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Chapter Text

Standing on the front steps of Number Five Bruton Street, Colin Bridgerton had his arms wound tightly together as an uncharacteristic scowl rested on his face. It was very possible that he resembled a young child throwing a tantrum, but he couldn't have cared any less at that moment. This was due to the unfortunate circumstance that he was standing with his two older brothers, who had joyously taken the opportunity to partake in one of their favorite activities: tormenting him. 

Colin should have known not to talk about marriage with Anthony and Benedict. He should have known not to tell them about how their mother had recently taken to suggesting Penelope Featherington as a potential bride at every given chance. And he should have definitely known that the two men would simply laugh at the fact that the situation had become an extreme source of frustration for him. 

"The point is that I have known her forever, and I can assure you I am not likely to fall in love with her," Colin ground out with a glare. 

Now, let it be clear, it wasn't that Colin thought Penelope ugly or unpleasant. In all honesty, she was decently pretty in her own right and seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. But he simply had no desire of marrying anyone anytime soon, let alone a girl whom he'd known since he was in short pants. And he was beginning to worry that the more his mother suggested Penelope, the more of such discussion would get back to the girl, which he could only assume would lead to awkwardness when his feelings were made clear. Though he liked to think himself decently modest, Colin was quite aware of the effect that he (and all the Bridgerton men) had on women, and he was fairly certain that Penelope Featherington was no exception in that estimate. 

Neither of his brothers, however, seemed to hold the same worry. "They'll be married within a year. Mark my words," Anthony definitively said as he turned to Benedict.

"Anthony!" 

Neither brother took any note of Colin's contention. "Maybe two. He's young yet." 

He was only twenty-six, for God's sake. Benedict was more than thirty bloody years old, and he didn't seem on any path for marriage. Colin, of course, made this point, but his older brothers didn't seem to care about his arguments. He could feel his ears reddening in frustration, just wishing that they could get into the house and quickly get through whatever meeting their mother had planned.

"At any rate, I am not going to marry soon," he grumbled, sending them both a glare. They simply exchanged smirks, obviously not taking him at all seriously. So, with a slight rise in his voice for finality, Colin said just about the stupidest thing of his life. "And I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington!" 

Anthony opened his mouth smugly, but the words never came. This was because the three brothers were silenced by a petrifying squeak that came from the slightly ajar door a few feet away.

“Oh.”

Colin felt his blood recoil in horror as they all turned in unison to see a paler-than-normal Penelope staring at them, her lips slightly parted in an ‘O’ shape.

She didn’t look upset… Exactly. She mostly just looked embarrassed, and startled, and… about a thousand other emotions he didn't even want to begin to identify. Whatever they were, they certainly made him feel awful.  

A glance at his brothers confirmed that they felt similarly. Anthony’s mouth was still hanging open, as if he wanted to speak but had suddenly gone mute. Benedict was staring off to the side, shame written across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. Colin looked back to the girl, who was looking at a spot on the ground near him as she wrung her hands together. He could feel the heat on his own face, no doubt as red as hers was white.

"Penelope," he fought a grimace as his voice came out a full one or two octaves higher than normal. "Uh... Good to see you." 

Good to see you? Was there ever a greater idiot in the history of the Earth? 

None of the other three people in the world's most awkward moment replied. Much to her credit, Penelope wasn't glaring at him, or even frowning. But she wasn't giving him anything close to the opposite either. And his two asses for brothers were still very much trying to act like they were in another place entirely. 

Finally, Colin just murmured, "I didn't know you were there." No use in trying to avoid it. 

Penelope gave him a weak nod, "Obviously not." 

"Were you visiting Eloise?" He stopped himself from cringing. Of course, she was, idiot. 

"I was invited." 

"I'm sure you were!" His voice was coming out far too high again, but Colin was thankful for any excuse to divert the conversation. "Of course you were. You're a great friend of the family." That was true, yes. But that didn't mean that it necessarily needed to be said.

And it definitely didn't. Because Penelope's head made a small jerk as if she was trying to make up in her mind what she could possibly say to something like that. And then she tried to smile, and Colin felt wretched all over again. He'd seen Penelope embarrassed and even upset before, but he'd never seen her quite so pained. "As if you would come uninvited," he mumbled at the simple aim of filling the air. 

An awful silence struck the group again. Colin kept glancing at his older brothers, hoping for one of them to say something, anything that could help him. But both of the men were still refusing to look in his or Penelope’s direction/  

But after what seemed like an eternity, Penelope turned out to be the bravest of the bunch. Unfortunately, neither the direct look she gave him nor the words she spoke put him at any ease.

Her voice was much stronger than he thought he would have been able to muster. And the look she gave him was almost lethal, or, at least as lethal as Penelope Featherington could ever appear. “I never asked you to marry me.” 

For possibly the first time in his life, Colin didn’t have any clue as to what he was meant to say. He felt his mouth fall open, but the intense burning on his face made it impossible to speak. What could he say? No, but my mother did… No, but you’d obviously want to… No, but- 

“And I never- I never said to anyone that I wanted you to ask me.” He could see her throat moving rapidly as she swallowed. There was an unfamiliar coldness in her voice that made his gut twist; he had never felt so dreadful in his entire life. 

Damn, why did she have to hear him? Or, better yet, why did he have to have such a bloody big mouth?

After finally regaining his voice, Colin forced out, “Penelope, I’m so sorry.” He didn’t sound anything like himself, his tone holding none of its usual confidence. It was rare for him to apologize for anything; he could normally excuse himself with a charming smile or a teasing wink. But Colin couldn't find it in himself to smile when the girl staring back at him still looked so hurt. 

With the same touch of coldness, she claimed he had nothing to apologize for. He then insisted that he did because he hurt her feelings. She then interrupted him and stated that he didn’t know she was there. As if that mattered; anyone could have heard the morons. Why had he been stupid enough to discuss this here, on the front steps of his mother's house of all places? 

Penelope's entire demeanor was so unfamiliar to him as they continued their tortuous dispute. It didn't sound as though she was going to burst into tears or that she despised him, but she seemed as if... He didn't even know. But Colin did know that it had none of the good humor he was so accustomed to receiving. 

She then said something about not marrying him or Benedict, the latter of whom was finally forced to look at her and rejoin the conversation. Though the man was much taller, he practically cowered under the stern look she gave him as he quickly agreed. 

And, finally, when none of the men (or more fittingly, cowards) had anything more to say, Penelope excused herself to go home with a rather forced breeziness. 

All three brothers quickly side-stepped to let her pass. But before she could take more than a few steps, Colin felt a bizarre surge of worry. Almost without meaning to, he blurted out, “Don’t you have a maid?”

He could have just let her go, and probably should have, but he had an uneasiness about her walking home unescorted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anthony give him an irritated glance, but Colin couldn't stop himself. Surely, he was just being a gentleman. Penelope was a well-bred young lady, and he wouldn't have allowed any lady to walk home alone, no matter the distance.

He was just about ready to offer to escort her home himself, but his eldest brother swiftly cut in before the words came out. Colin wasn’t quite sure if he felt disappointed or relieved when Anthony insisted on accompanying her and offered his arm, but he said nothing more on the matter.

Watching as the two strode off, Colin tried to fight the horrible twitching in his stomach. He had made an utter ass of himself; his apology had been weak, and her acceptance had been hollow.

Just as the two retreating figures were no longer visible, Benedict turned back to him. "That was very well done of you." 

Colin's hands clenched into fists. "I didn't know she was there!" He wasn't even sure why he felt the need to explain himself, as if Benedict hadn't just witnessed the entire bloody exchange. 

"Obviously." 

He shut his eyes tightly for a few moments. "Don't. I feel terrible enough already." 

And he did. In fact, Colin was quite sure that he had never felt so terribly before. It wasn't that he was arrogant enough to think that he had broken Penelope's heart or that she had been holding onto hope of marrying him, but he'd certainly humiliated her. He'd certainly said something incredibly unnecessary and callous with little regard for who might have overheard him. 

A few seconds later, they were interrupted by yet another woman at the front door, this time being the lady of the house. They were surely late to the family meeting by now. 

His mother was speaking, but Colin didn't bother to listen to whatever it was. He did have the decency to at least pause when she asked him about where he was going. 

"I need a drink," he answered gruffly before leaving in the opposite direction of which the pair had taken. The last thing he needed was to sit through a family meeting while Penelope's anguished face remained imprinted into his mind. 

When Penelope finally managed to politely escape Viscount Bridgerton, she made a dash to her bedchambers and promptly locked the door. She glanced into the mirror before slumping down into a chair, seeing nothing but a blurry vision of tangerine and auburn. And with that, the tears that had been threatening her eyes for the last ten minutes were finally allowed to set themselves free. 

There was a tightening in her chest and a twinge in her nose as the unwanted tears ran down her cheeks. She clutched her face in her hands, muffling the sound of the pathetic whimpers she was releasing. This felt awful. She felt awful. The sound of Colin's voice kept running through her mind, refusing to let her even try to forget the words. 

I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington! His voice had been filled with so much certainty, and with just a touch of disdain that made her feel as though he’d ripped out her heart and then trampled it with his horse.

Of course, he wasn’t going to marry her. No matter what her feelings for Colin may have been, Penelope had always been extremely aware of the fact without the need for a reminder. 

And, yes, he obviously hadn't had any intention of having her overhear his declaration, but he certainly hadn't had any objection to announcing it in the middle of Mayfair. 

Eventually, Penelope's eyes ran dry and her mind began to clear. Colin Bridgerton was the nicest man she had ever met. He wasn't the type to be cruel or mean or vicious.

But he had hurt her. He had hurt her so very much. He had mortified her in such a way that made her worry the feeling would never leave her. The very thought of him made her jaw clench, her face scowl, and her heart ache. 

On her walk home, Penelope had suggested to Anthony that Colin go away again. Colin obviously enjoyed traveling, and she used that to her advantage as she tried to explain it as a way to avoid their mother's marriage attempts during the season. It was a good excuse, but there was a bit more to the idea than she would ever admit aloud. 

Honestly, Penelope just couldn't withstand the idea of him being around for the rest of the season. She didn't want to see his winning smiles or him pitying her as she continued to be ignored by the eligible bachelors of London. She had no desire for him to be nudged into dancing with her at the next ball. She just needed him, so desperately, to leave. 

Once her cheeks were fully dry, Penelope took a deep breath before reaching for a paper and quill out of her desk. She had wasted enough time on tears; there were other matters to attend to. 

Colin went to see Anthony the day after the incident, still feeling a pang of shame at the bottom of his stomach. It especially hadn't helped that Benedict had been kind enough to quote the awful declaration back at him during their fencing round that morning. Nevertheless, Colin chose to push away any negative feelings with a plastered grin on his face. 

He wasn't sure exactly why he felt such urgency to speak to his brother. Did he really want to know what he and Penelope had spoken about on the walk home? Did he even really care?

He cared a little, he supposed, as one did when one hurt someone else’s feelings. And Colin liked Penelope enough to regarde her as a friend, so it made sense that he would be worried about her feelings. And as he walked towards Bridgerton House, he concluded that friendly concern was all it was. 

After being led into the drawing room, he was met with his sister-in-law, Kate, who was intently reading a paper. Though Colin gave her a warm greeting, she hardly looked up. 

“Hello, Colin. Please do have a seat,” there was a hint of sarcasm in her tone before she gave him a curt nod to the couch across from her. Though she still wasn't looking at him, Colin gave her his signature charming smile as he sat down. "I’ve already ordered a tea service for you. I’ll expect that you’re hungry.” And as if on cue, his stomach gave a formidable grumble. 

“Yes, thank you. I am," he replied pleasantly. Kate continued staring down at the paper, but Colin noticed that her eyes weren't moving in a way that convinced him that she was actually reading it. "Is Anthony in?" 

She peered at him over the sheet, “he’s checking on Edmund.” Colin's smile remained, but he was beginning to feel uneasy. The tone of Kate's voice was one he was unaccustomed to from anyone, and particularly never from women. 

“So, you must be ready to pop then?” he attempted to tease, motioning to her sizable stomach.

Rather than answer, Kate simply gave him a scowl. He was taken aback, and for a split second, could feel his grin drop; that was normally a comment that would have been met with a chuckle at the very least. But Colin quickly recovered and continued looking at her cheerfully. With her eyes trained on him, Kate deliberately put down the piece of paper she had been reading in front of him.

The words ‘Lady Whistledown’ were quite clearly visible from where he was sitting. Damn. He glanced at his sister-in-law, trying to mask how uncomfortable he felt. She was outright glaring at him now. Colin mentally cursed his brother. Of course, Anthony had told her. Anthony bloody well told his wife everything.

With a sharp intake of breath, Colin begrudgingly picked up the paper and read it.

It wasn’t good, to say the least.  

Although it seemed that he was lucky enough that no one else had heard his unfortunate proclamation, it was recounted that the four of them were oddly spotted together and that Penelope left on Anthony’s arm. There were also some unpleasant comments about her likely never being able to ‘drag’ a Bridgerton man down the alter and her wallflower tendencies. None of it was especially false, but it certainly wasn’t nice to read.

There was also some bizarre passage about a maid being arrested for theft in front of Number Five, but Kate cut in before he could comment on the fact. 

“Might I remind you,” she finally said, “that Penelope Featherington is a dear friend of your sister's. And of mine.”

Colin let out a small groan while resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Good God, he had apologized for heaven’s sake. “Yes, I am well aware. I consider her a friend as well.”

Kate's eyes narrowed at him, but before she could say anything more, Anthony arrived, cheerfully pecking his wife on the cheek and taking a seat next to her.

“Colin, how nice to see you! Is there any reason for your visit or were you just craving one of my cook’s sandwiches?” There was a whisper of a smirk on his lips.

Colin flashed his brother one of his best smiles as if he hadn’t just been having the most adverse conversation with Kate. “I was just strolling through the neighborhood and wanted to pop in, I suppose.”

“Is that so?” Anthony’s grin was rather unnerving next to Kate’s glare.

“Er- yes. Or I suppose…”

“Yes?”

“I suppose I wanted to see how-” he swallowed, “how Miss Featherington was fairing when you walked her home yesterday.”

The smugness on his older brother’s face was so unmistakable that it almost made Colin want to leap over the table and hit him. “Oh, of course.” Anthony nodded slowly, putting on a contemplative expression for a few moments longer than necessary. “She was fine,” was all he finally said, causing his wife to cough in a way that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh. 

“Fine?” Colin repeated, trying to mask the irritation in his voice. Anthony simply nodded again in response, obviously enjoying himself. But before Colin could question him anymore, the tea service arrived, and it seemed that the discussion was over. 

A few days later, Colin had made plans to join his mother and sisters for tea that afternoon. And though this wasn't a terribly uncommon occurrence, it had been a rather calculated decision on this occasion. He was aware that a certain non-Bridgerton girl always joined them for tea on Mondays, and he wanted to make proper amends before he left for Scotland in a few days' time. It wasn’t exactly clear to Colin as to why he was so concerned with gaining her forgiveness, but he chalked it up to her friendship with his family. He would certainly have to see her in the future, so he might as well ensure that everything was alright between them. 

Eloise greeted him at the door as he strode into his mother’s home, but she did not return his cheerful grin. “Is everything alright?” he asked as they walked to the sitting room together.

"Mother and Benedict still aren't back with Sophie," she answered, sitting down gruffly as they joined Francesca and Hyacinth. 

"Back from where?" Colin asked as he joined the couch with her. 

After he was informed that Sophie had, in fact, been the poor maid arrested in front of Number Five ("What?") and that Benedict and Violet had both left days ago to defend her ("And why did no one bother to tell me?"), Colin sat rather dumbly in his seat as his sisters continued to discuss the matter. 

But after a few minutes, it seemed that there was little more to say on the topic until word came back from one of them. And then they started on something else entirely, but Colin lost interest as he suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place. 

And he noticed that his reason was very much not present. 

“Are we expecting anyone else?” he asked casually.

“Penelope was meant to join us, but she suddenly fell ill,” Eloise supplied, accompanying it with a careful look at her brother. Hyacinth and Francesca had begun bickering about the younger one’s lessens or something even less important, so they didn't notice when Eloise muttered, "so suddenly, in fact, that it seemed to only overcome her when I mentioned that you would be joining us today." 

Colin nearly choked on the tea he had been drinking, but quickly covered it with a cleared throat.  “And what does that mean, dear sister?”

“I’m not sure what you did, but it wasn’t good. She’s been avoiding coming here ever since that Lady Whistledown column was published," there was a very detectable hint of accusation in her voice. 

Although he didn’t show it, Colin felt some relief come over him. At least Eloise didn’t know what exactly he’d said. He wouldn’t be able to handle the same animosity from his sister that he’d received from Kate. Particularly because he couldn’t imagine his sister forgiving him anywhere near this lifetime.

“Yes, well, I’m sure she’ll be better soon,” was all he replied, giving her a breezy smile. And though Eloise didn't push it any further, he still felt her watchful gaze through the rest of tea. 

Nonetheless, he joined in on the conversation with his sisters, supplying his usual jokes and teasing when possible. But no matter how he may have appeared on the outside, Colin still felt that discomfort in his gut. Damn, he had really needed to speak with her. And it didn't help to know that Penelope was avoiding the house, potentially in the efforts of avoiding him. 

But, no, surely that was a ridiculous notion. She couldn't possibly by avoiding him; she was just ill. There was no need to jump to such conclusions.

Throughout the next few days, Colin spent a considerable more amount of time at his mother’s than normal. He used his steadily approaching trip as an excuse, which seemed to fool everyone enough. Well, almost everyone… Eloise still looked at him suspiciously whenever he came over, and Kate was still a tad frosty when he ran into her. 

Luckily, his family was soon too distracted to question his motives due to the fact that Benedict and Violet had returned, with Sophie and an engagement in tow (and, somewhat strangely, Miss Posy Reiling as well). And because of the wedding (which would be occurring in only a few days), Colin had been forced to push his plans back a bit. 

Rather unfortunately, however, he did not see Penelope on any of those days. After a few failed attempts, Colin had tried to convince himself that it hardly mattered whether he saw her or not. The only reason he wanted to speak to her so much was that he was a gentleman who owed her a more formal apology. 

But she never came by. And he never ran into her, despite passing the Featherington home multiple times coming to and from his mother’s. It was all starting to become rather vexing. How was one meant to apologize to another person if that person seemingly disappeared? 

On one of the final days before the wedding, Colin had made the spontaneous decision to just call upon Penelope at her own home. He'd been avoiding this method, in the worry that it might lead to gossip about courting, thus risking further humiliation on Penelope's part. But as it was one of his last opportunities, Colin didn't care quite so much. Who bloody cared about what Lady Whistledown would say? He’d be out of the country by the time her next edition came out.

Colin waited in the foyer as the butler left to check "whether Miss Featherington is available" and flashed him a charming smile upon his return.

But he wasn't taken to a sitting room. Instead, “I apologize, Mister Bridgerton, but Miss Featherington is out.”

“She’s out?” Colin repeated, his brows furrowing just a bit.

“Yes, she’s shopping.”

He nodded, “I see… And do you know where she’s shopping?” It would be a tad inappropriate to confront her at the shops, but it didn’t seem as though he had another option now. 

The butler’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, "No, I do not.” 

“Yes, well, thank you. Please let her know that I was here.”

"Of course, sir."

And though he kept up an air of pleasantry with his parting, Colin's feet were practically stomping as he walked farther from Mayfair. The butler's lie had said it all: Penelope Featherington was officially avoiding him.

Chapter Text

Ah, Dear Reader, it appears that this rather uneventful social season has finally hit its crescendo: another Bridgerton wedding! This time, it is the Bridgerton’s second son who is to be wed. Mister Benedict Bridgerton will be married to a Miss Sophie Bennet by the end of this week, and This Author has heard that it will be quite the spectacular private affair indeed. This is Miss Bennet’s first (and likely only) mention in my column, but I am sure that a Mrs. Sophie Bridgerton will be included in the future. Little is known about the bride other than her breathtaking beauty and that she is a ward to the late Earl of Penwood. However, rest assured, I have the utmost confidence that this marriage follows the Bridgerton tradition of being a love match. My hearty congratulations go out to the lovely couple, as well as to Lady Penwood, who can rejoice in the knowledge that she is now distantly connected to the universally beloved Bridgerton clan.

With the wedding in mind, matchmaking mamas everywhere are likely scattering to snag the next eligible Bridgerton, a Mister Colin Bridgerton. Unfortunately, the strapping young traveler, only having just returned from Wales, has already made plans to flee to Scotland immediately after the wedding. Even so, his absence is unlikely to give pause to the strongest-willed mothers. And if there is a will, then there is most certainly a way.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 19 June 1817

Portia frowned into her bowl of porridge as she handed off the column to her youngest daughter, Felicity, who although only fourteen, was already quite keen on the gossip of the ton. Penelope, spreading some marmalade over a piece of toast, could hear her mother mutter something under her breath.

“Is everything alright, Mama?” she asked inconspicuously before motioning Felicity to hand her the paper once she was done.

“Benedict Bridgerton is getting married,” her mother answered in a low sort of grumble. Penelope couldn’t possibly understand why she looked so disappointed; it wasn’t as if one of her daughters ever had any chance of marrying Benedict (or any of the Bridgerton men, for that matter).

“Yes, I know. Eloise told me,” was all Penelope replied.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed, looking irritated. “Wasn’t that girl a maid?”

Although Penelope knew the answer, she just shrugged and took a small bite of her toast. There had been whispering about Sophie, of course, but nothing concrete enough to truly ruin her reputation. And besides the point, Penelope preferred not to entangle herself with her mother’s gossiping, as Portia had a bit of a nasty streak, particularly about women who she thought weren’t worthy of their husbands. It was almost impossible to keep composure whenever her mother mentioned Lady Kate Bridgerton.

“Are you going to the wedding?” Felicity inquired sweetly, handing over the paper to her older sister. Penelope smiled at her. Oh, how lucky to be so young and blissfully unaware.

“Felicity, darling, didn’t you read Whistledown?” Their mother pointed over to the paper Penelope was now pretending to read with great interest, “it’s a private affair. The family is probably too ashamed of the girl to put any money into it. This is even worse than when the Viscount chose his wife.”

Penelope bit the inside of her lip, “Mother, I’ve had tea with Sophie, and I can assure you that she’s a lovely girl both in beauty and spirit.” The older woman’s lips pursed. “And I also happen to know that the wedding will be just as lovely. Lady Bridgerton herself has been making all of the arrangements,” she practically muttered the last part, having lost her will under the glare of Portia.

There was an unagreeable tension in the air for a few minutes, but eventually, her mother gave a small huff and excused herself, leaving Penelope alone with her favorite sister.

Who, unfortunately, did not allow her much respite.

“Have you gotten to see Colin since he’s been back in town?”

Penelope almost choked on her tea and quickly stifled a cough. “Er- I don’t recall. I might have, at Number Five.”

The young girl nodded, taking a bite of her scone before pausing. “Didn’t Lady Whistledown say you were with all three brothers last week?”

Oh, blasted Felicity. Since when had her attention to detail become so good?

“Right,” Penelope nodded slowly. “I’d completely forgotten. I was leaving while they were coming in, so it was quite brief.”

