in quite deep// featherington oc

sixteen

We all know the great lengths a young lady will go in pursuit of a proposal. And apparently, she will travel great distances too. Lord Anthony Bridgerton appears to be inching ever so closer to selecting his viscountess, and to that end has invited our diamond to join him for an excursion at his ancestral home, Aubrey Hall.

Country air indeed clears the mind and invigorates the body. Might this be the final gust that pushes the viscount over the precipice of a proposal? Of course, the luckless souls remaining in town will have to find new diversions in the absence of their most precious of stones.

I sit in the drawing room with Mama and the new Lord Featherington. Penelope is pacing back and forth. I do not know what has got her worked up.

"For goodness' sake, Penelope. Stop your pacing before you give me indigestion," Mama instructs.

"Apologies, Mama," Pen says before sitting at the table.

"We have much to do before joining the Bridgertons in a few days," Mama states. "We will head to the modiste after breakfast."

"The modiste?" Pen questions. "Today?"

Lord Featherington stands up from his seat on the sofa.

"Oh. Are you off to make calls this morning, my lord?" Mama questions. "Anyone in particular?"

"I thought to pay a visit to White's," Lord Featherington informs her.

"Excellent idea. I'm sure you'll find the gentlemen there very good company," Mama tells him.

"Good day, ladies," Lord Featherington says as he walks out of the room.

"I suppose I should be glad that he's not already out courting his future bride," Mama reasons. "It's only a matter of time before he brings home some young beauty to oust us out onto the streets."

"Perhaps it will be Miss Uxbridge," Mrs. Varley offers. "Now, there's a chickabiddy if ever I saw one."

"Varley. Not helping," Mama tells her. "What we need to find is someone malleable. Someone stupid enough not to know any better, and certainly not to know how to take on and manage a household. That would be in our best interest. The question is... where?"

Prudence walks into the room. "I want to move into Philippa's room. Why she always got the bigger one has never been fair. What?"

"We were just saying what an eligible match Lord Featherington would make," Mama lies.

"For whom?" Prudence remarks.

"You," Mama tells her.

"But he's our cousin," Pen protests.

"Oh, Penelope," Mama remarks.

"But he is our cousin," Prudence remarks.

"And since when has that ever created an issue?" Mama reasons. "It is not odd to marry one's cousin. It is regal. Just look at the royal family. Besides, he's your fourth cousin, nonetheless. Do you not wish to be lady of this household, Prudence? Hosting dinners and balls, the envy of all your friends?"

"Would I have such authority?" Prudence questions.

"If that is what you wish," Mama tells her. "You will charm him with some assistance. You will need a new dress or two, to appear rather more tempting."

"Tempting for what?" Prudence questions.

Mama waves her off. "Never you mind. Off to the modiste, indeed!"

"Mama has truly lost it this time," I whisper to Pen.

"I am afraid so," Pen agrees.

I decide to go to the modiste with Mama and Prudence. Madame Delacroix is fitting Prudence for a horrid bright orange dress with shimmering dots all over it.