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“Colin, there is something I wish to tell you,” Pen blurted before she could lose her nerve.  Colin opened his mouth and stated that he had something to tell her, too, but Pen held a hand up to silence him.  Ever the gentleman, he did so as she replied,“I am happy to listen to whatever you wish to say, but I beg of you to allow me to go first.”

Colin grew concerned at her remark and worry crossed his features, but he nodded in acquiescence.  Pen lowered her hand and clasped it with her other to resist the urge to fidget.  She took a deep breath and calmly declared, “I love you, Colin.”

The worry was replaced by shock.  His eyes widened, face and neck flushed, and Colin worked his throat before taking a giant step backward, putting distance between them.  

Pen’s nerves overcame her at that point and she began babbling senselessly about how she’d loved him since the day he fell off his horse, how gutting his courtship with Marina had been, and how her cousin had called her love an unrequited fantasy.  As she babbled, Pen hoped Colin would jump in and soothe her fears that Marina was right, but he never did.  It wasn’t until she grew silent, that he finally spoke.  

And the words he said broke her heart.

~z~

The following Season  ….

“If the Queen names Eloise the diamond, who will you marry then, brother?” Benedict joked as they followed his mother and sister to the side of the ballroom.  Anthony side-eyed him to express his displeasure at Ben’s humor.  Eloise being named the diamond would be a disaster on many levels.  Aside from ruining his plans, there was no way his sister would seriously entertain a match anytime soon, so the Queen would be displeased and possibly retaliate against the family.  Eloise was only here because she had to be and Anthony assumed that she was chomping at the bit to escape to the wall with her little red-headed friend at the earliest opportunity.  

Reflexively, Anthony scanned the perimeter of the ballroom, but did not see Miss Featherington anywhere.  He never paid much attention to the chit, but she was hard to miss with her fiery hair and blinding yellow dresses.  He thought her absence curious until he caught sight of the woman he’d run into riding the other morning standing with Lady Danbury and two others.  What was she doing here? Who was she? 

However, Anthony’s musings were halted when a hush came over the ballroom.  He looked from his mystery woman to the doorway where none other than Miss Featherington stood draped in a dark green gown overlaid with black lace.  Her auburn tresses were pinned up on one side while the other cascaded over her shoulder and did a marvelous job highlighting her ample bosom.  Long black sheer gloves covered her arms, leaving only a fraction of creamy, bare skin exposed between the top of the gloves and the capped sleeves of her dress.  

Anthony was unable to tear his eyes away from her as she scanned the ballroom nervously before she took a deep breath, tilted her chin upward, and stepped toward the dais where the Queen was located.  The gaping crowd parted for her as she glided across the room, stopping directly in front of Her Majesty, where she curtsied and greeted the Queen, complimenting her on the ball just as Eloise had.  The Queen nodded and Miss Featherington heeded the dismissal for what it was and turned away.  She had barely gone three steps before Eloise rushed to her side and practically dislocated her shoulder in an effort to find out what had prompted her transformation. 

Anthony exchanged a look with Benedict, who shrugged at the display, and the two men went off in search of the card room as Anthony dodged the matchmaking mamas his mother put on his scent by her cheeky announcement of his intention to marry this season.

~z~

Penelope did not know what she thought would happen tonight when she donned her green gown and decided to leave her wallflower ways behind, but it certainly was not the Queen announcing rather boldly that diamonds were not the only gems that sparkle and naming her the season’s emerald.  

After having her heart broken by Colin at the Hasting’s ball last season and then completely shattered when her family returned home to learn her father was dead, Pen had resolved to find herself.  She used her ten-month mourning period to reassess her life and priorities.  If a love match with Colin was not a possibility now that he vehemently denied romantic feelings for her, where did that leave her?  Did she still want to marry and have children?  Or would she live out her days as a spinster with only her writing (and perhaps a cat or two to) keep her company? 

Pen thought about it and decided that she wanted to marry.   As long as whoever she married was kind, willing to give her one or two children, and grant her the privacy she needed to write, Pen found the idea of marriage to be attractive.  Plus, she would be out of her mother’s house, which was a boon in and of itself.

Once Pen made her decision, she wrote to Gen, who had found out about her identity as Lady Whistledown by accident just before Pen left Town last season, to ask her to make a small assortment of non-citrus dresses with the promise to pay in both cash and credit (in the form of positive exposure in her column).  Thankfully, the modiste was more than happy to facilitate her makeover and had several dresses ready when Pen returned and shed her half-mourning frocks.  When her mother questioned the new “melancholy” gowns, Gen weaved a story about trying new techniques based on Paris fashion and Penelope being the perfect model for her new creations, which were, of course, free of charge.  Portia was reluctant, but was swayed by not having to pay for her youngest daughter’s wardrobe since the status of the estate was precarious as they awaited the arrival of the new Lord Featherington.

It took every ounce of gumption Pen had to put on the dress and walk into that ballroom, but she was certainly glad she did, for her banter with the Queen last season told her one thing: Her Majesty loved a good game.  And what better way to throw the players off than to make an unexpected move?

~z~

Anthony paled as Penelope Featherington was granted Charlotte’s favor and announced the Emerald of the season.  

Fuck. 

What was he supposed to do now?

He couldn’t marry Penelope.  She was practically his sister.  

Wasn’t she?

~z~

As gentlemen who never deigned to give Penelope the time of day before now crowded around her to pay pretty compliments and fill out her dance card, Pen fought to maintain her composure.  

She knew coming out of the shadows was necessary to find a husband, but did not realize that stepping into the light would be so overwhelming.  Pen eyed the terrace doors as she took slow, deliberate breaths.  After Lord Cho signed her card, Pen pulled her wrist back to her body, murmured her excuses for needing a moment to attend to personal business (which made the men back away quickly), and bid a hasty retreat.

After actually attending to her personal business (because she did not want to be a liar and had an unusually nervous bladder tonight anyway), Pen called on the skills she had adopted as a wallflower to escape to the terrace without being pinned down by any other would-be suitors.  She laid her gloved hands on the railing and leaned forward to look out over the lawn as she allowed the darkness to envelope her in familiar comfort.  Spotting no less than three potential scandals in the making on the distant garden paths, she closed her eyes, tilted her head heavenward, and smiled, grounding herself in the moment.  She was Lady Whistledown and she would not be reduced to a quivering mess of a girl by being shown a modicum of male attention.  

Pen opened her eyes, sighed, and released the railing.  As she pivoted to return to the ballroom she was stopped in her tracks by Eloise’s oldest brother looking at her curiously from his position on the terrace a few feet away.  “Lord Bridgerton,” she greeted evenly, though his intense gaze had her resisting the urge to writhe like a bug under a microscope.

He inclined his head toward her and greeted her back with a polite, “Miss Featherington.”  Lord Bridgerton made no effort to say more and neither did she, so they stood there making eye contact but not speaking until he drew in a breath, said, “You’ll do,” and then turned on his heel and walked away.

Pen’s brows furrowed at his strange behavior, but she shrugged it off and made her way back into the ballroom for her dance with a man named Harry Dankworth.

