“Oh.” Penelope coughed awkwardly. “Is he going to be all right?”
“Bit of swelling around the throat,” Colin said, unconcerned. “I expect he’s improved by now.” He caught her glancing down at his hands and let out a chuckle. “Oh, it wasn’t me,” he said, taking her arm to lead her down the hall. “I just watched.”
She grimaced. “I think that might be worse.”
“Quite possibly,” he said with great cheer. “But it all turned out well in the end. I quite like the fellow now, and I rather—Ah, Mother, there you are.”
And sure enough, Violet Bridgerton was bustling down the hall. “You’re late,” she said, even though Colin was fairly certain they were not. He bent down to kiss her proffered cheek, then stepped to the side as his mother came forward to take both of Penelope’s hands in hers. “My dear, we need you in back. You are the matron of honor, after all.”
Colin had a sudden vision of the scene—a gaggle of chatty females, all talking over one another about minutiae he couldn’t begin to care about, much less understand. They told each other everything, and—
He turned sharply. “Don’t,” he warned, “say a word.”
“I beg your pardon.” Penelope let out a little huff of righteous indignation. “I’m the one who said we couldn’t tell her on her wedding day.”
“I was talking to my mother,” he said.
Violet shook her head. “Eloise is going to kill us.”
“She nearly killed us already, running off like an idiot,” Colin said, with uncharacteristic shortness of temper. “I’ve already instructed the others to keep their mouths shut.”
“Even Hyacinth?” Penelope asked doubtfully.
“Especially Hyacinth.”
“Did you bribe her?” Violet asked. “Because it won’t work unless you bribe her.”
“Good Lord,” Colin muttered. “One would think I’d joined this family yesterday. Of course I bribed her.” He turned to Penelope. “No offense to recent additions.”
“Oh, none taken,” she said. “What did you give her?”
He thought about his bargaining session with his youngest sister and nearly shuddered. “Twenty pounds.”
“Twenty pounds!” Violet exclaimed. “Are you mad?”
“I suppose you could have done better,” he retorted. “And I’ve only given her half. I wouldn’t trust that girl as far as I could throw her. But if she keeps her mouth shut, I’ll be another ten pounds poorer.”
“I wonder how far you could throw her,” Penelope mused.
Colin turned to his mother. “I tried for ten, but she wouldn’t budge.” And then to Penelope: “Not nearly far enough.”
Violet sighed. “I ought to scold you for that.”
“But you won’t.” Colin flashed her a grin.
“Heaven help me,” was her only reply.
“Heaven help whatever chap is mad enough to marry her,” he remarked.
“I think there is more to Hyacinth than the two of you allow,” Penelope put in. “You ought not to underestimate her.”
“Good Lord,” Colin replied, “we don’t do that.”
“You’re so sweet,” Violet said, leaning forward to give Penelope an impromptu hug.
“It’s only through sheer force of luck she hasn’t taken over the world,” Colin muttered.
“Ignore him,” Violet said to Penelope. “And you,” she added, turning to Colin, “must head immediately to the church. The rest of the men have already gone down. It’s only a five-minute walk.”
“You’re planning to walk?” he asked doubtfully.
“Of course not,” his mother replied dismissively. “And we certainly cannot spare a carriage for you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking for one,” Colin replied, deciding that a solitary stroll through the fresh morning air was decidedly preferable to a closed carriage with his female relations.
He leaned down to kiss his wife’s cheek. Right near her ear. “Remember,” he whispered, “no telling.”
“I can keep a secret,” she replied.
“It’s far easier to keep a secret from a thousand people than it is from just one,” he said. “Far less guilt involved.”
Her cheeks flushed, and he kissed her again near her ear. “I know you so well,” he murmured.
He could practically hear her teeth gnashing as he left.
“Penelope!”
Eloise started to jump from her seat to greet her, but Hyacinth, who was supervising the dressing of her hair, jammed her hand on her shoulder with a low, almost menacing, “Down.”