Her sister’s eyebrow twitched in curiosity. “I find it hard to believe that all three Bridgerton men are so easily forgettable.”

“I-” Penelope started but then shut her mouth. She really had no idea what to say to that. “I have a headache,” she finally managed.

Felicity frowned. “Again?”

She just nodded in reply, touching her temple with a hand. “Excuse me.”

And she fled the room nearly as quickly as Colin fled the country.

“Damn, this bloody thing’s too tight. And could it be any hotter in here?” 

Colin was aggressively tugging at the cravat tied around his neck, feeling like he was nearing suffocation. The hall was too stuffy on the midsummer day. And London itself seemed incredibly stifling these days, with or without the heat.  

“Watch it. Knowing Hyacinth, she’s at the door listening,” Anthony warned after Colin’s curse, but the side of his lips quivered in amusement. “This will all be over soon. At least it’s just the family.”

Colin rolled his eyes slightly, mocking his brother's tone, “and then it’s just the rest of my life.” Although his mother had been distracted by the wedding that week, there would no doubt be more forced discussion about his own marriage prospects. He’d already been forced to promise to return from Scotland a few weeks before the end of the season, and Colin was already dreading it.

They hushed as Benedict entered the room, beaming at them with a toothy grin. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re about to make an honest woman out of your wife,” Colin joked, instantly putting on his ever-so-casual smile. As irked as he was about his own situation, he was happy for his brother. Sophie seemed like a wonderful fit for the family. And more importantly, Benedict seemed ecstatic. So ecstatic and lovesick, in fact, that the younger Bridgerton privately wondered if he’d ever feel that way about someone.

Gregory and Simon joined them soon after, completing the male wedding party. After they were all ready, they each raised a toast. 

“I wish you a lifetime of happiness,” Colin exclaimed, giving the groom a sturdy clap on the back.

“And delightful children,” Simon said, obviously still basking in the glow of his own wife’s fourth pregnancy. Gregory snorted.

“And a lifetime of poor sleep!” Anthony added with a wink as they clinked their glasses. The group let out a roar of laughter (although Gregory more for the spirit than anything else- he was still just sixteen) as they proceeded to get ready for the main event.

Just a few days after the wedding (and one after Lady Whistledown had documented Colin’s departure), Penelope had miraculously recuperated from her rather foul cold. Without a maid, she set forth to Lady Bridgerton’s house on foot, basking in the sunlight she’d missed. Although the origins of her illness were perhaps more than a tad suspicious, she had gone to great lengths to persuade her mother. Unfortunately, that had involved remaining in her bedchambers for the majority of the week.

She hadn’t been bored, however. Eloise had been corresponding with her almost daily, updating her on the situation with Sophie and writing about the books they were reading and whatnot. It seemed that there was always something that could be shared, and the two girls were the finest of friends. The kind who told each other everything.  

Well… almost everything.

The sunshine felt so wonderful lightly grazing her freckles as she set a slow pace towards Number Five. She imagined that she ought to resemble a giant walking candlestick with her bright yellow dress and red hair in the sun. Oh, well. Maybe next year would be the one her mother would start allowing her to wear blue. Or perhaps even green. People were always telling her that green would suit her.

She arrived at the house a few minutes later, pleased that this time there were no men standing at the front steps making awful declarations or insisting that she need a maid to walk. She was immediately let in by the butler and sent up to the drawing room to join the Bridgerton ladies for tea. Greeting them all with a smile, she took her customary seat next to Eloise.  

“You’re looking positively healthy, Pen,” her best friend said after an inspection. “I suppose your illness is over?” There was a familiar sarcasm in her voice that made Penelope swallow.  

“You were ill?” The question came from Lady Bridgerton, who was looking at her with some concern.

“Yes, but it was just a cold.” Quickly, Penelope added, “But I feel absolutely marvelous now; a week in bed has certainly done me well.”

Lady Bridgerton nodded and gave her a smile, but Penelope vaguely heard Eloise make a Hmph noise.

“How was the wedding?” she asked, hoping to move the conversation away from whatever was obviously bothering the girl next to her.

“Oh, it was so beautiful,” Hyacinth gushed. “Sophie looked absolutely gorgeous, and Ben was so happy.”

“Deliriously so,” Francesca added with a wry smile.

“It was rather lovely,” Violet agreed with a smile that seemed to tell the room that she would prefer not to elaborate on the matter. She had no idea, of course, that Penelope already knew most of the details revolving around Sophie. “And I do hope we’ll have another one soon.”

There was a painful wrench in Penelope’s chest as she absentmindedly flattened out her skirts. She didn’t look up to confirm, but she rather felt like there was at least one pair of eyes on her.

“Would the wedding be here or in Scotland?” Hyacinth asked and the Featherington girl had to restrain herself enough so that her head didn’t snap up.

“Scotland?” she asked, trying to present nothing more than mild interest.

“Frannie and the Earl of Kilmartin have seemed to take a liking to one another,” Lady Bridgerton answered with a smile.

“And if I were allowed to gamble,” Eloise gave her mother a pointed look, “then I’d bet that they’re to be married by the end of the year.”

The girl in question blushed a bit but didn’t attempt to dispute the claim. “Well, I would certainly never bet against Eloise,” Penelope said, no longer quite feeling that surge of panic she’d just experienced. “That sounds wonderful, Francesca.”

And just as she had truly relaxed and was serenely listening to the Bridgerton ladies discuss a potential betrothal to the Earl, Eloise leaned in closer to her. “Colin left for Scotland,” she whispered low enough so that only Penelope could hear her.

“Oh,” she feigned surprise before glancing at the others in the room to make sure they were adequately distracted. “Did he?”

“Yes, just two days ago. Which I believe I mentioned in a missive and Lady Whistledown dedicated an entire passage about yesterday,” Eloise reminded, and Penelope could feel the searching look she was giving her. Oh, how she hated that look. The one that made her feel as though her best friend could read every deepest thought, worry, and desire in her mind. Of course, she knew that wasn’t actually true, but it still very much felt that way.

Penelope twisted her lips, looking off to the side to make it seem like she was trying to remember. “Oh, did you? I must’ve forgotten,” she shrugged, sipping her tea and deliberately avoiding Eloise’s gaze.

“Hmm… And you forgot, I suppose, that Colin was meant to join us for tea last week? Before your sudden… cold?”

Inspecting her teacup (which was made of a beautiful cobalt china pattern), Penelope nodded solemnly. “So disappointed I couldn’t join you. Oh, well,” she finally turned back to her friend with a cheerful smile, “I’m sure there’ll be many more opportunities for tea in the future.”

Eloise’s eyes narrowed, giving her a hard look. “He seemed to be expecting you. Do you know what that might have been about?”

Penelope felt her cheeks flush and her hand twitched. He had been expecting her? What did that even mean? As if Colin Bridgerton would ever wonder about her whereabouts, especially for something as inconsequential as tea. How would he have even known that she was meant to come to tea? And more importantly, why would he even care?

Well, she supposed that she knew the answer to the last question at the very least. She could perfectly recall the day he had been bold enough to try to call upon her at her own house. In an incredible stroke of luck, her mother had been out shopping with her sister that afternoon. Otherwise, Portia would have certainly insisted that Penelope entertain him. He was a Bridgerton, after all, and more specifically, a single male Bridgerton.

But her mother hadn’t been privy to Colin’s announcement as Penelope had. Which was why the young woman felt no guilt about convincing Briarly to tell Colin a little fib about her being out as well.

She was fairly confident that he wanted to speak to her again about the awful incident. He was, she presumed, anxious to get to all the unpleasantness buried under the bridge, whisked away with an easy smile. But as nice as Colin was, she knew he didn’t really care about her feelings. He cared about resolving the guilt he felt in light of her feelings.  He was likely remorseful, yes, but what part of it was really for her benefit?

There were so many different ways he could have approached the entire situation. Firstly, he could have never said something so unintentionally cruel. It didn’t matter if his mother or his brothers or his sisters were badgering him about taking a wife. He could have said anyone else’s name; he could have just stopped at “I am certainly not going to marry.” He could have just not brought her into his proclamation at all. 

Secondly, he could have apologized immediately. He had stood there, gaping at her like a dying fish, while she experienced the most humiliating moment of her life. As terrible as it might have been for him, it was a thousand times worse for her, and he could have mustered up the courage to say something better than “I didn’t know you were there.” She’d never seen him at a loss of words before, so why not attempt to charm his way out of that as well? It would’ve saved her the burden of having to speak.  

And thirdly, he could have just kept his mouth shut when she attempted to walk herself home. Why did it matter to him if she walked the mere minutes back to her home alone? Little did he know, but Penelope had made several trips to parts of London herself that she was certain he’d never even graced. And it didn’t matter if he’d asked out of concern or gentlemanly duties or what have you. Anthony and Benedict were just as much gentlemen as he was, but they’d both been content with letting her walk herself home. Colin should have just let her walk away with her dignity.

But it hardly mattered anyway now; he was gone. She was at full liberty to go on with the rest of the season without worrying about running into him anymore. She could continue to live her shy life without his interference or empty apologies.

“Penelope?” She was snapped out of her thoughts.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, regaining cognition of the conversation. “No, I can't imagine why he was expecting me. I hope he enjoys Scotland.” Eloise’s brows furrowed and she looked like she was considering saying more, but Penelope quickly spoke again, this time to the entire room. “Will you all be attending the Smythe-Smith musical on Thursday?”

She was met with four rather identical-looking grimaces.

Chapter Text

On a warm July evening, Colin was sitting in a pub somewhere in the middle of Scotland, treating himself to an ale as he took in the atmosphere around him. The place was lively and calm all at once, filled with drunken laughter and old men playing cards. The town he was in was the sort of where one could just fall in love with it for seemingly no rhyme or reason, with something familiar yet new in the air that made him feel lighter than normal. It was steady, subtly beautiful, and somehow immediately felt like home.

Well, home without his ever-growing family. He missed them, just as he always did during his travels. But not quite enough to trudge back to London yet. He was enjoying his time as a lone traveling bachelor, happy enough to spend his days and nights meeting new people, seeing new places, and writing in his journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book that was haphazardly lying on the table in front of him. Just minutes before, he had been carefully taking quill to paper, penning down his thoughts of the day. Everything had been well; he was immensely satisfied with a metaphor he’d written. But then-

He had abruptly stopped in the middle of a page. The words he was writing were fine… But something about them made his brain twinge. Without any basis, a flicker of auburn crossed his mind. The image had come and gone so suddenly that Colin shut the book at once, quite sure that his ink hadn’t properly dried before doing so.

Something about it made him feel uneasy, but he couldn’t seem to recall its place of origin. And then, as if struck, he remembered the face that was attached to the red locks. It was at that moment that he’d ordered himself another beer.

Colin supposed that he might still be feeling some guilt over their last encounter, particularly because he hadn’t been able to make any proper amends before leaving. With an uncomfortable shift in his seat, he could practically imagine her, sitting in a room somewhere, tears flowing down her cheeks as she wallowed away. Perhaps she was even sitting on the floor, unable to stand from the humiliation she’d endured.

He felt some embarrassment as well, of course. But he was also four-hundred miles away, much removed from the aimless chittering of the ton.  

Before this evening, he’d managed to convince himself that he had been nonsensical the day he’d stopped by the Featherington home. Surely, the butler had not been lying to him. Surely, she would never try to give him the brush off. The very idea of it seemed absurd.

But if not for that then… Why else would he have thought of her? Perhaps there was something about the country that gave off her essence…

Regardless, Colin was sure that his thoughts were based entirely on guilt. Guilt that one felt when one causes hurt to a friend, or perhaps even a sister. She was practically a Bridgerton herself (although due to nothing more than her close companionship, of course).

Oh, for God’s sake. He downed the rest of his drink. It hardly mattered. She was in London enduring the social season while he was here, exploring exotic lands and lovely new people. Yes, lovely people. Colin suddenly knew that he wanted to find his own companionship for the evening. It was simply a need to fulfill his manly desires, of course. And it would be nice to put to rest whatever was going on his mind.

Whatever the reason, at least he was confident that he wouldn’t have much trouble in the task. Although he wasn’t quite the rake his older brother had once been, Colin was still a Bridgerton. And he knew exactly what his charming smile could do.

And four-hundred miles away in London, Penelope was enduring the social season. Except, as a matter of fact, she was actually quite enjoying it. No, she hadn’t been receiving many marriage proposals (or more accurately, any). But she had been finding pleasure in the various balls, concerts, and plays she was attending.

And it was, in all honesty, nice not to have to worry about any of the Bridgerton men being mandated by their mother to dance with her. The two oldest brothers rarely (if ever) made an appearance, and the next eligible one was off in a faraway land, much detached from the city and her life.

Without the disturbance, Penelope was able to savor the nights and indulge in the gossip of the ton. Her mother had continued to force her into hideously colored gowns, none of which did anything to improve her pale complexion, and she still hadn’t gained the ability to provide witty conversation, so it wasn’t very surprising that she was never asked to dance. Yes, she would have liked to be asked by someone whose mother was not forcing her upon them, but for now, she could be perfectly content with the matter.

Her column was especially prospering that season, and although no one else knew, they were all listening to her. No one might have considered Penelope Featherington to be incredibly interesting, but they certainly considered her alter-ego to be quite gripping. It was a secret shared with only herself, but it was one that gave her immense satisfaction all the same.

Quite honestly, she’d been quite busy as of late, whether anyone else knew it or not. So busy, in fact, that a certain gentleman hardly ever crossed her mind. There were moments, of course, when someone would mention his name or his family would discuss a letter he’d just sent, and Penelope could picture him, and her heart would drip. But otherwise, neither his sparkling green eyes nor charming smile came into her thoughts very often.

With some resignation, she knew that she still loved him. She’d loved him since she was fifteen; she’d probably love him until her dying day. But without his presence around, she was able to pretend as though he almost didn’t exist.

And that was for the best. Because in the moments when Colin Bridgerton did cross her mind, his handsome features and kind personality were overshadowed by their last horrendous encounter. With the same certainty that she knew she would love him forever, she also knew that this was a memory that would continue to plague her thoughts of him.

So, whenever he did come up, either in conversation or written word from Lady Whistledown, Penelope just smiled politely and waited for the topic to shift. There was no dwelling, there was no sulking, and there was definitely no wallowing. As hurt as she might have been by Colin’s words, none of it was news to her. And so, she was able to simply move on.  

That is, until the end of the season began to near.

She was standing by the refreshments table at the Monteith Ball, having been left behind after both Eloise and Francesca had been whisked away to the dance floor. Glancing down at her glass of lemonade and painfully matching colored dress, Penelope muttered, “overripe citrus fruit.”

A sigh almost escaped from the lips of the girl who had been, once again, left behind to sip her lemonade. She watched the dancers almost wistfully, trying not to let the inevitable disappointment wash over her. If only her mother had let her pick out her own gown. If only her red hair was more fashionably understated. If only she was able to relax and offer clever commentary to any of the eligible men in the ballroom. If only-

“Could I trouble you for a dance, Miss Featherington?”

A strange chill overcame her body as soon as the question met her ears, as if her blood had curdled like spoiled milk. It hadn’t mattered if she couldn’t see the asker’s face; she knew that voice better than she knew her own. And I am certainly not going to marry Pen-

Her hands balled into fists as she slowly turned and forced herself to look up at the speaker.

Penelope would have liked to claim that he looked unremarkable. She would have liked to think that the mere sight of him didn't cause her heart to leap and her throat to lurch. Unfortunately, however, that would be simply untrue.

He looked just as handsome as ever. His chestnut hair was lying just as perfectly atop his head as it always had. His emerald eyes twinkled in the candlelight. And his smile… His oh-so-familiar lopsided smile was just as dangerous as it had been the first time she’d seen it.

But no matter how he may have looked, she had no desire to dance with him. She didn’t want to feel his hands on her. She didn’t want to have to look into his eyes or make friendly conversation. She just desperately wanted to say no.

Except that she had no choice in the matter really. She was an unnoticeable girl with no names on her dance card. And he was Colin Bridgerton, which meant that whoever was graced with an offer to dance was expected to joyously accept it. Any efforts of rejection were simply futile.

He was still standing there, a hand reached out awkwardly as he waited for her answer. This was the longest he had ever waited for an answer from a lady. “Of course, Mr. Bridgerton,” she finally forced out with a tight smile.

Colin’s face twitched just slightly, taken aback by her apparent reluctance. At any other time, Penelope Featherington would have simply blushed and taken his hand. But tonight, her smile was so unwilling and so foreign that his eyebrow quirked with the threat of a frown. He had never received such an unenthusiastic reaction from any lady (and certainly not from Penelope).

But he quickly regained his composure and flashed her a winning smile. Surely, this was just a momentary setback.

They engaged in a Quadrille, which regrettably for Colin and fortunately for Penelope, did not allow for a significant amount of conversation. Nonetheless, he tried to force pleasantry as they danced. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” was all she said when she was near enough. There was no hint of humor in her face, no joy. To be rather honest, there wasn't anything really. She looked almost unnervingly placid. Colin could hardly recall a time when Penelope wasn’t smiling and especially not while she was dancing with him.

Fine? Was that really it?

“Oh, is that all? I’m sure it’s been more exciting than that.”

“No, just fine,” she answered just as curtly the second time, and he noticed that she seemed to be avoiding his gaze even as they moved together. He gave her a hand a bit of a hard squeeze the next time he had the opportunity, which she seemed to understand because she finally looked at him directly. After a beat of hesitation, she supplied with a politeness that sounded rather fake, “How was your trip?”

He chose to ignore the edge in her voice and gave her what he hoped was a beaming grin. “Incredible. I think you’d adore Scotland.” Yes, that would definitely spark some interest in the girl.

And why is that? Because my hair wouldn’t be quite so unfashionable?

She just nodded and hummed slightly in response before they broke apart again.

It was nothing like the way they used to dance together. They used to have a decent amount of fun, exchanging in witty quips and whispered jokes. A feeling of frustration washed over Colin, but he tried to push it away. He’d thought enough time had passed for the point to become moot, but that had been proven incorrect. And now he was now fully determined to win back her good favor.

“Penelope-” he began, but she didn’t even spare him another glance. The music had stopped, signaling that their dance (and apparently, their conversation as well) was over. And his partner gave him a curtsy and abruptly walked away, leaving behind a stunned Colin. Had he ever been snubbed so blatantly? Certainly not.

In fact, he considered, he had never actually been snubbed at all.

It took Colin only a few seconds to recover from his shock, moving hastily off the dancefloor before any nosy mothers could approach him. His eyes scanned the crowd, but he couldn't catch even a glimpse of her. It seemed astonishing that someone that much shorter than him and wearing a dress the brightest shade of yellow he had ever seen could disappear so easily, but she had done it. With a small grunt, he continued his pursuit around the ballroom.

The first time Colin Bridgerton had asked Penelope Featherington to dance was during her first season out in society. He’d only just graduated from Oxford but was already being dragged around to every mind-numbing ball by his mother.  

“Colin,” Violet said coyly, “why don’t you ask Miss Featherington to dance?”

He glanced over to the side of the room where the three ladies in ghastly-colored gowns were standing, trying not to allow his mother to see the flash of grimace that traced his face. “Which one?” She was so incredibly lucky that he was so agreeable. 

She shrugged slightly, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “Whichever one you prefer.”

Colin let out a small sigh, but nodded, feeling a bit relieved. If he had to dance, at least it was with the most tolerable of the sisters. Putting on his signature smile, he crossed the room.

“Miss Featherington,” he nodded before giving the other two a polite greeting as well.

She immediately beamed up at him, “Mister Bridgerton.”

“Are you enjoying the party?”

The young girl had to hide her giggle behind her hand at his formalities. The two had known each other for over a year now, and since Penelope’s friendship with Eloise had blossomed, they’d spent a considerable amount of time together at Bridgerton House. At that point, Colin practically regarded her as his sister’s much more temperate twin.

“Yes, I am. The lemonade is lovely,” she noted, raising her cup towards him. After a beat, she added quietly, “though I suppose it might be even better if the music wasn’t so… Loud.” With that, they both glanced towards the string ensemble, which was playing an awful rendition of Bach’s best work. She gave him a knowing look and he stifled a laugh.

“Perhaps the music will be less deafening on the dance floor,” he suggested with a small wink, and she absentmindedly nodded, casting a rather wistful glance at it. “Could I trouble you for a dance, Miss Featherington?” Her face snapped back to look at him, taking on a pink blush. He looked down at her with a smile, offering out a hand.

Her voice came out more like a high-pitched squeak than anything else. “Of course, Mister Bridgerton,” she answered after a few seconds of hesitant surprise, returning a delighted smile and taking his arm as he led her towards the floor.

They had enjoyed- er, what dance had it been? A waltz? Had she been allowed to waltz then? It was so many years ago now that he hardly remembered the dances they’d shared. And it didn’t much matter, of course. The point was that the Penelope he knew then had always been elated to dancing with him.

But tonight, their dance was not at all reminiscent of then. He had not asked her to dance at anyone’s request. In fact, he had specifically sought her out soon after he’d arrived. She was easily recognizable in the crowd, practically a blur of sunshine in her gown.

She’d been speaking with his sisters when he first saw her, so he made conversation with the first mild-mannered group he came across. But throughout the exchange (which mostly consisted of talk about his brother’s wedding, his other brother’s new baby, and Lady Whistledown’s column), Colin kept one eye planted firmly on the young woman across the room.

When both of his sisters were taken away, Colin made a swift exit from his current company and walked straight towards her. It didn’t occur to him that perhaps he shouldn’t have charged her at a ball, asking (or demanding) her to dance. She certainly hadn’t had any other offers, and she was always happy when he asked. Colin thought that it was a rather nice tradition of sorts between them, even if his mother did have to remind him some (or most) of the time. He was always pleasantly surprised when Penelope reminded him of her hidden charm.

Not tonight, however. Tonight, she had regarded him with an indifference that he would have never thought possible. And now he was patrolling an entire ballroom in search of her, for the smallest glimpse of her dress or her hair. He didn’t even consider why he cared so much about finding her… He just did.

“Ouch! Colin, you nearly crushed my toes.” Oh for God's-

He forced an apologetic look as Eloise gave him a scowl before looking down to inspect her foot. “What were you doing?”

“I’m looking for-” he stopped suddenly as to avoid putting his foot into his mouth. He definitely didn’t need Eloise to know about his problem with her dearest friend.

“For what?” she asked, looking extremely curious. “Or possibly… for whom?” There was that signature look she always seemed to wear when she wanted to know a secret. One that gave the chilling impression that she could read minds.

“Nothing. How is your night going? Any potential suitors caught your eye?” he teased in the hope that she might forget about the reason he’d trampled on her foot. He wasn’t entirely convinced that it had worked in light of the longer-than-necessary way she watched him before finally responding.

“I certainly hope not. I’ve already rejected one marriage proposal this season and anticipate that there should not be another.”

Colin let out a snort. He supposed if he were, God-forbid, a woman, he’d have done the same. However, this was Eloise’s third season, and he felt a hint of brotherly protectiveness come over him. “You should consider your options at least, lest you become a spinster,” he warned almost jokingly.

