The Bridgertons Happily Ever After (13 page)

“What,” Hyacinth demanded, hands on hips, “are the two of you talking about?”

Eloise lifted her chin and looked down her nose at her. “You’re far too young to understand.”

And she and Penelope practically collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“They’ve gone mad, Mother,” Hyacinth announced.

Violet gazed lovingly at her daughter and daughter-in-law, both of whom had reached the unfashionable age of twenty-eight before becoming brides. “Leave them alone, Hyacinth,” she said, steering her toward the waiting carriage. “They’ll be along shortly.” And then she added, almost as an afterthought: “You’re too young to understand.”

After the ceremony, after the reception, and after Colin was able to assure himself once and for all that Sir Phillip Crane would indeed make an acceptable husband to his sister, he managed to find a quiet corner into which he could yank his wife and speak with her privately.

“Does she suspect?” he asked, grinning.

“You’re terrible,” Penelope replied. “It’s her
wedding
.”

Which was not one of the two customary answers to a yes-or-no question. Colin resisted the urge to let out an impatient breath, and instead offered a rather smooth and urbane “By this you mean . . . ?”

Penelope stared at him for a full ten seconds, and then she muttered, “I don’t know what Eloise was talking about. Men are
abysmally
simple creatures.”

“Well . . .
yes
,” Colin agreed, since it had long been obvious to him that the female mind was an utter and complete mystery. “But what has that got to do with anything?”

Penelope glanced over both shoulders before dropping her voice to a harsh whisper. “Why would she even be thinking about Whistledown at a time like this?”

She had a point there, loath as Colin was to admit it. In his mind, this had all played out with Eloise somehow being aware that she was the only person who didn’t know the secret of Lady Whistledown’s identity.

Which was ridiculous to be sure, but still, a satisfying daydream.

“Hmmmm,” he said.

Penelope looked at him suspiciously. “What are you thinking?”

“Are you certain we cannot tell her on her wedding day?”

“Colin . . .”

“Because if we
don’t
, she’s sure to find out from
some
one, and it doesn’t seem fair that we not be present to see her face.”

“Colin,
no
.”

“After all you’ve been through, wouldn’t you say you deserve to see her reaction?”

“No,” Penelope said slowly. “No. No, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, you sell yourself too cheaply, my darling,” he said, smiling benevolently at her. “And besides that, think of Eloise.”

“I fail to see what else it is I have been doing all morning.”

He shook his head. “She would be devastated. Hearing the awful truth from a complete stranger.”

“It’s not awful,” Penelope shot back, “and how do you know it would be a stranger?”

“We’ve sworn my entire family to secrecy. Who else does she know out in this godforsaken county?”

“I rather like Gloucestershire,” Penelope said, her teeth now charmingly clenched. “I find it delightful.”

“Yes,” he said equably, taking in her furrowed brow, pinched mouth, and narrowed eyes. “You look delighted.”

“Weren’t you the one who insisted we keep her in the dark for as long as humanly possible?”

“
Humanly possible
being the phrase of note,” Colin replied. “
This
human”—he gestured rather unnecessarily to himself—“finding it quite impossible to maintain his silence.”

“I can’t believe you’ve changed your mind.”

He shrugged. “Isn’t it a man’s prerogative?”

At that her lips parted, and Colin found himself wishing he’d found a corner as private as it was quiet, because she was practically begging to be kissed, whether she knew it or not.

But he was a patient man, and they did still have that comfortable room reserved at the inn, and there was still much mischief to be made right here at the wedding. “Oh, Penelope,” he said huskily, leaning in more than was proper, even with one’s wife, “don’t you want to have some fun?”

She flushed scarlet. “Not
here
.”

He laughed aloud at that.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” she muttered.

“Neither was I, as a matter of fact,” he returned, completely unable to keep the humor off his face, “but I
am
pleased that it comes to mind so readily.” He pretended to glance about the room. “When do you think it would be polite to leave?”

“Definitely not yet.”

He pretended to ponder. “Mmmm, yes, you’re probably correct at that. Pity. But”—at that he pretended to brighten—“it does leave us time to make mischief.”