~z~

The next morning, Penelope purposely dressed in one of her favorite yellow frocks that had little white daisies sewn throughout.  She despised citrus colors as a rule, but had a fondness for some of the gowns Gen had artfully created for her and decided not to get rid of all of them.  Pen believed that wearing yellow would be a good way to weed out the gentlemen who were not serious about courting her, should any of them actually call.  Rae had styled her hair in a loose side ponytail secured with matching yellow ribbon that alluded to her evolving style, though.

As Pen expected, the drawing room was empty when she arrived for calling hours, sans Mr. Dankworth, who seemed to have hit it off with her sister Prudence while he was waiting for Penelope’s arrival.  Pen found herself disappointed, but also strangely satisfied by the turn of events.  Mr. Dankworth would make a good match for her older sister and the lack of gentleman vying for her favor checked her expectations about what she could achieve.  So, Pen resigned herself to spinsterhood and curled up on the settee by the window with a book.

About a quarter hour had passed when Varley appeared at the doorway to announce that Lord Bridgerton and his sister had come to call.  Pen was momentarily thrown off by the viscount’s appearance, as Eloise generally brought her maid across the street with her when she came to visit, but advised that she was definitely at home to see her friend.  When the pair of Bridgertons entered the drawing room, Pen closed her book and stood up so that she would be prepared for Eloise to barrel into her with a bear hug.  Glad to be able to spend time with her best friend, Pen immediately took her hand and pulled her down next to her on the settee to ask her all about her presentation.  They sat there chatting for five minutes before Pen heard her brother clear his throat.  In response, Eloise groaned and shot him an exasperated look before getting up and stepping to the side of the settee to motion for him to sit down in her place.  Pen’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she nodded when he asked if he could sit next to her.  She looked over his head to her friend and narrowed her eyes asking a silent What is going on? and Eloise responded with the eyeroll that she used whenever she questioned her siblings’ states of mind.

Penelope focused her attention back to Lord Bridgerton and wished him a good day.  He returned the greeting and then complimented her hairstyle.  His, “It quite suits you,” took her aback and she couldn’t help question his presence.  Penelope saw his jaw tick at her remark, but he kept his composure as he replied that he was there to pay a call on her as if it was the most natural occurrence in the world.

Pen blinked rapidly as her brain tried valiantly to process this information and a, “But why?” escaped her lips unbidden, much to Eloise’s amusement (based on the snort that came out of her nose).  Her best friend’s brother shot his sister a scathing look before he responded, “Because I need a viscountess and I believe you would be well-suited for the position.”

Her astounded, “Have you gone mad?” reverberated through the drawing room, grabbing everyone’s attention.

~z~

The moment the Featherington’s door closed behind them, Eloise broke out into hysterical laughter.  Anthony grasped his sister by the bicep and escorted her down the steps before turning to her and asking, “Are you quite finished?”

But Eloise couldn’t speak due to struggling for the breath that her laughter had stolen, so she shook her head.  Anthony huffed and crossed his arms as he waited for her laughter to die down.  When his sister composed herself, except for the mirthful tears leaking from her eyes, she slapped him on his bicep, hard, and said, “I told you so.” She then looked up to the drawing room window where her friend was peering down and smiling at them amusedly, waved, and said, “Now, let us go get that book you owe me, shall we?”

Anthony nodded reluctantly and set off with Eloise across the street so that they could have a carriage readied.  Once they were at the entrance to their front walk, she hastened to find a footman while Anthony paused and turned to face the window he knew Penelope was still staring out of and tipped his tophat at her.  If she thought her ridiculous behavior this morning at his announcement that he intended to court her had thrown him off, the chit had another think coming.

He was a Bridgerton and it was against his make-up to not pick up a gauntlet once one had been thrown down.

~z~

“Are you certain about this, dearest?” his mother asked warily as they entered the racecourse.  “There are other ladies you could pursue besides Penelope who would make an excellent viscountess,” she said as she inclined her head where Lady Danbury with the Sharma sisters.

He glanced their way and briefly locked eyes with the woman he’d met riding that one morning, but she quickly looked away to focus her attention on her sister and her gaggle of suitors.  “Yes, mother, I am certain. I have no desire to vie for Miss Edwina’s attention when Penelope is more than sufficient for the role.”  She stopped walking and turned to face him.  “What of the older sister?  This is not the first time the two of you have gazed at each other from afar and she has no suitors that I am aware of.”

Anthony worked his throat.  “She is intriguing, but she has also made it well-known that she has no plans to marry.”

Violet assessed him shrewdly before opining that plans had a way of changing.

They said nothing else as they made their way to their seats.

~z~

Penelope, dressed in a flattering mint green day dress with flowers adorning the skirt and parts of its bodice, followed her family through the entrance to the racetrack.  She was grateful that Rae had braided and pinned up her hair due to the unseasonable heat of the day.  While she wouldn’t mind a brim to help shade her eyes from the sun, Pen felt the floral headpiece pinned just above her braid was far more sensible.  The last thing she needed was sweat dripping down her eyes from her head roasting under the hat, as the sweat already trickling down her back and bosom was bad enough.  

As they found their seats, Pen was not shocked to see that all of the men who’d danced with her at the Diamond Ball were now gathered around Miss Edwina Sharma, who had emerged as the season’s true incomparable based upon her beauty, grace, and kindness.  And her dowry, of course, which was rumored to be quite significant thanks to Lady Danbury and the elder sister supposedly securing the Sheffield’s cooperation in relinquishing the mother’s unused one to the daughter.  In the end, it always came down to money, didn’t it?  And it was well-known that the Featherington family did not have much.  How was that for irony? Pen could change everything about herself to make her more attractive to the men of the Ton, but still be rejected based upon the one thing that she could not openly compete on.  

She had been just about to sit down when Hyacinth Bridgerton bounded over to them and asked if Pen could watch the race with the family.  Her mother, who was far more interested in Prudence and Mr. Dankworth’s growing attachment and Cousin Jack’s attention to Cressida Cowper, waved off the question and left the decision up to Penelope.  Unable to refuse the youngest Bridgerton anything, Pen happily agreed.

When Penelope arrived with Hyacinth to the bleachers where the family was seated, the viscount was smirking.  As his sister passed by him to take her seat, Penelope caught him passing her a bank note, which made her scowl in response.  Anthony stood and came out to meet her on the steps.  “Good of you to join us today, Miss Featherington,” he commented superiorly as he guided her into the seat next to his end one.

“You are playing dirty, my Lord,” Pen responded as she sat down.  “First Eloise and now Hyacinth?  Have you no shame?”

He sat next to her, leaned in, and replied, “Not particularly, no.”

~z~

The night of the Diamond Ball, Anthony had decided to court and marry Penelope Featherington and he was doing everything within his considerable power to make that happen despite the chit’s reluctance to comply.

When he’d shown up during calling hours the morning after the ball with Eloise as his offering (one no other suitor would have, thank you very much), she had laughed in his face and declared the whole idea ridiculous.  

While he could see her point, as a match between them was unconventional, Anthony bristled at the thought of her not accepting his suit.  Penelope was a lady in her second season with no serious prospects (based on the empty room) and he was a wealthy, respected lord.  Marriage to each other was an eminently sensible idea.  Penelope was intelligent enough to excel in her role as viscountess and already familiar with and able to handle his family’s chaos.  Although she wasn’t the type of woman he would ordinarily gravitate toward, she was attractive in her own right, with fiery hair, smooth skin, and ample cleavage that he admitted he wouldn’t mind getting his hands on.