She glared at him, “I don’t know what Scotland’s done to you, but I fear that you’re officially worse than Anthony. Or even Mother,” she added with a final jab.

He merely shrugged, scanning the crowd. Hopefully, if he was lucky, he would be able to spot her before his sister did.

“Colin,” he distractedly turned back to face her. “You look like a lost puppy. Exactly who are you looking for?”

“Er-” But, thankfully, Francesca appeared at their side before he needed to think of a better method of distraction. And even better, two young gentlemen approached his sisters and Colin was able to slip away. Setting off in the opposite direction, he grinned broadly and waved off Eloise as she threw him one last scowl.  

Outside in the hallway where the music was muffled and the air was cooler, Penelope stood with her back against the wall, breathing in deeply as the knuckle of her finger rested against her mouth. She wasn’t sure what to do. She couldn’t leave the ball without a reason; her mother and sisters were still inside. And even though most people paid her little attention, Eloise would certainly take note if Penelope suddenly fell ill for the second time that season and left early. Especially if she had seen her dancing with Colin just minutes before.  

Colin. Why couldn’t he have just left her alone? What right did he have to look at her with that- that arrogant grin on his face? Did he expect her to just go along with it, giggle and blush after being bestowed with yet another pity dance?

His awful words rang out in her ears whenever she looked at him now. That horrible, insensitive declaration he had made so easily on the front steps of his mother's house. She couldn’t believe that she’d been infatuated with him for so long- thinking he was so different from all the other men she knew. She felt so comfortable with him... Or used to anyway. Now, she wasn’t even sure she could muster up a real smile in his presence.

She was still considering her options for the evening when a figure began approaching. She didn't bother raising her head to inspect the footsteps- she'd already been passed by unnoticed by more than a few guests and couples. 

However, this person certainly did notice her. 

“Penelope, I need to speak with you.”

Her breath hitched, having been startled. And then her face took on a sour appearance without her control. Looking up, she was met with striking green eyes staring directly down into hers.   

“Yes, Mister Bridgerton?” She tried to keep her tone neutral, but there was a small crack of betrayal which she desperately hoped he hadn't heard. 

“Colin,” he corrected automatically because there was something in the way she said it that sounded even colder than before. “Is something wrong?”

She paused for a moment before answering. “Not at all, Mister Bridgerton.”

“Will you stop calling me that?” He hadn’t snapped at her, but he was frowning, which was a noteworthy distinction from his generally carefree attitude. The façade he’d been wearing in the ballroom was clearly gone now. When Penelope just shrugged in response, he picked up the courage to continue. “You are a dear friend to-” there was just a second of hesitation, “my family. And I do not want there to be unease between us. I apologize for my words and-”

Just as she had months ago, Penelope cut him off, “Colin, I’ve already told you, it’s fine. It’s not as though you said something I didn’t already know.”  

“Yes, but-”

Penelope had to force herself not to roll her eyes. Although no one seemed to be paying much attention to them, they were still surrounded by prying partygoers, and the last thing she wanted was for any of this to need to be mentioned in Lady Whistledown. “But nothing. Colin,” she whispered harshly, “we will never be married, and that is perfectly acceptable to me. However, as a woman approaching a certain age, I would prefer if you did not ask me to dance at balls anymore.”

He blinked down at her in surprise. “Why should I not ask you to dance? It’s just a dance; we’ve always danced together,” he contended lamely, more confused by her request than anything.

Penelope looked like she was struggling to keep herself calm, gritting her teeth as she spoke. “Because you are a single gentleman, and I am an eligible lady. And I am no longer capable of sustaining the gossip.” He looked at her with a dumbfounded expression and she let out an audible sigh of exasperation. “Although I agree with you that we will never marry, other people do not seem to understand.” She gave him a hard look when he opened his mouth to disagree and added, “People such as your mother.”

Colin shut his mouth, unable to think of anything he could say to contradict her. His mother had been pestering him about marrying Penelope, and he supposed… Perhaps his consistent agreeableness to dance with the girl was one of the reasons Violet had continued to bring her up. But all the same, while he stood gaping at the girl in front of him, there was something that felt unsettling. Something about the idea of not dancing with Penelope, not laughing covertly at her little comments, not seeing her smile at him… There was something about it that he simply did not like. And he had no idea what that something was.

When it was evident that he had no more arguments to give her, Penelope loudly cleared her throat. “I should be getting back inside. Have a good evening, Colin.” Quickly, she dipped away and walked back into the ballroom without another glance. Watching her go, Colin had the strangest urge to run after and stop her. He wanted to take her hand, spin her around, and- and… What? What exactly did he plan to do?

She had been right, of course. He did not have any intentions of marrying her. He didn’t love her. He knew he didn’t love her. There was no way that he would ever love Penelope Featherington- the girl was practically like a sister to him.

But there was still that ache he felt, one to which he was so unaccustomed to. He wanted her friendship and her soft smiles. He wanted her to enjoy his presence again.

So, he resisted the urge to follow her back into the ballroom. Instead, he went outside and called his carriage. She just needed some time, surely that was it. Perhaps she would finally obtain a suitor, one who would realize how lovely of a wife she could make, and then any unpleasant would be simply forgotten.

Yes, that was all, Colin decided, choosing to ignore the continued pressure in his chest as he rode down the streets of London.

Chapter Text

With the promise he'd given his mother hanging over his head, Colin was forced to stay in London for the remainder of the season. Though there were only a few weeks left of the festivities, his mother had seemingly become even more relentless. It didn't matter how many times he told her that he had no interest in obtaining a wife nor how many times he pointed out that he was still younger than both of his brothers had been when they were married; she just wouldn’t let the argument go. Fortunately for him, however, she had seemed to let the idea of Penelope Featherington go. 

At one of the umpteenth balls he'd attended during his first week back, his mother had spotted the girl across the room. She frowned slightly, taking in Penelope's orange gown, which although more muted than usual, still seemed to clash drastically with her hair. 

“I think it might be time that you ask Miss Featherington to dance,” Violet had advised after she'd found her son. He glanced in Penelope's direction, still standing in the spot where he'd first noticed her earlier that evening. She was standing with a small group of people, listening wordlessly as the others spoke. As to her wishes, he hadn't approached her the entire evening. 

Colin's spine stiffened at his mother's suggestion. If she had recommended anyone else, he would have just given her an easy smile in efforts of warding her off. However, she'd suggested Penelope, whom he hadn't spoken to since their last disastrous conversation. They had seen each other in passing, of course, sharing awkward glances across rooms or attempting to avoid eye contact altogether. He'd considered speaking to her in private the first time they'd had a run-in at Number Five, but he honestly had no one as to what he could even say. It was something Colin was so unused to that it made him feel a bit ashamed whenever he did see her. 

She hadn’t actually accused him of anything, nor had she insulted him. She had simply made a request: not to dance with her at balls anymore. But, if that was the case, then why was there such a disagreeable tension between them? And why did he feel a bit of unjust indignation aimed towards her? Though she'd said everything was fine, there was most definitely something unpalatable between them. 

Which is what spanned his mind when he so uncharacteristically answered, “No, Mother.” 

The words were so unfamiliar that Violet's head had jerked in surprise. The frown that formed on her lips immediately caused a wave of guilt to wash over him; he had never come so close to snapping at her. Clearing his throat, he tried to put on a cheeky grin, "I mean, why not give some other lady the chance? Pick out anyone else you’d like me to dance with.”

She didn't look entirely convinced by his sudden charming act but apparently decided to say nothing on the matter. "Alright then, Miss Merriweather.”

With an obedient nod and a smile, Colin wordlessly made his way towards the girl. He'd danced with her before, and there wasn't anything wrong with Miss Merriweather. She was pretty and intelligent enough to always be a pleasant partner, but he never felt particularly excited to speak with her. It also didn't help that there was always an unfortunate anticipation for a blossoming courtship that arose whenever he asked any eligible lady to dance. 

Giving her a magnificent smile as he approached, Colin greeted her, eliciting a blush across her cheeks. Ladies were always so easy to fall under his grin. “Might you allow me your next dance, Miss Merriweather?”

“I’d be delighted, Mister Bridgerton,” she returned a smile, allowing him to sign the dance card on her wrist. He signed it pleasantly and they had a few minutes to wait until the start of the dance.

“Have you allowed yourself to indulge in one of the tartes? They’re absolutely delicious,” Colin asked. He was teasing, of course; the eligible ladies of the ton were never supposed to treat themselves to anything at public events. It was an unwritten rule that his sister, Eloise, so often grumbled about. And quite deservedly so, Colin thought, since the food was usually the highlight of such events. 

Despite his joking tone, Miss Merriweather looked at him with wide eyes “Oh, no. Of course not.”

He gave her a smile and a nod that gave no indication of the frustration he felt. “Your dress is quite nice,” he complimented in efforts to move them along.

She gave him a sweet look before glancing down at the pink gown. “Oh, thank you, we had the fabric imported from Paris. Have you ever been?”

“I haven’t yet, but I hope to see it in the future.”

And because Colin wasn't the type for awkward conversation (... usually), they had no trouble speaking. He could at least speak to the fact that the girl was pleasant and that chatting to her wasn't at all torturous. She was also a graceful dancer and he was able to enjoy himself enough. 

However, that did not mean he had any desire to marry her, nor did he want to give the impression that he did. He was simply appeasing his mother enough so that she would retire her efforts that evening and that he might slip off for a brandy and a game of cards. 

About thirty feet away, Penelope was listening to Lady Danbury tell a story about an Italian gentleman she had encountered in her youth. “Ah, yes. He saw me, claimed I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and immediately dropped to a knee and asked me for my hand in marriage!” Her cane was dangerously waving around the group as she told her tale, evoking nervous laughter from the party.

Penelope was trying to appear engrossed in the story as she sipped her champagne and laughed along with everyone else. All the while, she had been keeping a careful eye around the ballroom, taking mental notes of what people were wearing and what interesting couples danced together.

She had, of course, seen Colin on the dance floor amongst the other partygoers. And though there was a split-second where her heart twinged, it hardly bothered her. She was so accustomed to watching him with other women that it was practically an art form. 

But it did pain her. Penelope missed his friendship, and his well-natured smiles, and the ease she used to feel when she was near him. Penelope, who was so often passed by unnoticed and could go hours without muttering so much as a single word, always seemed to feel more confident in his presence. There was something about him that made her feel like he was truly listening, and that he cared for what she had to say. Although she didn't regret what she'd asked of him and was thankful that he'd respected her wishes, there was something unsettling that enveloped her when she saw him. She no longer felt quite so angry, nor even hurt, but his declaration still seemed to hang in the air. She hoped that whatever was occurring between them could lessen eventually. 

However, despite whatever her situation with Colin, Penelope was still enjoying the season rather much. The weather had been heavenly, and she had been privy to so much gossip that it seemed that she might never run out of material. And she felt a grand satisfaction whenever she overheard someone quoting her own clever phrases, completely unbeknownst to them that they were in the presence of the author herself.

She was still feeling quite content a few weeks later while having a picnic with her family in Hyde Park. Penelope was sitting with her niece, playfully covering her eyes as the toddler giggled wildly. Her mother was discussing something with Prudence and Felicity, while Philipa bounced her infant son and spoke to her husband, Nigel. And even though Penelope didn't always enjoy the company of her family, she was feeling absolutely cheerful. The weather was perfect with a shining sun and a pleasant end-of-summer breeze that gently lifted her bonnet every time it passed (though it was properly tied- Penelope had long since learned to never leave it unsecured). 

Her smile only grew when she saw Eloise approaching, giving her a happy wave. “Might Penelope promenade with me, Mrs. Featherington?”

The two young women shared a knowing look between them, the kind that was only distinguishable between the closest of friends before casting Portia innocent smiles. With a slight sigh of exasperation, the older woman nodded and waved them off. Even though she was ever delighted at how close Penelope was to the Bridgerton family, her mother didn't much enjoy that Eloise was just as much an almost-spinster as her daughter was. 

Standing up, Penelope gently pushed her niece toward her brother-in-law, who happily lifted the tiny tot up into his arms. The corners of her mouth lifted a bit at the exchange. Though her family was far from perfect, at least there was love between them. 

The two young women joined arms and walked along the perimeter of the park, sharing giggles and whispers as they spoke. They discussed the latest play they had attended and exchanged the most recent news from their families (it seemed that Sophie Bridgerton had returned from her honeymoon absolutely glowing). Penelope was feeling only joy as she strolled along the park with her best friend in the impeccable weather. Everything was simply perfect.

Well, everything had been perfect. But Penelope couldn’t fight the drop in her stomach when her companion excitedly exclaimed, “Brothers!”

After a quick intake of breath, she looked up and saw all three older Bridgerton men standing together. She almost groaned when Eloise unlinked their arms and quickened her pace towards them, obviously with the premise that her friend would follow. Penelope swallowed harshly. The last time she'd seen all three of them together- 

“Sister,” Benedict grinned. “Inspecting your prospects?” Eloise discretely stuck her tongue out at him just as Penelope re-joined her side. 

Anthony smirked at his sister before giving Penelope a nod, “Miss Featherington.”

“Lord Bridgerton," her voice made an unfortunate squeaking sound before she cleared her throat. Politely, she exchanged a nod with Benedict before glancing at the third brother. He accompanied his nod with a small smile. 

“Shouldn’t you two be with your wives?” Eloise asked teasingly, turning to look at the rather large collection of Bridgertons sitting nearby. “I can’t imagine Sophie’s already gotten tired of you, Ben. I thought that it would have at least taken her longer than it had taken Kate." 

Her two oldest brothers swiftly sent her a glare, and Penelope was sure that she heard Anthony reply something gruffly. However, she could hardly follow their argument. Colin was watching her so intently that she had to stare at the ground to avoid returning his gaze. The other three seemed completely oblivious to this interaction, of course, far too concentrated on the spat. 

“Well Penelope certainly enjoys my company,” she heard Eloise say and was almost startled when she joined their arms together again. “Right, Pen?”

The only non-Bridgerton coughed weakly, turning towards her friend. “Oh, yes. Quite right,” she mumbled out, feeling some heat rise to her face.

Benedict rolled his eyes. “A biased answer from a coerced source. I wholeheartedly invite you to ask my wife for an impartial answer."

“And I dare you to ask mine as well,” Anthony added in a smug tone. 

Their sister crossed her arms defiantly and Penelope immediately felt her pulse quicken. Oh, blasted Eloise for never being able to resist a threat like that. “Alright then, let’s go and ask.”

And the three of them trudged away towards the rest of their family, apparently having completely forgotten about the two people left behind. Penelope kept her eyes locked on them as they approached the large group until she heard the gentleman in front of her clear his throat.

“It’s nice to see you, Penelope,” he said with a modest smile. It was a much shyer expression than she thought would have been possible on his face, but it did make her feel a bit better.

“You as well, Colin.”

"Enjoying the weather?"

She nodded, "Very much. It's nice to have sunshine."

"Indeed it is." 

And then an uncomfortable silence came over them, one that neither was accustomed to. Oh, Penelope had endured many a silence in her life, as thanks to her timidness, but usually not with Colin. And Colin, on the other hand, typically never endured them at all. 

He glanced back at the small crowd of Bridgertons and saw that his sisters-in-law were laughing as his siblings attempted to plead their cases. “I worry that my family seems to grow by an infant or two every time I return home. I’m not sure how much longer it will be before we make up half the ton."

She seemed to crack the tiniest of smiles as she followed his gaze. Eloise was trying to elbow her way through her brothers. “Oh my, it appears that they’re practically falling over each other,” she observed quietly. The comment was enough to elicit a chuckle out of Colin, and the corners of Penelope's mouth lifted a bit more. 

“I certainly hope they manage to avoid homicide. It would be quite the scandal to do so in public,” he commented in a deadpanned tone.

“Colin!” she gasped, a laugh slipping through her lips.

He shrugged innocently; a cheeky grin pointed towards her. “It’s possible with my family. You would have been quite aghast to see us when we were children. We were a … rambunctious bunch.”

He watched as she playfully rolled her eyes, “Of that, I have no doubt.”

Glancing towards him, the two shared a small smile. And it was enough to make Colin feel as though a weight was being lifted off of his shoulders, little by little. She was speaking in full sentences, laughing at his jokes, smiling at him with her full pink lips-

“I’m leaving again.” The statement came out a bit more abruptly than he would have liked and he almost cringed when Penelope's eyebrows furrowed in alarm. 

“Oh,” was all she said, catching her lower lip between her teeth. 

“Yes. Erm- I'll be traveling to Wales and then moving up to northern England for a bit." There was another silence as the young woman just looked up at him. Almost unnecessarily, he supplied, "I promised Mother that I would stay close if Francesca ends up getting married." 

She gave him a smile that did not quite reach her eyes, “That sounds lovely. I take it you enjoyed your first visit to Wales then?”

Flashing her a grin that he hoped was charming enough, he nodded, “I loved it. Though, not as much as Scotland, I have to admit.”

Penelope nodded and racked her brain for something else she might say, but her mind had suddenly gone blank. Whatever she'd been feeling moments ago had been lost. 

Luckily, Eloise sauntered back to them with a smug expression. “There is nothing quite as satisfying as seeing my dear older brother be humiliated by his own wife.”

"Which brother?" Colin asked, taking a look back at the family. Anthony was absolutely red in the face as he stood in front of Kate, who was still hollering with laughter. "Never mind. I'd better go calm him down before he throws our dear sister-in-law into the pond." He smiled and nodded to both ladies, "Enjoy your promenade." 

Penelope’s fingers formed a weak wave as she murmured her goodbye. And Eloise, ever-so perceptive, looked at her friend with a bit of a frown. However, she quickly put on a smile as the other girl turned back to look at her. “Come on, we’d better go before Anthony realizes that I’m more expendable than the mother of his children.” Penelope blinked a few times, but then agreed and gave a small chuckle as they set off onto their original path.

Colin couldn’t help but keep an eye on the young ladies as they walked away, narrowly missing Benedict’s arm slapping him across the shoulder. Thankfully, his brother was merely grabbing his attention to get support in whatever discussion he'd been having with Sophie. 

Taking a final glance at the girl, he grinned at his family, feeling rather grateful that he was leaving the city soon. 

Chapter Text

By the time the London streets were painted into a sea of yellows and oranges, Colin Bridgerton had been blown away with the crisp autumn chill. His family had been disappointed when September came and the young man announced that he was leaving on yet another tour, but it was not nearly enough to stop him. He felt so purposeless in the city, fliting between social events and clubs. He was a third son with no title or responsibility. All he really had was an excessive amount of wealth and nothing to do with it. It was this knowledge that pushed him to leave so often. He was the Bridgerton with no worries, no obligations, no aspirations. He simply just was.

But when he left his small sector of the world behind, he was a traveler, an adventurer, a man on a journey. He could be a Bridgerton when he wanted to be and a charming mystery when he didn’t. There were no expectations weighing on him; he was able to be just himself. 

Although he had been in Wales earlier that same year, Colin was enjoying the new places he was exploring in the country. He drank and ate whatever he wanted, spent time with whomever he wanted (without any assumptions), and stayed in villages and cities for some weeks until he decided that it was time for a change in scenery.

His journals were his only means of keeping him firmly planted in the ground. He used them to describe the places he saw and the interesting people he met. There wasn’t really any reason for him to keep such meticulous records for he would never dream of showing them to anyone else, but they helped him feel as though what he was doing wasn’t entirely meaningless.

He sent his family letters whenever he moved somewhere new, more so for their sake than his. Although he preferred not to dwell on it, Colin knew perfectly how worried they were when he was gone, especially his dear mother. There was always something in a letter from one of his family members- a hint, a joke, sometimes even a jab commenting on how long he’d been away or if he was safe or if he had forgotten about them after all. It sometimes made reaching out to them even more exhausting than the traveling.

At the current moment, Colin was residing in a small but bustling town about 200 miles north of London. He was sitting in a lively pub, stuffing a large sandwich into his mouth as he dissected a letter penned by Eloise. Of all his siblings, she was the one to respond to him most quickly and most often. And she practically regarded letter-writing as her calling in life.

It was a long one, as hers tended to be. Without the burden of her own family, his sister could spare the time to write endlessly. Although Colin often teased her about this in his replies, he could privately admit that he too had many of his own idle hours to deal with. He swallowed the food in great bites and made no effort to avoid staining the paper as he read.

After reporting on the day-to-day dos of each of their siblings (Anthony and Kate were exhausted with baby Miles, Benedict and Sophie had moved permanently to their country home, Daphne and Simon were preparing for the arrival of their new little one, Francesca was partaking in wedding plans with Mother, Gregory and Hyacinth were being rascals as always), Eloise went on a lengthy monologue about her envy of his travels.

Being a female can be so incredibly dull, Brother. Other than write letters and extensively practice my embroidery (I’ve enclosed a bit of blood onto the next page to demonstrate my aptitude), there’s so little I am able to partake in. I do quite miss you, if not for your company then at least because you’re the only other one who seems to understand my disdain for a mundane familial life. As much as I adore our nieces and nephews, their crying gives me such migraines that I cannot imagine having to endure it for years on end. If only I could accompany you on some exotic expedition… Well, at least I have Penelope to get into all sorts of trouble with me while you’re away.

He felt himself dawdle on the line, suddenly trying to imagine what kind of trouble his sister could mean. She could just be kidding, but Eloise was definitely the most spirited of the Bridgerton siblings so it wouldn’t be surprising to hear of her being mischievous. Her friend, on the other hand, Colin couldn’t possibly imagine doing anything reckless. She was far too mild-mannered for anything of the sort.

Colin did not think of the girl incredibly often, but on occasion, there were be something that reminded him of her. A patch of sunny wallflowers he spotted on a ride, a glimpse of a woman with auburn hair, or sometimes, even a certain view simply reminded him of her presence. They were odd associations, but not quite dissimilar to how he was sometimes reminded of his own family members. This was just because, of course, that he viewed her like he viewed any of his sisters, and sometimes one was just reminded of his sisters. The first time he had seen some wallflowers, he’d had a small urge to send her a letter. He wasn’t sure what he would want to tell her, but the idea was there in his mind. Later that day, however, he considered that they had never written to each other before and quickly dismissed the notion.

Glancing at the back of Eloise’s letter (he again remembered how wordy they always were), he ordered another drink and an additional plate of chicken. He definitely required some more food if he was ever going to get to the end.

During her own autumnal days, Penelope took time in honing the skills she had. She worked on her embroidery (which she was actually quite adept in), practiced her singing (which she could do well enough; she could at least hold a tune), and exercised her writing talents (in secret, of course). She’d even recently misled her mother into thinking that they had inherited a small fortune from a distant relative, which, in fact, had been money taken from Penelope’s own private accounts.

She read books and helped Felicity with her studies, learning new things every day alongside her sister. She continued to visit the Modiste with Portia (although now being past her fifth season, Penelope could tell that she might be left to her own devices in the somewhat near future). And she continued spending hours on end with her dearest friend in the world.

“I’m quite relieved that Mother has Frannie to worry about right now, she’s hardly even noticed me the past few weeks,” Eloise commented to Penelope on an exceptionally cold day in November.

