a feather.

"Proud?" she squeaked, to which he gave a nod.

"You fooled all of Mayfair for two years. Including your closest friends–I assume El and Colin have no idea?"

Pen shook her head.

"I thought not," Anthony said with a grin. "We both know Eloise would not be able to keep such a tasty morsel of information to herself for more than a day or two. She would have leaked to someone in the family, who would have told me."

"In any case," he said, returning to his original point. "You operated right under our noses for two seasons, throwing the sins of the ton back in their faces, without anyone having the slightest clue who you were. You doled out justice without taking advantage of your position, and saved at least one of my siblings from a loveless marriage that would have been built on lies."

"I doubt your brother would thank me," she remarked bitterly.

"Then allow me to thank you on his behalf. I understand in a way he may not yet grasp the service you did for him. Colin could never be happy in a marriage without love–worse, one-sided affection."

"I appreciate you saying that. I often wonder if I acted in my own self-interest rather than his welfare." It was a decision that haunted her still. Perhaps he and Marina could have been happy with time. Perhaps he would have been happy to raise a child–children, as it turned out–not his own.

"I believe both could be true." He brushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder. "I do have one question, if I may."

"Anything," she answered immediately.

"The column where you mentioned Eloise spending time among radicals…I assume there was a good reason to risk your closest friend's reputation, but I cannot figure it out. Would you mind enlightening me?"

His tone remained soft and gentle throughout their conversation. He was all patience and understanding, shocking her to her core.

"The Queen was beginning to suspect Eloise was Whistledown," Pen explained. "And she was trying to discover my true identity. In doing so, she was spending time near the print shop. I feared that would only reinforce the queen's theory, and she had threatened consequences to the entire family if Eloise did not confess. I warned her to stop her search and wait for the queen to move on, but she woudln't listen. I had to protect her, so I published something El would never reveal about herself, to prove to the queen she was mistaken." She blinked back tears as the memory of writing that article still caused a sharp ache in her chest. "I swear to you, if there had been any other way–"

"I understand," Anthony said, his mouth set in a firm line. For the first time that evening, he seemed angry. "My sister's stubbornness threatened our entire family, and you–once again–saved us."

"Eloise is bright. She may well have come up with a way to solve it herself, but I could not stand by and wait."

"Of course you could not. SHe is your friend." He caressed her cheek and stepped closer to her, blocking out what little moonlight there was. "My sweet Penelope, how will I ever repay you for all you've done for my family? Such kindness and strength, wrapped up in a lovely package."

"You're not angry with me?" She asked in disbelief.

He shook his head. "Never. I admire what you've accomplished and I'm so proud of you for finding your voice, even if it was in secret."

Her eyes welled with tears. No one in her life had ever been proud of her before. She felt as though she were a constant disappointment to her mother and sisters, and often to her father before his death. And here was Anthony, with every reason to hate her for her work, impressed with her.

"Oh, Anthony.." Pen said on a sigh, before he touched his lips to hers.

Just as it had under the willow earlier, the kiss quickly went from gentle to needy. Pen bunched his shirt in her hands and pulled him close as Anthony wrapped his arms around her. Everything else faded away when she was in his arms. No mother in her head casting doubts, no Colin trying to get back in her good graces, no Whisteldown hanging over her head…Just Anthony's arms, and his mouth, and his hands. Oh, his hands!

He nipped at her bottom lip and moved his lips along her jaw to nip at the pulse point behind her ear. Meanwhile, one of his hands moved from her back down to cup her rear, using that to pull her flush against him. She moaned and leaned her full weight against him, desperate to get closer.

Rustling leaves nearby startled both of them and they leapt apart, which was pointless. If it were someone about to come upon them, it wouldn't matter if they were touching or not. The damage would be done. Fortunately it was only a bird flying overhead. Pen looked up at the treetops and tried to catch her breath.

"I apologize," Anthony said after a moment. "I took liberties and I had no right."

Pen walked over to her favorite tree, with the two trunks curving out from a single base, and sat in the U–shape opening that made a very handy seat. "If I tell you I enjoyed it, will you think less of me?"

He laughed softly and approached the tree. "Not a bit."

She looked down and bit her bottom lip as she debated telling him what she'd been thinking about on the way over, before he'd confronted her about her secret life.

"You've made that face before," he remarked. "Your thinking face." He swung one leg over the tree and sat astride the base, facing her.

