“Thank you for the dance,” she said, once they’d reached the perimeter of the room. She almost added, You can now tell your mother that you’ve fulfilled your obligations, but immediately regretted her impulse. Colin hadn’t done anything to deserve such sarcasm. It wasn’t his fault that men only danced with her when forced to by their mothers. He’d always at least smiled and laughed while doing his duty, which was more than she could say for the rest of the male population.
He nodded politely and murmured his own thanks. They were just about to part ways when they heard a loud female voice bark out, “Mr. Bridgerton!”
They both froze. It was a voice they both knew. It was a voice everyone knew.
“Save me,” Colin groaned.
Penelope looked over her shoulder to see the infamous Lady Danbury pushing her way through the crowd, wincing when her ever-present cane landed on the foot of some hapless young lady. “Maybe she means a different Mr. Bridgerton?” Penelope suggested. “There are quite a few of you, after all, and it’s possible—”
“I’ll give you ten pounds if you don’t leave my side,” Colin blurted out.
Penelope choked on air. “Don’t be silly, I—”
“Twenty.”
“Done!” she said with a smile, not because she particularly needed the money but rather because it was strangely enjoyable to be extorting it from Colin. “Lady Danbury!” she called out, hurrying to the elderly lady’s side. “How nice to see you.”
“Nobody ever thinks it’s nice to see me,” Lady Danbury said sharply, “except maybe my nephew, and half the time I’m not even sure about him. But I thank you for lying all the same.”
Colin said nothing, but she still turned in his direction and swatted his leg with her cane. “Good choice dancing with this one,” she said. “I’ve always liked her. More brains than the rest of her family put together.”
Penelope opened her mouth to defend at least her younger sister, when Lady Danbury barked out, “Ha!” after barely a second’s pause, adding, “I noticed neither of you contradicted me.”
“It is always a delight to see you, Lady Danbury,” Colin said, giving her just the sort of smile he might have directed at an opera singer.
“Glib, this one is,” Lady Danbury said to Penelope. “You’ll have to watch out for him.”
“It is rarely necessary that I do so,” Penelope said, “as he is most often out of the country.”
“See!” Lady Danbury crowed again. “I told you she was bright.”
“You’ll notice,” Colin said smoothly, “that I did not contradict you.”
The old lady smiled approvingly. “So you didn’t. You’re getting smart in your old age, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“It has occasionally been remarked that I possessed a small modicum of intelligence in my youth, as well.”
“Hmmph. The important word in that sentence being small, of course.”
Colin looked at Penelope through narrowed eyes. She appeared to be choking on laughter.
“We women must look out for one another,” Lady Danbury said to no one in particular, “since it is clear that no one else will do so.”
Colin decided it was definitely time to go. “I think I see my mother.”
“Escape is impossible,” Lady Danbury crowed. “Don’t bother to attempt it, and besides, I know for a fact you don’t see your mother. She’s attending to some brainless twit who tore the hem off her dress.” She turned to Penelope, who was now exerting such effort to control her laughter that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “How much did he pay you not to leave him alone with me?”
Penelope quite simply exploded. “I beg your pardon,” she gasped, clasping a hand over her horrified mouth.
“Oh, no, go right ahead,” Colin said expansively. “You’ve been such a help already.”
“You don’t have to give me the twenty pounds,” she said. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Only twenty pounds?” Lady Danbury asked. “Hmmph. I would have thought I’d be worth at least twenty-five.”
Colin shrugged. “I’m a third son. Perpetually short of funds, I’m afraid.”
“Ha! You’re as plump in the pocket as at least three earls,” Lady Danbury said. “Well, maybe not earls,” she added, after a bit of thought. “But a few viscounts, and most barons, to be sure.”
Colin smiled blandly. “Isn’t it considered impolite to talk about money in mixed company?”
Lady Danbury let out a noise that was either a wheeze or a giggle—Colin wasn’t sure which—then said, “It’s always impolite to talk about money, mixed company or no, but when one is my age, one can do almost anything one pleases.”
“I do wonder,” Penelope mused, “what one can’t do at your age.”
Lady Danbury turned to her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You said that one could do almost anything one pleases.”
Lady Danbury stared at her in disbelief, then cracked a smile. Colin realized he was smiling as well.
“I like her,” Lady D said to him, pointing at Penelope as if she were some sort of statue for sale. “Did I tell you I like her?”
“I believe you did,” he murmured.
Lady Danbury turned to Penelope and said, her face a mask of utter seriousness, “I do believe I couldn’t get away with murder, but that might be all.”
All at once, both Penelope and Colin burst out laughing.
“Eh?” Lady Danbury said. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Penelope gasped. As for Colin, he couldn’t even manage that much.
“It’s not nothing,” Lady D persisted. “And I shall remain here and pester you all night until you tell me what it is. Trust me when I tell you that that is not your desired course of action.”
Penelope wiped a tear from her eye. “I just got through telling him,” she said, motioning with her head toward Colin, “that he probably could get away with murder.”