Again, she was speechless. He liked that. “Shall we?” he murmured.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“We need to work on this,” he said, giving his head a shake. “I’m not sure you fully understand the mechanics of a yes-or-no question.”

“I think you should sit down,” she said, her eyes now taking on that glint of cautious exhaustion usually reserved for small children.

Or adult fools.

“And then,” she continued, “I think you should remain in your seat.”

“Indefinitely?”

“
Yes
.”

Just to torture her, he sat. And then—

“
Nooooo
, I think I’d rather make mischief.”

Back to his feet he was, and striding off to find Eloise before Penelope could even attempt to lunge for him.

“Colin,
don’t
!” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the reception room. She managed to yell—of course—at the precise moment when every other wedding guest paused to take a breath.

A roomful of Bridgertons. What were the odds?

Penelope jammed a smile on her face as she watched two dozen heads swivel in her direction. “Nothing about it,” she said, her voice coming out strangled and chirpy. “So sorry to disturb.”

And apparently Colin’s family was well used to his embarking on something requiring the rejoinder “Colin, don’t!” because they all resumed their conversations with barely another glance in her direction.

Except Hyacinth.

“Oh, blast,” Penelope muttered under her breath, and she raced forward.

But Hyacinth was quick. “What’s going on?” she asked, falling into stride beside Penelope with remarkable agility.

“Nothing,” Penelope replied, because the last thing she wanted was Hyacinth adding to the disaster.

“He’s going to tell her, isn’t he?” Hyacinth persisted, let out an “
Euf
” and an “Excuse me,” when she pushed past one of her brothers.

“No,” Penelope said firmly, darting around Daphne’s children, “he’s not.”

“He
is
.”

Penelope actually stopped for a moment and turned. “Do any of you ever listen to anyone?”

“Not me,” Hyacinth said cheerfully.

Penelope shook her head and moved forward, Hyacinth hot on her heels. When she reached Colin, he was standing next to the newlyweds and had his arms linked through Eloise’s and was smiling down at her as if he had never once considered:

a.Teaching her to swim by tossing her in a lake.

b.Cutting off three inches of her hair while she slept.

or

c.Tying her to a tree so that she did not follow him to a local public inn.

Which of course he had, all three of them, and two he’d actually done. (Even Colin wouldn’t have dared something so permanent as a shearing.)

“Eloise,” Penelope said, somewhat breathless from trying to shake off Hyacinth.

“Penelope.” But Eloise’s voice sounded curious. Which did not surprise Penelope; Eloise was no fool, and she was well aware that her brother’s normal modes of behavior did not include beatific smiles in her direction.

“Eloise,” Hyacinth said, for no reason Penelope could deduce.

“Hyacinth.”

Penelope turned to her husband. “Colin.”

He looked amused. “Penelope. Hyacinth.”

Hyacinth grinned. “Colin.” And then: “Sir Phillip.”

“Ladies.” Sir Phillip, it seemed, favored brevity.

“Stop!” Eloise burst out. “What is going on?”

“A recitation of our Christian names, apparently,” Hyacinth said.

“Penelope has something to say to you,” Colin said.

“I don’t.”

“She does.”

“I
do
,” Penelope said, thinking quickly. She rushed forward, taking Eloise’s hands in her own. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

“That’s what you needed to say?” Eloise asked.

“Yes.”

“
No
.”

And from Hyacinth: “I am enjoying myself immensely.”

“Er, it’s very kind of you to say so,” Sir Phillip said, looking a bit perplexed at her sudden need to compliment the host. Penelope closed her eyes for a brief moment and let out a weary sigh; she was going to need to take the poor man aside and instruct him on the finer points of marrying into the Bridgerton family.

And because she did know her new relations so well, and she knew that there was no way she was going to avoid revealing her secret, she turned to Eloise and said, “Might I have a moment alone?”

“With me?”

It was enough to make Penelope wish to strangle someone. Anyone. “Yes,” she said patiently, “with you.”

“And me,” Colin put in.

“And me,” Hyacinth added.

“
Not
you,” Penelope said, not bothering to look at her.

“But still me,” Colin added, looping his free arm through Penelope’s.