The red-haired girl was holding her cup of hot chocolate, appreciating the warmth it brought to her fingertips, while her friend paced in front of her. She nodded along as Eloise spoke almost endlessly, as she was so frequently prone to doing. Neither minded their means of communication; it was just one of the reasons why they fit so perfectly together as companions. Penelope was a listener and Eloise was a speaker, and it was nice to have someone who allowed them to take part in their favorite activities.

“Honestly, sometimes I wish I could have been born to a family of tradespeople, or at least one that allowed me to do something more. I could have been a scholar or an author, lived on my own,” she stated a bit bitterly. “I mean, can you imagine what our lives could have been like, Pen?” The brunette looked down at her expectantly. This was also a reason that made their friendship so special; no matter how much Eloise spoke, she was one of the only people who always valued Penelope’s opinion.

She hummed for a moment, lulling over her response. “You could become an author, actually, if you’d really like.” The other woman waved her off in a manner that was meant to say, ‘that’s not the point’. Penelope smiled ironically, “But I’m afraid you’d have to have been born male to become a scholar or anything of the sort.”

Eloise sighed and rolled her eyes, dramatically collapsing onto the seat next to her. “I suppose you’re right. I think I may have been born with the wrong parts for that.”

“Or, perhaps, a few too many,” Penelope teased, poking her on the arm. They both shared a laugh that would have been inappropriately long in front of any other company.  

After they both quieted down, Eloise took a sip of her drink and sighed. “My brothers don’t realize how lucky they are. They all get to pick their own paths, do whatever they desire.”

Penelope absorbed this claim thoughtfully. “I’m not sure that’s entirely true. Although they are men,” they shared a rather knowing look, “I assume they do have their own hardships.” But even as she said this, she couldn’t quite believe the words. Her mind wandered to Colin, readily giving in to any whim without the need for hesitation.

The Bridgerton girl let out a snort that would have elicited a scold from her mother. “Yes, I’m sure. I swear that with every letter I receive from Colin he tells me of yet another exciting place he’s seen. I’m sure he’s suffering tremendously,” the sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.

“Oh, I would love to know what sorts of adventures he gets up to,” Penelope admitted aloud, surprising even herself.

Eloise shrugged, “His letters are always quite short. But you could send him one if you want to know so badly.” There was some type of slyness in her face that Penelope did not at all appreciate.

She let out her own uncharacteristic snort, “I doubt he’d care to read anything written by me.” Her friend watched her carefully for a moment, so she quickly added, “Anyhow, you’re the letter-writer, not me. Just send him hello from me in your next correspondence.”

“Mm, that’s if I write to him again during this tour. The dunce wrote to Daphne and said he’s not coming home for Christmas this year. We’ve been arguing ever since about who has to tell Mother.” 

“But he said that he’d be back for Francesca’s wedding, didn’t he?” Penelope asked, recalling her last conversation with him. 

Eloise nodded, rolling her eyes. “Yes, but my mother assumed he’d come back early for the holiday. I personally vote that Gregory tells her; she still regards him as though he were in nappies.”

Penelope bit her lip for a moment until the two girls burst into another shared fit of giggles. 

Winter and the next Bridgerton wedding came with such haste that it seemed as though the streets of London had changed in just the blink of an eye. Orange, reds, and yellows changed to greys and whites with the colder months, and it filled Penelope with a sort of melancholy. After the passing of the holidays, she always just longed for the beautiful warmth of the summer sunshine.

Although, there were advantages of winter. Because January was clearly not a part of the regular social season, Penelope’s mother allowed her to wear darker colors. For the wedding reception that evening, the young Featherington had chosen a gown made of midnight blue velvet. Despite her mother’s warnings that the dress appeared ‘dispiriting’, Penelope privately thought that it contrasted rather nicely against her fair skin and red hair. She certainly wouldn’t be the belle of the ball (that would be Francesca, naturally), but maybe she’d be able to look a bit less offensive than usual.

The ceremony had been grand and lovely in the morning, but the reception later that evening was an even more extravagant affair. Those who resided in London permanently had been preparing for the event for weeks, and those who resided elsewhere rushed back to the city from their warm country homes. Upon every guest’s arrival, there seemed to be an unintentional gasp that was released into the air as they took in the beautifully decorated Kilmartin House.

There were endless bottles of champagne, wine, and whiskey and an unfathomable number of desserts just waiting to be enjoyed. Laughter boomed throughout the hall and speeches became slurred as they progressed throughout the night. There seemed to be a magic in the air that was only ever possible with a winter wedding.

After having snuck two extra flutes of champagne and a handful of crème puffs with Eloise, Penelope was feeling quite giddy. The crowd was partaking in a line dance, which usually would not be considered appropriate within London high society but was being eagerly encouraged with the support of the alcohol. Even Simon, the ever-elusive Duke of Hastings, could be seen dancing quite enthusiastically alongside his wife. 

While contemplating if she might be able to smuggle a chocolate éclair without her mother noticing, Penelope caught sight of one Mister Colin Bridgerton. He looked ever so handsome, exuding confidence and charm as he told a story to the group of partygoers standing around him. She appreciated him from across the ballroom; he had such a way about him, one that made everyone stand upright and give him their full attention. It was just one of the reasons she had thought she’d loved him for so many years. He held the room like no one else she knew, a skill she certainly would never have.  

With a boldness she rarely possessed, the girl made her way towards the group, sliding in to face the captivating man. No one else seemed to notice her arrival, but she was certain that he had. He had flashed a smile that was definitely meant only for her.

No, that’s silly. He’s just happy telling this utterly embarrassing tale involving the bride, a cow, and their family home in Kent.

She laughed along with the group and just listened, as she was so accustomed. She liked listening, and she especially liked listening to Colin.

It was only after the company dispersed towards the food and the dance floor that the man came to stand closer to her. “Hello, Penelope. You’re looking quite nice this evening.”

The compliment wasn’t remarkable; Colin always found a way to flatter those around him, but she did feel herself go a bit pink. “Well, it’s certainly not yellow,” she said with a hint of humor. Without even an ounce of her usual timidness, Penelope motioned for him to lean down, which he obliged with a quirk of his brow. “I think I quite prefer resembling the night sky rather than the moon. But don’t tell my mother,” she whispered, falling into a fit of giggles.

Colin suppressed the urge to laugh and put on a serious tone that could have mocked his older brother’s, “And how much champagne have you enjoyed this evening, Miss Featherington?”

She waved her hand, “Much less than you, I can assure you. But I’m dreadfully starving so the effects are a bit more outstanding, I fear.”

“What a coincidence, I’m absolutely ravenous. Come with me.” There was a mischievous smile on his face as he took her forearm and led her near the table filled with pastries. Carefully, he situated themselves behind a large floral arrangement. Leaning in slightly, he spoke so that only she could hear him, “Whatever your wish is my command.”

Trying to put on her own air of solemnity, Penelope whispered back, “I’d like an éclair. Perhaps some cheese if you can manage it.” He nodded seriously but gave her a wink before popping out from behind the arrangement.

The girl had to suppress her giggles, only partially brought on by the bubbly substance filling her stomach. There was quite an enchanting energy enveloping the ballroom. Colin returned a few moments later with more food than she would have ever thought possible for one person to carry. “Colin!” she gasped.

He grinned cheekily and shrugged, “It’s alright, everyone just assumed it was all for me. Here you are, m’lady.” He bowed a bit before handing her two éclairs.

“Well, thank you, kind Sir,” she gratefully accepted, giving him a small curtsy. She took a bite and her eyes closed as she let out a small sigh in satisfaction. Opening her eyes again, she caught him watching her with amusement, immediately causing her face to flush. He stuffed a confection into his own mouth and nodded heartily in agreement. They both stood in their hiding place for a few minutes, eating and laughing and sharing opinions on the food with pure content.

“This reception is quickly becoming my favorite ball possibly ever,” Penelope finally said after she had finished her last éclair. The food in her belly was helping to clear her mind, but she was still feeling the same level of giddiness.

Colin grinned at her, “I think I quite agree. At the very least, it’s the most enjoyable wedding I’ve ever attended.”

She nodded; a whimsical smile etched onto her lips. There was a moment of comfortable silence as music filled the air. Without meaning to, she caught herself swaying to it slightly.

He watched her fondly for a few moments, eyes fluttering to a close as she danced. There was something quite comical about her demeanor tonight, a part of her that was nearly always kept hidden. He certainly knew that she could be funny; it was one of the reasons he often found himself seeking out her company at events like these. But tonight was different; she was carefree, lighthearted, just so happy. He'd noticed it right away when she joined his group earlier that evening without even a hint of hesitation. There was something about the action that had instantly brought a smile to his face. And although he now knew perfectly well that she'd been pushed a little by the champagne, he felt confident that this was who Penelope really was meant to be. This was the girl he got to see slivers of when she relaxed. He felt a certain esteem in knowing that he was one of the only people that recognized this side of her. 

Her joy tonight was infectious, and every time she beamed at him, he felt himself mirroring her. This was what he had been missing most from their friendship, that certain lightness he felt with her. When he spoke to her, he didn't feel like he needed to put on his ever-so-charming persona. He was at liberty to be whoever he really was without fear of disappointing her. 

It pained him to know that he had almost jeopardized their dynamic. He'd made a terrible mistake all those months ago, one that he was certain he would regret for the rest of his life. But, still, here she was, treating him to secret laughs and sweet smiles. And although she likely had not forgotten, it did seem as though she had forgiven him. But there was only one way he could know for sure. 

“Er, Penelope,” she turned towards him, concern written across her eyes at the seriousness in his voice. “I just wanted to,“ her eyebrows furrowed as he took a breath, “Would like a dance? For the spirit of the wedding.”

Colin’s own face was heating up as he felt a bit ridiculous by the tone of his invitation. It seemed almost laughable to be so nervous in asking Penelope to dance, but he was extremely aware of the strain that had riddled their friendship for almost a year. He felt so uneasy as she looked down at his outstretched hand, an apprehension that was still so bizarre and unfamiliar to him. But whatever worry he had was swept away as the corners of her mouth turned up and she softly put her hand in his. 

“Oh… Yes, I do think weddings demand dancing.” They both mentally noted her specificity in the use of the word 'wedding'.

The bewitching air in the ballroom had been enough to allow Penelope to break down the walls she had been holding so closely to her heart. Colin’s declaration had been long forgotten under the lights of the hall. She could fully accept the man in front of her as a good friend, nothing more and nothing less. She was fully at peace knowing that he would dance and laugh with her tonight and that she wouldn’t cross his mind twice on his next adventure.

Chapter Text

It only took a few weeks after Francesca’s wedding for Violet Bridgerton to begin reminding her oldest unmarried son of the upcoming social season. And it only took a few days before her pestering became rather unbearable.

And so, Colin fled before the snow could even clear itself from London’s streets.

As he made his march towards thirty years of age, Colin found himself escaping the city even more often than before. He was trapped in a cycle: disappearing for months at a time, returning home at the drop of a hat, and then leaving again without so much as a warning. Upon his immediate return, he would always feel quite happy, savoring the company of his family and friends and his renewed love of home. However, the novelty would wear thin quite quickly. And it always left behind the feeling that his life was superficial and redundant. Everyone else seemed to have something else to do, something that required their time, while he had absolutely nothing.

During his travels, he would sometimes move so quickly from place to place that he nary had the time to even update his family about his whereabouts. He flitted in and out of their lives like a dream, secretly reveling in the mystery of it.

When he visited Francesca in Scotland, he found the newlyweds absolutely gleeful. His sister loved her duties as Lady Kilmartin and was blissful with marital life. Colin joked about children and she teased him right back about a wife. And in just a matter of days, he disappeared again. When he returned home and saw his older brothers, they wondered aloud how much longer he’d be able to keep up his lifestyle, but he waved their worries away. When he saw his mother, she expressed concerns about his happiness, but he would just answer with a reassuring smile and a peck on the cheek.

He avoided the social season entirely, claiming that touring Germany (or Portugal or Spain) was best left to the summer. There continued to be talk about marriage, of course, but Colin's timely evasions had done well to subside them. He was still young, barely nine and twenty, he would argue. He didn’t need to be bogged down by obligations to someone else. For now, he was quite content in using his ever-charming grin to gain the attraction of foreign women with minimal expectations.

He adored traveling, certainly, he did. But inwardly, he was aware that he did it more out of necessity than true passion. He just needed something to do with his life, and it was nice that at least it was something that he actually enjoyed doing. And dashing traveler definitely sounded better than idle Londoner. 

Anthony and Benedict had their children, as well as their viscountcy and artwork, respectively; Daphne the Duchess thrived in motherhood to four; Eloise wrote letters so detailed and lengthy that it was a wonder how she had any free time at all; Francesca lived in marital bliss with her duties as a countess; Gregory spent his days preparing for university; Hyacinth labored over her studies as she readied for her debut.

Colin, on the other hand, had no title to uphold, no talent to hone, and no education to advance.

You could always marry, the words of his mother rang in his mind. But he didn't want that. He couldn't marry unless he had his own life in order, which certainly wasn't the case as of yet. And, admittedly, he liked the idea of marrying a woman with whom he was in love. If not love, then at the very least, he wanted someone who would keep his mind and body contented. And thus far, he hadn't met anyone who fit that description (although, to be fair, he rarely stayed in the city long enough to find out). 

Back in London, Penelope spent her days how she’d always spent them: sharpening her mind, practicing her hobbies, and preserving her secrets. Two more social seasons came and went without any prospects of marriage, and although not quite yet a spinster at four and twenty, the young woman had seemed to accept her fate as one. Her mother continued to display her, forcing her into unflattering colors and cuts that were just simply not meant for her, and Penelope just continued to tolerate it. She convinced herself that she could withstand it for just a little while longer. Felicity would be joining her out in society next summer, and Penelope hoped that her more appealing little sister would inherit the brunt of their mother’s attention.

She felt comfort, however, in knowing that her best friend walked the path to on-the-shelf status along with her.

After Eloise rejected her third offer of marriage, the question of why was discussed between the friends. She confessed, only in the company of her most trusted confidant, that she wanted to marry for love. Penelope, in exchange, admitted that she would likely be happy with any man, under the assumption that he was kind and that she would be able to be herself around her.

At the time, she failed to mention that she had already met a man such as that and that he had once openly proclaimed that he would never marry her.

Penelope and Colin saw each other in passing, almost always at Number Five. Colin had made plans to take up a residence of his own for quite some time now, especially after what felt like the four-hundredth discussion about his marital status over breakfast, but he hadn’t occupied London long enough to make the move properly. When they did run into each other, it was always friendly. The callous words he'd once said still hung in the air, but they were easily forgotten by a shared smile. 

There was some type of understanding that had passed over the two at Francesca's reception. After almost a year of dodging and awkward conversations, their friendship had been restored with something as simple as a shared éclair. They weren’t the closest of companions, or even explicitly friends, but they had found some harmony again.

For a reason neither of them understood or acknowledged, they seemed to hold a level of closeness that often went by unnoticed. They shared amused glances when no one was looking, exchanged witty remarks when no one was listening, and laughed in the sparse moments where they found themselves alone. It was a routine they'd fallen into wordlessly, one that returned them back to their covert operation behind the floral arrangement at his sister’s wedding.

Time moved forward for everyone as it always did. And everything was quite unexceptional until a stormy day in the early spring of 1820.

Violet Bridgerton was the first of the family to find out. She had been sitting in her study when an envelope was handed to her, addressed from her daughter's cousin-in-law, Michael Stirling. 

Eloise and Hyacinth were the next to find out, after having rushed to their mother’s side upon hearing the ear-shattering cry the older woman had let out. The remaining Bridgerton siblings were informed via the letters the elder sister had written as their mother haphazardly ran to call for her carriage to take her to Kilmartin House.  

After just two years of marriage, Francesca Bridgerton Stirling had lost her husband and become a widow at the cruel age of two and twenty.  

The moment the letters Eloise had written for each of her five remaining siblings were in the hands of the butler, she threw on a morning coat and walked straight to the Featherington home. After informing them of her visit, she'd chosen to wait outside in the little garden behind the house, unable to force herself to go inside. 

Barely one minute passed before a disheveled Penelope was rushing towards her, eyebrows crinkled together in worry as she took in the state of her best friend. There was something incredibly unfamiliar in the way she was standing, almost as if she were being pulled down into the ground.

“Eloise- what has happened?” she could barely make out before the other girl's arms were around her. They kept a tight grip on one another as Eloise choked out the words. 

It was heartbreaking, the way her voice cracked and sputtered as she explained. It was so rare for Eloise to cry, especially in front of anyone. Penelope wasn't even sure if she could even recall the last time, or whether there ever had been a time before.

No, that wasn’t true. She could clearly remember one occasion.

It had been a few years into their friendship, on a day that felt similarly to this one. Penelope had already known that the late Viscount Bridgerton, their father, had died young. But on that day, she’d found out that his premature death had been due to a bee sting. And she’d also found out that Eloise, at just seven years old, had been the one with him as he took his final breaths. Penelope also knew that she was the only person without a Bridgerton surname that had ever been disclosed this harrowing fact.

In the present moment, as her tears dampened the shoulder of her closest friend, all Eloise could remember were the letters she'd exchanged with her sister. She could quote all the times Francesca had told her about how madly in love she was, how exquisite marriage was, how she was sure that it had all been worth it. The words, once such lovely sentiments, now felt like poison. A few meager words flew out of her mouth as she let go of their embrace.  

Penelope did what she did best: she listened. She listened as a confidant of Eloise's and as a friend of the family’s, her own heart breaking for the girl even younger than she. She thought back to her own mother, who although certainly not madly in love, had mourned her husband’s death emphatically all the same. There was something about losing one’s spouse, the one person that they vowed to care for and respect forever, that left people fragmented.

She didn’t allow herself to shed even a single tear for the young widow until after Eloise had left to go back home. There was something about the idea of crying in front of her that seemed selfish. Penelope knew that no matter how close she was to the Bridgerton family, she would never be a Bridgerton. And because of that, she just needed to be a source of comfort and support.

Many, many miles away and days later, Colin had been habitually enjoying his dinner as he opened the letter that had arrived for him earlier that morning. He was currently staying in a beautiful bustling city on the coast of Italy and had spent the day listening to the waves and basking in the sun. It had been paradise.

The letter was uncharacteristically short, he noted, especially when he recognized which sister had authored it by the handwriting. Well, he shrugged, it hardly mattered-

Just twelve seconds later, the hand holding the paper had unwittingly crumpled it, while the other dropped his fork with a quiet clang onto the table. 

He’d just visited the couple a year prior, and John had been the picture of perfect health.

John, who had been just a year his junior, was dead. He wasn’t meant to die.

He wasn’t meant to leave poor Francesca alone. She was too good for this world to have to endure it alone.

He could clearly recall his mother after the passing of their father. She’d already been well into her thirties, but even that had seemed so dreadfully early. He remembered her cries, the ones she had tried so hard to conceal from her children. Her heartbreak had been so unbearable for them all, and he couldn’t even bring himself to imagine his blissful little sister undergoing the same torment. The only way he wanted to picture her was as the beaming bride on her enchanted wedding day.

He remembered the last time he’d seen the two. Just a few months before, the entire Bridgerton clan had agreed to come down to Aubrey Hall for Christmas. Colin had been especially obligated in light of missing his mother’s birthday that year, but he'd been more than happy to fulfill the request. With seven grandchildren to keep his mother occupied, Colin found himself savoring the holiday. The estate had been decorated beautifully, there was a pleasurable flurry of snow encasing the grounds, and the air held a warmth that reminded him of his childhood.

They had all been sitting around the long formal dining room table, an impressive feat considering the amount of Bridgerton siblings and their ever-growing families, while sharing in a delectable Boxing Day breakfast. The children (the ones who were old enough to walk on their own) were running around the table, laughing and yelping, creating a certain delightful chaos that was so natural in their household.

Colin, hungry as ever, was devouring a large plate of eggs as he watched the young man across from him. Amelia, the oldest of the children, had taken a biscuit from John’s plate. In retaliation, he lifted from his seat and began chasing her as the little one let out a ferocious giggle.

“Frannie,” he turned to the sister sitting beside him, “are you sure you’re not pregnant yet? You’ve been married almost two years.” He grinned as she gave him a small scowl at the tease she’d heard far too many times.

“Hmm. Shut up,” she whispered. “Are you sure you’re not married yet?” She gave him a mocking wink before getting up to kiss her husband on the cheek. John returned her kiss with a soft smile, one that was clearly beaming with all the love in the world. 

But now, here they were.

It was at that moment, sitting alone in an inn surrounded by laughing, chattering strangers, that Colin felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He had never experienced such a longing for someone, anyone, to be there with him. He needed someone to undergo the shock with him, to know what he was going through. In that room, surrounded by people, Colin had no one. Even his valet had parted with him for the evening. There was no one he could share his pain with, no one that could understand.

But he also considered Francesca. His sister, who had just lost so much of her world. She’d been in love, she’d done everything so honorably, and life had given back to her only the greatest cruelty. If she didn’t deserve love, why ever should he be entitled to it?

By nightfall, Colin had begun his journey home. He wasn’t skilled in heartbreak: he was the carefree, cheerful Bridgerton with little more than a charming smile. But, nonetheless, he was fiercely loyal to his family and knew damn well that he had an obligation to be there. 

The Bridgertons upheld each other through and through, no matter what the circumstances.

Chapter Text

As a final note, it is the unfortunate duty of this author to give this particular report. I have been informed that The Earl of Kilmartin, Lord John Stirling, has passed away at the unjust age of eight and twenty. He tragically leaves behind his wife, Countess Francesca Bridgerton Stirling. Only my utmost condolences go to the Bridgerton and Stirling families, including Lord Michael Stirling, who has inherited the Earldom. 

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 6 April 1820.

“Well,” Sophie said faintly after she finished reading the article. “She was quite kind about it.”

“She’s always kind about these sorts of things,” Kate muttered, peering over her shoulder to read it with her own eyes.

“I’m glad, but put the paper away before Francesca comes down,” Benedict instructed his wife in a low voice, glancing to make sure it didn’t accidentally carry into the hall.  

Colin simply nodded in agreement as he ate one of the pieces of bacon on his plate. Although he wasn’t the greatest fan of Whistledown, he could agree that the author had been kind- at least as kind as a gossip columnist could be.  

The four of them had come to Number Five that morning with the intention of joining their mother and sisters for breakfast. However, after spending seven rather arduous minutes waiting, Colin couldn’t wait any longer and had begun eating without the rest of his family. At the time, Benedict had given him a hard punch on the arm, but the younger brother was simply too hungry to care. He should’ve known to eat before a family breakfast.  

It had been four weeks since John’s passing and just a few days since Colin's return to London. And in the time he'd spent at home, Francesca had remained solemn and terrifyingly quiet when he saw her. Initially, they'd arranged for her to stay at Bridgerton House with Anthony and his family, but she had been later moved to their mother's and then to Kilmartin House. It was then informed to Colin that not only had Francesca lost a husband, but she'd also lost a pregnancy as well. 

The guilt that overcame him was indescribable. Colin could recall every time he'd made his sister's lack of children a running joke. For some idiotic reason, it had never occurred to him to think of why such a young and healthy couple might not have children after two years of marriage. He hadn't meant to be cruel, but even his utter stupidity could not absolve him of the remorse he felt.