However, the woman wouldn’t hear of it.  She stated that although she was flattered by the attention, they were “practically family” and that a courtship between them would be foolhardy because of it.  Anthony had looked to Lady Featherington in hopes that she would talk sense into her daughter, but she did not help him.  Instead, she praised Penelope for not seeking a husband above her means and suggested that Cressida Cowper would be more than thrilled to have his attention.  (As if he’d ever consider that conniving bitch as a wife.)

So, that’s why Anthony was here today with the rest of his family, including Colin who had finally returned from his travels, to marvel at the Hawkins balloon even though he had very little personal interest in it.  Eloise had remarked how excited Penelope was to see it, so he was waiting to see how he could leverage that excitement to his benefit.

Anthony spied Penelope the moment she walked in, once again following behind her family. She was dressed in a flattering blue and gold day dress and matching slippers with her hair pinned up in an intricate updo that his fingers itched to ruin.  (Her hair looked so much better down, he thought.)  When she saw him, she rolled her eyes, but smiled reluctantly.  However, the smile faded when she spotted Colin and she immediately changed directions to head into the sweets tent.

“What was that about?” Anthony asked his brother, who looked like he saw a ghost as he stared in the direction Penelope had fled.

Colin shook off his stupor and muttered a quiet, “Nothing,” before grasping Gregory and Hyacinth under his shoulders and ushering toward the balloon to get a closer view. 

~z~

Once she was inside the sweets tent, Penelope allowed herself a moment of discomposure over Colin’s unexpected return.  (At least it was unexpected for her because neither of them wrote to each other while he was away.)  Pen had a hand on her racing heart and was working to regulate her breathing when she felt Anthony sidle up to her.  “Are you well, Penelope?” he asked.

Pen ignored his unauthorized use of her Christian name and nodded.  “Yes, fine.  Thank you for inquiring, my Lord.”

The viscount closed the little distance that was between them and whispered, “Anthony,” into her ear in a voice as smooth as silk.

His familiarity shocked Pen back to her senses and she purposely backed up to create much needed distance between herself and the man she had started to think less of as Eloise’s brother and more like, well, a man.  Unfortunately, when she backed up, it was into the nearest sweets table. Anthony chuckled and closed the gap between them again, trapping her between his body and the table.

He leaned in far closer than appropriate once more and her heart started racing (for a completely different reason this time).  When he bent down, Pen held her breath.  He wouldn’t try to kiss her just to compromise her and force her hand with his ridiculous idea, would he?  

No. Of course he wouldn’t, Pen thought deflatedly as Anthony diverted his face at the last minute, reached for a miniature chocolate that was behind her body, and then backed away.  When he slid by her to pay the vendor and brushed her bodice with the front of his coat, Pen felt a flush creeping up her body.  

The infernal man then popped the entire sweet in his mouth before straightening his coat, winking, and walking away.

~z~

When Anthony left the sweets tent, he made a hard right to hide between it and the one next to it so that he could get his body under control.  

He had almost kissed Penelope Featherington. 

What the hell was wrong with him?  He was supposed to be using his charm to weaken her defenses, not obliterate his own.

~z~

Penelope purposely kept a wide berth from all of the Bridgertons after exiting the sweets tent except for Eloise, who had found her and immediately glued herself to her side to avoid her mama’s matchmaking.

As she and Eloise stood by the lake admiring the balloon, they were joined by Lord Debling, who had recently returned from a conservation expedition.  Pen had briefly met the man the night before at Stowell House and the two struck up a pleasant conversation.  (Pen had been surprised the Bridgerton family was not in attendance, but Colin’s return explained their absence.)   She and Eloise were deep in debate with the man on whether he truly believed the Great Auk could be saved when Pen suddenly heard a commotion behind her and turned to find the balloon basket perilously close.

~z~

Anthony, Colin, and Benedict had been playing in their shirtsleeves with their two youngest siblings, who had each gotten their own miniature balloons, when the wind picked up and the crowd began panicking.  Anthony urged the youngsters to hold onto their trinkets as he scanned the area to see what was happening.  He was shocked to see that one of the ropes had snapped and pulled the grounding stakes out.  The balloon was swaying with the wind and its handlers were struggling to keep the basket in place.

When Anthony saw that the basket was perilously close to Penelope, he bolted to the nearest untethered rope and pulled.  His brothers had followed him on their own and grabbed the other two, but they weren’t strong enough to make a difference, so he shouted for help from the rest of the crowd.  

No matter how hard he yanked, though, the basket kept drifting closer and closer to the frozen girl.  Whether she was frozen due to shock or fear, Anthony did not know, but there was no way he was going to allow Penelope to be injured by a runaway balloon. 

He, his brothers, and the other men got the balloon under control just before a gentleman he did not know ran to Penelope’s rescue and pulled her down to a nearby blanket with him.  

Anthony saw red.

~z~

At first she’d been shocked.  No one expects to see a giant balloon basket careening toward them.  But then her shock morphed to fear and Penelope became rooted to her spot.  She willed her feet to move, but they defied her and she was frozen on the outside as panic overwhelmed her on the inside.  

She was pulled out of her panic by the sound of Anthony’s voice as he shouted for other men in the crowd to assist him.  Colin and Benedict flanked him on the right and left, respectively, and all three men’s bare forearms rippled as they desperately tugged on the rope.  But her gaze was riveted on the eldest brother, who had panic in his eyes as they shifted between her and the balloon.  Before Penelope could process what that meant, Lord Debling pulled her out of harm’s way.  

As Debling covered her body with his, Pen couldn’t help but wonder why she did not feel a fraction of the discombobulation she did earlier in the sweets tent when Anthony’s body barely brushed hers.

~z~

Once Lord Hawkins had flown away in his balloon (good riddance!), Anthony surged forward across the platform and down the steps to Penelope.

The man, who he now recognized as Lord Debling, had rolled off her body, but the two were still on the blanket, dazed.  Pen was staring up at the balloon intently as it navigated the sky as her chest heaved to catch her breath after her near-death experience.  Debling was on his hip next to her propped up on one hand.  He was breathing deeply with his free fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose.  

Anthony knelt down on one knee and raised a hand to the man to shake.  “Anthony Bridgerton.”

He took it and introduced himself. “Alfred Debling.”

“Thank you for saving her,” Anthony replied as they shook hands.

The man cracked a smile and said, “I think it was a team effort,” before releasing him and pulling himself up to a standing position.  Debling then looked between him and Penelope and commented, “Do take care of her.  I think she’s in shock.”

Anthony looked up at him and nodded, grateful that the man seemed to understand without words that Penelope was his.  He then turned his attention to the woman in question and waved a hand in front of her face to break her trance.  

Pen startled and whipped her head over to face him.  “Need some help?” Anthony asked, keeping his voice intentionally light.

“I would like that, Anthony.  Thank you ,” was her quiet response.

~z~

Penelope thought it was ironic that she was walking into the Innovation Ball wearing a gown that was very nearly Bridgerton Blue because, in all likelihood, she was about to become one.