"Tell me," he said softly as he brushed a stray lock of hair way from her face.

"I did have a thought," she confessed. "As I was on my way here."

"Go on," he urged. She felt him fiddling with the end of one of her girls, just above the small of her back. It felt like whenever they were together, he found an excuse to touch her, even before the kiss under the willow that had left her breathless. She found it both comforting and exciting.

"I was thinking about your proposal…" She shifted to face him, bending one leg to rest on the trunk and the other touching his leg.

His had stilled on her hair as his whole body froze. "And?"

"If it is still what you want–"

"It is," he interrupted, causing her to laugh.

"If that be the case, then I am of a mind to accept." As soon as the words left her mouth, it was as if a huge weight left her shoulders. All the uncertainty and self-doubt leading up to the decision suddenly vanished, and she knew in the core of her being that her choice had been the right one.

In case there had been any remaining concerns, they would have vanished when she saw the relief and joy on Anthony's face.

"Do you truly mean it?" he asked eagerly.

When Pen nodded, Anthony leaned over and took her face in his hands before kissing her tenderly. She leaned into him as they exchanged soft, teasing kisses.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered as he stroked her cheek. "I cannot understand how I didn't see it before."

Pen blushed. "You're very kind to say that."

"I mean it," he stated firmly before claiming her lips again. This time it was more insistent, more purposeful. Just as before, things quickly escalated. Anthony hooked his hands behind her legs and pulled her forward so her legs draped over his and she could feel his arousal pressing against her core through the thin material of her dress.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured against her lips.

"Please don't stop," she begged.

Pulling back, Anthony looked deeply into her eyes as he loosened the tie holding the neckline of her nightgown together. Once it was loose, he pulled the material off her shoulders and lower down her arms until the front came down far enough to expose her chest. He sucked in a breath as he took in the sight of her.

"Good God," he breathed. "Magnificent."

Pen gasped as he bent his head and took one of her breasts in his mouth and the other in his hand. He suckled and nipped while his hand pinched and rolled her other nipple. Pen fisted his hair in her hands and pulled him closer, relishing in the heat vibrating through her body.

When she thought she might lose her mind from the new sensations overwhelming her system, he pulled back to look in her eyes again.

"May I touch you?" he asked gently.

"You are," she answered, confused.

"No, I mean," he moved his free hand to the hem of her night dress and slid it underneath. "There are…other places to touch. More intimate places."

The touch on her thigh set a shockwave up to her core and caused something deep inside her to clench.

Swallowing hard, she nodded, giving Anthony permission to touch her wherever he pleased. Based on everything she'd experienced with him so far, she couldn't imagine him doing anything she wouldn't like.

"If it gets to be too much, tell me and I will stop," he assured her again.

"Touch me, Anthony," she begged. "Please."

That seemed to be all the permission he needed. Anthony crushed his lips to hers and pressed her back against the trunk of the tree while his hand continued its journey under her skirt and up her thigh. When his finger grazed her inner thigh close to her center, her breath hitched in her throat.

"I'll go slow," he promised her. "Try to relax."

"Relax?" she asked as nervous laughter bubbled up in her throat. "I do not think that's possible."

He smirked. "Fair enough. Just remember to breathe."

With that final warning, he leaned in to kiss her neck as his hand moved ever closer to the building heat between her legs. She whimpered and arched upward, silently asking him to continue.

At long last, his fingers found the apex of her thighs and brushed against a spot that made her jump at the intensity of feeling that jolted through her.

He hummed in approval against her skin as he moved down her neck and over her chest. His free hand gripped her hip, holding her in place as he slid a finger over that spot again.

"Oh, Anthony…" she moaned, arching her chest upward. He eagerly took her breast in his mouth again as he continued to stroke her slowly between her legs. The combination of his mouth and his fingers were making a strange and lovely tension start to build deep in her belly. Almost on their own power, her hips undulated under his touch, matching his pace.

Her breaths came out in panting gasps as she climbed higher and higher to a precipice with no clue what awaited her on the other side.

"Let yourself go," he told her, his voice low and husky. "Do not hold back."

She nodded, too overcome with sensations to manage words. Pulling him up by his hair, she dragged his mouth to hers and kissed him passionately while her hips continued to rock against his hand. With one last circle of his thumb on that secret spot, Pen's whole body shook and she moaned into his mouth. As her climax reached its peak, she broke the kiss and rested her forehead on his shoulder while the world went white around her. Nothing existed but wave after wave of the most incredible pleasure she'd ever experienced. There had to be a name for it, but she couldn't place it.

