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The ballroom was aglow with the warm light of a hundred candles, their flickering flames reflecting off the gilded mirrors and the glimmering jewels adorning the ladies in attendance. Penelope Featherington stood on the fringes of the dance floor, her heart a curious mix of trepidation and exhilaration. It had been an evening unlike any other, with gentlemen who had scarcely noticed her in past seasons now vying for her attention. Her new wardrobe, carefully selected with the guidance of Madame Delacroix, had indeed wrought a transformation—but it was not only her appearance that had changed.

Since the incident with Colin, Penelope had felt a new resolve harden within her. She had faced him with all the fortitude she could muster at the last ball, and though his apology had come, it had fallen short of mending the wound he had so carelessly inflicted. There would be no forgiving, no forgetting. And certainly, no agreement to aid her in finding a husband. She would manage well enough on her own, thank you very much!

Lord Ellington had been the first, approaching her with an easy smile and a glass of lemonade. “For the lady who brightens the room with her presence,” he had said, and Penelope had accepted with a gracious nod, though the lemonade tasted… peculiar. A hint of bitterness that she could not place. Still, it would have been impolite to refuse, and the warmth of his compliment had brought a flush to her cheeks.

Not long after, Mr. Hughes had sidled up to her, offering her another glass, which she accepted with a hesitant smile. The same strange taste lingered, but she dismissed it, attributing it to nerves or perhaps a new recipe from the kitchen. She had, after all, never been particularly fond of lemonade, so what did she know of its subtleties?

At least three more gentlemen approached her, Lords Cho and Fife amongst them, each with the same drink in hand, the same oddly sweet yet bitter lemonade. Penelope had accepted the drinks, of course. It would be unthinkable to refuse such overtures, especially when they were so rare. But as the evening wore on, she began to feel strange. Her limbs were light, her head was awash with an unfamiliar giddiness, and her thoughts—oh, how they scattered and flitted like butterflies, alighting on one fancy and then another.

She had never experienced anything quite like it. Never had she felt so… buoyant, so unencumbered by the weight of her own insecurities. It was as though the night itself had conspired to lift her spirits, to make her forget all the heartaches of the past season. Even the memory of Colin Bridgerton’s cutting words seemed to fade into a haze of laughter and light.

As she moved through the room, more giggles than words slipping from her lips, she felt a strange boldness take root within her. When Lord Houghton—who had barely acknowledged her existence in previous seasons—asked her to dance, she accepted with a giddy nod, letting him lead her onto the floor.

The waltz was a blur of spinning figures and soft lights, the floor seeming to sway beneath her feet. She could hardly keep herself from laughing, even as Lord Houghton offered her a puzzled smile, clearly surprised by her uncharacteristic exuberance. But Penelope couldn’t stop. She was light as air, her heart soaring with a strange, heady delight. She had never felt this way before, had never known what it was like to be the centre of attention, to have so many eyes on her—and she found that she quite liked it.

But with each turn, each twirl around the dance floor, the world began to feel less steady. A strange warmth spread through her limbs, her mind growing ever fuzzier, until she found herself struggling to focus on the faces around her. The room seemed to tilt slightly as the dance ended, and Lord Houghton guided her back to the edge of the ballroom. She swayed, clutching at his arm for support, though she quickly covered her stumble with another bright, somewhat slurred laugh. The room seemed to shimmer around her, the faces of the guests blurring slightly as she glanced about.

Lord Houghton was nowhere to be seen now. It was then, as she reached for yet another glass of lemonade offered by a passing footman, that she felt a hand on her arm. Turning, she was met with the piercing gaze of Lady Danbury, who did not seem at all amused.

"My dear Miss Featherington," the dowager intoned, her voice low and laced with an unspoken warning and concern, "perhaps you should take a moment to gather yourself. The night is still young, and there is no need to rush into folly."

Penelope blinked, the dowager’s words cutting through the fog that had begun to settle over her thoughts. She nodded, murmuring a polite response, but the strange feeling of unease had taken root in her chest.

As Lady Danbury walked away, Penelope set down the glass she had been about to take and pressed a hand to her temple. The music continued to play, and the laughter of the other guests rang out around her, but suddenly the room felt too warm, too stifling.

Something was not quite right.

Colin stood on the periphery of the ballroom, his arms crossed as he leaned against a column, a fixed expression of detachment on his face. He had spent most of the evening in the company of Eloise, who was equally sour in mood, though for entirely different (and unknown) reasons. While she had scarcely spoken more than a few words to him, her presence was enough to anchor him in place, away from the dance floor and the unsettling sight that had held his gaze for far too long.

Penelope Featherington was at the centre of it all, a veritable sun around which the gentlemen of the ton seemed to orbit. Each time a new suitor approached her, offering her a glass of lemonade or asking her to dance, Colin felt a tightening in his chest that he could not fully understand. It was a curious blend of regret, frustration, and something darker, something that gnawed at him whenever he saw her laugh or smile in the company of another man.

He knew he had no right to feel this way. He had, after all, been the architect of his own misery. Penelope had been right. She didn’t need his help to find a husband. She was beautiful, always had been, though her new gowns and the new elegant way she styled her hair enhanced her natural grace more than ever. But it was more than that. She was clever, with a sharp wit and a kindness that set her apart from anyone else he knew. She had been his closest friend, the one person whose absence had weighed on him most during his travels.

He had thought of her often while abroad, had missed the easy conversations, the shared jokes, the warmth of her presence. She had written to him faithfully during his first tour, her letters always full of news and humour, but when the letters didn’t come this time he couldn’t shake the sense of unease and he knew that something was wrong. And when he had returned, full of misguided bravado, he had learned that he had been the one to ruin everything with a few careless, cruel words.

The memory of that night at the Featherington ball still haunted him—the way he had felt compelled to say those things about her, simply to fit in with a crowd of men he didn't even particularly like. The guilt of it weighed heavily on him, especially now, as he watched those very same men fawn over her.

