Romancing Mister Bridgerton Read Free

Benedict had married Sophie, only he didn’t know who she really was, and—well, that didn’t signify, except that it may have been the one truly great secret in the last decade that Lady Whistledown had never managed to unearth.
    Anyway, she was walking through the front hall, listening to her feet tap along the marble tile as she saw herself out. She was adjusting her pelisse and preparing to walk the short distance to her own home (just around the corner, really) when she heard voices. Male voices. Male Bridgerton voices.
    It was the three elder Bridgerton brothers: Anthony, Benedict, and Colin. They were having one of those conversations that men have, the kind in which they grumble a lot and poke fun at each other. Penelope had always liked to watch the Bridgertons interact in this manner; they were such a family.
    Penelope could see them through the open front door, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying until she’d reached the threshold. And in a testament to the bad timing that had plagued her throughout her life, the first voice she heard was Colin’s, and the words were not kind.
    â€œâ€¦ and I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington! ”
    â€œOh!” The word slipped over her lips before she could even think, the squeal of it piercing the air like an off-key whistle.
    The three Bridgerton men turned to face her with identical horrified faces, and Penelope knew that she had just entered into what would certainly be the most awful five minutes of her life.
    She said nothing for what seemed like an eternity, and then, finally, with a dignity she never dreamed she possessed, she looked straight at Colin and said, “I never asked you to marry me.”
    His cheeks went from pink to red. He opened his mouth, but not a sound came out. It was, Penelope thought with wry satisfaction, probably the only time in his life he’d ever been at a loss for words.
    â€œAnd I never—” She swallowed convulsively. “I never said to anyone that I wanted you to ask me.”
    â€œPenelope,” Colin finally managed, “I’m so sorry.”
    â€œYou have nothing to apologize for,” she said.
    â€œNo,” he insisted, “I do. I hurt your feelings, and—”
    â€œYou didn’t know I was there.”
    â€œBut nevertheless—”
    â€œYou are not going to marry me,” she said, her voice sounding very strange and hollow to her ears. “There is nothing wrong with that. I am not going to marry your brother Benedict.”
    Benedict had clearly been trying not to look, but he snapped to attention at that.
    Penelope fisted her hands at her sides. “It doesn’t hurt his feelings when I announce that I am not going to marry him.” She turned to Benedict, forcing her eyes directly on his. “Does it, Mr. Bridgerton?”
    â€œOf course not,” Benedict answered quickly.
    â€œIt’s settled, then,” she said tightly, amazed that, for once, exactly the right words were coming out of her mouth. “No feelings were hurt. Now, then, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I should like to go home.”
    The three gentlemen immediately stood back to let her pass, and she would have made a clean escape, except that Colin suddenly blurted out, “Don’t you have a maid?”
    She shook her head. “I live just around the corner.”
    â€œI know, but—”
    â€œI’ll escort you,” Anthony said smoothly.
    â€œThat’s really not necessary, my lord.”
    â€œHumor me,” he said, in a tone that told her quite clearly she hadn’t any choice in the matter.
    She nodded, and the two of them took off down the street. After they had passed about three houses, Anthony said in a strangely respectful voice, “He didn’t know you were there.”
    Penelope felt her lips tighten at the corners—not out of anger, just out of a weary sense of resignation.