For some reason he'd wanted to retain an element of surprise before he asked for Penelope's hand. If Portia Featherington knew his intentions ahead of time, she'd likely twist the whole thing around (in her mind, at least) so that she had somehow orchestrated the match herself.
And for some reason, Colin found that exceedingly distasteful.wI hope I'm not intruding," he said to Mrs. Featherington.wNo, of course not," she said quickly. "We are delighted to have you here, at a family gathering." But she looked rather odd, not precisely undecided about his presence there, but certainly unsure of what her next move should be. She was chewing on her lower lip, and then she darted a furtive glance at Felicity, of all people.
Colin turned to Felicity. She was looking at Penelope,a small secret smile fixed to her face. Penelope was glaring at her mother, her mouth twisted into an irritated grimace.
Colin's gaze went from Featherington to Featherington to Featherington. Something was clearly simmering under the surface here and if he weren't trying to figure out (A) how to avoid being trapped into conversation with Penelope's relations while (B) somehow managing to issue a proposal of marriage at the same time—well, he'd be rather curious as to what was causing all the secret, underhanded glances being tossed back and forth between the Featherington women.
Mrs. Featherington cast one last glance at Felicity, did a little gesture that Colin could have sworn meant, Sit up straight, then fixed her attention on Colin. "Won't you sit down?" she asked, smiling widely and patting the seat next to her on the sofa.wOf course," he murmured, because there was really no getting out of it now. He still had to ask for Penelope's hand in marriage, and even if he didn't particularly want to do it in front of every last Featherington (and their two inane spouses), he was stuck here, at least until a polite opportunity to make his escape presented itself.
He turned and offered his arm to the woman he intended to make his bride. "Penelope?"wEr, yes, of course," she stammered, placing her hand at the crook of his elbow.wOh, yes," Mrs. Featherington said, as if she'd completely forgotten about her daughter's presence.wTerribly sorry, Penelope. Didn't see you. Won't you please go and ask Cook to increase our order?
We'll surely need more food with Mr. Bridgerton here."wOf course," Penelope said, the corners of her lips quivering.wCan't she ring for it?" Colin asked loudly.wWhat?" Mrs. Featherington said distractedly. "Well, I suppose she could, but it would take longer, and Penelope doesn't mind, do you?"
Penelope gave her head a little shake.wI mind," Colin said.
Mrs. Featherington let out a little "Oh" of surprise, then said, "Very well. Penelope, er, why don't you sit right there?" She motioned to a chair that was not quite situated to be a part of the inner conversation circle.
Felicity, who was seated directly across from her mother, jumped up. "Penelope, please take my seat."wNo," Mrs. Featherington said firmly. "You have been feeling under the weather, Felicity. You need to sit."
Colin thought Felicity looked the picture of perfect health, but she sat back down.wPenelope," Prudence said loudly, from over by the window. "I need to speak with you."
Penelope glanced helplessly from Colin to Prudence to Felicity to her mother.
Colin yanked her in closer. "I need to speak with her as well," he said smoothly.wRight, well, I suppose there is room for both of you," Mrs. Featherington said, scooting over on the sofa .
Colin was caught between the good manners that had been drummed into his head since birth and the overwhelming urge to strangle the woman who would someday be his mother-in-law. He had no idea why she was treating Penelope like some sort of lesser-favored stepchild, but really, it had to stop.wWhat brings you this way?" yelled Robert Huxley.
Colin touched his ears—he couldn't help himself—then said, "I was—"wOh, goodness," fluttered Mrs. Featherington, "we do not mean to interrogate our guest, do we?"
Colin hadn't really thought Huxley's question constituted an interrogation, but he didn't really want to insult Mrs. Featherington by saying so, so he merely nodded and said something completely meaningless like, "Yes, well, of course."wOf course what?" asked Philippa.
Philippa was married to Nigel Berbrooke, and Colin had always thought it was a rather good match, indeed.wI'm sorry?" he queried.wYou said, 'Of course,'" Philippa said. "Of course what?"wI don't know," Colin said.wOh. Well, then, why did you—"wPhilippa," Mrs. Featherington said loudly, "perhaps you should fetch the food, since Penelope has forgotten to ring for it."wOh, I'm sorry," Penelope said quickly, starting to rise to her feet.wDon't worry," Colin said through a smooth smile, grabbing hold of her hand and yanking her back down. "Your mother said Prudence could go."wPhilippa," Penelope said.wWhat about Philippa?"wShe said Philippa could go, not Prudence."
He wondered what had happened to her brain, because somewhere between his carriage and this sofa, it had clearly disappeared. "Does it matter?" he asked.wNo, not really, but—"wFelicity," Mrs. Featherington interrupted, "why don't you tell Mr. Bridgerton about your watercolors?"
For the life of him, Colin couldn't imagine a less interesting topic (except, maybe, for Philippa's watercolors), but he nonetheless turned to the youngest Featherington with a friendly smile and asked, "And how are your watercolors?"
But Felicity, bless her heart, gave him a rather friendly smile herself and said nothing but, "I imagine they're fine, thank you."