The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(56)

Edwina, who was sharing a room with Kate, had already gone to Mary’s chamber to help her choose a necklace, and so Kate found herself alone in the hall. She supposed she could enter Mary’s room and wait for the two of them there, but she didn’t feel terribly conversational, and Edwina had already noticed her odd, reflective mood. The last thing Kate needed was a round of “Whatever can be wrong’s” from Mary.

And the truth was—Kate didn’t even know what was wrong. All she knew was that that afternoon, something had changed between her and the viscount. Something was different, and she freely admitted (to herself, at least) that it frightened her.

Which was normal, right? People always feared what they didn’t understand.

And Kate definitely didn’t understand the viscount.

But just as she was beginning to truly enjoy her solitude, the door across the hall opened, and out walked another young lady. Kate recognized her instantly as Penelope Featherington, the youngest of the three famed Featherington sisters—well, the three who were out in society. Kate had heard that there was a fourth still in the schoolroom.

Unfortunately for the Featherington sisters, they were famed for their lack of success on the marriage mart. Prudence and Philippa had been out for three years now, without a single proposal between the two of them. Penelope was in the midst of her second season and could usually be found at social functions trying to avoid her mother and sisters, who were universally regarded as ninnies.

Kate had always liked Penelope. The two had formed a bond ever since they’d both been skewered by Lady Whistledown for wearing gowns of an unflattering color.

Kate noted with a sad sigh that Penelope’s current gown of lemon yellow silk made the poor girl look hopelessly sallow. And if that weren’t bad enough, it had been cut with far too many frills and flounces. Penelope wasn’t a tall girl, and the gown positively overwhelmed her.

It was a pity, because she might be quite attractive if someone could convince her mother to stay away from the modiste and let Penelope choose her own clothing. She had a rather pleasing face, with the pale, pale skin of a redhead, except that her hair was truly more auburn than red, and if one really wanted to put a fine point on it, more brownish red than auburn.

Whatever you called it, Kate thought with dismay, it didn’t go with lemon yellow.

“Kate!” Penelope called out, after closing her door behind her. “What a surprise. I didn’t realize you were attending.”

Kate nodded. “I think we might have been issued a late invitation. We met Lady Bridgerton only just last week.”

“Well, I know I just said I was surprised, but I’m actually not surprised. Lord Bridgerton has been paying much attention to your sister.”

Kate flushed. “Er, yes,” she stammered. “He has.”

“That is what the gossips say, at least,” Penelope continued. “But then again, one can’t always trust the gossips.”

“I have rarely known Lady Whistledown to be incorrect,” Kate said.

Penelope just shrugged and then looked down at her gown with disgust. “She certainly is never incorrect about me.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Kate said quickly, but they both knew she was just being polite.

Penelope gave her head a weary shake. “My mother is convinced that yellow is a happy color and that a happy girl will snare a husband.”

“Oh, dear,” Kate said, snorting a giggle.

“What she doesn’t grasp,” Penelope continued wryly, “is that such a happy shade of yellow makes me look rather un happy and positively repels the gentlemen.”

“Have you suggested green?” Kate inquired. “I think you’d be smashing in green.”

Penelope shook her head. “She doesn’t like green. Says it’s melancholy.”

“Green?” Kate asked with disbelief.

“I don’t even try to understand her.”

Kate, who was wearing green, held up her sleeve near Penelope’s face, blocking the yellow as best as she could.

“Your whole face lights up,” she said.

“Don’t tell me that. It will only make the yellow more painful.”

Kate offered her a sympathetic smile. “I would loan you one of mine, but I’m afraid it would drag on the floor.”

Penelope waved away her offer. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m resigned to my fate. At least it’s better than last year.”

Kate raised a brow.

“Oh, that’s right. You weren’t out last year.” Penelope winced. “I weighed nearly two stone more than I do now.”

“Two stone?” Kate echoed. She couldn’t believe it.

Penelope nodded and made a face. “Baby fat. I begged Mama not to force me to come out until I turned eighteen, but she thought a head start might be good for me.”

Kate only had to take one look at Penelope’s face to know that it hadn’t been good for her. She felt a certain kinship with this girl, even though Penelope was nearly three years younger. Both of them knew the singular feeling of not being the most popular girl in the room, knew the exact expression you put on your face when you weren’t asked to dance but you wanted to look as if you didn’t care.

“I say,” Penelope said, “why don’t the two of us go down to supper together? It seems your family and mine are both delayed.”