She looked as though she was having a splendid time, her laughter ringing out across the room, her cheeks flushed with what he could only assume was delight. But there was something off, something in the way she moved, a certain unsteadiness that set him on edge. Her smile seemed a little too bright, her laughter a touch too high. She wasn’t herself, but who was he to judge? He, who had spent the better part of the year trying to mold himself into someone new, someone different, and had lost his dearest friend in the process.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Colin muttered something to Eloise about needing air and slipped out of the ballroom, his chest tight with an emotion he could not name. It wasn’t until he stepped into the cool night air, the sounds of the party fading behind him, that he could finally breathe again. He strolled towards the garden, seeking solace in the quiet, but as he rounded a corner, the low murmur of voices reached his ears.

At first, he paid them no mind, but then a familiar name—Penelope’s name—caught his attention, and he slowed his steps, his curiosity piqued.

“…drunk as a sailor by now,” one of the men was saying, his tone laced with amusement. “And she doesn’t even realise it.”

There was a round of laughter, followed by another voice. “I daresay she’ll make quite the spectacle before the night is through. Imagine the look on her face when she realises the lemonade had an extra kick to it!”

Colin’s heart began to pound in his chest, his blood turning to ice as the implications of their words sank in. All those men offering her lemonade… They had been spiking her drinks, deliberately inebriating her while pretending to be interested in her company. It wasn’t admiration or genuine interest that had drawn them to her tonight, but a cruel, twisted game.

He felt a wave of nausea and fury wash over him as he stepped closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The group of gentlemen hadn’t noticed him yet, too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to anything else. One of them—Lord Fife—was laughing loudly, his voice carrying through the garden as he made some offhand comment about how it wouldn’t be long before she embarrassed herself completely.

Colin saw red. Without thinking, he surged forward, his footsteps heavy on the gravel as he approached the group. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The men turned to face him, their expressions shifting from smug amusement to shock as they recognised him. Colin was not known for causing scenes, but there was something in his eyes, a barely restrained rage, that made them fall silent. Fife was the first to recover, though his grin was uneasy.

“Bridgerton, old chap, no need to get so worked up. We were just having a bit of fun,” Fife said, waving a hand dismissively as though that would brush away the gravity of their actions.

“Fun?” Colin’s voice was icy, his hands trembling with the effort to keep himself in check. “You call plying a lady with alcohol without her knowledge ‘fun’? Humiliating her in front of everyone? She is my friend, you miserable cur, and if you think I’ll stand by and let you—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of what might have happened—what could still happen—if Penelope were left in their hands was too much to bear. His mind was already spiralling, imagining the worst. What if they tried to take further advantage of her? Take certain liberties… The idea of it made his stomach churn, his vision narrowing with the sheer intensity of his fury.

Lord Fife, in a misguided attempt to defuse the situation, placed a hand on Colin’s shoulder, chuckling awkwardly. “Come now, Bridgerton, it was just a jest. You said it so yourself last season no one would ever court her. No harm done—”

The punch came swiftly, and with more force than Colin had realised he possessed. His fist connected with Fife’s jaw, sending the man staggering backward, his hand flying to his face in shock. The other gentlemen recoiled, their faces paling as they realised the seriousness of the situation. Colin’s rage was a sight to behold, and none of them dared to challenge him further.

“You’ve harmed her more than you can imagine,” Colin spat, his voice shaking with anger. “Stay away from her, all of you. If I so much as see any of you within ten feet of her again, I’ll do far worse than this.”

Without waiting for a response, Colin turned on his heel and stormed back toward the ballroom, his heart hammering in his chest. He had to find Penelope, had to make sure she was safe. The thought of her, alone and unaware of what had been done to her, filled him with a fresh wave of guilt and determination.

He had failed her once before, but he would not fail her again.

As he re-entered the ballroom, his eyes scanned the crowd frantically, searching for her familiar figure amidst the throng of dancers and revellers. The night had taken a dark turn, and he knew that he needed to find her before anything worse could happen.

Penelope had always known how to blend into the background, how to fade into the tapestry of the ton’s glittering events, but tonight had been different. Tonight, she had been the centre of attention, her new gown and newfound confidence drawing more eyes than ever before. Yet now, all she wanted was to disappear, to slip away into the shadows once again.

She had seen Colin making his way toward her across the ballroom, his eyes locked on her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she knew she couldn’t bear to face him. Not tonight. Not after everything.

“Pen,” his voice was soft but insistent as he finally reached her. “Please, I need to talk to you.”

She turned sharply, her heart pounding in her chest. “No, Colin. Leave me alone.”

He hesitated, clearly taken aback by the steel in her voice, but then he took another step closer. “Pen, something’s wrong—”

“I said leave me alone!” she hissed, her voice rising as she felt the walls closing in around her. The room seemed to spin slightly, the noise of the crowd becoming a distant hum in her ears. She had to get out of there. 

Before he could say another word, she turned and fled. She didn’t care where she was going, only that she needed to get away from him, from the look in his eyes, from the painful reminder of everything she could never have. She wove her way through the crowd with as much grace as she could muster, but the strange fog in her head made it difficult to think clearly, let alone navigate the throng of guests.

Why had he looked at her like that? He had seemed worried. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation, not when she felt so off-kilter, so unlike herself. But the worst part, the part that made her despise herself in that moment, was the small flutter of hope that had risen in her chest when she saw him coming toward her. Even now, after everything, she still cared. She still cared so much it hurt.

And that, more than anything, made her furious—with herself, with him, with the whole damned situation. How could she still care, after everything he had said last season? She needed to get away from him, from the overwhelming tide of emotions that threatened to sweep her under.

She moved quickly, leaving the ballroom behind, her steps unsteady as she navigated the unfamiliar hallways of the grand house. She could still feel Colin’s presence behind her, could hear his voice calling her name, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Not until she was sure he wouldn’t follow.

But Colin Bridgerton was nothing if not persistent, and as she finally came to a halt in a secluded corridor, she heard his quick footsteps behind her. She whirled around to face him, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Why won’t you just leave me be?” Penelope demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and despair.