“Can this wait?” Sir Phillip asked politely. “This is her wedding day, and I expect that she does not wish to miss it.”

“I know,” Penelope said wearily. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Eloise said, breaking free of Colin’s grasp and turning to her new husband. She murmured a few words to him that Penelope could not hear, then said, “There is a small salon just through that door. Shall we?”

She led the way, which suited Penelope because it gave her time to say to Colin, “You will say nothing.”

He surprised her by nodding, and then, maintaining his silence, he held open the door for her as she entered the room behind Eloise.

“This won’t take long,” Penelope said apologetically. “At least, I hope it won’t.”

Eloise said nothing, just looked at her with an expression that was, Penelope had just enough presence of mind to notice, uncharacteristically serene.

Marriage must agree with her, Penelope thought, because the Eloise
she
knew would have been chomping at the bit at such a moment. A big secret, a mystery to be revealed—Eloise loved that sort of thing.

But she was just standing there, calmly waiting, a light smile touching her features. Penelope looked to Colin in confusion, but he was apparently taking her instructions to heart, and his mouth was clamped firmly shut.

“Eloise,” Penelope began.

Eloise smiled. A bit. Just at the corners, as if she wanted to smile more. “Yes?”

Penelope cleared her throat. “Eloise,” she said again, “there is something I must tell you.”

“Really?”

Penelope’s eyes narrowed. Surely the moment did not call for sarcasm. She took a breath, tamping down the urge to fire off an equally dry rejoinder, and said, “I did not wish to tell you on your wedding day”—at this she
speared
her husband with a glare—“but it seems I have no choice.”

Eloise blinked a few times, but other than that, her placid demeanor did not change.

“I can think of no other way to say it,” Penelope plodded on, feeling positively sick, “but while you were gone . . . That is to say, the night you left, as a matter of fact . . .”

Eloise leaned forward. The movement was slight, but Penelope caught it, and for a moment she thought— Well, she didn’t think anything clearly, certainly nothing that she could have expressed in a proper sentence. But she did get a feeling of unease—a different sort of unease than the one she was already feeling. It was a suspicious sort of unease, and—

“I am Whistledown,” she blurted out, because if she waited any longer she thought her brain might explode.

And Eloise said, “I know.”

Penelope sat down on the nearest solid object, which happened to be a table. “You know.”

Eloise shrugged. “I know.”

“How?”

“Hyacinth told me.”

“
What?
” This from Colin, looking fit to be tied. Or perhaps more accurately, fit to tie Hyacinth.

“I’m sure she’s at the door,” Eloise murmured, with a nod. “In case you want to—”

But Colin was one step ahead of her, wrenching open the door to the small salon. Sure enough, Hyacinth tumbled in.

“Hyacinth!” Penelope said disapprovingly.

“Oh, please,” Hyacinth retorted, smoothing her skirts. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t eavesdrop, did you? You know me better than that.”

“I’m going to wring your neck,” Colin ground out. “We had an agreement.”

Hyacinth shrugged. “I don’t really need twenty pounds, as it happens.”

“I already
gave
you ten.”

“I know,” Hyacinth said with a cheerful smile.

“Hyacinth!” Eloise exclaimed.

“Which isn’t to say,” Hyacinth continued modestly, “that I don’t
want
the other ten.”

“She told me last night,” Eloise explained, her eyes narrowing dangerously, “but only after informing me that she knew who Lady Whistledown was, and in fact the whole of society knew, but that the knowledge would cost me twenty-
five
pounds.”

“Did it not occur to you,” Penelope asked, “that if the whole of society knew, that you could simply have asked someone else?”

“The whole of society wasn’t in my bedchamber at two in the morning,” Eloise snapped.

“I am thinking of buying a hat,” Hyacinth mused. “Or maybe a pony.”

Eloise shot her a nasty look, then turned to Penelope. “Are you really Whistledown?”

“I am,” Penelope admitted. “Or rather—” She looked over at Colin, not exactly certain why she was doing so except that she loved him so much, and he knew her so well, and when he saw her helpless little wobbly smile, he would smile in return, no matter how irate he was with Hyacinth.