After Anthony had saved her from the balloon, Pen had relented and agreed to allow him to court her.  If all went well, it was likely she’d be his wife sooner rather than later.  In all the years she’d imagined becoming a Bridgerton, Pen never believed it would be because she married Anthony.  But here she was on the cusp of doing just that.  And the timing couldn’t be more fortuitous, as Cousin Jack had announced his betrothal to Cressida Cowper upon their return home from the exhibition.

Barring hell, high water, or some other divine intervention, Pen would be the new Viscountess Bridgerton because there was no way she would allow Cressida to kick her out of her house upon their marriage.  Pen did not know how Anthony would react to her being Lady Whistledown, but she couldn’t risk telling him before they made things official, so she’d have to gamble on it and hope he’d understand once he found out.  Pen loved writing, but the column was growing tiring as of late, so it was likely she’d retire at the end of the season anyway.  Perhaps he’d never even have to know, Pen mused as she spied the Bridgerton family descending the stairs.

~z~

The moment they began to descend the stairs, he, Benedict, and Colin were bombarded by simpering debutantes complimenting their courage in reigning in the balloon.  Eloise chuckled as she slipped by them and made a beeline for Penelope, who was on the other side of the room watching with an amused smile on her face.

Anthony used his position as the viscount to excuse himself to talk to another lord about a parliamentary matter and deftly outmaneuvered the debutantes that had cornered him.  Once Anthony descended the steps, he looked back at his brothers, who were still trapped, and winked.  He ignored their miffed looks and followed in his sister’s footsteps.

Upon reaching Penelope, he greeted her warmly and requested her dance card.  As Eloise rolled her eyes at the two of them, Anthony reserved an upcoming waltz and then complimented her dress, the color of which did not escape his notice.  Anthony raised an eyebrow in question, which caused Penelope to blush.  Anthony didn’t know why, but the idea that she dressed with him in mind made him inordinately pleased.

Anthony left the two women to their own devices while he chatted with Daphne and Simon and Lord Debling, who he found he rather liked once he talked to him for more than five minutes.  Anthony ran into Lady Danbury and the elder Miss Sharma at the refreshment table, but quickly excused himself to deliver a lemonade to Penelope, who was finally alone by the wall as his sister danced with a suitor his mother had foisted on her.

~z~

Penelope gratefully accepted the lemonade Anthony brought her, as well as the peace and quiet Eloise’s brief absence provided.  She loved her best friend, but she could be a lot sometimes, especially when she was fixated on a subject.  Tonight it was women’s rights.  While Pen agreed with much of what Eloise said, she was also a realist who knew that true freedom did not exist for women like them outside of marriage or widowhood.  

It was that very desire for independence that had Pen seriously considering Anthony’s suit.  While she still thought the idea was a little preposterous, it was also surprisingly intriguing.  The tingle that traveled through her hand and up her arm every time they touched, as well as the the way her stomach flipped whenever he looked at her, made Penelope wonder about the more carnal aspects of marriage.  She herself had dubbed the viscount a Capital-R Rake, so Pen couldn’t help but be curious about his ability to make marriage very pleasant indeed.

Pen gracefully sipped her lemonade and chatted with Anthony until it was time for their dance.  As he proudly walked her to the center of the floor, Pen thought maybe she could be happy with him.

~z~

Anthony was relieved to finally have Penelope in his arms for a dance.  It was a victory hard-won and he basked in it as he led her around the floor.  He was unsurprised that she was a competent and graceful dancer, as Colin had often remarked upon it.  However, Anthony found himself in awe of just how good she felt in his arms.  He was tall and she was short, but the height difference did not seem to matter all that much as they moved to the music.  In fact, it was a boon that allowed him a rather spectacular view.  Her sarcastic, “My eyes are up here, darling,” when she caught him staring had him breaking out in laughter that echoed around the room.

As Penelope’s eyes sparkled with mirth, Anthony wondered how soon would be too soon to wed.

~z~

The next morning, Anthony was on his way to break his fast when he ran into Colin in the hallway.  His brother appeared unusually agitated, so Anthony stopped to inquire about his well-being.

“You cannot marry her, Ant,” Colin said in response.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s in love with me.”

~z~

Pen had been having a lovely morning despite the tense atmosphere at home as her mother and cousin increasingly butted heads over the management of the household.  However, her happy mood was shattered when Varly announced a grave-looking Anthony during their calling hour and he advised her that he was withdrawing his suit.  

He offered no explanation and she did not ask.  

It was only a matter of time anyway, she thought, before she ran to her room to cry.

~z~

Dearest Gentle Reader, 

I once published in this very paper that I would have to retire on the spot if Penelope Featherington managed to bag herself a Bridgerton, so I am relieved to report that the unlikely courtship between the illustrious viscount and the insipid wallflower has been dissolved. Neither family has been forthcoming with explanations for the sudden about-face, but, surely, we do not need one.  The success of the match between two people so far apart in station was questionable at best, so it is hardly news that the Bridgerton patriarch came to his senses before too much damage was done.  Or did he?  Perhaps the damage was done and Miss Featherington was found lacking, for it is unlikely a Rake of such status would be content with a woman whose best attribute is her sparkling personality.  Of course, one must wonder if that has been tarnished now, too.  Perhaps the Queen would have been better off betting on the younger Miss Sharma, who has proven herself to shine in every conceivable way since her arrival from India.  This Author would bet her fortune (which is a considerable sum) that Her Majesty is on the cusp of introducing her true diamond to her very own Prince Charming.  Do her a favor and try to feign surprise when Prince Frederich arrives, would you?  After last year’s debacle with the viscount’s sister, His Royal Highness is likely hesitant to throw his hat back into the ring. However, he should not distress.  For the fact that a Bridgerton is not involved this time will likely be the catalyst for his success.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

~z~

Her mother was furious over Lady Whistledown’s insinuation that Penelope was damaged goods, but there wasn’t much she could do about it besides berate Penelope for her foolishness in grasping for a Lord when a Mister was as high as she could expect to achieve.  It did not matter that she and Anthony had never been alone.  The fact that Penelope had been a regular at Bridgerton house for years unchaperoned was enough to set tongues wagging as to the chastity of their interactions. 

Penelope had been surprisingly heartsick over Anthony’s rejection and locked herself in her room as she tried to figure out what she had done to prompt his withdrawal.  When she could not fathom why he changed his mind, she penned the scathing column that would ruin her.  With Cousin Jack marrying Cressida in a month, her eviction from Featherington House was forthcoming anyway, so why shouldn’t she chuck it all and live her life on her terms? A broken courtship under suspicious circumstances provided the perfect out for Penelope to beg off to her Aunt Petunia’s, where she could live out the rest of her life with ease while her mother boarded with one of her sisters.  

Penelope tried not to concern herself with Anthony’s reputation in light of her column.  He would be fine thanks to his title and connections.  Maybe if he’d given her a reason for backing out of the courtship he sought in the first place, Pen would have held more apprehension about playing up his rakish past to suit her ends.  But it was increasingly clear to her that the only person who would look out for her was herself.  And once Prudence and Mr. Dankworth married next week under their special license, Penelope would be too gone to concern herself with how about how any Bridgerton was faring except Eloise.   Pen would miss her best friend, but if their friendship was a sacrifice she had to make to ensure her own long-term well-being then she would.  