His immediate action upon arriving back to London was to find his own residence. He knew that he was bound to the city for at least as long as his family needed him there, but the thought of living with his mother and sisters no longer seemed tolerable. The idea of seeing his grief-stricken younger sister so constantly was unbearable for the generally easy-mannered gentleman. He had no idea how to support her through heartbreak- that was much more his mother’s domain. So, after just a few short days since his return, Colin had secured himself bachelor lodgings farther into the city. 

Despite the move, however, he had spent the majority of his return in the presence of his family. It had become an unspoken guideline amongst them that Francesca was not supposed to be left alone (even if it didn't seem as though she much appreciated the sentiment). This meant that many meals, such as that morning's breakfast, were spent at Number Five or another family member’s home. Yesterday’s dinner, for example, had been held at Hastings House. 

It was quite excruciating to see his sister. Colin and Francesca weren't the closest of siblings, but he'd always enjoyed the presence of her sly smile and subtle wit. Now, however, there didn't seem to be a single ounce of joy behind her eyes. Even when she smiled, it was hollow and empty. She seemed so awfully broken- so alone. Even with the entire Bridgerton clan uniformly swarming around her, Colin could tell that she felt no comfort from any of them. Although they were all mourning the loss of John to some extent, none of them knew him anywhere near to how much she had. Colin wasn’t even sure if he could recall anything about the man that hadn’t been surface level. What his favorite food had been, what he'd studied at university, how good was his fencing? Hell, Colin didn't even know if he'd had a favorite color. 

“Will you stop eating?” he heard Kate admonish, forcing him out of his thoughts. Without even realizing it, he'd already devoured at least half of the bacon that was meant for the entire party. Colin forced his hands onto his lap, giving the table a grin that he hoped would evade any further criticism.

“Waiting makes me hungry,” he shrugged after a moment before reaching out and snagging an orange, receiving an eye roll from even the ever well-tempered Sophie. 

Two days later, Penelope was on her way to Lady Bridgerton’s home for tea. She’d refrained from visiting the family after the passing of Earl Stirling, firmly holding onto the notion that they should be given their privacy in such a time. Eloise had been to see her sparsely, but even the ordinarily talkative woman was exceptionally quiet. They’d held this routine for a month: occasional visits to the Featherington home and frequent notes of correspondence exchanged throughout the week. It had not been until the day prior that Eloise had sent a note explicitly requesting for Penelope to join them for tea at Number Five that afternoon. 

She felt rather nervous about visiting again. Penelope had remained extremely tight-lipped on the subject after Eloise’s confessional to her, not daring to utter a word about the news in the fear of spreading details that were still unknown to the ton. There had been a lot of vile chatter surrounding the likeliness of Francesca bearing an heir and whether or not Michael Stirling would become the new Earl or not, and the young woman had no intention of adding to such gossip. Even when her own family had inquired about the state of the Bridgertons, Penelope would just mutter something and turn the conversation back to them. It was quite fortunate, in these instances, that the Featheringtons were a rather narcissistic bunch. 

Lady Whistledown, as well, had been silent on the matter for as long as was possible. That fact had remained unchanged until Penelope's mother, London's most notorious and colossal gossip, glided into the breakfast room and announced the news that Mister Stirling had now officially become Earl of Kilmartin. Portia had been absolutely vexed that morning to find that Lady Whistledown had reported the news before she'd been able to break it to the rest of the ton herself. 

Wringing her hands, Penelope tried to ignore the uneasiness she felt as she neared Number Five. She was always welcomed in Lady Bridgerton's home as if another member of the family, but that made it all the more difficult to continue reminding herself that no matter their closeness, she was not a Bridgerton, and she would certainly never be one. It made finding the correct balance almost impossible. 

However, Eloise wanted her there. And she would never choose to disappoint her best friend. 

“Miss Featherington!" The sudden call pulled Penelope out of her thoughts. 

Squinting at the figure in front of her, she saw a young man quickly making his way towards her. The smile that appeared on her face was instantaneous. "Mister Bridgerton." 

Colin had been on his way over to his mother’s for tea that afternoon. Well, as a matter of fact, he'd actually arrived at the gates to Number Five about ten minutes earlier. And although he'd meant to enter the house, he'd instead found himself walking straight past it. And then, much to his surprised delight, he spotted a familiar glimpse of red hair about a hundred yards down the road. 

As he drew closer, Colin couldn’t help the next words that came hurling out of his mouth. “Are you without a lady’s maid?”

He could have sworn that her eyes made the smallest of rolls. “Yes, but I’m just on my way to your mother’s.” She paused shortly before adding with what Colin suspected was a hint of irritation, “I might remind you that I live barely a stone’s throw away.”

“Yes, I might recall,” he muttered, a bit peeved at her tone. “But you shouldn’t be walking unattended.”

He heard Penelope let out a sigh as they stepped into pace side-by-side, but she didn’t air whatever she was thinking. He glanced at her when she quietly asked, “How’s Francesca?”

Colin reflected for a moment, trying to think of the right way to say it. He found that depicting countries and their qualities came easily to him, but human emotions were something entirely different. “Sad,” was all he could muster, feeling incredibly foolish with his choice. However, as he berated himself internally, the woman next to him merely nodded.

“I can hardly imagine. And the rest of your family?” He looked at her, but her head was tilted down, eyes locked on the path in front of them. He couldn’t even see her face behind the bonnet. All he could see were her hands, which were clasped carefully together as the pair matched their slow steps.

“As fine as they can be, I suppose.”

She nodded again thoughtfully. “And you?”

The question caught him by so much surprise that Colin came to a sudden halt. She stopped as well, looking up to meet his gaze. He opened his mouth to speak but realized that he hadn’t any clue as to what to say. He hadn't been asked that question since his arrival, for absolutely right reason, and so he honestly hadn't considered what John's passing had meant to him. After a few long seconds, Colin finally shrugged and admitted, “I don’t know.”

To his complete astonishment, Penelope just nodded again for a third time, as if his answer made all the sense in the world. She resumed their mild pace towards Number Five, and it took him a full five seconds to rejoin her. Once he appeared back at her side, she spoke in a soft voice. “I didn’t know how I was meant to feel after my father died. My mother was the one who truly had to endure the loss, and I sometimes felt so utterly useless. I wanted to help her, but I had no idea how.”

“But he was your father,” Colin heard himself immediately disagree. Mourning a father was entirely different from mourning a sibling-in-law one hardly knew, as Colin was more than well-aware.

“My father was not like yours,” Penelope stated quite plainly, the expression on her face much wiser than Colin could have ever imagined. “His death hadn't come as a shock, and I can assure you that it was much more difficult for my mother than it was for me.”

They’d finally reached the front steps of Number Five and paused. Penelope turned back to look at him with a sad smile.  

“I just mean that it’s alright not to know how to feel or what to do,” she explained quietly. By instinct, her hand reached out to take Colin’s and she gave it a gentle squeeze. It hadn't been meant as anything other than a symbol of solidarity, a sign of support from an old friend, and she didn't think twice about it. But she did let it go just as quickly as she had taken it, which left behind an odd coldness that Colin didn't have the capacity to consider. 

He looked down at her, feeling speechless yet again. He hadn't said very much, but he also didn't need to clarify himself. She just seemed to understand whatever was going on in his mind, even if he didn't know. And somehow, that had made him feel lighter than he'd felt in weeks. It was rather remarkable what a brief conversation and a knowing smile could do. 

“Thank you,” was all he finally managed to say, raising the corners of his lips to match hers before they entered the house. 

A few moments later, the two joined the others in the drawing room. Daphne and Simon were there today, along with their three daughters and son. The duchess was playing a happy tune on the pianoforte while her children danced around. Simon was watching her fondly, accompanied by Violet and Hyacinth at the table. Eloise was sitting by herself on a couch across the room, noticeably perking up at the newcomers’ arrival.

“Look at who I found wandering the grounds,” Colin announced jokingly, instantly donning his usual charming demeanor. Penelope felt herself blush slightly, but it was fortunately hidden as Lady Bridgerton stood up to greet her with a hug.  

Penelope just managed a whisper of condolence in the older woman’s ear when the youngest Bridgerton sibling looked up at her directly.

“We’re very glad to see you. Eloise has been driving us all completely mad without you to pay her any attention. My ears have begun to go numb around her,” Hyacinth said candidly, motioning over to the other side of the room. This elicited a less-than-discrete snort from Colin, who had already taken a seat at the table and was starting on his second biscuit. To his left, Simon was gently rubbing his nose in a way to avoid divulging a reaction.

“Hyacinth!” her mother scolded. However, despite her appearance, Penelope was almost positive she could see the corners of Violet’s lips twitch ever so slightly.

“A menace,” Eloise muttered under her breath as she approached her best friend., enveloping her in a hug. “I really am pleased that you’re here,” she whispered to Penelope, who nodded warmly in response.

After being given a cup of tea, Penelope and Eloise retired back to the couch. They first went through the traditional trivial pleasantries, of course, discussing the weather and a recent trip to the modiste. And then, once they were sure they couldn't be overheard, both girls dropped their voices. 

“Francesca’s meant to be down here,” Eloise explained under her breath, “But I think it’s all a bit too much for her.” Her mouth was twisted thoughtfully.   

Penelope looked to the four children near them, laughing and dancing around the room to their mother’s accompaniment.  She then glanced at the duke, who was admiring his wife with loving eyes. Turning back towards Eloise, she nodded knowingly.

Eloise sighed, looking down at the tea in her hands. “It’s been especially awful for Mother; I can tell it breaks her heart to see Fran so unhappy.” Her voice was in such a low whisper that it would have been impossible for anyone else in the room to hear even without Daphne’s playing.

Penelope nodded and listened carefully. She knew her best friend as well as she knew herself, and she knew that this was all she could do to make her feel better.

There wasn't very much else to say on the matter, even for Eloise. She'd kept Penelope quite up-to-date through her visits and missives for anything new to have transpired. She mentioned that it had gotten a bit easier with Colin around at least. With a small glance to the other side of the room, Penelope could see Hyacinth laughing as Colin recounted some type of tale, an easy smile on his face. 

When the young Basset children had begun to grow restless and the food had dwindled rather significantly under the hands of Colin, Violet suggested a walk outside for some fresh air. The rest of the party agreed (with the exception of Eloise and Penelope- the brunette had given a subtle shake of the head when the invitation had been put forth). With the hopes that they might persuade Francesca (who regrettably had never come down) to join them, the room quickly emptied. 

“I know we don’t usually exchange gifts for birthdays, but I saw this and thought of you,” Eloise said rather suddenly when they were alone. She reached over to the end table near her and in one swift movement, retrieved a small, ornate book tied with a ribbon. With a bit of a proud smile, she placed it into Penelope's hands. 

“Oh, my, Eloise. That's so sweet. Thank you," Penelope beamed, gently pulling back the ribbon to allow herself to read the title. Much to her surprise, it appeared to be a book about travel. She looked back up at her friend with a befuddled expression.

Eloise shrugged slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. “You always seem so interested in the topic,” she supplied innocently.

Penelope tried to think of something clever to reply, something that wouldn’t incriminate her. She didn't like the hint of triumph nor the distinct searching element on Eloise's face. But before she could even think of something to say, a voice came from behind her.

“What’s that?”

Penelope made a subtle movement to cover the title as she turned to look at the speaker. Colin, who neither of them had noticed enter the room, was watching them with some mild interest, lazily spinning an apple in his hands.  

“Weren’t you meant to go for a walk?” Eloise asked with narrowing eyes while Penelope just avoided directly looking at the gentleman. She was fearful that the mere sight of him would trigger a blush at that moment. 

He shrugged as an answer and repeated, “What’s that?”

It’s a book,” Eloise replied flatly. Penelope could practically hear the roll of her eyes.  

“Really, a book?" The sarcasm in his voice wasn’t quite as natural as it had been coming from his sister. "And the ribbon?" 

“If you really must know, it’s a birthday present,” Eloise finally snapped before mumbling something additional under her breath. Penelope was almost certain that she’d heard the words ‘you daft ninny’ embedded in them.

The red-haired girl gave an awkward smile at him in response to the sibling spat, but he was looking at her with a perplexing expression. “I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Colin said rather blankly, a small frown forming on his lips.  

“It was two days ago,” she replied simply, her head leaning a bit to the side in bemusement. And then she couldn’t help it; she let out a chuckle. “And of course you didn’t. Why ever would you?”

“I’ve certainly known you long enough,” he answered with a sincerity that was puzzling to her. There wasn’t even a hint of humor in his emerald eyes. And then he asked quite suddenly,” What’s your favorite color?”

All Penelope could do was blink for several long moments, watching him carefully. All his face showed was earnestness, which was beginning to make her feel weary. “Uhm, green. Or pink, I suppose.” There was another silence as she glanced down at his hands, still absentmindedly tossing the apple between them “And yours?” she finally asked.

He hesitated before answering. His first instinct had been to say blue- it was the signature color of the Bridgerton family, after all. But then, without any conscious effort, his eyes flickered to the curl that was resting against her cheek. It had been such a sudden movement that he was hardly aware of it and couldn’t be sure if she had even noticed. And then his mouth seemed to move on its own, forming the word, “Red.”

She nodded slowly, her eyebrows furrowing together. Before she could even being to analyze the answer, a cleared throat brought her back to attention.  

“Are you not going to ask me for my favorite color?” Eloise gave her brother a peevish look, arms noticeably crossed over her chest.

Colin turned to her as if it were the most laborious task he'd ever had to do. He then gave her a charming, toothy grin, “No. I actually had no intention of doing so.”

She sent him a scowl before turning back to her best friend. “It’s purple," Eloise informed her, and Penelope, ever the most loyal of allies, nodded. She had already known this, of course, but she feigned interest nonetheless to evade joining in on the Bridgerton squabble.

This had certainly not been the tea she had expected.

Chapter Text

“Yes, that one. The marigold,” Portia Featherington instructed as she pointed to a roll of silk that was sure to look ghastly on her daughter. “And the fuchsia muslin, it suits Felicity perfectly.” She cast an affectionate look at her youngest.

Felicity nodded a tad unenthusiastically at the choice, but added: “Why doesn’t Penelope try the pink as well?” Although the color wasn’t great, it was certainly better than the other options. Penelope cast her a grateful smile. She knew quite well that it was a futile attempt, of course. The older girl had done this long enough to know that their mother would never change her mind, but it was nice of her sister to try, nonetheless.

“No, no, Penelope’s hair clashes far too much with pink,” Portia dismissed with a small wave of her hand before examining another orange textile (as if it were to clash any less). “This cantaloupe as well.”

Penelope had to physically bite her tongue to avoid muttering and I’ll be sure to look like a cantaloupe as well. She absolutely loathed going to the modiste. Or, more accurately, she detested it when in the company of her mother. Under any other circumstances, she actually quite enjoyed shopping.

But this is how it had been for years. Even now, despite six full marriage seasons without a proper proposal, Mrs. Featherington still refused to see the error of her ways. It didn’t matter how many times Penelope or, on occasion, the dressmaker herself if feeling bold enough, tried to convince otherwise, the older woman would just not let conviction about dress colors go. All Penelope could do now was to hope that one day, preferably sooner rather than later, her mother would simply give up the fight.

She just needed to grin and bear it for a few more years, though it hardly mattered anyway. Penelope didn’t see any likelihood of marriage now, both in light of her age and eternal shyness, and frankly; she wasn’t even sure if she had any inclination to the idea anymore. It seemed to be losing its appeal as the years went on. 

… Well, no, that wasn’t true. Penelope knew deep within herself that she did want to marry, and she even knew exactly to whom. Regrettably for her, however, the only man she could even conceive committing a life to had made it abundantly clear that it would never happen.

If she was really honest, it hurt. It was painful to love and not be loved in return. And Colin’s continued presence in London had only made it entirely worse. His lingering occupancy in the city had made Penelope realize how much easier it was to love someone who was removed from daily life. When he was countries away, there was no need to predict when they might next cross paths or whether he would come up to her or if she would be able to make him laugh. The revolving worries and questions made her realize how lucky she’d been when his constant existence hadn’t been plaguing her mind.  

They were already well into the social season, and it seemed that Penelope would be unable to escape him anytime soon. Even when he wasn’t in attendance of whatever event was being held, she anticipated his arrival almost unwittingly. It was sometimes as if she was being haunted by the very idea of him.

Did love really have to be so cruel?

In the past months, their relationship had become… peculiar. Usually, they were good friends who exchanged quips and shared smiles. But then there were moments, random and unpredictable, when a sudden strange air would overcome them. There were flashes of such seriousness that it almost startled her. But then, they would be brushed aside with his practiced easygoing grin. Penelope had known Colin for just under a decade, and there was definitely something deeper underlying him that he tried to conceal. It didn’t seem like anyone else noticed, but Penelope had. Penelope, of course, noticed everything.

It tested their friendship on occasion. She would be attending a ball, and he would appear by her side as if conjured by thin air. They would remark, then tease, then laugh, until the natural progression of their conversation would lead to a dance. Before his infamous declaration (which still brought a wince to both parties’ faces upon recollection), Colin would have casually offered his arm and Penelope would have blushed and happily accepted. Such had been their routine for five years, but now, it had been three years since they so much as shared a waltz together at a public event.

Though they never verbalized their agreement, Colin had been careful to respect it. Despite their happy memories from the wedding years ago, he could still clearly picture the look of disdain directed towards him when Penelope had made her request. He never wanted anyone to look at him in that way ever again, and certainly not Penelope, who’d always looked at him with great reverence. And now that he had securely placed himself back into her good opinion, he was unwilling to lose it.

Unfortunately, it did lead to awkwardness. Their conversations would flow until they reached their peak, but there was no proper way to end them. One of the pair generally had to make up an excuse to walk away, leaving behind an uncomfortable void in their wake. The inquiries from others (including both of their mothers’) just made it all the worse.  

This was enough to dissuade the gentleman from seeking her out at balls much of the time. They would share the occasional glance, but it was fleeting and ended quickly with a small nod or smile. And she certainly didn’t dare to approach him. When Colin wasn’t surrounded by other partygoers, he was usually eating or dancing. She was constantly reminded that summer balls were nothing like intimate winter weddings.  The happy memory often made her heart ache.

The season had become torturous enough for Penelope that just a few days ago, she had dared to ask Eloise about whether her brother had arranged any travel plans for the near future. Since Francesca had already returned to Scotland, surely there wasn’t anything keeping the gentleman in town now? She’d asked as casually as she could manage, as if was an offhanded thought and not, in fact, a concern that had kept her awake the night before.

To her dismay, her friend informed her that Colin had promised to stay for the entirety of the summer and possibly then some. There was even the suggestion that he could stay as long as Christmas.

Oh, dear God, Penelope had thought rather blasphemously at the time. However, she just meagerly replied with an, “Oh, how lovely.”  

It couldn’t matter to her. Or, at least, she couldn’t allow it to visibly matter to her. Despite her private thoughts, Penelope had never dared to utter a word aloud about her affections to anyone, not even her dearest friend.

So, she carried on with her routine. She carried on her visits with Eloise and weekly tea at Number 5, and she persisted through the social events of the season. There were moments where she had to remind herself that did, in fact, rather enjoy attending the balls and luncheons and musicals. She just needed to get through this season in particular, and then the next few months. She just needed to ignore the unequivocal truth that the man she loved would never care for her in that way. It was simple, really.

“Penelope, Penelope!” her head shot up in alarm at her mother’s voice. “What were you doing?”

“Oh, sorry. I was just lost in thought,” she supplied, cringing slightly; Portia Featherington did not generally approve of wasting time on mental contemplation.

She saw the older woman’s lips tighten, giving her a hard stare. “Come here and allow your measurements to be taken.”

And so, Penelope did as she was told. She was quite aware of the seamstress had given her a small apologetic smile upon being handed the fabrics her mother had chosen. In response, she just gave a discrete shrug. It was fine. Everything was always fine.

It was an absolutely perfect midsummer day. The air was fresh, and the sun was shining as if the heavens themselves had opened up to look upon them. The esteemed event for that afternoon was a polo match just outside the city, and it was indisputably the most enjoyable activity Colin had partaken in over the last few months.

Although he wasn’t a countryman at heart, London seemed to feel so stifling hot and unpleasantly sticky. It wasn’t exactly the heat itself that gave him that impression, but more likely the constant and watchful eyes of the ton during the social season. He loathed being the most eligible bachelor in the room and especially loathed the hushed voices and discussions about which girl he would approach or speak to or dance with or even so much as breathed in the presence of. He had to be careful with every action he took and every emotion he portrayed. It was utterly exhausting.  

Still, there were parts he liked. The parties, admittedly, could be good and the brandy was certainly better in England than anywhere else he’d been. But more than anything, he relished in the company of his family. Although he might not be the marrying type, Colin was certainly a family man.

“Do you see that? He’s going to make it, I’m sure of it.”

Colin mumbled his agreement in response, suppressing the urge to massage his temple. The day had been perfect, with the exception of the sibling he had been seated next to. Gregory, who was on break from university, had been prattling off about the game endlessly for the last twenty minutes. And although Colin was one of the more patient Bridgertons, even he could only take so much.

Which was partially the excuse as to why his face broke out into a smile when he caught a glance at a bright orange figure on the sidelines.

“Excuse me,” Colin said, interrupting the younger man who had already gone off into another tangent.

Penelope was standing alone in a grassy patch, just near enough to the field to give off the illusion that she was watching, but not quite enough so that she actually had to partake in observation. She had just managed to withdraw herself from her family and was taking the opportunity to tip her head up towards the sky in an attempt to feel some sunshine grace her cheeks under the cover of her bonnet.

“You do look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Colin said once he was near enough to her, causing her eyes to flutter open in surprise.

“I was,” she flashed him a timid smile. He returned one that was just as charming as ever, giving the impression that it was the only expression ever to cross his face. 

“Oh, don’t mind me, you can continue your tune if you’d like,” he teased, and Penelope blushed a deep shade of pink. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been humming a melody when he approached her.

“Er, no, I don’t suppose I should,” she answered and then motioned for him to lean in closer, which he obliged. “If I were, to be honest, I’m afraid I might have begun to engage in a lone foxtrot if you hadn’t interrupted me.” There was something about his grin that allowed her to relax and made her want to make him laugh. She always seemed to feel a joy around Colin that she sometimes desperately wished she could rid herself of. She’d always imagined that it was just his way to make those around him feel at ease.

He made his best attempt to put on a deadpanned expression, but his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Oh, then, by all means, Miss. Featherington. I insist that you ignore my intrusion immediately.”

She laughed, “I find it difficult to imagine that anyone could ignore you.”

There was something about her statement that made Colin’s chest swell in the oddest way and he felt the corners of his lips rising. “Ah, that’s where you’re mistaken. There was once such a person who was able to do so.” He gave her a pointed look, but it was laced with humor. “Although, I must admit. Who could really neglect my charming wit and adorable demeanor?”  

Penelope rolled her eyes in a subtle attempt to avoid looking directly at him. She was worried as to what she might say if she caught even a glance of his smile. “My most ardent congratulations to this individual.” She paused for a moment, trying to think a way to evade the second half of his comment, before asking, “Do you box?”