When she finally came down, after what felt like hours, she leaned against him and clung to his shirt for dear life.

"I…I can't…" She tried to find the words to describe what she'd just experienced, but her mind failed her, still too clouded with passion.

"Shh," he murmured, stroking her back. "Just breathe."

When the aftershocks of her climax finally faded and she could begin to think again, she pulled back to look at him. "I've never felt anything like that."

Anthony smirked as he began to pull her gown back up on her shoulders. "I should hope not."

Pen blushed. "Of course. But that was not what I meant. You make me feel cared for and protected in a way no one ever has."

"I'm pleased to hear that. I will always keep you safe, Penelope. You have my word. Once we are wed, you will never have a need to doubt or fear the world again."

He kissed her briefly before tying the bow on the front of her gown again.

"I should get you home. Tomorrow will be a big day."

"Will it?" she asked, still a little fuzzy-headed. "I do not recall any engagements."

"We will be announcing our engagement," he told her with an indulgent smile. "I feel fairly confident that as soon as we do, both our homes will become abuzz with activity."

Pen groaned. "I wish we could do it without all the fuss and bother. Everyone will only mock me behind my back, the ugly duckling who thinks she can please a Viscount…"

Anthony stood and pulled her to her feet. "You are far from ugly, and I can personally assure you, this Viscount is very pleased with you. Anyone who says otherwise is merely envious of our good fortune to have found such a perfect match."

As always, his words calmed her nerves and she felt the tension leave her. "Thank you, Anthony. You always know just what to say."

"You forget, I have four sisters. Soothing nervous women is a necessary skill in my life. And it helps that I meant every word." He took her hand and started leading her back out of the woods in the direction of her house.

"Anthony?" she asked after they had made it a few dozen yards.

"Hm?" he responded absently.

"You brought me such pleasure tonight, but…would it not be only fair for me to offer the same? You would have to teach me what to do of course.." Suddenly her question sounded silly. Of course he would want her to please him, and of course she would have no idea how to do that.

"I did not do it so that you would return the favor, Penelope. It brings me pleasure knowing I've brought you pleasure. I promise you I have no regrets about what did and did not happen." He helped her around a fallen branch. "Tonight was perfect. You are perfect."

Pen smiled and walked silently with him again, afraid of ruining the moment if she pushed too much further. Soon they were at the gate to her gardens.

"I believe this is where I leave you," he said as they stood just outside the gate.

"Hopefully not for long," she replied with a grin.

"Not for long," he confirmed. "Before we know it, my home will be yours as well and I will never have to leave you at the gate again."

She sighed wistfully. "That will be lovely."

"It will," he agreed. "Goodnight, my lovely Penelope."

Pen smiled to herself all the way back to her room and fell asleep thinking about how wonderful it felt to be appreciated by someone, to feel truly seen for the first time. Despite their agreement to marry in friendship, she felt herself becoming in very great danger of falling in love with her soon-to-be husband.

The next morning, Pen sat at the window seat in the sitting room and watched out the window, looking across to the Bridgerton home as she had done so many times before. Only this time, she wasn't waiting to catch a glimpse of Colin. She was waiting for her future husband to walk across the street, knock on her door, and ask to speak with her mother in order to officially ask for her hand.

There was, theoretically, a chance her mother would refuse Anthony, but the odds of that were practically non-existent. Her mother had more sense than to refuse a wealthy Viscount's offer for her daughter's hand. Portia would surely be shocked, but she would be only too happy to sign any necessary contracts and cement the engagement.

Pen smoothed her pale blue dress–one she bought with her Lady Whistledown money and claimed it had been a birthday gift from the modiste, Genevieve. Her mother made a face when she saw that Pen dared wear a color not associated with tropical fruits, but said nothing. She seemed to have decided that Pen was beyond hope anyway, so let her wear what she wanted.

Just after ten o'clock, she saw Anthony leave his house and bounce cheerfully down the steps to the sidewalk. In her anxiety, Pen found herself analyzing his movements to determine if he seemed excited or resigned to crossing the street to her house. She thought she saw a certain spring in his step, but from so far away she couldn't be sure.

"What are you staring at so intently?" Portia asked, snapping Pen out of her thoughts.