~z~

Eloise slammed the letter onto his desk with a vehemence Anthony had never witnessed from his sister before as she announced bitterly that her friend was gone.

“Gone?  What do you mean?” Anthony asked.

“She moved to Cornwall right after her sister’s wedding,” Eloise snapped.  “Thanks to you , Pen cannot show her face in society.”  His sister pulled her hand back and began pacing.  “I told you this would end badly and I was right!  No one ever listens to me!”  His sister suddenly stopped pacing, sank into one of the wingback chairs in front of his desk, and asked dejectedly. “Why couldn’t you just leave her alone, brother?”

Anthony looked from his sister to the letter and back.  He reached to pick it up but paused to silently ask Eloise’s permission first.  When she nodded, he grasped it and brought it to him to read.

Dear Eloise,

By the time you receive this letter, I will be gone.  I am moving to Cornwall to live with my Aunt Petunia.  Please do not worry for me.  I am content with this outcome, for she has a robust library, a beautiful garden, and several cats who love to play.  What more does a spinster need? 

Thank you for being my best friend.  I would have been lost without you and hope that we’ll be able to meet again one day.  For now, I believe we should keep our distance.  While I have no doubt that your family will weather the storm of Anthony’s and my broken courtship with aplomb, I do not believe it to be in either of our best interests to fan the flames.  Even the hint of continued association with me will dim your prospects.  And, although I know you could care less about yourself, I cannot in good conscience tarnish Francesca and Hyacinth’s chances for an advantageous match.  (And neither could you and you know it.)

I was not in love with your brother, but I thought we had reached an accord that would have left us both content, so I was quite shocked when he dissolved our understanding without explanation.  If I did something wrong, please let him know I am sorry for any distress I caused.  I truly wish him all the best in his search for a wife.  Try to convince him to give Kathani Sharma a chance, would you?  They seem well-suited and her experience running the Sharma household will make her an excellent viscountess.  Do not let him stew in self-loathing over his failure in choosing me or rage against Whistledown for her column.  She only reported what we all knew to be true from the very first day he called on me: a match between us was a preposterous idea.

Speaking of preposterous ideas, please tell Colin that he was right.  He will know of what I speak.  Encourage him to continue traveling.  The wounds from Marina’s betrayal are still fresh and he needs the time to heal before he settles down.  I’d hate to see such a caring, jovial man reduced to a shell of himself over something in which he had no control.  

Kiss Greg and Hy for me.  Let Fran know I will think about her every time I hear a pianoforte, and tell Benedict not to let his insecurity get the best of him, yes?  Thank your mother for me, too, will you? 

I am strangely excited to begin my life anew.  When you have nothing left to lose, there is much to gain, is there not?

Love,

Penelope 

~z~

Anthony barged into Colin’s room without knocking with Penelope’s letter to Eloise crunched in his hand.  His brother, who’d been writing at his desk, jumped at his entrance.  Anthony slammed the letter down on top of the journal he was reading and pointed to it.  “She says you were right.  What were you right about, Colin?”

His brother read the passage he’d pointed to and then looked at him.  “I told her that what she felt for me was not real love.  It was just an infatuation stemming from the attention I showed her.”  Colin sighed and then continued in a pained voice, “That one day she’d meet someone and fall so hard and fast that she would be willing to risk ruin just to be near him.”

“If you were so sure what Penelope felt for you was puppy love, little brother, then why did you insinuate to me that it was more?”  Anthony ground out, barely containing his temper.

Colin stood, forcing Anthony to step back, and said he didn’t know.  He simply thought Anthony should know the truth so he could make an informed decision before moving forward.

Anthony wanted to strangle his brother for messing up his plans, but settled for picking up the letter and sharing a difficult life lesson instead.  “ I am not you and Penelope is not Marina.  Pen would never have accepted my suit if she was still in love with you, Colin. She respects me far more than Marina ever respected you.”

~z~

Cornwall was not so bad.  Aunt Pentunia was a lively companion despite her advanced age and her library was full of books Pen had never read.  She enjoyed taking walks in the lush garden and playing with the cats, two of whom recently had kittens.  Pen missed Eloise, but found herself strangely content in her solitude.  She wore whatever she wanted, ate whatever she was hungry for, and did whatever she wanted whenever she felt like doing it.  Without her mother and sisters to constantly criticize her, Pen was flourishing.  

Since Pen could not write about society without being in society, she retired Lady Whistledown upon her departure.  She had left two advance issues with Gen before leaving, though, so their disappearances did not completely coincide. Pen was hopeful that the two final articles, which told a myriad of secrets she’d kept since the advent of her column, was enough to both separate her from the paper and ensure the permanency of her exit from society.  

Upon reflection, Pen realized that Anthony had made the right decision in breaking things off when he did.  Whistledown would always have been hanging between them, poised to destroy whatever relationship they managed to build once the truth of her identity came out.  Logically, Penelope knew it was better this way.  She simply wished her heart would agree with her head.

~z~

“Are you certain about this, son?” Anthony’s mother asked as he packed up his paperwork to take along on the ride to Cornwall.  “Perhaps Penelope was correct in her assessment that there may be someone else out there for you who is more well-suited.”

Anthony sighed and slammed his ledger on his desk, startling her.  “Who?  Kate Sharma?”

His mother had the decency to avert her eyes at his question, so he continued, “Why are you so set on that woman as a match for me when you know my wishes?”

This time Violet sighed.  Then she approached him until she was across the desk.  His mother put her hands on it and gave him a hard look.  “Because of the looks between you, son.  I am not blind.  There is something there that could be beautiful if you simply allow yourself to feel it.”

Anthony white-knuckled the handle of his traveling case to keep his temper in check.  “Perhaps. But the woman is also controlling, closed-off, and volatile.  She guards her sister like a sentry, keeps secrets, and relishes a challenge.  Who does that remind you of?”

When his mother started opening and closing her mouth like a guppy, he knew she finally understood his reluctance to entangle himself with Lady Danbury’s charge, but he spelled it out for her anyway.  “No good can come of an attachment between us.  I do not wish to marry someone exactly like me, for that has disaster written all over it.  You would see that, too, Mother, if you took off your blinders long enough to look.”

~z~

Penelope was walking home from the nearby market when she stopped mid-stride at the sight of a Bridgerton carriage in the drive.  “Damn and blast,” she muttered to herself as she rushed toward the front door only to find Anthony waiting on the covered porch of Aunt Petunia’s cottage. 

Penelope stopped at the top step and white-knuckled the basket she was carrying.  “I do not wish to speak to you,” she declared in the hardest voice she could muster on the verge of tears.  “Please leave.”

But Anthony ignored her plea and asked, “Where is your chaperone?” in a hard voice of his own, as if he was barely concealing anger.

“Spinsters do not need chaperones,” Penelope replied calmly as she stepped around him to walk to the front door.

Before she was able to pass him, Anthony’s hand shot out and grasped her bicep just under the capped sleeve of her simple muslin day dress.  “You are not a spinster,” he ground out.

