Bridgerton - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton Part 30

To know that he would be her husband.

Her heart flipped again.

Colin let out a loud groan. "You ate all the food?"

"There was only one small plate of biscuits," Eloise said in their defense.

"That's not what I was led to believe," Colin grumbled.

Penelope and Eloise shared a glance, then both burst out laughing.

"What?" Colin demanded, leaning down to press a quick, dutiful kiss on Penelope's cheek.

"You sounded so sinister," Eloise explained. "It's just food."

"It's never just food," Colin said, plopping down in a chair.

Penelope was still wondering when her cheek would stop tingling.

"So," he said, taking a half-eaten biscuit off of Eloise's plate, "what were you two talking about?"

"Lady Whistledown," Eloise said promptly.

Penelope choked on her tea.

"Were you?" Colin said softly, but Penelope detected a definite edge in his voice.

"Yes," Eloise said. "I was telling Penelope that it is really too bad she's retired, since your engagement would have been quite the most newsworthy piece of gossip we've had all year."

"Interesting how that works out," Colin murmured.

"Mmmm," Eloise agreed, "and she surely would have devoted an entire column just to your engagement ball tomorrow night."

Penelope did not lower her teacup from her mouth.

"Do you want some more?" Eloise asked her.

Penelope nodded and handed her the cup, although she very much missed having it in front of her face as a s.h.i.+eld. She knew that Eloise had blurted out Lady Whistledown's name because she did not want Colin to know that she had mixed feelings about his marriage, but still, Penelope fervently wished that Eloise had said anything else in reply to Colin's question.

"Why don't you ring for more food?" Eloise asked Colin.

"Already did so," he answered. "Wickham intercepted me in the hall and asked if I was hungry." He popped the last bite of Eloise's biscuit into his mouth. "Wise man, that Wickham."

"Where did you go today, Colin?" Penelope asked, eager to get the topic firmly off of Lady Whistledown.

He gave his head a beleaguered shake. "Devil if I know. Mother dragged me from shop to shop."

"Aren't you thirty-three years old?" Eloise inquired sweetly.

He answered her with a scowl.

"Just thought you'd be beyond the age of having Mother drag you about, that's all," she murmured.

"Mother will be dragging all of us about when we're doddering old fools, and you know it," he replied. "Besides, she's so delighted to see me married, I really can't bring myself to spoil her fun."

Penelope sighed. This had to be why she loved the man. Anyone who treated his mother so well would surely be an excellent husband.

"And how are your wedding preparations coming along?" Colin asked Penelope.

She hadn't meant to pull a face, but she did, anyway. "I have never been so exhausted in all my life," she admitted.

He reached over and grabbed a large crumb off of her plate. "We should elope."

"Oh, could we really?" Penelope asked, the words flying from her lips in an unsummoned rush.

He blinked. "Actually, I was joking, mostly, although it does seem a prime idea."

"I shall arrange for a ladder," Eloise said, clapping her hands together, "so that you might climb to her room and steal her away."

"There's a tree," Penelope said. "Colin will have no difficulty with it."

"Good G.o.d," he said, "you're not serious, are you?"

"No," she sighed. "But I could be. If you were."

"I can't be. Do you know what it would do to my mother?" He rolled his eyes. "Not to mention yours."

Penelope groaned. "I know."

"She'd hunt me down and kill me," Colin said.

"Mine or yours?"

"Both. They'd join forces." He craned his neck toward the door. "Where is the food?"

"You just got here, Colin," Eloise said. "Give them time."

"And here I thought Wickham a sorcerer," he grumbled, "able to conjure food with the snap of his hand."

"Here you are, sir!" came Wickham's voice as he sailed into the room with a large tray.

"See?" Colin said, raising his brows first at Eloise and then at Penelope. "I told you so."

"Why," Penelope asked, "do I sense that I will be hearing those words from your lips far too many times in my future?"

"Most likely because you will," Colin replied. "You'll soon learn"-he shot her an extremely cheeky grin-"that I am almost always right."