“Did you, now?” Lady Danbury mused, tapping her cane lightly against the floor the way someone else might scratch her chin while pondering a deep question. “Do you know, but I think you might be right. A more charming man I don’t think London has ever seen.”
Colin raised a brow. “Now, why don’t I think you meant that as a compliment, Lady Danbury?”
“Of course it’s a compliment, you dunderhead.”
Colin turned to Penelope. “As opposed to that, which was clearly a compliment.”
Lady Danbury beamed. “I declare,” she said (or in all truth, declared), “this is the most fun I’ve had all season.”
“Happy to oblige,” Colin said with an easy smile.
“It’s been an especially dull year, don’t you think?” Lady Danbury asked Penelope.
Penelope nodded. “Last year was a bit tedious as well.”
“But not as bad as this year,” Lady D persisted.
“Don’t ask me,” Colin said affably. “I’ve been out of the country.”
“Hmmph. I suppose you’re going to say that your absence is the reason we’ve all been so bored.”
“I would never dream of it,” Colin said with a disarming smile. “But clearly, if the thought has crossed your mind, it must have some merit.”
“Hmmph. Whatever the case, I’m bored.”
Colin looked over at Penelope, who appeared to be holding herself very, very still—presumably to stave off laughter.
“Haywood!” Lady Danbury suddenly called out, waving over a middle-aged gentleman. “Wouldn’t you agree with me?”
A vaguely panicked expression drifted across Lord Haywood’s face, and then, when it became clear that he could not escape, he said, “I try to make a policy of always agreeing with you.”
Lady Danbury turned to Penelope and said, “Is it my imagination, or are men getting more sensible?”
Penelope’s only answer was a noncommittal shrug. Colin decided she was a wise girl, indeed.
Haywood cleared his throat, his blue eyes blinking fast and furious in his rather fleshy face. “Er, what, precisely, am I agreeing to?”
“That the season is boring,” Penelope supplied helpfully.
“Ah, Miss Featherington,” Haywood said in a blustery sort of voice. “Didn’t see you there.”
Colin stole just enough of a glance at Penelope to see her lips straighten into a small, frustrated smile. “Right here next to you,” she muttered.
“So you are,” Haywood said jovially, “and yes, the season is dreadfully boring.”
“Did someone say the season is dull?”
Colin glanced to his right. Another man and two ladies had just joined the group and were avidly expressing their agreement.
“Tedious,” one of them murmured. “Appallingly tedious.”
“I have never attended a more banal round of parties,” one of the ladies announced with an affected sigh.
“I shall have to inform my mother,” Colin said tightly. He was among the most easygoing of men, but really, there were some insults he could not let pass.
“Oh, not this gathering,” the woman hastened to add. “This ball is truly the only shining light in an otherwise dark and dismal string of gatherings. Why, I was just saying to—”
“Stop now,” Lady Danbury ordered, “before you choke on your foot.”
The lady quickly silenced herself.
“It’s odd,” Penelope murmured.
“Oh, Miss Featherington,” said the lady who’d previously been going on about dark and dismal gatherings. “Didn’t see you there.”
“What’s odd?” Colin asked, before anyone else could tell Penelope how unremarkable they found her.
She gave him a small, grateful smile before explaining herself. “It’s odd how the ton seems to entertain themselves by pointing out how unentertained they are.”
“I beg your pardon?” Haywood said, looking confused.
Penelope shrugged. “I think the lot of you are having a jolly good time talking about how bored you are, that’s all.”
Her comment was met with silence. Lord Haywood continued to look confused, and one of the two ladies must have had a speck of dust in her eye, because she couldn’t seem to do anything but blink.
Colin couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t thought Penelope’s statement was such a terribly complicated concept.
“The only interesting thing to do is read Whistledown,” said the nonblinking lady, as if Penelope had never even spoken.
The gentleman next to her murmured his assent.
And then Lady Danbury began to smile.
Colin grew alarmed. The old lady had a look in her eye. A frightening look.
“I have an idea,” she said.
Someone gasped. Someone else groaned.
“A brilliant idea.”
“Not that any of your ideas are anything but,” Colin murmured in his most affable voice.
Lady Danbury shushed him with a wave of her hand. “How many great mysteries are there in life, really?”
No one answered, so Colin guessed, “Forty-two?”
She didn’t even bother to scowl at him. “I am telling you all here and now. . . .”
Everyone leaned in. Even Colin. It was impossible not to indulge the drama of the moment.
“You are all my witnesses. . . .”
Colin thought he heard Penelope mutter, “Get on with it.”
“One thousand pounds,” Lady Danbury said.
The crowd surrounding her grew.
“One thousand pounds,” she repeated, her voice growing in volume. Really, she would have been a natural on the stage. “One thousand pounds . . .”
It seemed the entire ballroom had hushed into reverent silence.
“. . . to the person who unmasks Lady Whistledown!”