Pen couldn’t help it.  She snorted.  “Oh, yes, I am.  You made sure of it.”  When pain flickered across his face, she used his distraction as an opportunity to pull her arm free and rush to the door.  Pen opened it and stepped through before turning back around to address her would-have-been husband and said, ”Go home, Lord Bridgerton.  I do not need or want you here,” before slamming the door in his face.

~z~

Pen’s satisfaction over her dismissal of Eloise’s brother (which is how she started thinking of him again in order to cope with his betrayal), was short-lived when he opened the door she’d slammed and strode over the threshold as if he owned the house.  

“Where is your staff?” Anthony barked once he himself slammed the door behind him.

“This is neither London nor Aubrey Hall, my Lord.  We do not have full-time staff,” Pen replied.  “And keep your voice down.  My aunt is napping.”

Pen smirked when Anthony reeled back in surprise at her statement, his privilege on display through his awe, as such a living situation was completely foreign to him.  Pen stepped around him once again and opened the door.  “Now, I believe I asked you to leave.”

“No,” he responded resolutely.

“No?” Pen replied.

“I do not wish to leave.  And you have no one to throw me out.  So, no,” Anthony stated haughtily as he crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet.

This time it was Pen who reeled back in surprise.  She knew he could be stubborn, but did not realize he would resort to this!  “A gentleman would heed my request.  Are you not one?”

He shrugged.  “Sometimes.”

Pen huffed and closed the door.  Crossing her arms herself, she commanded, “Fine.  Say whatever you came to say.”

~z~

Anthony relaxed his stance and uncrossed his arms.  “I came to apologize.  I was wrong.  I am sorry.”

Pen grew more rigid with each word he spoke, though.  “Apology accepted,” she responded.  Then she tilted her head toward the door.  “You may go.”

“It does not sound like it.” Anthony was frustrated with himself for being unable to keep a hint of petulance out of his voice.

“Honestly, my lord, what did you expect?” Pen asked.  “Did you think that you would come in here, apologize, and everything would go back to the way it was?”

“Well, yes,” Anthony admitted.

She rolled her eyes at his response before saying, “I appreciate the apology, but surely you know that we cannot go back?  First of all, I have no home to go back to now that Cressida has married my cousin.  Second, I have no desire to leave Cornwall.  So the best thing you can do for both of us is go back to London and leave me in peace.”

“Is that truly what you wish?”

“Yes.”

~z~

“Fine.  I will go.  But only under one condition,” Anthony stated.  

Pen scoffed at his audacity.  “I hardly think you are in a position to place conditions on me when you broke my heart by dissolving our courtship without an explanation.”

“If I give you an explanation, will you agree to my condition?”

“What is it?”

Anthony shook his head indicating he would not tell her.

“Only a fool would agree to that bargain.  And I am not a fool, my lord.”

“Anthony.”

“What?”

“We agreed you would call me Anthony.”

“That was then, my lord, and this is now.”

~z~

“You are not making this easy on me, Pen.”

“Why should I?  And it is Miss Featherington to you.” Penelope scolded.  

“No.”

“No?”

“You are Pen.  You will always be Pen to me. As you said, we cannot go back.”

“Calling each other by our given names implies a familiarity that no longer exists, Lord Bridgerton.  If familiarity ever did exist, you would have been honest with me and we would have talked about whatever caused you to dissolve our courtship before you made a decision that affected us both.”

~z~

“I said I was sorry for that.”

“Prove you are sorry by explaining and then leaving without conditions.”

He took a deep breath.  “Fine.  I broke off our courtship because Colin told me you were in love with him.”

Penelope’s eyes widened, but she remained composed.  “I never would have accepted your suit if I still had feelings for your brother. Surely you know that?”

“I know that now.  I am sorry I did not realize it then.”

“Me, too.”

~z~

“Thank you for the apology and the explanation.  They help.”

“I suppose I should take my leave then?”

“Please.  But in the spirit of honesty, there is something I must tell you before you go.”

~z~

Penelope watched from the window as Anthony’s carriage rolled down the drive.  

He hurt her and she hurt him back.

They were even.

But, somehow, that didn’t make her feel better.

~z~

Penelope was Whistledown.  

Anthony couldn’t believe it.  

She’d been lying to him from the beginning.

But he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps that was the real reason she’d worked so hard to dissuade him from courting her? 

Anthony did not  know much about Whistledown, but he knew the Queen was obsessed with unearthing her identity and that anyone in her sphere was likely to be collateral damage when it happened.

Pen clearly did not want the Bridgerton family to be caught in the crossfire.

What did that mean? 

~z~

“You made your bed, now you must lie in it, ” Pen muttered as she turned down the sheets later that night.  Until today, there had been a small sliver of hope that she would be able to return to London someday and get back the life she’d given up.  But, Anthony’s visit made it abundantly clear that no such thing was going to happen.  She was grateful to have an explanation for why he left her, but it was a cold comfort in the here and now. Just like the empty bed she was laying in.

~z~

Pen awoke with a start when a hand clasped over her mouth.  She wanted to scream, but the large, male hand made it impossible.

“Don’t scream,” he whisper-shouted..  

“Anthony?” Pen asked, though it came out as a mumble.

“Yes.  Promise me you will not scream and I will remove my hand.”

Pen nodded since she was unable to speak and he did as he promised.  She sat up, pulling the duvet with her and clasped it tightly over her chest.  “What are you doing here?” she whispered furiously.  

Anthony stood back up to his full height.  Although it was dark, she could see that he was only in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves.  He began loosening his cravat as he announced, “It occurred to me in the carriage that you are Lady Whistledown.”

Pen clutched the coverlet tighter as she watched him, eyes glued to the neck he exposed as he unwound the knots.  “Yes. I admitted as much when you were here,” she replied.

Anthony slid the loosened piece of fabric off his neck, watching Pen watch him.  “So, that means that you , Penelope Featherington, wrote everything that was published in the column.”

Pen huffed and pulled her eyes from his bare neck to his face.  “That is how it works, yes.”

He dropped the fabric onto the floor of her bedroom. “So, if that is the case, then I am correct in surmising that you , Penelope , labeled me a,” Anthony put his index finger to his chin and tapped as he pretended to think, “What was that again?”  

“Capital-R rake,” Pen muttered.

He pulled his index finger from his chin, snapped it against his thumb, and pointed it at her.  “Yes!  That’s it.”

“So? What of it?”

Anthony began pacing, undoing his waistcoat buttons one-by-one as he went,  “A rake,” he paused to look at her and said, “lower case,” with a wink before continuing his speech, unbuttoning and pacing, “… is youthful and immature, he flaunts his exploits, behaves with the upmost idiocy, and thinks himself dangerous to women.”

Pen gasped at his words, which were taken straight from her column, and widened her eyes as he shucked the garment and tossed it to the floor along with his cravat.  “But a Rake,” Anthony started before smirking and pointing at himself, “upper-case,” he added with a cluck of his tongue, “knows he is dangerous to women.  He doesn’t flaunt his exploits because he doesn’t need to.”

Anthony loosened the top buttons of his shirt so that a fraction of his chest was showing, which Pen was fairly certain made her eyes fully bug out. In response, Anthony chuckled throatily and continued with,  “He knows he will be whispered about by men and women alike and, in fact, he’d rather they didn’t whisper about him at all.”  He paused once again to whisper a heartfelt, “ True ,” before the viscount re-engaged in his recitation, uncuffing his sleeves and rolling them up as he went, “He knows who he is and what he has done; to him, further recountings are redundant.”  

