Romancing Mister Bridgerton by Julia Quinn Page B

The old lady had a look in her eye. A frightening look.
    â€œI have an idea,” she said.
    Someone gasped. Someone else groaned.
    â€œA brilliant idea.”
    â€œNot that any of your ideas are anything but,” Colin murmured in his most affable voice.
    Lady Danbury shushed him with a wave of her hand. “How many great mysteries are there in life, really?”
    No one answered, so Colin guessed, “Forty-two?”
    She didn’t even bother to scowl at him. “I am telling you all here and now….”
    Everyone leaned in. Even Colin. It was impossible not to indulge the drama of the moment.
    â€œYou are all my witnesses….”
    Colin thought he heard Penelope mutter, “Get on with it.”
    â€œOne thousand pounds,” Lady Danbury said.
    The crowd surrounding her grew.
    â€œOne thousand pounds,” she repeated, her voice growing in volume. Really, she would have been a natural on the stage. “One thousand pounds…”
    It seemed the entire ballroom had hushed into reverent silence.
    â€œâ€¦to the person who unmasks Lady Whistledown!”

Chapter 3
    This Author would be remiss if it was not mentioned that the most talked-about moment at last night’s birthday ball at Bridgerton House was not the rousing toast to Lady Bridgerton (age not to be revealed) but rather Lady Danbury’s impertinent offer of one thousand pounds to whomever unmasks…
    Me.
    Do your worst, ladies and gentlemen of the ton. You haven’t a prayer of solving this mystery.
    L ADY W HISTLEDOWN’S S OCIETY P APERS , 12 A PRIL 1824
    P recisely three minutes were required for news of Lady Danbury’s outrageous dare to spread throughout the ballroom. Penelope knew this to be true because she happened to be facing a large (and, according to Kate Bridgerton, extremely precise) grandfather clock when Lady Danbury made her announcement. At the words, “One thousand pounds to the person who unmasks Lady Whistledown,” the clock read forty-four minutes past ten. The long hand had advanced no farther than forty-seven when Nigel Berbrooke stumbled into the rapidly growing circle of people surrounding Lady Danbury and proclaimed her latest scheme “scrumbly good fun!”
    And if Nigel had heard about it, that meant everyone had, because Penelope’s brother-in-law was not known for his intelligence, his attention span, or his listening ability.
    Nor, Penelope thought wryly, for his vocabulary. Scrumbly, indeed.
    â€œAnd who do you think Lady Whistledown is?” Lady Danbury asked Nigel.
    â€œNo earthly idea,” he admitted. “Ain’t me, that’s all I know!”
    â€œI think we all know that,” Lady D replied.
    â€œWho do you think it is?” Penelope asked Colin.
    He offered her a one-shouldered shrug. “I’ve been out of town too often to speculate.”
    â€œDon’t be silly,” Penelope said. “Your cumulative time in London certainly adds up to enough parties and routs to form a few theories.”
    But he just shook his head. “I really couldn’t say.”
    Penelope stared at him for a moment longer than was necessary, or, in all honesty, socially acceptable. There was something odd in Colin’s eyes. Something fleeting and elusive. The ton often thought him nothing more than a devil-may-care charmer, but he was far more intelligent than he let on, and she’d have bet her life that he had a few suspicions.
    But for some reason, he wasn’t willing to share them with her.
    â€œWho do you think it is?” Colin asked, avoiding her question with one of his own. “You’ve been out in society just about as long as Lady Whistledown. Surely you must have thought about it.”
    Penelope looked about the ballroom, her eyes resting on this person and that, before finally returning to the small crowd around her. “I think it could very well be Lady Danbury,” she replied.