"Oh, er…I believe Lord Bridgerton is on his way here," she answered, trying to remain as vague as possible.

Portia scoffed. "Why on earth would he be coming here?"

"I imagine we'll find out soon," Pen replied.

"I am sure you must be mistaken. He must be passing by on his way into town."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than there was a brief knock on the door, closely followed by their housekeeper Varley opening it.

"Lord Bridgerton to see you, ma'am," Varley said to Pen's mother.

Portia sprang to her feet and cast a shocked look at her youngest daughter.

"See?" Pen said, unable to resist.

"I shall see him in my husband's office," Portia instructed Varley. For a moment she fluttered around the room, unsure of what to do with her hands, biting her thumb nail, and Pen realized–Portia was nervous! How lucky Pen was to have found the one man in the world who had the power to unnerve her mother.

"Do you mean to keep him waiting all morning, Mama?" Penelope asked.

"We musn't appear too eager, shall we?" Portia replied. Nevertheless, she finally took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and left the parlor in the direction of her late husband's office.

Once she was alone, Pen began to pace the sitting room, from the window, to the door and back again. Every minute that ticked by felt like an hour. She tried to read, but the words became a blur on the page. Her future was being settled downstairs at that very moment, and all she could do was wait.

Finally, the door opened and Portia reentered the room, trailed closely by Anthony. As soon as he saw her, he broke into a wide smile, vanquishing any fears that might have lurked in her heart about his affections. It was all she could do not to launch herself into his arms in that moment.

"I assume you know the reason for Lord Bridgerton's visit?" Portia asked, trying to look stern, but Pen could see her fighting a smile.

"I do," Pen confessed.

"In that case, I will only say how happy I am for you both." Crossing the room to Pen, Portia took her hands and smiled down at her as only a mother could. "You have done very well. I cannot tell you how proud I am."

Tears welled in Pen's eyes. It was the first time she had ever heard her mother utter those words to her.

"Thank you," she said in a voice thick with emotion.

Portia gave her daughter's hands a final squeeze then let go. Turning to Anthony, she said, "As soon as you've spoken to your family, I will reach out to your mother and settle on a date for the wedding." Looking between the two of them, she added, "You don't need a special license…do you?"

Pen blushed. "No, Mama."

"Very well. Then we should set the date for a month from now. That will give plenty of time for the banns to be read and for the proper arrangements to be made." Portia moved to her small writing table and took out a piece of paper to make lists of everything that needed to be done.

"Yellow daisies I think for the flowers, don't you?" Portia asked her daughter.

Pen blanched. "Um…I…Well…"

Taking the hint, Anthony approached and put hs arm around Pen's waist.

"My mother would be most grateful if you would allow her to supply the flowers for the wedding. I'm afraid with my sister's unexpectedly brief engagement, my mother was robbed of the experience of choosing her wedding flowers, and she still feels quite put out about it. I would consider it a personal favor if you would allow her to live that dream for Penelope."

Portia hesitated, then nodded. She wouldn't dare refuse the dowager Viscountess.

"If you would excuse us," Anthony continued, "I would like to escort Penelope across the street so we can announce the good news to my family together."

"Of course," Portia allowed. "Penelope, this afternoon we will go to the modiste to begin planning your wedding dress and trousseau."

"Yes, Mama," Pen agreed as Anthony began to steer her out of the room.

As soon as they were out of view of the doorway, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her soundly. When he pulled back, she was flushed and dazed.

"Whatever was that for?" she asked.

"Because I can," he replied with a rakish grin. "The worst anyone could do is force an engagement, and that's already taken care of."

He lifted her left hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, then noticed her bare ring finger.

"I'll have my mother dig out the family jewels so you can pick your ring. Unless you would prefer I have one made?"

Pen shook her head vehemently. "No, I would love to wear something that's already in your family. A piece of your heritage."

He caressed her cheek and smiled softly. "Somehow I knew that would be your opinion, and I'm honored by it. My whole family is."

Blushing deeper, she looked down at the floor. "Shall we go to your family? I fear my mother might explode if she has to wait much longer to tell the world." Chuckling, Anthony nodded and led her down the hall and stairs, still holding her hand in his.

Anthony

Anthony walked Penelope across the street to his family's home, with Rae trailing behind as the dutiful chaperone. It seemed ridiculous to still require a chaperone when they were engaged, but he didn't want to jeopardize Pen's reputation in any way–any more than he already had, at least.

