Quinn, Julia - Romancing Mister Bridgerton With 2nd Epilogue

“Of course,” he said, keeping a concerned eye on her. She was still terribly pale.

“Oh, for the love of . . .” Lady Danbury blasphemed, which took Colin by surprise, but then she actually swore, which he thought might very well have tilted the planet on its axis.

“Lady Danbury?” he asked, gaping.

“She’s coming this way,” she muttered, jerking her head to the right. “I should have known I’d not escape.”

Colin looked to his left. Cressida was trying to make her way through the crowd, presumably to confront Lady Danbury and collect her prize. She was, naturally, being accosted at every turn by fellow partygoers. She seemed to be reveling in the attention—no big surprise there; Cressida had always reveled in attention—but she also seemed rather determined to reach Lady Danbury’s side.

“There’s no way to avoid her, I’m afraid,” Colin said to Lady Danbury.

“I know,” she grumbled. “I’ve been trying to avoid her for years, and I’ve never succeeded. I thought I was so clever.” She looked to Colin, shaking her head with disgust. “I thought it would be such fun to rout out Lady Whistledown.”

“Er, well, it was fun,” Colin said, not really meaning it.

Lady Danbury jabbed him in the leg with her cane. “It’s not the least bit fun, you foolish boy. Now look what I have to do!” She waved the cane toward Cressida, who was drawing ever closer. “I never dreamed I’d have to deal with the likes of her .”

“Lady Danbury,” Cressida said, swishing to a stop in front of her. “How nice to see you.”

Lady Danbury had never been known for her pleasantries, but even she outdid herself by skipping any pretense of a greeting before snapping, “I suppose you’re here to try to collect your money.”

Cressida cocked her head to the side in a very pretty, very practiced manner. “You did say you would give a thousand pounds to whomever unmasked Lady Whistledown.” She shrugged, lifting her hands in the air and then twisting them gracefully until her palms were up in a gesture of false humility. “You never stipulated that I couldn’t unmask myself.”

Lady Danbury rose to her feet, narrowed her eyes, and said, “I don’t believe it’s you.”

Colin liked to think that he was rather suave and unflappable, but even he gasped at that.

Cressida’s blue eyes blazed with fury, but she quickly regained control of her emotions and said, “I would be shocked if you did not behave with a degree of skepticism, Lady Danbury. After all, it is not your way to be trusting and gentle.”

Lady Danbury smiled. Well, perhaps not a smile, but her lips did move. “I shall take that as a compliment,” she said, “and allow you to tell me that you meant it as such.”

Colin watched the stalemate with interest—and with a growing sense of alarm—until Lady Danbury turned quite suddenly to Penelope, who had risen to her feet mere seconds after she had.

“What do you think, Miss Featherington?” Lady Danbury asked.

Penelope visibly started, her entire body jerking slightly as she stammered, “What . . . I . . . I beg your pardon?”

“What do you think?” Lady Danbury persisted. “Is Lady Twombley Lady Whistledown?”

“I—I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Oh, come, now, Miss Featherington.” Lady Danbury planted her hands on her hips and looked at Penelope with an expression that bordered on exasperation. “Surely you have an opinion on the matter.”

Colin felt himself stepping forward. Lady Danbury had no right to speak to Penelope in such a manner. And furthermore, he didn’t like the expression on Penelope’s face. She looked trapped, like a fox in a hunt, her eyes darting to him with a panic he’d never seen there before.

He’d seen Penelope uncomfortable, and he’d seen her pained, but he’d never seen her truly panicked. And then it occurred to him—she hated being the center of attention. She might poke fun at her status as a wallflower and a spinster, and she’d probably have liked a little more attention from society, but this kind of attention . . . with everyone staring at her and awaiting the merest word from her lips . . .

She was miserable.

“Miss Featherington,” Colin said smoothly, moving to her side, “you look unwell. Would you like to leave?”

“Yes,” she said, but then something strange happened.

She changed. He didn’t know how else to describe it. She simply changed. Right there, in the Macclesfield ballroom, by his side, Penelope Featherington became someone else.

Her spine stiffened, and he could swear the heat from her body increased, and she said, “No. No, I have something to say.”

Lady Danbury smiled.

Penelope looked straight at the old countess and said, “I don’t think she’s Lady Whistledown. I think she’s lying.”

Colin instinctively pulled Penelope a little closer to his side. Cressida looked as if she might go for her throat.

“I’ve always liked Lady Whistledown,” Penelope said, her chin rising until her bearing was almost regal. She looked to Cressida, and their eyes caught as she added, “And it would break my heart if she turned out to be someone like Lady Twombley.”

Colin took her hand and squeezed it. He couldn’t help himself.

“Well said, Miss Featherington!” Lady Danbury exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. “That is exactly what I was thinking, but I couldn’t find the words.” She turned to Colin with a smile. “She’s very clever, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, a strange, new pride brimming within him.

“Most people don’t notice it,” Lady Danbury said, twisting so that her words were directed to—and probably only heard by—Colin.

“I know,” he murmured, “but I do.” He had to smile at Lady Danbury’s behavior, which he was certain was chosen in part to annoy the devil out of Cressida, who did not like to be ignored.

“I will not be insulted by that . . . by that nothing !” Cressida fumed. She turned to Penelope with a seething glare and hissed, “I demand an apology.”

Penelope just nodded slowly and said, “That is your prerogative.”

And then she said nothing more.

Colin had to physically wipe the smile from his face.

Cressida clearly wanted to say more (and perhaps commit an act of violence while she was at it), but she held back, presumably because it was obvious that Penelope was among friends. She had always been renowned for her poise, however, and thus Colin was not surprised when she composed herself, turned to Lady Danbury, and said, “What do you plan to do about the thousand pounds?”

Lady Danbury looked at her for the longest second Colin had ever endured, then she turned to him —dear God, the last thing he wanted to do was get involved in this disaster—and asked, “And what do you think, Mr. Bridgerton? Is our Lady Twombley telling the truth?”

Colin gave her a practiced smile. “You must be mad if you think I’m going to offer an opinion.”

“You’re a surprisingly wise man, Mr. Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury said approvingly.

He nodded modestly, then ruined the effect by saying, “I pride myself on it.” But what the hell—it wasn’t every day a man was called wise by Lady Danbury.

Most of her adjectives, after all, were of the decidedly negative variety.

Cressida didn’t even bother to bat her eyelashes at him; as Colin had already reflected, she wasn’t stupid, just mean, and after a dozen years out in society, she had to know that he didn’t much like her and certainly wasn’t about to fall prey to her charms. Instead, she looked squarely at Lady Danbury and kept her voice evenly modulated as she asked, “What shall we do now, my lady?”