One of his eyebrows instantly shot up at her question, allowing her to feel quite pleased with herself. “And whatever is that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged innocently, attempting the sweetest voice she could muster. “I think an occasional blow to the head may do well for you… Just enough to lessen the fuel of your ego.” She had to suppress a laugh under her hand when she looked up at him; he was simply gaping at her. She had definitely never gone this far when teasing him but was feeling absolutely triumphant now.  

“I think that may have been the most malicious thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he finally replied, still looking quite stunned.

She cast him a small smile, “Clearly well-received though. I’m sure that surprising you is a difficult feat indeed.” She finally allowed herself a giggle as he forced a scowl at her.

“You’ve wounded me, Miss Penelope Featherington. I fear that you may be spending too much time with my sister.” But as much as he tried, the angry expression on his face was quickly being replaced with mirth.

“I fear I that don’t have any idea as to what you’re referring, Mister Colin Bridgerton. I am simply enjoying a rousing game of Polo,” she turned away from him and towards the match. He could see the smug grin on her profile.

“Laugh all you want. But recall that it was I who saved you from the risk of a long public foxtrot.” He smirked as he turned back towards the field, pleased to see how rosy her cheeks had gotten from underneath her bonnet.

And then there it was. That damned silence that seemed to overcome them every time. It was an oddity, but Colin simply didn’t know what else to say. But there never seemed to be a proper place to end the conversation, a right moment to say good-bye. Or, perhaps, he didn’t want there to be that moment.

With so much attention on him so often, Colin frequently felt as though he was putting on a show. He spent a great deal of effort making sure that his elusive essence of charm and wit was maintained, which usually made him quick to excuse himself.  

But it was different with Penelope. With her, he never had to put on the role. He still charmed, as was his natural way, but he never had to work to do so He just acted as he really was and that always seemed enough. It was nice to have a friend like her, one that truly allowed him to be himself. He remembered their walk to Number 5 months ago, how she had comforted (was that the right word?) him. Her words and actions had been so simple at the time, but he found that they’d left an impact on him. There was much more to the girl than he knew, and it was almost unbelievable how much she could put him at ease.

“Well,” he heard her say. “I’d better get back to my family.” There was an unfortunate awkwardness in her tone that he tried to ignore.

“Pleasure as always.” He tipped his top hat towards her, feeling a bit silly while doing so. It was a common act, but one that felt displaced between them. She gave him a weakened smile before dashing away, leaving the gentleman standing there alone. It was strange how quickly they could go from animated talking and laughing to uncomfortable silence and departures. Despite the harmony between them, there did seem to be an unpleasantness that remained.  

He turned to return to his own party. It hardly mattered anyway. She was Penelope, just as she had always been and just as she would always be. There was no reason to concern himself with it.

Chapter Text

On Boxing Day of 1820, Colin announced to his family over breakfast that he would be leaving in a matter of days to resume his travels. As he grinned at the many of them, a rather uncharacteristic quiet passed over the entire Bridgerton clan. And then the chaos picked up again. There was a multitude of questions, as there always were, as well as some hesitant smiles. Colin just beamed at them in the hope that it would be enough to appease the interrogation.

The only question he answered directly came from Simon, who politely inquired about which countries he was planning on visiting. Colin answered loudly and enthusiastically, decisively avoiding looking at his mother’s pursed lips and eldest brother’s frown.

In all honesty, he didn’t want to hear the concerns that were sure to be brewing within them. He was aware that there seemed to be a hope, unspoken but undeniably clear, that his prolonged stay in London would mean that he was finally ready for commitment. His thirtieth birthday was mere months away, and there was a certain pressure placed upon the date. It had been pointed out many a time that both of his older brothers had been married with children on the way before they had become one and thirty.   

But Colin had no plans that aligned with this expectation. Even after all the time he’d spent in London, he still hadn’t found a purpose in his life. He was just blowing through time with fencing and drinking and gambling and weekend hunting trips and afternoon teas and- The list went on, each activity as meaningless as the one before. Although he had persisted through the entire social season, it had done nothing to sway him towards the idea of marriage. He’d done his duty and played his part all summer, but there had been no sincerity in it. His intention had always been to leave promptly after Christmas, and he was fully determined on going through with it.

And so, Colin did just as he had planned. And then he didn’t return for his thirtieth birthday. Or his thirty-first. In fact, he came and went from England so quickly that it was almost impossible to keep track of which holidays and birthdays he actually did manage to attend. His letters documented his whereabouts, but they were few and far between. One month, he sent word that he was in Italy, finishing the tour that had been originally cut short. Another, it was a letter from Amsterdam. He rarely included details and preferred not to make promises about when his next trip home would be.   

He tried to ignore the looks of disappointment that crossed his family’s faces every time he informed them of yet another journey he was planning. He was painfully aware of the worry they held for him and what thoughts they had when he was gone. Anthony’s letters always made it profusely clear what he thought, considering that every single one featured a reminder about a birthday or Christening or whatever else he considered Colin too irresponsible to remember. The younger brother had to physically fight the urge to throw those messages into the fire every time he read them.

The particular letter he held in his hand that day was yet another one of Anthony’s warnings. Colin rolled his eyes when he read that the subject was their mother’s birthday, the one that he had already made arrangements to come back for. For the love of Hell, he wasn’t that thoughtless.

He would make his return a surprise, as he often preferred; he generally found that it was best when his family wasn’t given the time to prepare for his arrival.

“Oh, stop, Nigel isn’t that bad,” Penelope half-whispered, half-giggled in her attempt to defend her slightly eccentric brother-in-law. She was trying quite hard to make sure that her words didn’t flow out into the hallway. “He’s just- “

“A blubbering idiot?” Eloise supplied rather unhelpfully. Penelope shot her an overly scandalized look. “Oh, come on! You know that’s what you think as well.”

The redhead pressed her fingers to her lips in an attempt to shush her friend. “They’ll be arriving any minute, so stop it. And nonetheless-“ But she was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Her family butler, Briarly, was standing just outside her bedchamber. Penelope smiled weakly, but her expression turned to confusion when she heard the announcement that followed.

“Mister Bridgerton is here, Miss.”

Penelope glanced at Eloise, who looked equally as confused, giving a small shrug. “Uhm, alright. We’ll meet him in the drawing room.” Once Briarly was out of earshot, she asked, “Was Anthony meant to escort you home?”

Her companion shook her head with a frown, “I honestly have no idea why he would. Do you think something might be wrong?” They shared a nervous look and wordlessly made their way out of the room.

When they arrived, he was sitting on one of the chairs that faced the window. And though they couldn’t see his face, it was unmistakably Anthony; he had his signature Bridgerton chestnut hair and sturdy shoulders.

Penelope lingered out in the doorway, allowing Eloise to greet her brother first. The Viscount would only come to get her here if there was something incredibly serious going on, in which case they might require some privacy.

“Is everything alright?” the brunette asked as she moved towards him. But before she reached him- 

Wait... Had Briarly said Mister Bridgerton?

The man stood up and turned to them, revealing a brilliant smile and emerald green-

“Colin!” Eloise wrapped her arms around him in a hug. After letting go, she soundly swatted him on the arm. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”  

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he answered her, but his eyes were on the girl still in the doorway. She hadn’t been able to move since he’d faced them. “Hello, Penelope.”

“Hi,” she could barely bring herself to breathe out, finally stepping into the room. It had been quite some time since Penelope had seen Colin. Even when he was back in the city, his stays were short-lived, which meant that the two were seldom given the opportunity for reunions. They were still friendly as ever, of course, but there wasn’t much time for conversation when one-half of the pair was constantly traipsing across the continent.

“Are you here to walk me home?” Eloise’s voice pulled Penelope back to reality.

“Uhm, yes,” he answered quickly, though only after an incredibly subtle pause. “But I also wanted to wish Penelope a happy birthday.” Colin directed a cheerful grin towards her.

“Oh.” She blinked for a few moments, not quite sure that she’d heard him properly. “Thank you, how sweet of you to remember.”

He nodded graciously, “I considered bringing you some wooden clogs from Amsterdam but wasn’t sure if they’d be quite fashionable enough.”

His smile wavered just slightly when Eloise snorted and Penelope let out a much heartier laugh than the joke had called for, glancing down at her dress. It was yellow as a lemon and positively brighter than the sun. “Right, fashionable.”

And although his smile remained, Colin’s eyes widened suddenly, a wave of realization coming over him. “I didn’t mean-“

But the red-haired woman quieted him with a quick wave of her hand, lightly chuckling to herself. “It’s quite alright. At least I can start my years as an old maid with a laugh.” She directed a warm smile at him for extra reassurance.

There was a small smirk on his lips and Colin looked like he wanted to say more, but Eloise interrupted whatever it might have been. “We had better be going, I’m sure Mother will want to see this one as soon as possible.” She gave her brother a flick on the ear, which he returned with a swat.

Colin nodded a bit sheepishly in agreement as the two girls hugged their good-bye. After Eloise stepped out into the hallway, Colin moved to follow. He was about to walk past Penelope when he paused, and she looked up at him with furrowed brows.

Flashing her a grin, he admitted, “I meant to do this when you walked in.” Penelope’s breath hitched in surprise as he took her hand and gently placed a kiss to it. Even the short-lived feeling of his lips on her knuckles caused her heart to leap and her cheeks to blush. Though it wasn’t an abnormal act in polite society, it was a formality that felt somewhat displaced within their years of intimate friendship.

“Happy birthday, Pen,” he repeated once more before walking out the door. She was left there, frozen on the spot. It took all that she had not to race across the room and follow the departing pair with her eyes as they walked down the street.

Once they were outside, Eloise took Colin’s arm, looking at him with searching eyes.  

“What?” Colin questioned with a quirked eyebrow and a playful grin.

Her lips twisted in the way that they always did when she was thinking. “How did you know that I was at the Featherington’s?”

With Colin’s arrival in early April and the promise to stay until at least May, he had an entire month to endure the social season. Normally, he would have been violently opposed to the idea. Strangely, however, he didn’t find himself dreading the thought. He had missed the last two summers almost entirely, so a small stint during this one didn’t seem to bother him much.

His first few days back in the city were spent visiting his mother and siblings, gawking at his current nine nieces and nephews (with another of Anthony and Kate’s on the way), and sharing stories of his most recent adventure. His returns always began this way, and it gave him pure joy.

But the initial shock had worn off quickly. And tonight, less than a week since his arrival back in London, Colin found himself in a carriage on his way to his first ball of the season. Unusually, he felt an odd stirring of excitement within him as they drew nearer. This was even despite the endless badgering that was coming from Hyacinth.

“And why don’t you want to marry Mister Ridley?” his youngest sister pestered, triggering a groan from Eloise, to whom the question had been directed.

“I do not like a man who drinks,” she answered sharply before casting a pointed look at Colin. He chose to ignore her silent slight, returning only a sarcastic smile. Why exactly had he agreed to ride with his mother and sisters?

He attempted to tune out the rest of their conversation until at last, to his utter relief, they arrived at their destination. After greeting the host, Colin made a quick escape from his family; having absolutely no desire to hear his mother’s suggestions about his first dance partner.

He spent the next half hour mingling and eating, making his way through the party without having to commit himself to anyone for too long. He had just managed to avoid an interception by Lady Danbury when he reached the refreshment table. While popping a profiterole into his mouth, he spotted a familiar head of red hair across the ballroom, bringing an involuntary smile to his face.

She was standing with a small group of other ladies, Eloise right by her side. He watched them for a moment, laughing and sipping champagne, before he found himself taking a few steps forward. There was something about her that evening that had caught his eye and it was drawing him towards her. Until-

Penelope was maintaining the company of the other “pre-spinsters” of the ton. Though there weren’t many of them, they all had been quite familiarized with each other through their many single seasons together. She laughed along with the women as one recounted an amusing story involving a mouse and her shrieking uncle.

They were all enjoying their time, sampling their drinks and exchanging tales, but still, there was the occasional glance towards the dance floor. None of them, not even Eloise, had been asked to dance tonight yet.

Listening wordlessly, she smiled as one of the members of the group disclosed a particularly good piece of gossip. The woman had been right in the middle of a rather defaming statement when Penelope felt a gentle hand graze her shoulder.

“Miss Featherington,” a deep voice materialized from behind her left ear, causing her throat to lurch. She turned to look at him slowly, eyes widened in wonder.

He wasn’t a strikingly handsome gentleman, but he had thick dark hair, kind brown eyes, and a small, timid smile that displayed sincerity. It took her a moment to place his face, but not too long. Penelope never did forget a face.

“Mister Ainsley?” she almost whispered, returning his smile with a small one of her own.  

He nodded, visibly pleased that she knew his name. With a slighter wider grin, he softly took her gloved hand and pressed his lips to it, provoking a slight reddening of her cheeks. “Might you grace me with a dance?”

She blinked at him; lips slightly parted in surprise. She was frozen as he waited, looking expectant but still patient at the same time. When no words managed to come from her mouth, she felt a jab in her side, likely sourced from her best friend’s index finger. “Of- of course,” she finally let out, attempting the steadiest voice she could manage. Rather unnecessarily, she allowed him to sign her previously empty dance card. And then, she took his arm delicately as he led her to the floor.

They waltzed in silence for about a minute, simply observing the other. Penelope wasn’t sure from where Mister Ainsley’s lack of speech was stemming, but hers was from awe. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been asked to dance (at least, by someone whose mother hadn’t instructed him to do so). And that was even before she’d turned the ripe age of six and twenty, she reminded herself. Curiously, however, the gentleman before her was just smiling, examining her with intrigue.

He was the first to speak. “Do you enjoy the waltz?”

She hesitated for a moment, feeling herself already retreating back into her nervous tendencies. “Uhm, yes, I do. Although I’m afraid I’m not a very good partner,” she smiled at him apologetically.  

He shook his head good-naturedly. “I think I must disagree, given your elegance thus far.”

Penelope could feel herself blush so deeply that her face might have matched her hair; she had no idea what to say to a compliment like that. She looked around them in order to avoid looking directly at his face. Except, however, that turned out to be a terribly worse idea. For possibly the first time in her life, Penelope seemed to be the center of attention. To her mortification, there were dozens of people staring directly at the pair. Her lips formed a small frown as she looked back at her partner.

His forehead crinkled at the look on her face, but with a quick glance around the room, he seemed to understand. He didn’t vocalize it but simply gave her a small shrug. There was something about the gesture that lifted the corners of her mouth. The look in his eyes seemed to tell her that he knew what she was feeling and that he felt the exact same way.  

It was an absolutely odd feeling, but one that she thought she rather liked.

Three days later, Colin Bridgerton made the most uncharacteristic request that his butler had ever received from him. As soon as he awoke, he asked that a copy of Lady Whistledown’s paper be brought to him at breakfast that morning.

There was a moment of confusion that passed between the gentlemen after Colin had spoken the words, but it was quickly ended with a dutiful nod of the head. Never in his two years of residency, had he ever actively sought out a copy of that paper. He read it like everyone else did, of course, but only in passing through his sisters or mother. He didn’t much appreciate how the columnist spoke of him- as if he was the empty-headed Bridgerton with nothing but charm keeping him afloat. His family seemed to disagree because they often enjoyed teasing that the author had a certain fondness for him. 

Today, however, was unlike any other day. And when he did sit down to eat his breakfast, he was obediently handed the paper. He began to read, holding the article in one hand as he reached for a croissant with the other.  

Dearest readers, it has come to my attention that the world may, in fact, be ending. At the very least, it appears that London itself has been flipped upside down.

The Montgomery ball held earlier this week was filled with much excitement. There seemed to be a magnetic air in the room as matches were made and dances were had. Even the music was quite lovely, which is absolutely not always the case for summer balls.

However, the most peculiar moment this author had been witness to was when a Mister James Ainsley approached a Miss Penelope Featherington. Even more outlandish, was when the young gentleman bestowed on her a dance. Although he was also seen accompanying a few other eligible ladies to the floor, it was certainly this partnership that took the attention of those in attendance.

Miss Featherington, a notorious wallflower, is known to us as one nearing spinster age and who is rarely graced with a dance by any practical potential suitor. Her partner, on the other hand, has been removed from this author’s pages for quite some time.

Mister Ainsley is the second son of the late Lord Ainsley. Though he holds no title, he has a reputable fortune and a kind demeanor. What should not come as a surprise to any loyal reader, Mister Ainsley was tragically left a widower two years ago when his beloved wife, Rosalind, passed away in childbirth. And now, at just eight and twenty, it appears that the gentleman is in search of a new wife.  Although it is unclear if this was his intention when he asked Miss Featherington to a waltz, it was the talk of the party.

Only time will tell us what the future holds, I’m afraid. But with that in mind, this author anticipates more news to come from Lady Violet Bridgerton’s country house soirée in the upcoming weeks.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Pages, 14 April 1821

Colin read the paper only once before crumpling and tossing it to the side. There was a tightening in his chest that he didn’t much welcome nor understand. The article had bothered him, but he couldn’t explain why.

Of course, Penelope surely deserved a suitor after so many years. She would make someone a good wife; he’d always thought so. But why, then, did the very idea of James Ainsley irritate him so much?

Colin could recall her face when the dance had ended, bearing rosy cheeks and wide eyes. He had watched as she returned to the group, turning to Eloise and whispering something in her ear. It was difficult to discern her emotion from where he had been standing, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. Some part of him seemed to realize that he didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

James Ainsley. There was an unpleasant sensation that came from the name. ‘He was also seen accompanying a few other eligible ladies to the floor.’

Of course, that was it, the source of Colin’s discomfort. This was some man that was obviously going to come and build Penelope’s hopes up, only to later decide that he had more interest in other options. Colin didn’t even need to meet him to know that his intentions were untrustworthy. And Penelope definitely didn’t deserve that.

Chapter Text

Violet Bridgerton’s parties were always the ones made up of legend, and her country house parties were even more sought after. The upcoming one had been planned to take place over a week at the Bridgerton home in Kent, and the family had spared no expense. Violet invited any and all eligible young people of the ton to attend in the hopes that it might tempt fate for her unmarried children as it had for her eldest years before. She carried a rather satisfied smile whenever she recounted Anthony’s would-be scandal that was the eventual trigger for making his match.

“And look how well it turned out,” Violet had exclaimed over tea, beaming towards the couple. The Viscount rolled his eyes, but a slight smirk showed his amusement. He shared a glance with his wife, who absentmindedly placed a hand on her distended belly.

Colin had hummed in false thoughtfulness, “Well, yes… Perhaps I might need to be caught doing unseemly acts in the garden with a fortuitous young lady.” He cast his brother and sister an innocent smile.

“I was sucking the venom out of a bee sting!” Anthony had practically roared, causing even his wife to choke on a laugh.  

Both inside and outside of Number 5, Violet’s country house party was the subject of eager discussion throughout all of London’s high society. Weeks were spent in preparation for the occasion: gowns hemmed, shoes shined, trousers pressed, and, on occasion, even books were skimmed in the case that a conversation might need revitalizing. All other balls and musicals were simply place-holders for the event of the season until its arrival in early May.

And then, it finally arrived.

Carriages made their way to Aubrey Hall in droves, each filled with anticipation for what the days would hold. Colin sat in a study with Daphne, occasionally glancing out the window. He hadn’t been shown the list of invitations sent out, but he wasn’t astonished to see which guests were emerging from their carriages.

“I don’t think she’s invited enough people,” he remarked with an ironic chuckle.  

“Perhaps we could have fit a few more in the sheds,” the Duchess mused. “I think Mother would do just about anything if there was the chance to remove at least one of you from the marriage mart.” She gave him a knowing look that they both understood the meaning behind. Although Eloise and Hyacinth were technically out in society, it was undeniably apparent who the real target was.

“She’s sure to be disappointed, I’m afraid,” Colin replied with a humored shrug and Daphne nodded, giving him a mild smile. They had grown up close, being just one year apart in age, and she knew him better than anyone.

“Is there anyone you might hope to see?”

Colin scratched his nose, casting another look out the window. His immediate answer would have been a firm “no”, but he wasn’t exactly sure if that was true. However, the appearance of the next arrival gave leave of any answer he might have given. “Oh, for the bloody hell,” he muttered, making no attempts to hide the curse from her ears.

“What is it?” Daphne practically climbed over him to look out the window.

He could feel something boiling over him- an emotion he hadn’t dealt with enough to place. “Why on earth would she invite him?”

His sister frowned, watching the newcomer with interest. “Do you know him? I don’t recognize his face.”

But Colin answered only with a grunt, peering at the gentleman as he escaped from view into the house. He didn’t bother supplying an explanation for his annoyance. The man had seemingly arisen from thin air just weeks ago and now he was a visitor in their family home. How did his mother even know him?

“Never mind. He’s no one.”  

The afternoon and evening passed rather uneventfully. Colin hadn’t been in his normal cheerful mood and found it rather taxing to hold his grins and make his jokes. At supper, he was seated with his family near the head of the table as always, luckily far enough away that he didn’t even need to spare a glance at his unwanted guest. He was even more pleased to see that a certain young lady was also seated much too far to engage with said guest.

When the men left to drink their port, Colin slipped out of the room. He swallowed down a brandy in private, returning only when the men and women reunited for after-supper entertainment. He noted, with satisfaction, that the two he had been observing shared nary so much as a glance between them. Perhaps his concern was unwarranted after all.

The next morning, Colin was feeling considerably more chipper. Breakfast was a far less crowded affair than supper, as everyone was given more liberty for their dining times. While some guests enjoyed a meal or an exploration of the gardens, others spent their mornings tending to their hangovers.

Colin, who was never one to opt-out from food nor one to suffer the after-effects of a drink, had just finished his meal and was headed outside when he ran into a familiar face.

Penelope noticed him first, her greeting being accompanied by a warm smile. “And where might you be headed with such haste?”

“To the annual Bridgerton-Hastings Pall Mall game,” he announced with a mischievous grin. She replied with a crinkling of her eyes that rather suited her, causing him to laugh. “It’s a lawn game we take very seriously in the family.”

There was a hint of recognition on her face when she chuckled. “Oh. Yes, I think I’ve heard a story or two.”

There was something about her expression that made him smile. If anyone were to know the traditions of the Bridgerton family, it would be Penelope. And then, as though a creature of its own, his mouth began forming words he hadn’t even realized he was thinking. “Would you like to come and watch? It can be rather a thrilling competition if I do say so myself.”

Her face seemed to light up, but then it was interrupted by a flash of something else. She shook her head after a moment, and he felt a strange pang of disappointment. “I’d like to, but I was on my way to the library. There’s a, uh, book that I needed to find.”

He concealed whatever was brewing within him with a large grin. “Of course. I’ll just see you later then.” He didn’t at all understand why the rejection felt so much like a blow to him. It was just a family game; it had been odd to invite her in the first place.

“Good luck though! Make sure to tell me about it later,” she added cheerfully before resuming her path in the opposite direction. He gave her a quick wave before making his way to the field, trying to disregard the odd sense of disappointment he felt. 

Penelope scurried to the library, gripping the small journal held in her hand. Colin’s offer didn’t much weigh on her mind. Although she would have liked to see the infamous Pall Mall game, the invitation was likely born out of pity rather than anything else. It was yet another reminder to her that no matter how close her friendship with the family, she was not kin. And, anyway, she really did have work to do.