Fortunately his whole family was gathered in the parlor when they arrived–his mother and all his unmarried siblings, at least. Eloise was slumped in the corner reading a novel, Benedict was sitting facing the window, sketching the scenery, while Hyacinth and Gregory were engaged in a very competitive round of cards with Violet looking on, ready to swoop in if it came to blows.

At first Anthony thought Colin was out, but he eventually saw him in the back of the room, hunched over the writing desk, writing furiously. He had been in a foul mood ever since Anthony announced his proposal and intended courtship of Penelope. Colin's travel arrangements were finally settled and he expected to set sail within the week, which would be a relief to everyone.

For several seconds, he stood there, holding Pen's hand, waiting for someone to look up and notice them. When no one did, he loudly cleared his throat.

Violet and the two youngest Bridgertons looked up first. Hyacinth and Gregory looked annoyed to be interrupted. Violet's eyes dropped to Pen and Anthony's joined hands for a moment, and the tiniest of smiles ghosted across her lips. Eloise sighed loudly and laid her book open on her lap while Benedict set his sketchpad aside and turned to face the Viscount.

"Good morning, family," Anthony began, suddenly feeling nervous. He assumed they would all welcome Pen openly because of her close bond with ELoise, but what if they didn't? Being a family friend was very different from being family.

"What is it, brother?" Hyacinth asked impatiently. "I've nearly won the game."

"No you haven't!" argued Gregory. The two went back and forth for a few seconds before Violet shushed them.

"What is it, dear?" Violet asked with her usual motherly warmth.

Anthony looked down at Pen, who offered him a nervous smile. He squeezed her hand in reassurance before turning back to face his family.

"Penelope has agreed to be my wife. We are engaged."

A stunned silence fell heavy across the room, broken by Colin jumping to his feet.

"You must be joking!" Colin exclaimed. "You cannot marry her!"

Pen flinched and took a small step backward, away from Colin's venom.

"We are very much serious and you will take care how you speak about my future wife," Anthony replied to his brother, his voice low and full of warning.

Colin's attention moved to Pen, apparently assuming she was a more willing target.

"Pen, please, don't do this." He crossed the room towards them. "You can't. We were supposed to…"

"Please don't make a scene, Colin," Penelope begged him. Anthony could see the pain in her eyes and was desperate to intervene, but he sensed she needed to have this moment. "I have made my decision and I hope you can be happy for us. As my friend."

For a long, tense moment, nobody said anything. Finally Colin sighed and nodded. "Of course I'm happy for you, Pen. I would not wish you to be alone forever if you wish to marry."

Pen smiled slightly and touched Colin's arm. "Thank you."

Eloise jumped up from her seat and ran over to Pen, immediately whisking her to a corner of the room for a hushed, intense conversation. Anthony took the moment to approach his mother about the family jewels in order to select a ring for Pen. Violet happily agreed and they decided to invite Pen over the following day for tea and to select her engagement ring.

The next hour was filled with excited chatter and endless questions from the entire Bridgerton brood. Pen faced it all with her usual aplomb, without getting flustered or intimidated. She was behaving, in Anthony's estimation, exactly as a Viscountess should.

She threw her head back and laughed at something Benedict said and Anthony watched the way the sun hit her bright red curls as they fell around her shoulders. Suddenly he had to be close to her again, he had to touch her.

Striding across the room, he put his hand on her back to get her attention.

"I wonder if I might take you on a turn around the gardens?" Anthony asked. "I believe some of the roses have bloomed since you were last out there and I remember them being a particular favorite of yours." He cast a look to her, a silent plea to play along.

Pen furrowed her brow in confusion before she comprehended his meaning. "Of course, I should love to see them. Thank you."

He offered his arm for her to take, well aware that his older siblings and mother likely saw right through his flimsy ruse.

"Benedict, Eloise," their mother piped in just as Anthony and Pen had reached the doorway. "Why don't you go along and chaperone?"

Ben and Eloise exchanged an equally unenthused look but nodded and followed after Anthony.

They made their way out the rear entrance of the house and down a gravel path to the garden, which was surrounded by tall, manicured shrubberies to give it some privacy. Anthony glanced over his shoulder at one point and saw Benedict hold Eloise back from joining them on their walk. She huffed and crossed her arms but stayed with him, a good distance away from the happy couple. As Anthony and Pen entered the gardens, Ben and Eloise took a left turn to walk around the outside.