Colin stopped a few paces away from her, his face a mask of concern and confusion. “Because I’m worried about you,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Those men… Penelope, they—they’ve been lying to you. They’ve been spiking your lemonade with alcohol. You’re probably not yourself right now.”

Penelope blinked, the words not fully registering at first. When they finally did, a wave of nausea rolled over her, her stomach churning with the realisation. “They… they what?” she whispered, feeling the ground shift beneath her feet.

“They were trying to make a fool of you,” Colin continued, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. “I overheard them talking about it. They thought it would be amusing to get you inebriated and watch you make a spectacle of yourself.”

Penelope felt the blood drain from her face, the humiliation washing over her in a suffocating wave. She staggered back a step, one hand reaching out to steady herself against the wall. “Of course they were,” she muttered bitterly, her voice thick with tears she could no longer hold back. “Why would anyone genuinely care? I’m just a joke to them. A joke to everyone.”

“That’s not true,” Colin protested, stepping closer. “Penelope, you’re not—”

“Stop!” she cut him off, her voice breaking as she looked up at him, her vision blurred by tears. “Don’t try to make this better, Colin. You’ve made your feelings about me perfectly clear. I’m perfectly aware that I’m not beautiful. I’m not desirable. I’m not anything that would make someone like you—or anyone else—truly care.”

“Pen, that’s not true—” Colin began, his voice full of desperation.

But Penelope wasn’t listening. The alcohol, the humiliation, and the pent-up emotions of the past few months, all of it was bubbling over, and she couldn’t stop herself from saying what had been buried in her heart for years.

“Do you know how long I’ve loved you, Colin?” she asked, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession. “Twelve years. I’ve loved you from the day we met. I’ve loved you in secret, knowing you would never feel the same way. But I guess I still had some hope and when you said those things about me last season… I truly realised you never would.”

Colin’s eyes widened, shock and something else—something she couldn’t quite identify—flashing across his face. But before he could respond, she pushed on, her voice gaining strength as the words poured out.

“I know I’m invisible to the ton. That’s why no one notices when you break every rule of propriety by chasing after me, holding my hand in public, taking me into a room and closing the door behind us. It’s not scandalous if it is me because no one sees me as a serious prospect. Not even you. I’m just Penelope Featherington. The silly, fat girl who no one takes seriously.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Colin interjected, his voice full of sincerity. But Penelope shook her head, the tears now streaming down her face.

“I should hate you for what you said. I want to hate you,” she continued, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. Perhaps if she couldn’t find it in herself to hate him, she could make Colin hate her. Eloise seemed to be truly done with her to the point where she had befriended Cressida Cowper of all people, who had bullied her since childhood. Maybe it was for the best if she truly parted ways with the Bridgertons altogether…

“I should hate you,” she repeats, her voice rising with a mix of desperation and defiance. “But I can’t. And maybe the only way I can make you hate me is if I tell you the truth.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Heaven knows, it was enough to make Eloise hate me. She barely acknowledges me now…” 

“Penelope, what truth?” he asked, his voice tinged with fear. “What could have come between you and Eloise?”

She took a deep, shaky breath, the final barrier breaking as she looked him in the eye. “I’m Lady Whistledown.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them. Colin stared at her, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. She saw the emotions flickering in his eyes—confusion, anger, hurt—and felt her heart break all over again.

“You… You’re Lady Whistledown?” he repeated, as if trying to make sense of the confession. “You’ve been the one writing all those… all those awful things?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m sorry I outed Marina’s secret… It was truly a last-ditch effort because you wouldn’t listen to me when I told you she loved another, and she wouldn’t listen to reason. I know you loved her and I know I was selfish, but I didn’t do it because I believed you would ever love me back. I just couldn’t stand to see one of my dearest friends be turned into a cuckold and be stuck in a loveless marriage… Especially you, Colin, you deserve someone who loves you as fiercely as you love them.”

“Pen—”

Her words, once unleashed, came tumbling out in a torrent of anguish and anger, too many emotions spilling over after being held back for too long.

“I truly apologise for nearly ruining Eloise. I did not want to… But the Queen was after her. She thought Eloise was Whistledown, and if I’d outed myself, she would have dismissed it as a friend protecting another. So I wrote something that I knew would stop the Queen from suspecting Eloise, without completely ruining her.”

Colin looked as though he had been struck, his face pale and his eyes wide with shock. “And what about what you wrote about me?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“I’m sorry for that,” Penelope said, her voice breaking as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “But I knew you were putting up a front, pretending to be someone you’re not. I was angry with you and I just… I just wanted the old Colin back. The one who was my friend. The one who wasn’t ashamed of me.”

She waited for his reaction, bracing herself for the anger, the rejection, the disgust she was sure would follow. But instead, Colin closed the distance between them in a few quick strides, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace.

Penelope stiffened in his arms, too shocked to respond at first. But as the warmth of his embrace seeped into her, the fight drained out of her completely. She collapsed against him, her tears soaking into his coat as she wept uncontrollably. All the pain, all the heartache, all the fear she had been holding inside for so long poured out of her, leaving her depleted and exhausted.

Colin held her close and kissed her temple. His hand was gently stroking her back as he murmured soothing words into her ear. “I don’t hate you, Pen,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion. “I could never hate you.”

She barely heard him, her sobs drowning out his words as she clung to him, too tired to keep fighting. And as Penelope at last allowed herself to surrender, letting the tears flow freely, she felt a strange sense of relief wash over her. She had told him the truth, all of it, and now there was nothing left to hide.

As she wept in his arms, Penelope couldn’t help but wonder if this was what she had needed all along—to let go of the secrets and the pain that had been weighing her down for so long. All she knew was that, for this one moment, she didn’t have to be strong. She didn’t have to hold everything in. She was depleted, drained, and in the arms of the man she had loved for so long, she finally allowed herself to let go.

Colin’s mind was spinning, a chaotic whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that he could hardly keep track of. Penelope’s confession had hit him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling with shock, confusion, and a deep, aching hurt that he couldn’t fully comprehend. Penelope loved him. She was also Lady Whistledown. The same woman who had penned words that had changed lives, ended engagements, and revealed secrets to the entire ton.