When he was done, Anthony sat at the foot of her bed.  He lifted one leg up onto the mattress and angled his body so that he was facing her.  Anthony leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee with his chin in his hand, and looked her dead in the eyes.  “I know of at least five other men of the Ton you could have used for that column and you chose me.  Why ?”

“I  …” Pen sputtered, fighting to come up with a reason when she, quite honestly, had none.

“Do you want to know what I think?”  Anthony asked in a tone of voice that indicated he didn’t care if she wanted to know because he was going to tell her anyway.

Pen bit her cheek and remained silent, forcing herself not to engage in his game. 

“I think you chose me because you secretly want me.”

Pen scoffed and sat up straighter.  She let go of her coverlet to slam one hand on the bed beside her.  “I did not!  You have gone completely around the bend, Anthony!”

“Have I?” 

“ Most certainly .”

He inched closer to her and leaned so far forward that he had to prop himself up on the bed with his other hand.  “You mean to tell me that you have never wondered about the whispers?  Thought about whether they were true?  If it was really possible for these fingers,” Anthony lifted his chin off of his hand and wiggled his digits, “to coax that much pleasure from your body.”

Pen worked her throat.  “N- no.  O- of course not.”

He clucked his tongue again and shook his head as those very same fingers drifted down to rest on her covered kneecap.  “Now, now, Pen,” Anthony scolded.  “I thought we were being honest.”

Pen’s breath hitched at the feel of his hand on her body, even at such an unremarkable place.  “We are.  And I do not wonder any of those things,” she denied.  “I chose you because Eloise told me that you’d told the Duke and Duchess of your intention to marry this season.”  Pen shrugged, “I was simply hedging my bets.”

His fingers released her kneecap and trailed down her leg to her ankle, where they rested a moment before slowly and deliberately, but gently, grasping it.  “Truly?” Anthony asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

Anthony squeezed her ankle and then let his fingers travel back up her leg to rest on her lower thigh.  Pen shivered from the tingle of pleasure that shot through her leg and up into her core.  Anthony snickered.  “Who are you trying to convince with that excuse? Me? Or yourself?”

~z~

Anthony waited with baited breath as Pen tried to think of a response to his question and failed.  He had been part of the way home when the realization that Penelope was Whistledown truly hit him.  He was far from a Whistledown devotee, but made it a point to be informed when it came to any columns that mentioned him or his family.  As Anthony recounted her writings involving the Bridgertons, he’d latched onto the fact that Penelope had been the one to expose Berbrooke, champion Daphne’s marriage to Simon, and stop Colin from eloping.  Even though she’d had an ulterior motive for halting his brother’s elopement at the time, Anthony couldn’t help but be grateful for her intervention, even though it came at a cost to her own family.

Once he’d catalogued the most significant events, Anthony thought back to the tidbits she’d written about him, which were mostly few and far between.  The Capital-R rake column was the first time she’d singled him out, even more so than she’d ever done with Colin.  

He could take her explanation at face value since it was a likely scenario, but he would bet his fortune that there was more behind her words than just a desire to sell pamphlets. Anthony hadn’t exactly been discreet when it came to his amorous adventures, so it was highly possible that she’d heard about the whispers and wondered just how true the words were.  

When he arrived in Cornwall, he expected Penelope to be angry, but had not anticipated that she would dismiss him so coldly.  He knew logically that he should respect her wishes and leave her in peace, but Anthony just couldn’t do it.  She was far too passionate of a woman to live her life as a spinster and it was up to him to awaken her to that fact.

If the quivering of her thigh beneath his hand, her white-knuckle grip on the coverlet, and her rapid breathing didn’t clue him in to her passionate nature, her angry growl as she pulled her leg from his grasp, kicked off the covers, and bounded from the bed would have.  Penelope was glaring daggers at him, but Anthony only smiled back at her because it meant he was correct.

~z~

“You arrogant, entitled jackass!  My reasons for writing the column are mine. I do not owe you an explanation,” Pen spat at Anthony’s amused form.  “Now, please leave!” 

When Pen pointed to the closed door with her index finger, Anthony got up.  But instead of collecting his discarded clothing and leaving her in peace, he rounded the bed and came to a stop in front of her.

Anthony just stood there and shook his head before announcing, “If you want me to leave, you’ll have to throw me out.”

Pen growled and closed the scant distance between them, put her hands on his chest, and pushed as hard as she could.  “Get out!” she commanded, even though her actions had no effect on his body, which seemed to be as immovable as a wall.

The infuriating man smirked at her futile attempt to get rid of him before bringing his hands up to clasp her biceps.  He used his grip to pull her into his body, trapping her hands between them, and then leaned down to whisper a throaty, “No,” prior to capturing her lips in a kiss.

As Anthony’s lips and tongue against hers made her nearly forget her name, Pen thought maybe there was a kernel of truth to his theory.

~z~

“ Good God ,” Anthony gasped when he broke his kiss with Penelope to give them both a chance to breathe.  He’d intended to kiss her to teach her a lesson about lying to herself, but he was the one who learned one instead: he wanted her .  

Anthony dove back in for a second kiss before Penelope could come to her senses and push him away.  Any leftover rigidity melted away and her body became pliant as his lips sensually assaulted hers, so Anthony took advantage of it and wrapped one arm around her back and tangled the other in her hair, which was loose and mussed from sleep.  His own breathing quickened as he devoured her and Anthony vowed then and there that Penelope Featherington would be his wife one way or another.

~z~

When Anthony pushed his hips into hers as they kissed, Penelope moaned involuntarily and responded in kind, which made him growl low in his throat prior to breaking their kiss and pulling back.  

They stood there, silently, staring at each other and panting for a few seconds before Anthony hastened to collect his cravat and waistcoat and move to the door.  “I shall see you tomorrow, Pen.”

He unlocked the door, opened it, and walked out leaving her wondering what the bloody hell just happened.

~z~

The first thing Anthony did when he got to the room at the inn he’d reserved when he decided to come to Cornwall was relieve the pressure his nocturnal visit to Penelope had built.  

After that, he wrote three letters.  One to the Archbishop to request a special license, one to his family letting them know that he would be staying in Cornwall indefinitely and advising that Benedict would need to take over day-to-day management of the estate in his absence, and one to his future viscountess clarifying that recounting the things that made him dangerous to women was only redundant under certain circumstances.

~z~

Dearest Penelope,

I hope that you followed my instructions and waited until you were alone in your room to open this letter because, trust me, you do not wish to be in company when you read my words.  You see, there is one thing you got wrong in the column you wrote about me.  A Rake finds recounting his deeds redundant only when it pertains to specific audiences.  I feel no need to detail my exploits to impress gentlemen at my club, however, I am more than happy to do so to impress a woman I wish to woo.  So, in that spirit, I would love to share with you all of the ways I can bring you pleasure with just my fingers. First, there is  …

As Penelope read Anthony’s words, she could feel a blush forming on her cheeks and quickly excused herself from Aunt Petunia’s presence.  Perhaps Anthony was serious when he advised her to read the letter alone.  