The library wasn’t an incredibly large room, but it was empty enough to allow for some privacy. She took a desk facing a window, giving herself space from any potentially prying eyes. Although it was more customary to write correspondences and such in the drawing room along with the other ladies, Penelope had desperately wanted refuge from her mother. And she couldn't to risk anyone spying her writing. 

She took time in documenting her notes, jotting down potential matches and gossip she’d heard the night before. She could recall every detail to astounding accuracy; if there was ever a word for Penelope, it was meticulous.

She didn’t allow herself too long before closing the journal, satisfied with what she had written. There were still days left of the party and with it, plenty of room for scandal. In the event that someone paid her enough attention to question her morning activities, she set forth to find a book.

The poetry section, where she had landed, was in the farthest corner of the room. As she found herself reaching for a title that piqued her interest, she noticed a man sitting in a chair. She hadn’t noticed him before then, almost completely hidden from view by a nearby stack of books.

“Mister Ainsley?”

He looked up with some surprise, having been enraptured in the work he held. Nevertheless, he greeted her with an amiable smile and stood from the seat. “Hello, Miss Featherington. What a pleasant surprise.”

Penelope nodded rather awkwardly, attempting to retain some of her personality. There always seemed to be a shyness that overcame her when she spoke to people. Well, when she spoke to most people. She was at a complete loss of words until her gaze lowered to the book in his hand.

“Denmark,” she observed, smiling slightly as she looked back at him. “Do you travel?”

He glanced down at the title himself and chuckled a bit, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, no, but perhaps eventually. If I get the chance.”

She nodded, “I hold the same sentiment.” He mirrored her nod and for a moment, they shared a look of understanding. It was not unlike the one they had at the Montgomery ball.   

After perhaps as long as a minute, he asked if she would like to join him, motioning to the vacant chair adjacent to the one he had been occupying.

Penelope hesitated, turning to examine the room. Although the corner was fairly hidden, there were just enough individuals occupying the room to avoid the risk of unwelcomed talk. “Alright,” she finally answered, taking the seat.

They exchanged in some polite conversation for a few minutes, commenting on the weather and the supper the night prior. Penelope hadn’t suddenly become a beacon for conversation, but she was pleased that she was managing to say something of mild intelligence. To her satisfaction, he’d even granted her a laugh when she remarked about a positively plump pigeon they’d seen outside the window.

However, their conversation did take an eventual turn, flowing directly towards the thought that seemed to be weighing on both of their minds.  

“I would like to remarry,” he admitted softly, his face holding a mixed expression. “I want a family.”

Penelope watched him carefully, unsure what she could say to such a candid statement. She hoped that her silence would prompt him to go on.

It did, and he turned his head to look at her straight-on. The directness of the action made her nervous and she worried her pulse was so loud that he might hear it. “I hope to see if there is potential for a match between us.”

Although she had anticipated the words before they had even left his lips, Penelope found herself stunned all the same. The words mulled over in her mind: match, potential, us. Looking at him, she almost expected to see a humored smile or a hint of joking. But there was nothing apart from genuineness behind his eyes.

Even so, Penelope couldn’t find it in herself to feel joyful. In fact, she frowned slightly. “You hardly know me.” They had only seen each other a handful of times since their first meeting the month before, and this was by far their longest conversation to date.

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged with a smile, not at all disheartened by her reaction. “But I think we might suit if we did get a chance to become better acquainted.”

For whatever reason, this did not reassure her. Here was a gentleman, handsome and amiable, who was offering her the chance to change her fate. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from continuing to argue. “But why me? You could easily find another, someone younger than I.”

He shrugged slightly, but his smile did not waver. “I am aware of your age, which, I would like to point out, is not as ancient as you claim. If anything, I find it preferable. You see, I married almost immediately upon finishing university, and there have been times where I have wondered if that was the right choice for myself. I assure you that I do not at all regret my marriage; we were deeply in love and found happiness.” He paused to let out a sigh, and Penelope waited, watching him patiently. “However, I do think that love and family so early in life may not always be for the best.”

Some silence hung in the air as Penelope took in the view of the man before her. While his features were young, his face looked tired. He had dealt with such an early loss, a pain that she had only ever witnessed once before. And although he preserved a smile on his face, there was a sadness in his gaze that she felt herself yearning to lift. Carefully, she moved her hand to place gently atop his. There were no proper words to say.

He looked at her hand and then back up to her face, his own holding a look of endearment. There was something in the act that gave off the impression that the two knew each other better than they really did. There was a closeness between them that had developed in seemingly no time at all.

“I have spent years in mourning, but I am ready again. I want a wife and family, and I want to watch my children and my grandchildren grow up. And based on what I do know of you, I would like you to consider it as well.”   

Penelope blinked at him again in surprise, feeling the natural instinct to withdraw her hand at his words. Despite the impulse, she resisted for a few more polite seconds before doing so. She wasn’t displeased by his request, but it was so unfamiliar to her that she couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was meant to react.

“Of- of course, Mister Ainsley,” she stammered out, suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy of the conversation.   

He gave her a genuine smile, “Please, call me James.”

She found herself uncontrollably swallowing despite the sudden dryness in her mouth. “Penelope,” she practically choked out. He was watching her, every inch of him displaying absolute composure. She could withstand it no more and quickly excused herself with some lame mumble about meeting her sister.

He allowed her to leave without any further inquires and she found herself alone in a hallway soon after. Standing with her weight against the wall, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she attempted to slow down her beating heart. She didn’t understand her own reaction. She should be thrilled, not… Whatever this was.

Finally, she felt calm enough to take the walk to her room. As she made her way through the halls, Penelope tried to picture a life with Mister Ainsley, er, James. She considered whether he would make a good husband; surely, he would. She thought of how they would spend their days, reading, perhaps, maybe even some travel. She imagined small children, a girl with her auburn hair and his warm brown eyes. A boy with her complexion and his dark locks.

But even as she tried to focus her mind, it seemed to continue projecting the same image. No matter how much she tried with every ounce of her being to push it away, her brain continued to flash the same vision: striking green eyes, chestnut hair, and a awfully hexing grin.

Why, why oh why, did her life seem so difficult?

Later that afternoon, Colin was walking through the halls feeling rather prideful. After yet another spirited Pall Mall game, he had, for the first time in a few years, ended victoriously. Yes, he had received help from Daphne, who had accidentally blasted Anthony’s ball so far into the field that it took him a quarter of an hour just to find it. But, nevertheless, it was Colin’s victory alone to claim.

He practically bounced as he made his way, ducking through the more sequestered parts of the house in an effort to avoid any forlorn young ladies or their predatory Mamas.

But then, as he rounded the corner, he met Penelope for the second time that day. She had been looking intently at the ground, and they would have been sure to have collided had he not put out a hand to meet her shoulder. She made an odd sort of noise before her head shot up.  

He looked down at her with amusement, removing his contact, “Fancy running into you here.” Other than the two of them, the corridor was deserted, unknown to most guests. He was surprised Penelope had even been able to find it.

As if just noticing her surroundings, she let out an unconvincing chuckle. “Oh. Yes, uhm, hi.” Her eyes darted around them, giving her a frazzled appearance. Colin might have been more concerned, but her expression just made his mirth grow. Finally, her gaze landed on his muddy boots. “Oh! How was your game?”

He shot her a broad arrogant grin, puffing out his chest dramatically, “Fantastic, I actually won.” He paused, waiting for a reply. He’d expected a delighted outcry or perhaps a beaming smile, but instead, he received nothing of the sort. Rather, he was met with a weak murmur of congratulations and a faraway look.

He attempted to disregard the blow and went into a recount of the match. However, despite how loudly he laughed or absurdly he imitated his opponents, he received no more than a mildly encouraging expression and some nodding. It was absolutely evident that the woman’s mind was elsewhere. Colin had to work hard to maintain his confidence, a problem he had never encountered before. He was so accustomed to attention from, well, everyone. And he had especially never gotten such a reaction from Penelope, who had always listened to him and his stories with rapt interest and wonder-filled eyes. He had known her to fall into silent contemplation on occasion, but certainly not in his direct company.

After a brief telling of the game, Colin stopped talking, curious to see some type of reaction at last. With the sudden silence, her eyes met his and she gave him a distracted smile.

“I see, it sounds like a pleasant sport.” That practically confirmed that she hadn’t been listening to him: no one would ever describe the way his family played as pleasant. She chewed slightly on her lip, completely unaware of his slightly narrowed eyes. “Uhm, do you have any idea where Eloise might be?”

“Er, no. She doesn’t like to join us when we play,” he could feel a frown threatening his face, but he refused to give into it.

She sighed, “I really need to find her. I’ll see you later for supper?” He opened his mouth, but Penelope didn’t wait for a response, quickly disappearing around the corner. He could hear her hurried footsteps grow fainter down the hall.

After a moment, Colin resumed his way as well. There was an uncomfortable sinking in his chest, which he tried desperately to ignore. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but it was clear that he didn’t like it.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Penelope to find the person she desperately needed to speak to. Eloise was, as expected, sitting in the drawing room, carefully crafting a letter. Unfortunately, however, she was accompanied by a number of other ladies. Most notably among the group were Lady Bridgerton, Hyacinth, and Felicity. Well, it could be worse; at least her mother wasn’t there as well.   

She made her way carefully to her target, greeting the room with a forced smile that she hoped appeared genuine. Sitting down next to Eloise, Penelope tried to look casual as she whispered under her breath. “I need to talk to you.”

The brunette carefully put down her quill and turned to her in a way to not draw attention. An eyebrow had just slightly quirked up in curiosity. Before any words could come from her, however, the younger, ever-candid Bridgerton spoke in her stead.

“Are you alright, Penelope? You look almost sickly pale,” Hyacinth noted rather bluntly, sharing a look with Felicity. The older Featherington sister could have cursed the day those two had decided to become accomplices.

Violet shot her a warning look, but it seemed that no one else in the room had heard, far too caught up in some chatter about an outlandish midnight stroll. Lady Bridgerton then turned to Penelope, wearing an expression of motherly concern that was quite unfamiliar for the girl. “I dislike to agree with Hyacinth, but you do look a bit peaky, dear.”

Penelope could feel her face flush, wondering why on earth today was the day that she couldn’t seem to keep her emotions masked. “Uhm,” she swallowed, giving Eloise a quick glance for assistance.

Thankfully, her wonderful best friend seemed to understand the sign. “You know, Mother, I think you might be right. Come, Pen, I’ll walk you to your room so you can rest.” She looped their arms together, pulling the other girl up along with her.

Eloise’s sudden nurturing manner was met with a few skeptical expressions from those who knew her well.

“Why don’t I take you to our room?” Felicity asked. Although this normally would have been an innocent suggestion from her sister, Penelope caught a flash of interest across her face. Yes, that girl was definitely spending far too much time with Hyacinth.

“No, no, no, you stay. I was wanting to stretch my legs anyway,” Eloise insisted, and Penelope felt deep gratitude that Eloise was so much more resolute in her words than she could personally ever be.

Without giving any more allowance to debate, the two young ladies said a quick word of parting and left, arms chained together. They walked briskly step-in-step through the halls. Neither of them uttered a word until they were in the bedroom, securely out of the way of any nosy guests’ earshot.

Upon entering, the red-haired girl shut the door firmly behind her and proceeded to collapse, rather ungracefully, onto the bed. Eloise sat down in a chair nearby, watching her closely.

“Are you sure you’re not ill?”

Penelope covered her face with both hands, letting out a sound between a whimper and a groan. “I’m not sure,” she mumbled through her fingers.

The brunette waited for her to say more, feeling some concern mixed with impatience. She wasn’t much a fan of being kept waiting and so, after just a bit over a minute, she leant forward and forcefully prodded her friend on the arm.

With the shock of the jab, Penelope finally sat up and took a sigh. She glanced at Eloise, her most trusted companion, and began to tell her everything.

Well, not everything. She didn’t tell her what she had been doing in the library in the first place, nor about the thoughts of Colin that seemed to be haunting her mind. And she hadn’t even thought to mention the run-in she’d had with him just minutes before.

Penelope poured through the details quickly, not allowing herself to stop for even a long breath. She was worried that if she hesitated as she spoke, she might either lose her ability for speech or actually become sick.  

Quite uncommonly, Eloise remained tight-lipped throughout the entire recount. But it was obvious she was listening intently, her mouth twisting in that oh-so-familiar way. 

Finally, when Penelope was finished, she spoke. “So… He made you a proposal?”

The other girl firmly shook her head. “No. But he offered the chance for one.”

“And you’re unhappy about it.” It wasn't posed as a question or a judgment, more like a neutral observation than anything else. 

Penelope frowned, a knuckle running across her bottom lip. “I’m not unhappy. I just…” She wasn’t even quite sure if she knew how she was feeling. “I suppose I just never expected it.”

Eloise hummed for a moment in thought but then gave her a small smile. “Well, whatever it is, you’ll need to figure it out. If he does plan to court you, it won’t be long until Lady Whistledown hears about it.”

Penelope looked towards the floor, feeling anxiety bubble in her stomach at the thought of anyone discussing her in such a way. She was so used to being invisible, neither being seen nor heard; she wasn’t sure if she was ready to give up her anonymity.

She looked back up. “I think I might try to rest, maybe it’ll help me clear my head.”

Eloise nodded, getting up from her seat. Before leaving, she gave her friend a tight hug that was meant to give her some reassurance. It was a small gesture, but it did make Penelope feel a bit better.  

She would come to her senses, surely she would. Everything would be fine. Everything was fine.

Colin made his way to supper a bit earlier that night, a restlessness brewing inside of him that he couldn’t seem to control. A quick scan of the room did not grant him the face he had been trusting to see. He did spot his sister, perhaps the next best option.

However, as he meant to move towards her, he noticed that she was in conversation with a certain gentleman. Son of a-

Eloise seemed to be explaining something to him, taking a quick glance around them as if she didn’t want to be overheard. He nodded along, holding an expression of concern that made Colin's jaw tighten reflexively.

He turned away, spotting a hair tinted with red. Admittedly, it was not the one he had been hoping to find. Nonetheless, he greeted the girl with a naturally charming smile.

Felicity returned his smile brightly in a way that reminded him so much of-

After they exchanged in a few pleasantries, Colin allowed himself to ask the question that had drawn him to her originally.

“Did Penelope come down with you?” He looked at her casually, as if the thought had just crossed his mind.

Felicity’s lips turned down slightly and she shook her head. “She’s actually feeling a bit ill and won’t be joining for supper. Is there anything you need me to tell her?”

He studied her for a moment, but he was only met with an innocent expression. If it had been anyone else, particularly if it had been one of his own relatives, Colin would have taken the question with irony. However, this was Felicity Featherington, and the question seemed purely out of concern.  

“No, thank you. I hope she recovers quickly.” He gave her an easygoing smile that she seemed to believe. At the very least, she couldn’t say anything else; they had been called to their meal.

He tried to maintain his focus on the food and conversations surrounding him, but his restlessness would not seem to dissipate. He attempted to find hints from Eloise, but she maintained a steady air of nonchalance. Their mother had once inquired to her about Penelope, but his sister had just waved her off and just mumbled something about her needing some rest.

Colin didn’t see Penelope until supper the next evening. However, even then, she arrived just moments before they were seated and seemed like she was on a different planet entirely while they ate. He’d attempted to catch her eye, if only just to reassure himself, but her face never seemed to turn his way. After supper, she seemed to disappear again completely.

Over the remaining days, it was more of the same. Much of the time, he didn’t see her at all. When they were in the presence of one another, there always appeared to be a distance. He’d tried to approach her once, but in a quick glance, she'd gone from his eye line.   

Although he tried not to let it bother him, Colin was beginning to grow suspicious. He recalled how Penelope had avoided him years ago, following the disaster caused by his stupidly large mouth. She had feigned illness then as well.

Except… He couldn’t remember saying or doing anything that might have caused her to be so upset with him. She’d certainly not been hostile during their last conversation, just distracted. He was confident that he hadn’t done anything to upset her, and yet… Something was amiss.

He only found out what was occurring with the girl a few days later, after their return to London.  

Colin had found himself in his mother’s drawing room for tea that afternoon, attempting to feign interest as his mother and sisters discussed yet another upcoming ball. He had only promised to stay as long as Violet's party and was already growing tired of the city. However, he seemed to be pushing off his next trip, waiting for something that even he wasn’t exactly sure of.

It was mid-afternoon when Penelope arrived, catching Colin slightly by surprise. He still greeted her with his signature grin along with the rest of the family, of course, but he noted how her eyes darted from his. She’d taken a customary seat by Eloise at a couch nearby his place at the table. And although he was intently inspecting the plate of scones in front of him, the girls were just close enough for him to hear them.

“He came to the house this morning, carrying the most beautiful sunflowers I’ve ever seen,” she half-whispered to his sister. What the bloody fu-

There were other conversations occurring in the room, but Penelope still looked around the room. In his peripheral vision, he saw her cast him a wayward glance, but he gave no indication of having heard.  

“My mother practically fell over in her chair when she realized that they were for me,” she continued softly. Of course, she didn’t figure it out; that dimwitted woman wouldn’t know anything even if Lady Whistledown herself came and slapped her across her face.

“Well, who else would they have been for?” Eloise asked, an incredulous grin on her face.

Penelope shrugged, rolling her eyes slightly. “I’m not sure. But I think my mother thought that she was more likely to receive flowers than I would ever be.” The two girls shared a chuckle, but Colin felt a frown threatening to come across his face. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more: the thought of that man calling upon Penelope with flowers or that her senseless mother seemed to be so shocked by the idea.

His sister leaned in to say more, but he had heard quite enough. “I’m off,” he suddenly announced, standing up. With a forced smile to the room, Colin stuffed a biscuit into his mouth and left without another word.

Penelope watched him go, letting out an accidental sigh. Eloise turned back to her and shrugged, explaining that he’d been in a bad mood all day with a roll of her eyes. This didn’t exactly reassure the red-haired girl, but she tried to brush it off with a smile. She had just spent the last week trying to rid thoughts of the man from her mind and wasn’t about to undo all her hard work.

It had taken her a few days to warm up to the idea that her luck on the marriage mart might change, but after some rest (which, honestly, included a lot of pacing despite its name), she had come around to it and realized how nice it could be after all.

Mister Ainsley hadn’t approached her immediately after their conversation, respecting the time she seemed to wordlessly request. In fact, they didn’t exchange so much as a hello until she joined him during a walk around the lake, a full two days after their conversation in the library.

During their walk, they’d gotten to know one another on a surface level. They told each other about their families. He had an older brother and sister, both of whom were married with children. His mother lived in Norwich with his sister’s family. He had a beagle named Hercules.

And now, upon their arrival back into the city, he had come to the Featherington home earlier in the morning, carrying a sunny bouquet. She’d been surprised by his visit but delighted just the same; this had been her first time receiving flowers from a man. And her mother’s stunned face had been well worth it.

However, with the goodness of the gesture came its consequences. She had been discrete enough at Aubrey Hall to avoid a mention in Whistledown, but with her mother’s chatty lips on the loose, it was sure to be public knowledge soon enough. This was part of the reason Penelope hadn’t been opposed to telling Eloise about her morning in the drawing room of Number Five. If she knew the Bridgerton family as well as she thought she did, there had sure to have been at least a few eavesdropping ears in the room.

Over the next week, Penelope got to know James further. He didn’t appear to mind her mother or her older sisters too much when he’d joined them for tea (though she wasn’t offended when he seemed to prefer her company without). He asked her to dance twice at the next ball, prompting a few looks in her direction that she tried not to mind. He even brought her flowers once more. 

And the truth was that Penelope liked James. She might not have fallen in love with him at first sight, but she enjoyed her time with him. He was just as kind as he’d seemed on the first night, and she was beginning to feel confident that he really would make a good husband. 

On a particularly sunny afternoon, they were sharing a walk in Hyde Park. Philipa was their chaperone on the outing, but she had somewhat discretely allowed herself to become preoccupied with the pram she was pushing, allowing the couple a few moments of privacy as they walked some yards ahead.

They stood together, observing a mother duck walking across the way, followed by a few ducklings. He’d made a joke and Penelope was laughing, smiling up at him from the rim of her bonnet. She hadn't even noticed the figure striding towards them, appearing next to her with lightning speed.

“Excuse me, I need a word with Miss Featherington,” he ground out, his tone far gruffer than she'd ever heard it. Glancing his way, Penelope was surprised that his face didn't even contain an attempt at a polite smile. 

Before either of the pair could reply, Colin grabbed Penelope by the arm and began pulling her away. He was moving so quickly that she barely managed to send her abandoned companion a reassuring wave, signaling to him that it was alright. Despite the fact that whatever was happening was certainly not alright.

Colin only stopped when they were out of earshot of the other gentleman and Penelope finally yanked her arm away. She was glaring at him with what appeared to be a mix of anger, confusion, and shock.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, arms crossing instinctively as if he were a disappointed schoolteacher.

He thought he saw her eyes flash with a fury he didn’t even know possible from her. “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, making a point to keep her arms firmly at her sides. They were still in public, and at least one of them needed to act like an adult.

He looked down at her with a patronizing expression. “You’re the one out on some promenade with a single man without a- without a chaperone,” he whispered hotly, using immense strength to keep his voice down. How could she possibly be so irresponsible? Didn’t she care at all about her reputation?

Her eyes narrowed as she scoffed with disbelief. “If you had spent more than two seconds looking before you came blazing in, you would have seen that Philipa is with us,” she jerked her chin to the side. Colin begrudgingly followed her gaze and felt his neck flush in embarrassment. Mister Ainsley was indeed standing with Penelope’s older sister, engaging in polite conversation. However, even his blunder wasn’t enough to calm his temper, which only seemed to be rising.

"If anything,” his eyes snapped back at the sound of her voice, “I shouldn’t even be here speaking to you, a single man without a chaperone.”

He wanted to retort, wanted to win whatever argument they seemed to be having. But he had no defense; as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

With the realization that he was good and done, Penelope gave Colin one final lethal look before turning around to return to her party. He couldn’t see her face, but he saw her wave a hand delicately in the air as if to say ‘no, nothing’s the matter’. All the while, he didn’t feel his anger dissipate in the least. It was stirring in him, coming from a place deep within himself.

Finally, at the sound of Philipa’s piercing laugh across the way, his arms unclenched, and he looked away. Huffing slightly, he left the park without another glance.  

Penelope greeted her company with a reassuring wave and attempted to muster up a smile. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ve known Mister Bridgerton for many years, and he considers me almost as a younger sister. He didn’t see Philipa and thought…” she trailed off rather awkwardly. She was trying her best to maintain her composure, but there was still anger seeping through her veins. She could only hope to seem nonchalant enough so that her er- simple sister wouldn’t think much of the encounter. There weren’t too many people in the park so maybe she might be able to avoid her confrontation with Colin being featured in the next Whistledown.

They resumed their walk soon after without any additional interruptions and Penelope tried to push the altercation to the back of her mind.

What in heaven’s name had just happened?