But there was no time to process that now. No time to dwell on the betrayal, the lies, the pain, the shock… Because right now, Penelope needed him. Her small, trembling body was still cradled in his arms, her sobs quieting but her breaths still ragged and uneven. She was exhausted emotionally, physically drained, and he could tell that whatever fight had been left in her had completely dissipated.

Colin gently pulled back, looking down at her tear-streaked face. Her eyes were closed, her lashes wet with tears, and her usually vibrant complexion was pale and washed out. She looked utterly spent, and his heart twisted in his chest at the sight of her so vulnerable and broken.

“Pen,” he murmured softly, his hand cupping her cheek as he tried to rouse her. “Penelope, we need to get you somewhere safe. Can you walk?”

She didn’t respond at first, her eyes fluttering open only briefly before closing again. But she nodded weakly, her body leaning heavily against his as she tried to gather the strength to stand on her own.

“Come on,” he coaxed gently, slipping an arm around her waist to support her as he helped her to her feet. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, he began to guide her back toward the ballroom, his movements careful and deliberate as he kept her steady. He could tell that she was barely aware of her surroundings, her steps slow and uncoordinated as the effects of the alcohol and the emotional turmoil of the evening took their toll.

As they neared the periphery of the ballroom, Colin glanced around, searching for someone who could help. He couldn’t very well take Penelope back inside the ballroom in her current state, not with the prying eyes of the ton ready to pounce on any hint of scandal. But she needed help.

Just then, a footman passed by, his gaze briefly catching on Colin and Penelope before darting away, clearly trying to mind his own business. But Colin couldn’t let the opportunity pass.

“You there,” he called out, his voice firm but low enough not to draw too much attention. The footman stopped and turned, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity as he took in the sight of the two of them. Colin knew how this must look—Penelope’s dishevelled appearance, her tear-streaked face, the way she was leaning so heavily on him—but there was no time for explanations.

“I need you to please fetch my mother, Lady Bridgerton, and Lady Featherington,” Colin instructed, his voice brooking no argument. “Tell them it concerns Miss Penelope Featherington’s well-being, and be quick about it. And please, bring some water and food as well.”

The footman’s eyes widened slightly, clearly understanding the urgency in Colin’s tone. He nodded quickly, his surprise giving way to a more professional demeanour as he turned on his heel and hurried off to carry out the task.

Colin watched him go, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned his attention back to Penelope. She was still leaning heavily against him, her breaths slow and shallow, her head resting against his shoulder. She was there, but at the same time, she wasn’t. It was as if she had checked out completely, retreating deep into herself in an effort to escape the overwhelming emotions that had consumed her.

Guilt ate at him as he held her, his mind racing with the implications of everything she had revealed. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time. Right now, all that mattered was getting her the help she needed.

“Just a little longer, Pen,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he gently stroked her hair. “They’ll be here soon. You’re going to be alright.”

She didn’t respond, but he could feel the tension slowly leaving her body as she sagged further against him, her exhaustion finally overtaking her completely. Colin tightened his hold on her, his heart aching with a fierce protectiveness he hadn’t fully understood until now.

He had no idea what would happen next—how knowing Penelope's true feelings for him, and her identity as Lady Whistledown, would affect their friendship or what it might mean for the future. But in that moment, all of those concerns faded into the background.

Because in that moment, all that mattered was Penelope. And he would do whatever it took to make sure she was safe.

They didn’t have to wait long before he saw his mother and Lady Featherington approaching, Lady Danbury close behind. His mother was the first to spot them, her face etched with concern as she hurried over.

“Colin, what on earth happened?” Violet Bridgerton’s voice was laced with worry as she took in the sight of her son and Penelope.

Before Colin could respond, Lady Featherington stepped forward, her usually severe expression softened with genuine concern. She reached out and gently pulled Penelope away from Colin, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Penelope went willingly, and as soon as she realised it was her mother holding her, she broke down into fresh tears, her sobs muffled against Lady Featherington’s shoulder.

All three women turned their attention to Colin, their expressions expectant. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before speaking. “I overheard Lord Fife and some others talking,” he began, his voice tight with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. “They… they spiked Penelope’s lemonade with alcohol. They planned to ply her with enough to see if she’d make a spectacle of herself.”

Violet’s face paled, her eyes widening with shock, while Lady Featherington’s grip on Penelope tightened protectively. Even Lady Danbury’s usually sharp gaze softened with concern.

“I went to check on Penelope to make sure she was alright,” Colin continued, his voice tight with strain. “But I… I said some careless things about her last season, and she overheard. She’s been justifiably angry with me for that. So when I tried to approach her, she ran off because she didn’t want to speak with me, and I followed her.”

This revelation raised a few eyebrows, but Colin pressed on. “When I finally caught up with her and explained what had happened, she was understandably upset.” He paused, swallowing hard, deliberately omitting Penelope’s confession and the revelation of her being Lady Whistledown. “I believe the overwhelming events of the evening have completely drained her. I didn’t want to bring her back to the ballroom and make a spectacle of her, so I asked the footman to fetch you and to bring some food and water. But… I can’t do any more than I already have. It would be improper, and the last thing I want is to make things worse for her.”

The three ladies exchanged looks, their concern for Penelope evident, but they could also see the weight of Colin’s worry and guilt.

“So you’re the reason Lord Fife is suddenly sporting a split lip?” Lady Danbury asked, her voice gentle but probing.

Colin felt a flush of embarrassment at the memory of his violent outburst but didn’t regret it. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice low but resolute. “I couldn’t just stand by while they spoke of my dearest friend the way they did.”

Before any of them could respond, the footman returned with a tray of food, a pitcher of water, and a glass. Lady Featherington nodded gratefully, her attention focused solely on her daughter. She guided Penelope to a nearby bench, urging her to drink and eat something to help counteract the effects of the alcohol.

Colin stepped back, his heart aching as he watched Penelope, her tears subsiding as she sipped the water and nibbled on a piece of bread. He wanted to do more, to be there for her, but he knew his presence might do more harm than good.