Alone at last.

Penelope

Pen and Anthony had just barely entered the gardens before Anthony swung her around, pressed her up against a stone column that held a beautifully carved statue at the top, and kissed her passionately. She grunted in surprise before sinking into the kiss. She gripped the lapels of his jacket with both hands and pulled him close as she tilted her head and opened her mouth for him to explore with his tongue.

He moved his mouth to her neck and kissed the delicate flesh.

"I had to touch you," he explained, his breath tickling her sensitive skin.

"I feel the same," Pen admitted breathlessly as her hands slid under his jacket to feel the hard, warm planes of his chest through his thin linen shirt. He nipped at the sensitive spot at the base of her neck and she moaned softly while she fisted the material of his shirt in her hands.

She had never thought of herself as a very passionate person. She loved, deeply, of course, but never thought she was motivated by physical pleasures. That was, of course, because she knew nothing about them. Ever since their first kiss under the willow tree, Pen had been desperate to know his touch in a more intimate way. Then, the previous night, he had given her a glimpse of the magnificent sensations awaiting her once they were wed.

Anthony dipped his head and she felt him kiss, nip, and lick the skin along the neckline of her gown. If she hadn't been laced in so tightly, she would have tried to pull her gown down lower for him to access more of her.

He worked his way across her chest and up her shoulder, working back over to the other side of her neck.

"God, I want you," he murmured in her ear. "I want to lift your skirts and bury myself in you and let the rest of the world fade away."

"Oh, yes," she moaned. She wanted everything he said and more. It all sounded so exciting!

Benedict's booming laughter in the distance startled them both out of the moment.

With a deep sigh, Anthony pulled away and shook his head. "We cannot."

"Why not?" Pen pressed.

"You are still an innocent and I mean to keep you that way until our wedding night." He seemed almost pained at the declaration.

"But last night…" she began, confused how she could still be an innocent after the wanton pleasure he'd shown her.

"I did nothing that would compromise your maidenhood," Anthony explained patiently. "Your virtue is still intact."

Pen blushed at her lack of knowledge about her own body. "You must think me foolish for not knowing that already."

He shook his head. "Not at all. My sister Daphne educated me on how little young ladies are told about–matters of the flesh." For a moment he had struggled to find the appropriate language. "I promise that as soon as you're my wife, I will give you a very thorough and detailed education."

His voice went low and gravelly at the end, carrying a promise that sent a thrill through her. Something told her she would enjoy her education at his hand.

"I am a slow learner," she informed him. "You may need to show me several times."

A slow, rakish grin spread over his face. "You tease me, Penelope. I am not sure if you know the challenge you have just laid at my feet, but I assure you I am up to it."

"When can we meet back at our tree?" Pen asked him. Maybe if they met at the tree again she could convince him to show her more.

"We cannot," he said with a deeply regretful sigh. "I cannot trust myself alone with you, and I am determined you will remain untarnished until our wedding day."

"But why?" She wanted to understand this need to maintain her maidenhood. It certain made no difference to her at this point. "We are already engaged."

"Life is unpredictable. We do not know what tomorrow may hold. If something happens to me between now and the wedding, I want you to be able to tell your next future husband taht you are untouched and have it be the truth."

It still made no sense to Pen. "Are you having second thoughts?" she asked quietly.

Anthony instantly took her in his arms. "I am not. In fact, seeing how well you handled my family today made me more assured than ever of the perfection of our match."

She felt herself relax into him, both from his reassurance and from having his arms around her. Being around him made her feel comfortable in a way no one had before, not even Eloise. Especially after he guessed her secret identity, Pen never felt that she had to hide any part of herself from him. The same could not be said for ELoise. El had her chosen causes, the issues she felt were most pressing on society, and if Pen voiced opposition to those choices, El became snappish. Eventually Pen found it easier not to argue at all. It spared the conflict right enough, but the result was that she could never be truly honest and open with her best friend.

After holding each other a moment longer, ANthony stepped back. "Allow me to escort you home. The next few weeks will be full of wedding plans and family gatherings. You should rest tonight while you have the chance.

Pen laughed. "I thank you for your concern but it is not necessary. I've dealt with my mother's ridiculous demands all my life, surely I can handle a few weeks of wedding planning with our mothers.

How foolish she would later find herself to be.