~z~

The next morning when Anthony came to call, he was surprised to find that Penelope had written a response to his letter.  After visiting with her and her aunt for a full hour, he retreated to his room to read it.

Anthony,

Are you alone? I certainly hope so, for if this letter has nearly half the effect on you that yours did on me, it will be fortunate indeed to find yourself in a place where you can deal with the effects.  I stand corrected when it comes to a Rake and am happy to do so if I will receive more letters like the one you wrote me yesterday.  With that in mind, I was hoping you would be willing to clarify a few things for me when it comes to the examples you provided?  I find I am most curious about whether one could use one’s own fingers to achieve the same result? 

Anthony had nearly choked on his tea when he read her question, but he found he was more than happy to answer it.

~z~

“ An-to-nee ,” Penelope gasped.  “You must go.”

He pulled his lips away from her neck reluctantly and looked at her with his puppy dog eyes.  “Must I?”

“You have been here for hours.  Surely you have matters you must attend to.”

“I really do not,” he replied with a wide smile.  “Benedict and Colin have the estate well in hand.”

Pen stopped her new fiancé before he could dive back down to kiss her some more.  “Be that as it may, you cannot stay here all day.  I have chores to do before Aunt Petunia and I go to the assembly tonight.”

“So let me help.”

~z~

He hadn’t been lying to Penelope when he told her that his brothers had the estate well in hand.  They did.  They just were not happy about it.  As Anthony’s time in Cornwall drew on, their letters became more frantic, with constant inquiries as to when he planned to return because Benedict wanted to focus on his art full-time and Colin was itching to resume his travels.  Every time they asked, though, Anthony made excuses to prolong his absence because, honestly, he was in no hurry to return.

Although Penelope had taken considerable effort to woo back to his side over the last six weeks, Anthony found he was enjoying his abundance of free time too much to throw it away any time soon.

Perhaps he should feel guilty for foisting his responsibilities onto his brothers, but, as he twirled Penelope around the assembly’s dance floor, Anthony found he couldn’t seem to care.

~z~

“Hello, husband,” Penelope greeted when Anthony entered their room for the first time.

He smiled, wide and free, and greeted her in return.

Pen fiddled with the tie of her dressing gown.  “Are you certain you want to stay here tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked as he shed his coat and laid it over the settee at the foot of her bed.

“Aunt Petunia is just down the hall.”

He chuckled.  “And if we were in London, my entire family would be just down the hall.”

Pen smiled.  “True enough, I suppose.”

In a repeat of the night he first arrived in Cornwall, Anthony loosened and slid off his cravat, removed his waistcoat, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt.  As he rolled up his sleeves and closed the distance between them, he asked, “Are you afraid you’ll wake her up with your screaming?”

Unlike that night, though, Pen, bolstered by the confidence their letter exchange had given her, didn’t shy away from his innuendo.  “No, I’m afraid you’ll wake her up with yours,” Pen replied as she untied the sash of her dressing gown and dropped it, revealing her naked body beneath.

~z~

Dearest Gentle Reader,

There is nothing I despise more than a gentleman who thinks it amusing to give a lady a condescending pat on the hand as he murmurs, “It is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.” And indeed, because I feel one should always support one’s words with one’s actions, I endeavor to keep my opinions and decisions steadfast and true. Which is why, Gentle Reader, when I wrote my previous column, I truly intended it to be my last. 

However, I have found retirement to be as dull as the new Lady Featherington’s soirées.  I never thought I would find myself longing for the Dowager Lady Featherington’s tasteless fetes.  But given a choice between the two, I find that I would much rather have tasteless drama than tasteful tedium.  Wouldn’t you? 

In other news, it seems that while I was otherwise occupied, Viscount Bridgerton traded in his Rake card for a marriage certificate.  While one cannot help but wonder what he sees in Penelope Featherington, their mutually doting behavior at events makes it impossible to deny that the two fell in love during their extended stay in the country.  This Author has it on good authority that Lord Bridgerton would have preferred to stay in Cornwall, but his brothers threatened to tie him up and drag him back to London themselves if he did not return on his own.  Apparently, “the spares” were rather put out by holding the responsibility for the estate in their hands for so long and were eager to resume their normal, unencumbered lives.  (Lord Bridgerton’s father passed away twelve years ago; so, by this Author’s count, the gentlemen would have another ten years and six months helming the ship before they could legitimately mutiny over the inconvenience of it all. But, I digress...)

Speaking of resuming their unencumbered lives, Colin Bridgerton boarded a ship to France not twenty-four hours after his brother’s return while Benedict Bridgerton has not been seen in polite society since.  (Perhaps the latter grew weary of running from matchmaking mamas and their desperate debutantes.)

In other news, it seems Miss Kathani Sharma was not as opposed to marriage as she claimed, given her hasty one to Mr. Michael Stirling, heir-apparent to the Kilmartin earldom.  It seems they had far more in common than a mutual love of India, if the rumors are to be believed.

With the loss of both Mr. Stirling and Lord Bridgerton to the shackles of marriage right on the heels of the Duke of Hastings last season, it appears that Rakes (the upper-case, not the lower), are quickly becoming an endangered species, much like Lord Debling’s beloved Great Auk.  With only two, maybe three left in the wild, this Author encourages the ladies of the Ton to don their hunting gear.  For if the broad smiles and satisfied glows that constantly grace the wives of the three fallen ones are to be believed, reformed Rakes do indeed make the best husbands.  

Yours truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

~z~

“Satisfied glow, eh?” Anthony chuckled as he waved the Whistledown pamphlet in front of his wife’s face.

“I  … had  … to think  … of something  … that  … would not  … AAAHHH!  … indicate  … first-hand knowledge,” Pen replied, gasping, as his free hand, currently buried between her thighs, coaxed her toward her first climax of the night.

Anthony snickered and tossed the column aside.  He planted his now-free hand on the mattress and used it to shift his body closer to his wife’s so that he could suckle on her peaked nipple.  This caused Pen to arch her back and dig her talons into the back of his head.  “Oh, God!” she exclaimed.

Anthony released her breast long enough to say, “I do so love it when you call me that,” before shifting his attention to the other one.  

“An-tonee,” Pen ground out warningly through clenched teeth as her hips undulated against his hand, striving for the release she craved.  Anthony snickered before tweaking his wrist to hit her just right while biting down on her breast.

Pen screamed and her body tensed up when her orgasm hit her, but Anthony didn’t let up on his ministrations.  Instead of allowing her to ride out her tremors, he tweaked her clit with his thumb and started the process over again.  

In response, Pen yanked his hand away and pushed him onto the bed on his back.  Anthony groaned as she sat up, straddled him, and impaled herself on his cock.  “God, I love you,” he ground out as his wife rode him like a stallion.

She smiled wickedly (her Lady Whistledown smile, he liked to call it) and yanked him up for a biting, passionate kiss.  “I love you, too, darling,” Pen whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and slammed home so hard that he saw stars.

Anthony fell backward, pulling his wife with him. As their heartbeats slowed, he bussed her temple with a kiss and thanked the Lord that his brother broke her heart that night.    Otherwise, he wouldn’t be in heaven right now.

~THE END~