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Bridgerton,” Lady Featherington said softly, glancing up at him with a rare look of gratitude. “We’ll take care of her now.”

Lady Danbury gestured to the footman. “Please, take us to a private room where we can see to Miss Featherington,” she instructed, her tone commanding but kind.

As Lady Featherington and Lady Danbury helped Penelope to her feet, Colin felt a sharp pang of longing. He wanted to follow them, to make sure she was truly alright, but he knew he had to stay back. He had already caused enough of a stir tonight.

His mother, who had been quietly observing him, stepped closer, her hand resting gently on his arm. “She’ll be fine, Colin,” she assured him, her voice soothing. “She’s just inebriated and tired. They’ll make sure she drinks some water, eats a bit more, and she’ll sleep it off.”

Colin nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at him. “I feel responsible for this, Mother,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “If I hadn’t said those things about her last season, maybe Lord Fife and the others wouldn’t have thought it was acceptable to treat her like this. She certainly wouldn’t have been so upset, and maybe none of this would have happened.”

Violet’s gaze softened, and she squeezed his arm reassuringly. “You couldn’t have known, Colin,” she said gently. “And you did the right thing tonight. You defended her when she needed it. That’s what matters.”

Despite her comforting words, Colin couldn’t shake the heavy weight of guilt and worry that had settled over him. He felt drained, his own exhaustion creeping in after the emotional whirlwind of the evening. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave, not until he knew for certain that Penelope was safe.

So they waited together, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours until Lady Danbury finally returned, her expression calm and reassuring.

“Lady Featherington is taking Penelope home,” she informed them. “She’s feeling better after having some food and water in her belly. She’s just tired now, and her mother will see to her at home.”

Colin felt a small measure of relief at her words, but the knot in his chest didn’t fully ease. “Thank you,” he murmured, though his thoughts were already on the next day. He couldn’t just let this go. He needed to see Penelope, to make sure she was alright, and to finally say the things he hadn’t been able to say tonight.

“I intend to call on her tomorrow,” Colin told his mother, his voice firmer now, the decision solidifying in his mind.

Violet nodded, understanding in her eyes. “We’ll talk more in the morning,” she said gently. “For now, you need to rest too, Colin.”

He didn’t argue, knowing she was right, but even as they made their way back through the crowd, his thoughts remained with Penelope. The night had brought so much to light, and he couldn’t ignore the tangled web of feelings that had been unearthed. Tomorrow, he would face it all. But tonight, all he could do was wait and hope that Penelope would be alright.

Penelope awoke to a dull headache and the remnants of the previous night’s emotions weighing heavily on her. She blinked against the morning light filtering through her curtains, her mind piecing together the events that had led her here. The embarrassment of running away, the confrontation with Colin, and—she flushed with shame—the outpouring of her deepest secrets to him. She remembered everything.

As she sat up slowly, a knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could respond, her mother  stepped inside, her expression uncharacteristically soft.

“Penelope, dear,” she began, her voice lacking its usual sharpness. “How are you feeling?”

Penelope blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the genuine concern in her mother’s tone. “A bit of a headache,” she admitted, “but otherwise, I’m alright.”

Her mother approached her bed, smoothing the coverlet with a distracted hand. “I was worried,” she said, her gaze flickering up to meet Penelope’s. “When I saw you last night, so upset and… well, compromised in a way. I’m just relieved that nothing truly bad happened.”

Penelope’s heart softened at her mother’s words. It wasn’t often that her mother showed this level of concern for her, and she found herself basking in it, even if it was just for a moment. “Thank you, Mama,” she said quietly.

Her mother nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It was a good thing Mr. Bridgerton was there for you,” she continued, her tone thoughtful. “He’s always been a good friend to you, hasn’t he?”

This was new. Her mother had always dismissed their friendship believing it to be one-sided on Penelope’s part. She had gone as far as saying that Colin was no more her friend than she was the next Catherine the Great just the year before.

Penelope looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting the bedsheet. “Yes,” she whispered, though the word felt heavier than it ever had before.

Her mother studied her for a moment before speaking again. “I know men can be thoughtless, saying things without considering the consequences. I’m sure you have every right to be upset with Mr. Bridgerton for whatever it is he said about you.” She paused, her expression softening further. “But perhaps, if you can find it in your heart to forgive him, it would be wise. You don’t want to lose another friend, do you?”

Penelope’s breath caught in her throat. Her mother had noticed after all. Of course, she had noticed. How could she not? Eloise had been her constant companion, and now the absence of her friend was glaringly obvious.

“No, I don’t,” Penelope replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

Her mother patted her hand, then rose to her feet. “Well, think on it, my dear. I’ll have the maid bring you some tea and toast. And do try to rest.”

As she left the room, Penelope was left with her thoughts, the headache now secondary to the turmoil in her heart. She hadn’t truly faced the reality of her rift with Eloise until now, and the thought of losing Colin too, despite everything, was unbearable.

Colin sat in the drawing room of Bridgerton House, staring blankly at the plate of food beside him. The untouched breakfast was a rare sight for him—his appetite, usually robust, had all but vanished. He had barely slept the night before, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that refused to settle.

The revelation that Penelope was Lady Whistledown had been nothing short of earth-shattering. He hadn’t been an avid reader of the infamous column, but he knew enough to grasp the significance. Lady Whistledown had always been a truth-teller, uncovering scandals and saving people from fates they couldn’t see coming. Daphne’s near-ruinous engagement to Berbrooke, his own entanglement with Marina, and even Eloise’s near-miss with an angered Queen—Whistledown had been there, pulling strings from the shadows.

And it had been Penelope all along.

The thought left him reeling. Penelope, his dearest friend, had been keeping this monumental secret from everyone, even him. It wasn’t just the deception that unsettled him; it was the fact that she had used her sharp mind and keen observation to navigate the treacherous waters of the ton, all while hiding behind a facade of shy smiles and quiet presence. She had protected them all, even when it had cost her dearly.

