You Must Remember This

Chapter Six: A Bombardment of Bridgertons

Anthony and Ben do their best version of good cop/bad cop.

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"Colin, what in God's name are you playing at?"

"Well, what's he to do? The doctor did say we aren't meant to contradict..."

"But surely there has to be a limit to how wrong..."

"We shouldn't be discussing this here. Penelope needs..."

"Yes. This is so very wrong!"

"Would you all kindly take this elsewhere? I shall not have..."

The voices in the room blended into a dull roar.

"You. Study. Now." Colin picked Anthony's voice from the rest just before a hand clamped on his arm.

He reluctantly released Penelope's hand, lest he pull her prone form from the bed, as Anthony fairly dragged him past his family, out the door, through the hall, and down the stairs.

He let himself be dragged along as he wondered... What was he playing at?

He only knew that the last time Penelope had looked at him, on that painful and seemingly never-ending last stretch of their journey, she'd not done so for long, always turning stiffly away or avoiding him every time he tried to catch her eye.

But this morning, her eyes had followed him everywhere. He knew because he could hardly keep his own from devouring them, starved for them. He didn't want her eyes closed now, but if she needed more rest, then damn it, she'd have it. But he didn't have to like it!

"Well?" Anthony prodded as he pulled him into his study. He'd begun to shut the door, but Benedict sailed in before he could.

"Yes, I also have several questions," Benedict said blandly. "First, is it past eleven yet?"

"What?" Anthony snapped, pulling out his pocket watch. "No. It's barely half-ten. And what does that have to do with—"

"I suppose that's close enough," Ben said as he moved to the sideboard and poured three glasses. "I do make an effort to resist such libations before lunch, but these are desperate times." He handed one off to Anthony, who took it absently. He started to pass Colin the third, but Anthony snatched it before he could.

"What nonsense, Anthony barked. "I've seen you take the hair of the dog many times after a night of—"

"This isn't hair of the dog. I've been sober as a judge this week. We all have. I think it's high time that ended." Ben clinked his glass to Anthony's before snatching back the one meant for Colin. "I mean, if we are going to have this conversation..." He dangled the glass in front of Colin.

Colin pushed it away. "I don't want a whiskey. I want to go back upstairs and—"

"And what?" Anthony demanded, taking the glass again. "Tell Penelope you're the King of Prussia now?"

"To be fair, he didn't tell her anything," Ben supplied, leaning on the desk and sipping at his own tumbler.

Yes! That was true. He didn't actually put the idea in her head and wasn't to blame for...

"But if I recall," Ben went on, "he certainly didn't correct her, did he?"

"Indeed, he did not." Anthony speared him with a glance. He looked like he also wanted to point, but with a glass in each hand, he could only sort of wave. "He seemed to confirm it."