And Eloise, who normally would have slain Hyacinth with a glare, meekly resumed her seat.
Penelope looked to Daphne, who appeared to be supervising Hyacinth.
“It has been a long morning,” Daphne said.
Penelope walked forward, pushed gently past Hyacinth, and carefully embraced Eloise so as not to muss her coiffure. “You look beautiful,” she said.
“Thank you,” Eloise replied, but her lips were trembling, and her eyes were wet and threatening to spill over at any moment.
More than anything, Penelope wanted to take her aside and tell her that everything was going to be all right, and she didn’t have to marry Sir Phillip if she didn’t want to, but when all was said and done, Penelope didn’t know that everything was going to be all right, and she rather suspected that Eloise did have to marry her Sir Phillip.
She’d heard bits and pieces. Eloise had been in residence at Romney Hall for over a week without a chaperone. Her reputation would be in tatters if it got out, which it surely would. Penelope knew better than anyone the power and tenacity of gossip. Plus, Penelope had heard that Eloise and Anthony had had A Talk.
The matter of the wedding, it seemed, was final.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Eloise said.
“Goodness, you know I would never miss your wedding.”
“I know.” Eloise’s lips trembled, and then her face took on that expression one makes when one is trying to appear brave and actually thinks one might be succeeding. “I know,” she said again, a little more evenly. “Of course you wouldn’t. But that does not lessen my pleasure in seeing you.”
It was an oddly stiff sentence for Eloise, and for a moment Penelope forgot her own secrets, her own fears and worries. Eloise was her dearest friend. Colin was her love, her passion, and her soul, but it was Eloise, more than anyone, who had shaped Penelope’s adult life. Penelope could not imagine what the last decade would have been like without Eloise’s smile, her laughter, and her indefatigable good cheer.
Even more than her own family, Eloise had loved her.
“Eloise,” Penelope said, crouching down beside her so that she might put her arm around her shoulders. She cleared her throat, mostly because she was about to ask a question for which the answer probably did not matter. “Eloise,” she said again, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Do you want this?”
“Of course,” Eloise replied.
But Penelope wasn’t sure she believed her. “Do you lo—” She caught herself. And she did that little thing with her mouth that tried to be a smile. And she asked, “Do you like him? Your Sir Phillip?”
Eloise nodded. “He’s . . . complicated.”
Which made Penelope sit down. “You’re joking.”
“At a time like this?”
“Aren’t you the one who always said that men were simple creatures?”
Eloise looked at her with an oddly helpless expression. “I thought they were.”
Penelope leaned in, aware that Hyacinth’s auditory skills were positively canine. “Does he like you?”
“He thinks I talk too much.”
“You do talk too much,” Penelope replied.
Eloise shot her a look. “You could at least smile.”
“It’s the truth. But I find it endearing.”
“I think he does as well.” Eloise grimaced. “Some of the time.”
“Eloise!” called Violet from the doorway. “We really must be on our way.”
“We wouldn’t want the groom to think you’ve run off,” Hyacinth quipped.
Eloise stood and straightened her shoulders. “I’ve done quite enough running off recently, wouldn’t you say?” She turned to Penelope with a wise, wistful smile. “It’s time I began running to and stopped running from.”
Penelope looked at her curiously. “What did you say?”
But Eloise only shook her head. “It’s just something I heard recently.”
It was a curious statement, but this wasn’t the time to delve further, so Penelope moved to follow the rest of the family. After she’d taken a few steps, however, she was halted by the sound of Eloise’s voice.
“Penelope!”
Penelope turned. Eloise was still in the doorway, a good ten feet behind her. She had an odd look on her face, one that Penelope could not quite interpret. Penelope waited, but Eloise did not speak.
“Eloise?” Penelope said quietly, because it looked as if Eloise wished to say something, just wasn’t sure how. Or possibly what.
And then—