But what truly made sleep impossible was the knowledge that she loved him. She had been in love with him for twelve years. Colin’s chest tightened at the memory of her tearful confession. Penelope, who had always been there with a kind word or advice, who had asked for nothing in return, had harboured feelings for him all this time.

And what had he given her in return? A careless friendship, blind to the depth of her affections. She deserved so much more than that. She deserved the world.

As he sat there, a new thought began to take root in his mind—one he had been too blind, too foolish to consider before. That maybe… maybe he loved her back.

He could now admit to himself that last night, before he had realised the ploy organised against Penelope, when he watched all those men vying for her attention and how she was smiling and talking to them—that unpleasant ugly feeling he had experienced was none other than jealousy. He was used to having her all to himself (occasionally having to share her with Eloise), and knowing he couldn’t approach her or ask her to dance had been unbearable.

It wasn’t just that he felt differently about her than he did about any other lady of the ton, or even his sisters. It was more than that. Penelope was the one he sought out at every social event, the one whose words he valued above all others. He thought back to his last tour, to the way he had longed for letters from home, but none more than hers. He had missed her letters more than he had realised, craving the comfort and warmth they brought.

He had always sought her out because she lifted his spirits, because she made him see the world in ways he never imagined. She was clever, warm, kind—and yes, truly beautiful. It didn’t matter what colour gown she wore or how she styled her hair. She was Penelope, and she was his dearest friend.

His mother had always said that one should marry their best friend, and now, for the first time, Colin understood what she meant.

Just as he was having this epiphany, the door to the drawing room burst open, and Eloise rushed in, her face etched with worry.

“Colin!” she exclaimed, breathless. “Is it true?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his mind still reeling from his new discovery.

“Mother told me what happened to Penelope at yesterday’s ball, and everyone’s wondering what happened to Lord Fife’s face,” Eloise explained, her tone annoyed that Colin hadn’t caught on immediately.

Colin’s heart sank, guilt and anger washing over him anew. “Yes, Eloise,” he said, his voice heavy. “It’s true. Some of the gentlemen spiked her lemonade with alcohol, and Lord Fife decided to make fun of her in front of me, so I punched him in the jaw and apparently split his lip.”

“Good,” Eloise said, nodding in approval.

“When I realised what had happened, I went to look for her, but we’d had a tiff, and she didn’t want to speak with me at first,” Colin explained, wincing slightly. “When I finally managed to explain what was happening, she was understandably upset, and she… she spiralled a bit.”

Eloise’s voice softened. “How so?”

“Penelope kept going on about how everyone thought her a joke, how she was ignored, how she wasn’t beautiful or thin or desirable. I told her it wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t listen… And then she confessed she’s been in love with me since we were children, that she wanted to hate me but couldn’t, and so she was going to make me hate her instead. She was very certain she could do that because she had already made you hate her. And then she told me she was Lady Whistledown.”

Eloise’s eyes widened in shock. “Penelope… told you she’s Lady Whistledown?”

Colin nodded, watching his sister’s reaction carefully. “Yes, she did. I was angry at first. Angry that she had kept such a secret from me, but mostly that she had put herself in danger. But then I realised… everything she did, she did for a reason. She explained it to me, Eloise. She never meant to hurt anyone, least of all us.”

“She was the reason you broke off your engagement,” Eloise said quietly.

“Yes, well,” Colin looked uncomfortable. “She tried to warn me Marina loved another and I didn’t listen. Apparently, she also tried to talk Marina out of it as well, and she didn’t want to. I was on my way to elope at Gretna Green when I found out the truth. I was hurt, and my ego took a beating because she made a fool of me, but now, with time, I realise that I didn’t love Marina. What I felt was just infatuation. I wanted to be taken seriously, and I thought that becoming a family man would give me some kind of purpose.”

“She nearly ruined me,” Eloise argued.

“Penelope told me how the Queen threatened you because she thought you were Whistledown. She said she wanted to reveal herself to the Queen and take the blame, but she believed the Queen would think she was simply protecting you. And yes, it wasn’t the most flattering piece of gossip, but I believe she was also trying to keep you away from such places. She knew the ton is fickle and would move on to a more juicy scandal within weeks. Penelope was right, as usual.”

“What about what she wrote about you?” Eloise asked, her voice hardening. “You were furious. You said you’d never forgive her for what she did to me and Marina, and that if you ever found out who she was, you’d ruin her life.”

“I spoke in anger. My ego was bruised because she had seen so clearly through my facade. You called me on it too, if you remember. But now that I know the reasoning behind her actions, I can’t fault her for trying to help, even if it was misguided.”

Eloise looked conflicted, her earlier anger giving way to something more complex. “I… I was so furious when I found out,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I felt betrayed, like she had been lying to me all along. But now… hearing this, I realise I didn’t really give her a chance to explain.”

Colin reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Penelope told me she never wanted to hurt you. She just… she did the best she could with the tools at her disposal.”

Eloise’s eyes filled with tears, and she swiped at them angrily. “I said such horrible things to her that night,” she whispered. “I didn’t listen. I just… accused her.”

“You were both hurt, Eloise,” Colin said gently. “But she’s your friend, and I’m certain she misses you terribly. I think if you talk to her, really talk to her, you can mend things.”

Eloise nodded, taking a shaky breath. “I will. I have to. But what about you, Colin?”

“I intend to mend our friendship as well,” Colin said, hesitating as the words grew heavier on his tongue. But this was Eloise—she wouldn’t judge him. “I think… I think I love her,” he admitted, the realisation settling over him like a warm blanket. “I’ve been so blind, Eloise. She’s been there for me all this time, and I never saw it. But now… now I know. And I want to make things right between us.”

Eloise stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. But then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. “You really mean that, don’t you?” she said, her voice softening.

“I do,” Colin replied, his resolve strengthening. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. I just didn’t realise it until now.”

Eloise’s smile grew, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. “Then go to her, Colin. Make things right. And when you do, tell her I’m sorry too. I… I want to make things right with her as well. Having Penelope as a sister would be an actual dream come true.”

