His breath left him in a short punch of exasperation. "Do you have any concept of money? Any idea how many people would like Lady Danbury's thousand pounds?"wI have more of a concept of money than you do," she replied, bristling at the insult. "And besides, Lady Danbury's reward doesn't make my secret any more vulnerable."wIt makes everyone else more determined, and that makes you more vulnerable. Not to mention," he added with a wry twist to his lips, "as my youngest sister pointed out, there is the glory."wHyacinth?" she asked.

He nodded grimly, setting the paper down on the bench beside him. "And if Hyacinth thinks the glory at having uncovered your identity is enviable, then you can be sure she's not the only one. It may very well be why Cressida is pursuing her stupid ruse."wCressida's doing it for the money," Penelope grumbled. "I'm sure of it."wFine. It doesn't matter why she's doing it. All that matters is that she is, and once you dispose of her with your idiocy"— he slammed his hand against the paper, causing Penelope to wince as a loud crinkle filled the air—"someone else will take her place."wThis is nothing I don't already know," she said, mostly because she couldn't bear to give him the last word.wThen for the love of God, woman," he burst out, "let Cressida get away with her scheme. She's the answer to your prayers."

Her eyes snapped up to his. "You don't know my prayers."

Something in her tone hit Colin squarely in the chest. She hadn't changed his mind, hadn't even budged it, but he couldn't seem to find the right words to fill the moment. He looked at her, then he looked out the window, his mind absently focusing on the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral.wWe really are taking the long way home," he murmured.

She didn't say anything. He didn't blame her. It had been a stupid non sequitur, words to fill the silence and nothing else.wIf you let Cressida—" he began.wStop," she implored him. "Please, don't say any more. I can't let her do it."wHave you really thought about what you'd gain?"

She looked at him sharply. "Do you think I've been able to think of anything else these past few days?"

He tried another tactic. "Does it truly matter that people know you were Lady Whistledown? You know that you were clever and fooled us all. Can't that be enough?"wYou're not listening to me!" Her mouth remained frozen open, in an odd incredulous oval, as if she couldn't quite believe that he didn't understand what she was saying. "I don't need for people to know it was me. I just need for them to know it wasn't her. "wBut clearly you don't mind if people think someone else is Lady Whistledown," he insisted. "After all, you've been accusing Lady Danbury for weeks."wI had to accuse someone," she explained. "Lady Danbury asked me point-blank who I thought it was, and I couldn't very well say myself. Besides, it wouldn't be so very bad if people thought it was Lady Danbury. At least I like Lady Danbury."wPenelope—"wHow would you feel if your journals were published with Nigel Berbrooke as the author?" she demanded.wNigel Berbrooke can barely string two sentences together," he said with a derisive snort. "I hardly think anyone would believe he could have written my journals." As an afterthought, he gave her a little nod as an apology, since Berbrooke was, after all, married to her sister.wTry to imagine it," she ground out. "Or substitute whomever you think is similar to Cressida."wPenelope," he sighed, "I'm not you. You can't compare the two. Besides, if I were to publish my journals, they would hardly ruin me in the eyes of society."

She deflated in her seat, sighing loudly, and he knew that his point had been well made. "Good," he announced, "then it is decided. We will tear this up—" He reached for the sheet of paper.wNo!" she cried out, practically leaping from her seat. "Don't!"wBut you just said—"wI said nothing!" she shrilled. "All I did was sigh."wOh, for God's sake, Penelope," he said testily. "You clearly agreed with—"

She gaped at his audacity. "When did I give you leave to interpret my sighs?"

He looked at the incriminating paper, still held in his hands, and wondered what on earth he was meant to do with it at this moment.wAnd anyway," she continued, her eyes flashing with an anger and fire that made her almost beautiful, "it isn't as if I don't have every last word memorized. You can destroy that paper, but you can't destroy me."wI'd like to," he muttered.wWhatdid you say?"wWhistledown," he ground out. "I'd like to destroy Whistledown. You, I'm happy to leave as is."wBut I am Whistledown."wGod help us all."

And then something within her simply snapped. All her rage, all her frustration, every last negative feeling she'd kept bottled up inside over the years broke forth, all directed at Colin, who, of all the ton, was probably the least deserving of it.wWhy are you so angry with me?" she burst out. "What have I done that is so repellent? Been cleverer than you? Kept a secret? Had a good laugh at the expense of society?"wPenelope, you—"wNo," she said forcefully. "You be quiet. It's my turn to speak."

His jaw went slack as he stared at her, shock and disbelief crowding in his eyes.wI am proud of what I've done," she managed to say, her voice shaking with emotion. "I don't care what you say. I don't care what anyone says. No one can take that from me."wI'm not trying—"wI don't need for people to know the truth," she said, jumping on top of his ill-timed protest. "But I will be damned if I allow Cressida Twombley, the very person who... who ..." Her entire body was trembling now, as memory after memory swept over her, all of them bad.