And then they were gone.wDon't," she said, her voice shaking.wDon't touch you?" His voice grew mocking, and Penelope was glad that she couldn't see his face. "But you're mine; aren't you?"wNot yet," she warned him.wOh, but you are. You saw to that. It was rather clever timing, actually, waiting until our engagement ball to make your final announcement. You knew I didn't want you to publish that last column. I forbade it!

We agreed—"wWe never agreed!"

He ignored her outburst. "You waited until—"wWe never agreed," Penelope cried out again, needing to make it clear that she had not broken her word. Whatever else she had done, she had not bed to him. Well, aside from keeping Whistledown a secret for nearly a dozen years, but he certainly hadn't been alone in that deception. "And yes," she admitted, because it didn't seem right to start lying now, "I knew you wouldn't jilt me. But I hoped—"

Her voice broke, and she was unable to finish.wYou hoped what?" Colin asked after an interminable silence.wI hoped that you would forgive me," she whispered. "Or at least that you would understand. I always thought you were the sort of man who..."wWhat sort of man?" he asked, this time after the barest hint of a pause.wIt's my fault, really," she said, sounding tired and sad. "I've put you on a pedestal. You've been so nice all these years.

I suppose I thought you were incapable of anything else."wWhat the hell have I done that hasn't been nice?" he demanded. "I've protected you, I've offered for you, I've—"wYou haven't tried to see this from my point of view," she interrupted.wBecause you're acting like an idiot!" he nearly roared.

There was silence after that, the kind of silence that grates at ears, gnaws at souls.wI can't imagine what else there is to say," Penelope finally said.

Colin looked away. He didn't know why he did so; it wasn't as if he could see her in the dark, anyway.

But there was something about the tone of her voice that made him uneasy. She sounded vulnerable, tired. Wishful and heartbroken. She made him want to understand her, or at least to try, even though he knew she had made a terrible mistake. Every little catch in her voice put a damper on his fury. He was still angry, but somehow he'd lost the will to display it.wYou are going to be found out, you know," he said, his voice low and controlled. "You have humiliated Cressida; she will be beyond furious, and she's not going to rest until she unearths the real Lady Whistledown."

Penelope moved away; he could hear her skirts rustling. "Cressida isn't bright enough to figure me out, and besides, I'm not going to write any more columns, so there will be no opportunity for me to slip up

and reveal something." There was a beat of silence, and then she added, "You have my promise on that."wIt's too late," he said.wIt's not too late," she protested. "No one knows! No one knows but you, and you're so ashamed of me, I can't bear it."wOh, for the love of God, Penelope," he snapped, "I'm not ashamed of you."wWould you please light a candle?" she wailed.

Colin crossed the room and fumbled in a drawer for a candle and the means with which to light it. "I'm not ashamed of you," he reiterated, "but I do think you're acting foolishly."wYou may be correct," she said, "but I have to do what I think is right."wYou're not thinking," he said dismissively, turning and looking at her face as he sparked a flame.wForget, if you will—although I cannot—what will happen to your reputation if people find out who you really are. Forget that people will cut you, that they will talk about you behind your back."wThose people aren't worth worrying about," she said, her back ramrod straight.wPerhaps not," he agreed, crossing his arms and staring at her. Hard. "But it will hurt. You will not like it, Penelope. And I won't like it."

She swallowed convulsively. Good. Maybe he was getting through to her.wBut forget all of that," he continued. "You have spent the last decade insulting people. Offending them."wI have said lots of very nice things as well," she protested, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.wOf course you have, but those aren't the people you are going to have to worry about. I'm talking about the angry ones, the insulted ones." He strode forward and grabbed her by her upper arms. "Penelope," he said urgently, "there will be people who want to hurt you."

His words had been meant for her, but they turned around and pierced his own heart.

He tried to picture a life without Penelope. It was impossible.

Just weeks ago she'd been... He stopped, thought. What had she been? A friend? An acquaintance?

Someone he saw and never really noticed?

And now she was his fiancee, soon to be his bride. And maybe ... maybe she was something more than that. Something deeper. Something even more precious.wWhat I want to know," he asked, deliberately forcing the conversation back on topic so his mind wouldn't wander down such dangerous roads, "is why you're not jumping on the perfect alibi if the point is to remain anonymous."wBecause remaining anonymous isn't the point!" she fairly yelled.wYou want to be found out?" he asked, gaping at her in the candlelight.wNo, of course not," she replied. "But this is my work. This is my life's work. This is all I have to show for my life, and if I can't take the credit for it, I'll be damned if someone else will."

Colin opened his mouth to offer a retort, but to his surprise, he had nothing to say. Life's work. Penelope had a life's work.

He did not.

She might not be able to put her name on her work, but when she was alone in her room, she could look at her back issues, and point to them, and say to herself, This is it. This is what my life has been about.wColin?" she whispered, clearly startled by his silence.