Colin chuckled, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. “I will, Eloise. I promise. I intend to call on her this afternoon to check on her well-being and perhaps talk, if she allows me to.”

As they shared a quiet moment, Colin felt a sense of peace settle over him. He knew the path ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in a long while, he felt certain of where his heart lay. And with Eloise’s blessing, he knew he could face whatever came next.

Later that day, just as Penelope was beginning to feel somewhat like herself again, she heard a commotion downstairs. A maid hurried to her room, informing her that Mr. Bridgerton had come to call. Penelope’s heart skipped a beat, panic flaring at the thought of facing him so soon. But she had no choice—she couldn’t avoid him forever.

She was certain he had come to gently turn her down, perhaps even to end their friendship for good. Her confession had surely driven a wedge between them. With a shaky breath, she smoothed her dress and made her way down the stairs, each step a reminder of the confrontation that awaited her. When she entered the drawing room, she found Colin standing by the window, his posture tense, his expression unreadable. Her mother sat nearby, cradling a teacup, her presence only adding to Penelope’s unease.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” her mother greeted with a smile that was just a touch too bright, “it’s so good of you to visit.”

“Lady Featherington,” Colin replied politely, but his gaze was fixed on Penelope, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

Penelope managed a small nod, though she felt her cheeks burning with the memory of her confession. “Mr. Bridgerton,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.

Colin’s expression tightened at her formal tone. He hesitated, casting a wary glance at her mother, who seemed oblivious to the tension in the room. “I wanted to see how you were feeling, Pen,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” Penelope replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The unspoken words between them hung heavily in the air, making the silence that followed almost unbearable.

Colin opened his mouth to speak, but her mother interrupted, her tone cheerful and all too knowing. “Just this morning, I was telling Penelope how fortunate she is to have such a loyal friend looking out for her,” she said, a touch too sweetly. “It’s not every day a gentleman goes to such lengths.”

Colin looked faintly embarrassed, shifting his weight uncomfortably under Lady Featherington’s praise. “It was the least I could do,” he muttered, his eyes briefly meeting Penelope’s before darting away.

The room felt stifling, the presence of her mother making everything so much harder. They had never needed a chaperone before, but now, with her mother hovering nearby, every word felt like it was being judged.

Colin cleared his throat. “Perhaps, Lady Featherington, I could take Penelope for a walk in the garden? Just a short one.”

But her mother only smiled wider, clearly enjoying her newfound role as a vigilant chaperone. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said, her voice lilting with false innocence. “After all, a young lady’s reputation must be guarded closely, don’t you think?”

Penelope tried not to roll her eyes. Her mother had never taken such an interest in her social interactions before. Why start now? “Mama, I’m sure Mr. Bridgerton means no harm,” she said, trying to sound casual but feeling the awkwardness grow with every word.

Portia patted her hand. “Of course, dear, but one can never be too careful. And besides, I had never considered Mr. Bridgerton a serious prospect for you, Penelope, but after last evening’s events, it’s clear I’ve been neglectful in keeping an eye on him. And on you both!”

Colin’s ears turned red at that, and Penelope felt her face flush as well. Her mother’s insinuations, however indirect, made the situation even more unbearable.

Sensing Penelope’s discomfort, Colin decided to take a different approach. “Actually, Penelope, I brought you something,” he said, suddenly remembering the package tucked under his arm. He fumbled with the brown paper wrapping, finally pulling out a small stack of three books. “I picked these up during my travels. I thought you might enjoy them.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. She knew Colin had a habit of bringing his family little gifts from his journeys but he had never gotten her anything. “Oh, Colin, you shouldn’t have,” she said, genuinely touched. She reached out to take the books, her fingers brushing against his in the process. The contact sent a shiver down her spine, but she quickly withdrew her hand, hoping her mother hadn’t noticed.

“Nonsense,” Colin replied, his tone softening as he met her gaze. “I wanted to. I know you enjoy romances, and this trilogy was being raved about when I visited Paris. I meant to give them to you sooner, but… well, things have been complicated lately.”

Her mother, meanwhile, had leaned forward in her chair, clearly intrigued by the exchange. “Books, you say? How thoughtful, Mr. Bridgerton. Penelope does so enjoy reading.”

“Yes, she does,” Colin agreed, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad you like them, Pen.”

Penelope clutched the books to her chest, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Thank you, Colin. I’ll treasure them.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words, and it was clear that Colin wanted to speak with her privately. He cast another pleading glance at her mother, who seemed to be enjoying this far too much. Finally, Penelope couldn’t take it any longer. As she set her new books aside, she gave her a pointed look, one that she hoped conveyed her desperation.

Portia sighed dramatically, setting her teacup down with a clink. “Oh, very well,” she said, rising to her feet with exaggerated reluctance. “But I shall be watching from the window, so don’t think you can get away with anything untoward.”

Penelope nearly sighed in relief. “Thank you, Mama.”

“Don’t take too long, dearest,” her mother added, as she swept out of the room, casting one last suspicious glance at Colin.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Colin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Penelope laughed softly, feeling some of the tension dissipate. “She’s never taken her role as chaperone quite so seriously before.”

“I suppose last night gave her a bit of a fright,” Colin said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shall we?” He extended his arm to her.

Penelope nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves as she took his arm and followed him out into the garden. They walked in silence for a few moments, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the manicured lawns. It wasn’t until they reached the secluded spot by the garden archway—the same spot where they had shared so many conversations over the years—that Colin finally spoke.

“I owe you an apology,” he began, his voice earnest. “For everything I said, and for how I acted. I was an idiot, Penelope. I was so caught up in my own insecurities, in feeling like I had no purpose, that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I never meant to hurt you.”

Penelope turned to him, her eyes searching his. “You said some terrible things, Colin,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You made me feel like I was a fool for caring about you.”

“I know,” Colin admitted, his expression pained. “And I’m so sorry for that. I never wanted to make you feel that way. I was just so desperate to fit in with the other gentlemen that I let my own insecurities cloud my judgement. And I've regretted it ever since.”

