Romancing Mister Bridgerton With 2nd Epilogue by Quinn Julia

Author:Quinn, Julia
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

She hit the pavement.

Penelope was—in her opinion, at least—a bit more graceful than most people gave her credit for. She was a good dancer, could play the piano with her fingers arched perfectly, and could usually navigate a crowded room without bumping into an uncommon amount of people or furniture.

But when Colin made his rather matter-of-fact proposal, her foot—at the time halfway out of the carriage—found only air, her left hip found the curb, and her head found Colin’s toes.

“Good God, Penelope,” he exclaimed, crouching down. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine,” she managed to get out, searching for the hole in the ground that must have just opened up, so that she could crawl into it and die.

“Are you certain?”

“It’s nothing, really,” she replied, holding her cheek, which she was certain now sported a perfect imprint of the top of Colin’s boot. “Just a bit surprised, that is all.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she echoed.

“Yes, why?”

She blinked. Once, twice, then again. “Er, well, it might have to do with your mentioning marriage.”

He yanked her unceremoniously to her feet, nearly dislocating her shoulder in the process. “Well, what did you think I would say?”

She stared at him in disbelief. Was he mad? “Not that,” she finally replied.

“I’m not a complete boor,” he muttered.

She brushed dust and pebbles off her sleeves. “I never said you were, I just—”

“I can assure you,” he continued, now looking mortally offended, “that I do not behave as I did with a woman of your background without rendering a marriage proposal.”

Penelope’s mouth fell open, leaving her feeling rather like an owl.

“Don’t you have a reply?” he demanded.

“I’m still trying to figure out what you said,” she admitted.

He planted his hands on his hips and stared at her with a decided lack of indulgence.

“You must admit,” she said, her chin dipping until she was regarding him rather dubiously through her lashes, “it did sound rather like you’ve, er—how did you say it—rendered marriage proposals before.”

He scowled at her. “Of course I haven’t. Now take my arm before it starts to rain.”

She looked up at the clear blue sky.

“At the rate you’re going,” he said impatiently, “we’ll be here for days.”

“I . . . well . . .” She cleared her throat. “Surely you can forgive me my lack of composure in the face of such tremendous surprise.”

“Now who’s speaking in circles?” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon.”

His hand tightened on her arm. “Let’s just get going.”

“Colin!” she nearly shrieked, tripping over her feet as she stumbled up the stairs. “Are you sure—”

“No time like the present,” he said, almost jauntily. He seemed quite pleased with himself, which puzzled her, because she would have bet her entire fortune—and as Lady Whistledown, she’d amassed quite a fortune—that he had not intended to ask her to marry him until the moment his carriage had ground to a halt in front her house.

Perhaps not even until the words had left his lips.

He turned to her. “Do I need to knock?”

“No, I—”

He knocked anyway, or rather banged, if one wanted to be particular about it.

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