"Oh, please," Eloise groaned.

"I may have to side with Eloise on this one," Penelope said.

"Against your husband?" He placed a hand on his heart (while theother one reached for a sandwich). "I'm wounded."

"You're not my husband yet."

Colin turned to Eloise. "The kitten has claws."

Eloise raised her brows. "You didn't realize that before you proposed?"

"Of course I did," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "I just didn't think she'd use them on me."

And then he looked at her with such a hot, masterful expression that Penelope's bones went straight to water.

"Well," Eloise announced, rising quite suddenly to her feet, "I think I shall allow you two soon-to-be-newlyweds a moment or two of privacy."

"How positively forward-thinking of you," Colin murmured.

Eloise looked to him with a peevish twist to her mouth. "Anything for you, dear brother. Or rather," she added, her expression growing arch, "anything for Penelope."

Colin stood and turned to his betrothed, "I seem to be slipping down the pecking order."

Penelope just smiled behind her teacup and said, "I am making it my policy never to get in the middle of a Bridgerton spat."

"Oh ho!" Eloise chortled. "You'll not be able to keep to that one, I'm afraid, Mrs. Soon-to-be-Bridgerton. Besides," she added with a wicked grin, "if you think this is a spat, I can't wait until you see us in full form."

"You mean I haven't?" Penelope asked.

Both Eloise and Colin shook their heads in a way that made her extremely fearful.

Oh, dear.

"Is there something I should know?" Penelope asked.

Colin grinned rather wolfishly. "It's too late now."

Penelope gave Eloise a helpless glance, but all she did was laugh as she left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

"Now, that was nice of Eloise," Colin murmured.

"What?" Penelope asked innocently.

His eyes gleamed. "The door."

"The door? Oh!" she yelped. "The door."

Colin smiled, moving over to the sofa beside her. There was something rather delightful about Penelope on a rainy afternoon. He'd hardly seen her since they'd become engaged-wedding plans had a way of doing that to a couple- and yet she'd not been out of his thoughts, even as he slept.

Funny how that happened. He'd spent years not really ever thinking about her unless she was standing in front of his face, and now she had permeated his every last thought.

His every last desire.

How had this happened?

When had it happened?

And did it really matter? Maybe the only important thing was that he wanted her and she was-or at least she would be-his. Once he put his ring on her finger, the hows, whys, and whens would become irrelevant, provided that this madness he felt never went away.

He touched his finger to her chin, tipping her face up to the light. Her eyes shone with antic.i.p.ation, and her lips-dear G.o.d, how was it possible that the men of London had never noticed how perfect they were?

He smiled. This was a permanent madness. And he couldn't have been more pleased.

Colin had never been opposed to marriage. He'd simply been opposed to a dull marriage. He wasn't picky; he just wanted pa.s.sion and friends.h.i.+p and intellectual conversation and a good laugh every now and then. A wife from whom he wouldn't want to stray.

Amazingly, he seemed to have found that in Penelope.

All he needed to do now was make sure her Big Secret remained just that. A secret.

Because he didn't think he could bear the pain he'd see in her eyes if she were cast out of society.

"Colin?" she whispered, her breath quivering across her lips, making him really want to kiss her.

He leaned in. "Hmmm?"

"You were so quiet."

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

He gave her an indulgent smile. "You really have been spending too much time with my sister."

"What does that mean?" she asked, her lips twitching in such a way that he knew she'd never feel any compunction at poking fun at him. She would keep him on his toes, this woman.

"You seem," he said, "to have developed a certain penchant for persistence."

"Tenacity?"

"That, too."

"But that's a good thing."

Their lips were still mere inches apart, but the urge to continue the teasing conversation was too strong. "When you're persistently avowing your obedience for your husband," he murmured, "that's a good thing."

"Oh, really?"

His chin dipped into the barest hint of a nod. "And when you're tenaciously holding on to my shoulders when I'm kissing you, that's a good thing as well."

Her dark eyes widened so delightfully that he had to add, "Don't you think?"