“I forgive you, Colin,” she finally said, and he seemed to sag in relief. “And I hope you forgive me for the hurt I’ve caused you as Lady Whistledown.”

“I admit I was furious when you told me,” Colin began, his tone softening, “but it wasn’t about what you wrote. It was about the danger you put yourself in. But let’s leave the whole Whistledown business for another time.”

Penelope’s heart clenched at his understanding. “So you don’t despise me, like Eloise?”

“I could never hate you,” he said gently, reaching for her hand. “And neither does Eloise.”

Tears welled up in Penelope’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “You weren’t there… We both said very hurtful things to each other… things that only best friends know will hurt the most. She told me she never wishes to speak or see me again.”

“Well, I spoke to Eloise this morning,” Colin said softly. “Our mother told her what had happened and she was worried sick about you. We discussed your falling out and she confessed to me that she wishes to mend your friendship so if she approaches you, please give her a chance.”

Relief washed over Penelope like a tide. The weight of losing one of her closest friends had been crushing, but now there was a glimmer of hope. There was just one last thing they needed to discuss.

“I’m sorry for springing my confession on you,” Penelope murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I never meant to tell you, especially not like that, but the alcohol… well, it loosened my lips. I suppose it was time the truth came out…”

She forced a bitter, shaky laugh. “Please know I don’t fault you for not returning my feelings. No one can choose who they do or don’t love. I just hope… I hope we can still go back to being friends.”

Colin’s brow furrowed deeply, the weight of her words pressing on him. “I want nothing more than for us to remain friends, but Penelope,” he said, gently lifting her chin so her eyes met his, “after last night, I’ve had a lot of time to think. The entire night, to be honest—I couldn’t sleep a wink. And I’ve realised… that I’ve been blind, Pen. You’ve always been there for me, through everything, and I took you for granted. I didn’t realise how much you meant to me until I almost lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me, Colin,” she replied, frowning, her confusion growing.

“I mean,” Colin continued, his voice thick with emotion, “that for years, I’ve been chasing after all the wrong things, all the wrong people, when the person who truly cares about me has been right here all along.” He swallowed hard, stepping closer to her. “You’ve always been there for me, Pen. You’ve been my confidante, my friend, my support. And I’ve taken it all for granted. But not anymore.”

Penelope’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath catching as she stared up at him. “Colin…”

“Let me finish,” he said softly, his eyes filled with an earnestness she had never seen before. “Yesterday, it felt like I was losing you. You have no idea how jealous I felt watching you with those gentlemen. I’ve never felt more possessive in my life,” he admitted, almost as if the realisation surprised him too. “And when I heard what those curs had done to you, I was so furious I nearly put Lord Fife in the ground.”

Penelope gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

“I knew I had to find you,” Colin continued, his voice raw with emotion, “to make sure you were alright. I was so worried, and you wanted nothing to do with me… well, you know what happened next.”

“I-I still don’t understand, Colin… What are you trying to say?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear.

Colin reached for her hands, taking them gently but firmly in his. “I love you, Penelope,” he declared, his voice steady and resolute. “I’ve been an absolute fool, but I see it now. I see you. And I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, let alone your affection, but I’m asking for it anyway. I want to be the man you deserve, Penelope. If you’ll have me, I intend to court you properly, to prove to you every single day how much you mean to me. And one day, when you’re ready, I hope you’ll let me make you my wife.”

Penelope stared at him, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. “Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “After everything, are you truly sure?”

Colin’s grip on her hands tightened, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Even if it takes a lifetime, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll tell you every day until you believe me.”

Tears welled in Penelope’s eyes, spilling over, but this time, they were tears of joy. She nodded, unable to find her voice, feeling a weight lift from her heart. “I believe you, Colin,” she whispered. “But if you want to start convincing me now… there is one thing you could do.”

“Anything,” Colin said eagerly, his heart swelling with hope. “Just name it.”

Penelope looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and mischief. “Kiss me.”

Colin blinked in surprise, a slow grin spreading across his face. He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs gently brushing away her tears. But just as he leaned in, he hesitated, casting a wary glance around as if expecting her mother to appear out of nowhere. “I want to, Pen, more than anything,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “but what if your mother is watching us from the window? I’m not keen on being murdered for taking liberties with you.”

Penelope giggled, the sound light and carefree, a balm to the tension between them. “Oh, Colin, we’ve been scandalous all our lives. I think we can afford to be scandalous one last time before we start doing things the proper way.”

Colin’s grin widened, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes before he finally closed the distance between them. His hands cradled her face with a tenderness that made her heart ache, and then his lips met hers. The kiss started as a gentle brush, soft and tentative, as if he were savouring the very first taste of something he had longed for but never dared to reach for.

But then, like a dam breaking, all the emotions they had both kept locked away for so long began to flood through. The kiss deepened, growing more fervent, more consuming. His hands slipped into her hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as he pulled her closer, as if afraid she might slip away.

Penelope responded in kind, her own hands gripping the fabric of his coat, clutching it like a lifeline as she melted into him. She felt the world tilt around her, the only solid thing grounding her being the warmth of Colin’s embrace and the intensity of his kiss.

His lips moved against hers with a passion that spoke of all the years of friendship that had quietly transformed into something more—something fierce and undeniable. There was an urgency to it, a desperation that seemed to say, I see you. I’ve always seen you.

As the kiss deepened further, it became less about the years of longing and more about the promise of what was to come. It was a kiss that held the unspoken vows of a future they had only just begun to imagine—a future where they could finally be together, openly and without reservation.

When they finally broke apart, it was only because they had to breathe, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. Penelope’s lips tingled, her heart racing, and as she looked up into Colin’s eyes, she saw the same breathless wonder reflected back at her.

“Now that,” Colin murmured, his voice husky with emotion as he brushed a stray curl from her face, “is a good start.”

Penelope’s breath caught at the tenderness in his touch, and she smiled, a warmth spreading through her that she knew would never fade. “Yes,” she agreed softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she gazed up at him. “It is.”