Chapter Text

Upon arriving at his home later that evening, Colin had become incredibly aware that he’d made a rather large misstep. He wasn’t at all sure why he’d acted in such a way at the park, nor why he cared quite so much. Well… Perhaps if it had been one of his sisters his reaction would have been the same… It did look like they were unchaperoned.

He’d made a small mistake, yes. But it was Penelope; she’d let it go.

Wouldn’t she? Surely, she would. Perhaps she had been a tad angry with him, but she’d understand. He was just trying to be a good friend, that was all.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

The next time they ran into each other was at a play. Colin had resolved that he’d come up to Penelope and perhaps muster up an apology if he deemed it necessary. But it seemed that every time he found himself anywhere near her, she was by Lady Danbury’s side. And if there was any way to ensure that Colin kept away, it was to be in the presence of the old woman. The one time he’d made the mistake of trying to talk to Penelope, his foot had been met with a crushing pain carried out by Lady D's infamous cane.

This didn’t appear to be a problem, he noted, when Mister Ainsley approached the girl. That man certainly had no difficulty separating the pair.

Colin underwent an odd sort of feeling whenever he saw them together. His jaw would clench without his control, and an uncomfortable tightening would envelop his stomach. There were moments when he considered whether it was possible that the reaction was brought on by-

No. That’s ridiculous.

He just didn’t trust the man. And despite Penelope’s smiles and laughter, Colin couldn’t bring himself to believe that she was truly happy. There was always something in her that seemed off to him.  

Penelope’s smiles and laughter, however, were certainly real. Although she could be a talented actress at times (so good that no one was aware that she even possessed the ability), she’d never been the type to fake joy. Mister Ainsley (or James, as he so often reminded her to call him) was good-humored, and their banter matched one another’s. She was able to relax in his presence, to a certain extent, and her personality was allowed to shine through more often than not.

Their courtship continued through May and began to dip into June. Her mother had been badgering her about a proposal, claiming that an entire month was far too long to dilly about without a commitment. She’d even alluded to the idea that Penelope attempt something rather scandalous to secure the obligation.

What Portia Featherington didn’t realize, however, was that it was her daughter who was the uncertain party. Penelope wasn’t ready for a betrothal yet, and James respected that. He hadn’t said anything explicit regarding his readiness for a union, but there seemed to be an implication that he was waiting for her word. And luckily, he was tolerant of her feelings and more than understanding.

Though, if Penelope were completely honest with herself, she knew that a person’s patience could only last so long.

She enjoyed the time spent with him. And though she liked when they danced together at social events and chatted over tea, Penelope’s favorite way to partake in his company was through their walks. Every time they shared a stroll, they unsealed another part about the other that they hadn’t been privy to before.

They learned that they shared a passion for reading and enjoyed similar books. They both dreamt of travel and loved lavender scones. They differed on weather; she loved sunshine and perfect skies while he preferred rain and thunderstorms. He was an avid fencer but a horrific boxer. She had a skilled hand in embroidery but her flute playing was a menace to anyone with ears. They both adored their nieces and nephews and wanted to cherish their own children.

Penelope liked his kind manner and warm smiles; James liked her hidden wit and sparkling eyes. Her family and friends (well, friend, Eloise, who likely held the most important opinion of all) approved of him. His dog had taken an immediate liking to her. There was no doubt of whether they suited one another. And yet…

And yet, it wasn’t love. At least, it wasn’t what Penelope thought love entailed. She was quite sure that she’d been in love before- a childish love, but certainly one still true and real. And this wasn’t it. She enjoyed James’ company immensely, but she didn’t feel a fluttering in her stomach when he entered the room. She didn’t blush at the sight of his smile directed towards her. And her heart didn’t leap when his lips met her hand.

These were doubts she only allowed herself to recognize when she was alone, lying in bed at night. She scrutinized every interaction and reaction she had. Love could grow, couldn’t it? Friendship was the right foundation for a marriage. Surely, passion and adoration would come with time.

Staring up into the dark ceiling, Penelope honestly had no idea. Her parents’ marriage hadn’t been filled with much affection. And her sisters’ matches hadn’t seemed to be made of love either. 

But she was six and twenty. And, not to mention, she was Penelope Featherington: wallflower extraordinaire. There was practically no possibility of her ever having a chance of marriage after this. No chance of her having a family of her own. This would be her first and final proposal, and it was her decision alone to make.

She grappled with her indecision for weeks, hoping that the answer would come to her as she got to better know James. But it didn’t. Instead, it seemed that the questions came even more pronounced as she began to realize just how much she liked him.

If there was one person who could possibly understand, it was Eloise. Her searching eyes knew Penelope better than anyone else’s did. And she’d already turned down three (or was it four?) proposals of her own, all with the same secret reason. Eloise wanted love. And that was an easier concept for her than it was for Penelope; the beautiful Bridgerton family only seemed to make pure love matches.  

She arrived at Number Five around mid-afternoon in an effort to seek out her most trusted confidant. Unfortunately, as Penelope’s visit was unplanned, she’d been greeted with the knowledge that Eloise was out. She was expected, however, to return home quite soon and Penelope was free to sit and wait for her.

The sitting room was empty when Penelope entered it, and her mind was far too scattered to take notice of the empty plate on the table or the small book resting on the arm of a chair. She was far too restless to take in the environment at the level of her normal analysis. Instead, Penelope stood before the window, awaiting the arrival of the carriage.

After a few minutes, there were footsteps coming from the hallway.

Strange. She hadn’t seen them arrive. Perhaps they’d taken the side entrance?

Smiling, she turned to greet the newcomer. But then she felt the corners of her lips drop as soon as her eyes landed. She swallowed harshly. Oh, of all the time for life’s irony, it had to be this instance. Of all the Bridgertons she could have possibly encountered, it just had to be this one. This one, with his leering green eyes, carelessly perfect hair, and vexing grin.

“Penelope. Hi,” Colin said after a small pause of surprise. He’d stopped in the doorway upon his initial notice of her but recovered quickly and sauntered rather casually into the room before taking a seat on the chair with the book. “It’s nice to see you.”  

And there it was. That charming smile that never ceased to come off of his almost-offensively handsome face. Other than, of course, when it had disappeared completely while he’d been reprimanding her in the middle of a public park. There was nothing more aggravating to her at that moment than seeing the grin she’d spent so many years idling over.

He waited calmly for a response, not allowing the smile on his face to waver despite the lack of return from her. Their encounter at the park had to be forgotten by now. Surely, no apology would be necessary. They’d had another run-in at Number Five since then and Penelope had been pleasant. They’d been surrounded by his family, of course, but she’d politely smiled and greeted him like she had anyone else. 

“I’m waiting for Eloise,” was all she finally replied before turning away to face the window. He took note of the surprising harshness in her voice. Strange. 

“Would you like to have some tea? I meant to call up for some lunch.” He’d only been given two sandwiches, an apple, and a slice of cake upon his own arrival and was still feeling rather peckish.

“No.”

She didn’t even spare him a glance this time and he felt his eyes narrow. He was now quite sure that her previously pleasant demeanor had been an act.

“Well, I’ll order some for just myself then.” He meant to stand in order to call a maid but stopped when he heard mumbling from the woman. He couldn’t exactly make out what she’d said, but he was quite sure that it wasn’t something complimentary.

“Pardon me?” He watched her stiffen slightly at the question, her profile revealing the formation of a tight line across her lips. Her contempt was evident, and he could feel his own irritation rising.  

“Nothing.”

That was it.

“Well, I daresay Miss Featherington, aren’t you being unpleasant today,” there was no playfulness in his voice.   

Her head snapped towards him. “I’ll have you know that I can be quite unpleasant when I need to be.” A cross scowl had been etched across her forehead, and he would have laughed the sight of her if not for the mirrored anger brewing inside himself as well.

“And why do you need to be?”

She looked at him in humorless disbelief. “Have you forgotten? You admonished me in public for an act I hadn’t even been partaking in.”

Perhaps he might have apologized had her statement come into the conversation any sooner. Maybe he’d have been able to swallow his pride and offer her some remorse for his blunder in the park. But her words had come now, and his temper wouldn’t allow him to feel any regret.

“I was only trying to make sure that your reputation remained intact.” His jaw was tightening again.

Her eyes made a swift roll. “Neither I nor Mister Ainsley have any intention of ruining my reputation.”

The sound of his name seemed to dig into Colin deeper. “And what exactly are Mister Ainsley’s intentions with you?” he challenged heatedly.

Her face seemed to take on an even harsher glare. “And why should it matter to you?” she replied just as hotly, eyes narrowed into tight slivers.

“I’ve regarded you as a friend for many years- I simply want to make sure that you are doing what’s best for you.”

Penelope let out a very uncharacteristic scoff. “Don’t pretend, Colin. You’ve never cared about what’s best for me.”

There was a beat of silence as he digested her words and the unbelieving expression on her face. “I do. And I’ve just always been under the impression that you wanted to marry for love.” His words had contained a sharp edge to them, but he wasn’t even sure where they had come from. He’d certainly never considered them before.

Penelope paused for a moment as Colin kept his eyes on the floor. When she did speak, her voice had softened. “I believe that the best foundation for a marriage is friendship, and that love can grow in time.”

He looked up at her skeptically, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was facing the window again, absentmindedly brushing her knuckles across her lips.

“I don’t think that’s entirely honest,” he stated flatly, and her head swiveled to send a glare his way. But even with her angered eyes, there was something more than just irritation on her face. She looked… troubled, maybe even a bit tired.

He saw her throat move as she swallowed, eyes focused on his with such an intensity that he wouldn’t have been able to break the contact if he’d tried. “Colin, I think you and I both know perfectly well that I will never marry for love.”

Her words hung over the room like a heavy fog as they both looked at the other in absolute silence. There was nothing else to be said; nothing else that could be said. He wasn’t exactly sure what she had meant with her statement- or perhaps he was, and he just didn’t want to admit it. Her face exuded pure misery and her sorrowful eyes tormented him. He felt the urge to approach her, to bridge the large gap that had grown between them. But he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t make her promises he knew he wouldn’t- couldn’t keep.

It felt like they were frozen for eternity: him on the couch and her standing by the window. He watched as she fiddled with her hands, taking each finger and twisting it systematically. He saw that a single curl had fallen from her intricate hairstyle and was sitting softly on her shoulder. He noticed the flush in her face, uncharacteristically brought on by anger rather than flattery.

She watched as he bounced his leg on the floor, completely oblivious to the movement. She saw how he flexed and unflexed his knuckles. She noticed that there were lines forming across his forehead- becoming more and more pronounced as he continued to frown. She didn’t know how to feel at the moment. She was surprised that the words had uttered her mouth and even more surprised by his reaction.

She wasn’t sure why his reaction felt so bizarre to her- she half expected him to laugh away the comment and half expected him to simply look uncomfortable. But he hadn’t done either. There was a sadness in his face that she felt mirrored her own. Where that sadness was stemming from, she had no idea. She knew Colin didn’t love her. She knew that Colin would never love her.

After what felt like the longest minute of his life, Colin cleared his throat and stood from his chair. “Please, excuse me.” He couldn’t look at the haunted expression on her face any longer.  

And then he walked out before waiting to see whether or not she would reply. 

Chapter Text

Penelope listened as the footsteps grew more and more faint, one of her hands reaching up to clasp the opposite shoulder. Upon hearing the sound of the front door shutting, she turned to look down at the street. She watched as he walked a few steps onto the pavement and felt herself suck in a breath when he paused. And then she moved out of the view of the glass before his head could finish turning.

Sitting down to face the doorway instead, she fiddled with her hands, replaying their conversation again and again in her mind.

Why did he care so much about what she did with her life? Why did he insist on lecturing her? Why did she feel so angry with him?

Oh- And why had she said that? A hand lifted to press against her eyes involuntarily, as if it would be enough to block out her thoughts. She’d never intended to even hint at her feelings for Colin, and especially never to him. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t love her. She’d only been fifteen when the two met- practically an infant. Of course, he’d always see her as nothing more than a little sister. There was no fault in that.  

But then why couldn’t he just disappear from her mind?

In all honesty, Penelope no longer even knew what her feelings for Colin were. She'd considered herself in love with him for many years, but now she wasn't sure if she knew him well enough to actually love him. He'd always done so well in hiding himself behind charm and humor, but the past few weeks had shown her that there was much more to him than she had ever been aware.

Perhaps what she had mistaken for love was simply infatuation, brought on by good looks and a charming smile. Perhaps, it was just a childhood affection that had withstood time by his ongoing kind attention. Perhaps… Perhaps she didn’t even know what love was.

But still, why, oh why did it have to be him of all people? Why was he the one who she couldn’t hide herself from, couldn’t make herself blend into the background as she did with most people?

Her mind raced as she sat in Lady Bridgerton’s drawing room. If she’d arrived at Number Five with doubts, they’d more than tripled in the last hour. She’d come for answers, for guidance, but had instead only received more uncertainty.

Although, she considered, Colin’s words did ring true, at least in some measure. There was a part of her that didn’t believe that her friendship with James would ever become more. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe that love could develop from friendship, of that she certainly did. But for some reason… She just didn’t think it would ever be that way for them. She’d always asserted that she could be happy without love and romance... But now, she wasn’t sure if that was true either.

Letting out a harsh sigh, Penelope rose from her seat. This was not something Eloise could help her with. Eloise, who had always held in her convictions that she would only marry for love. Eloise, who had always been blessed with the choice of never needing to settle for anything less.

She asked a maid for a piece of paper and quill, quickly jotting down a note to her friend. She needed to do this herself, needed to make her own choices without the input of anyone else. So, Penelope just wrote that something had come up and that she would come by in a few days' time, and then she left. 

As seemed to be a newly developed habit, Colin felt quite regretful by the time he arrived back at his own home. He couldn’t understand what had possibly possessed him to give Penelope his unasked-for opinion, especially on her love life. It wasn’t his place to tell her whether or not she was in love or what kind of marriage she was meant to have.

He chuckled a bit ironically at himself. He, who had never experienced anything near love, nor had any inclination towards marriage, had actually thought that he had the right to comment or criticize her. He, who had spent far too much of his life running from commitment, thought he was at liberty to tell her how it ought to be.

But he didn’t know what had gone through his damn mind. She’d been standing there with her wide, innocent eyes and flushed cheeks and something had simply overtaken him. He’d never been one to hide his thoughts from Penelope; he’d never before had to. But now, the exact time when he should have simply kept his mouth shut, he hadn’t even been able to force himself. He’d spent a majority of his life simply being pleasant, giving laughs and charming grins even when he didn’t always feel like it. But with Penelope, he just didn’t seem to be able to fake it.  

She deserved better than to settle, of that he was sure. But that didn’t mean that it was his place to tell her so.

Penelope spent three entire days reasoning with her unrelenting mind before coming to her ultimate conclusion.

The process itself had been almost agonizing, but once her decision had been made, she felt lighter, absolutely sure of it. She knew deep in her heart that she didn’t want to marry without love, even if that meant that she would never marry at all.

And although her conversation with Colin hadn’t been the deciding factor for her choice, it had acted as a confirmation of sorts for her already apprehensive mind. He’d been the only person, other than herself, that had raised any sort of contest to an engagement with James. And Penelope considered that if she really had wanted to marry, she would have given a better argument. Instead, she’d found herself silently agreeing with him, supplying herself with the answer that had already been buried inside.

She and James took a walk through the Featherington garden the afternoon after she’d made up her mind. Her mother, completely unaware of the impending exchange, left the two of them alone on their stroll with a less-than-subtle wink.  

He was as understanding as Penelope was apologetic. He'd taken in her words carefully, nodding along slowly as she explained. There had been some disappointment in his eyes, but no rebuttals or disagreements were made. In fact, he seemed to acknowledge the truth in most of what she said. They shared a sorrowful smile and a kiss on the hand before parting.

It was, perhaps, the most amicable rejection to a non-proposal that London had ever seen.

Later that evening, Portia was disappointed to find out that her daughter’s would-be engagement was off. She was not, however, incredibly surprised.

“I knew you should have trapped him when you still had the chance. The courting was far too long,” the older woman sighed, wearing an expression of mixed motherly melancholy and irritation. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to change his mind?”

Penelope smiled coolly at the ground and shook her head, trying to ignore the twinge of hurt she felt. She wasn’t at all surprised by her mother’s assumptions; she’d been purposefully vague in her explanation. She didn’t care to receive the double-edged glory of being the one to call it off, and she was quite aware that neither Portia nor the ton would ever understand if she had told the whole truth. No one would possibly comprehend why a woman such as Penelope Featherington would ever give up her likely only chance for marriage.

Which was why, when Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers came out two days later, she didn’t at all mind that it read:

On an unfortunate but rather unremarkable note, this author has been made aware that Mister Ainsley will not be proposing to Miss Featherington anytime this season or the next. Better luck next time, perhaps (though This Author holds that the possibility seems a tad unlikely). 

Despite a number of missives sent to her, Penelope only went to see Eloise the day of the column’s release, praying to all that was holy that she wouldn’t run into any other Bridgertons along the way. She didn’t want to see any of their pitying faces, or even worse, Colin’s face of I-told-you-so.

Because he hadn’t. He had been completely, absolutely wrong about James. But he didn't deserve her explanation. 

Thankfully, it seemed that her prayers had been answered, for she was let upstairs to Eloise's room without any interference. And although she hadn't felt any nervousness on her walk towards Number Five, something in her stomach twinged when her knuckles met the open door. "Eloise?”

Eloise, who had been reading something at her writing desk, smiled and immediately got up to greet her. "Penelope, good morning," she said, her smile a bit too bright and her hug a bit too affectionate to feel natural. The tenderness in her expression was more than enough confirmation that she'd read the article already. 

“Do you want me to call up for something- tea?” Eloise asked in an exceptionally jovial voice. 

Penelope blinked at her, slowly nodding as she sat down on a sofa, "Erm, that would be good." She'd felt so exceptionally settled in her decision since she'd made it, so entirely sure of herself, but as she watched Eloise ring for a maid, Penelope felt her certainty waver. In the presence of her closest friend’s thinly veiled sympathy, she found herself becoming overwhelmed with the gravity of her decision.

Joining her on the sofa, Eloise looked at her with some concern but forced a beaming smile, nonetheless. “How’s the weather?” She cast a glance at the window. “It looks like it might storm. Did you feel any rain?”

Penelope frowned slightly, taking a moment to digest the question before shaking her head. “Uhm, yes. Er, no- I think it might. I wasn’t really paying attention.” She couldn't seem to remember how it had felt outside, her vicious mind working against her. And she couldn't seem to get comfortable in her seat- fidgeting with her position every few seconds. 

“Ah. Well.” There was a slight pause as Eloise tapped on her own knee, clearly looking as though she were ready to burst. “Do you-“

“I-“

They stopped and looked at each other, neither continuing with whatever they’d meant to say. Both women waited for the other to go on, but the only sound that was made was by the maid returning with a tea tray. 

Eloise smiled politely as she waited for the tray to be set down, dismissing the maid with a gentle yet urgent, “Thank you. I can finish from here.” Quickly, she got up and shut the door firmly once they were alone again.

Returning to her seat, she looked at her friend expectantly. But Penelope wouldn’t reach her eyes, holding her gaze on the floor instead. 

Eloise’s restraint lasted only a few seconds before she could contain herself no longer. “Pen, what is it?” The air of contrived brevity in her voice had now been long since abandoned.

“I…” Penelope paused, wringing her hands. Reluctantly, she sighed, "I suppose you read the article." 

 "Yes" was all that came in reply, and she could sense the impatience in Eloise even without looking at her.

Penelope swallowed, glancing down at her reddened palms. She really hadn't planned on telling anyone, not even Eloise. But it seemed that this was one secret she simply couldn't hold within herself; she needed her best friend to be with her through it. And in a voice softer than she'd meant, Penelope whispered, "I ended the courtship." 

There was a beat of silence as the confession hung in the air, creeping itself into each crevice of her mind. Slowly, Eloise reached out to take one of Penelope's agitated hands. "You did? But... Lady Whistledown?" 

Penelope gave a feeble shrug, shutting her eyes momentarily. "Whistledown got it wrong." 

I see,” Eloise took a breath, lips pressed together as her eyes flickered over her companion. With an uncharacteristic air of hesitancy, she asked, “Did something happen? With Mister Ainsley, I mean.”

Penelope shook her head, still refusing to meet her friend's searching gaze. "I don't really know. I just-," her voice cracked as she cut off, shoulders lifting again in a jerky movement. She swallowed as she finally looked up, her eyes darting around the room. There was some part of her that seemed to expect for the answer to be written on the walls somewhere.

Finally, she took a shaky breath, forcing herself to look Eloise's way. And in the smallest voice she'd ever before heard herself use, she whispered, “I just didn’t love him, El.”

There was another pause as Eloise looked at her, her mouth twisting as she put her next words together carefully. After a moment, she spoke slowly, “I thought you always said that love wasn’t as important as…”

Though Eloise trailed off, Penelope knew what she meant. She'd always said that all she cared for in a marriage was kindness, respect, and comfort. That love could grow and come in time, but that the foundations were what mattered. And before the season had begun, Penelope had always thought that was the truth. 

Her eyes moved slowly from Eloise’s concerned face to their united hands, until finally, they settled on the floor again. She swallowed, giving another small shrug. “I did, and I always thought that it would be enough, but…” Penelope's mouth opened but no words came out. She felt a familiar twinge of pain in her nose before her vision blurred with tears.  

Taking a deep breath, her voice barely came out a whisper. “I suppose I always hoped to have a family, but maybe it’s just not in the cards for me.” A tear escaped unwittingly from her eye and rolled down her cheek, leaving behind a cold trail in its wake. “I’ll just have to make myself happy- even if I’m alone.”

Eloise’s arms wrapped around her in less than a flash. “You’ll always have me, Pen,” she whispered softly as her friend let out a muffled sob into her shoulder. “You’ll never be alone, I promise.”

Eloise found herself with yet another visitor just twenty-four hours later, but this was one was significantly less polite. Rather than knocking, he strode in completely unannounced.

“What could you possibly want?”

Colin practically gaped at her, “Did you read this?” He tapped harshly on the piece of paper he was holding. “He jilted her!”

He’d told Penelope that this would happen. He knew that the prick would do this. He knew that-

His sister glanced at the paper before looking back up at him in exasperation. “Yes, I read it. Yesterday, when it was actually released.” Her arms crossed as his expression remained just as hostile. And then she softened a bit, looking into her brother's angry face. “And he didn’t jilt her. Whistledown got it wrong; Penelope was the one who made the decision.”

Colin blinked at her several times, the column crumpling in his fist. “What?”

She sighed impatiently, her voice taking on a patronizing tone. “She told Mister Ainsley that she didn’t want to marry him. It was her choice.”

He frowned. “Do you know why?”   

Eloise nearly rolled her eyes, taking a long look at him. “No.”

Although he was quite certain that there was more to her answer, he didn’t press her further. “Right. Well- I hope she’s alright.”

The girl’s mouth twisted slightly as she watched him. "She doesn't want people to know." 

He didn't need to ask why- he surely knew the answer. Instead, he just nodded and excused himself. 

Sometime later that afternoon, Colin found himself standing at the front steps of the Featherington residence before his mind had even made sense of where his feet were leading him. He wasn’t sure why he was there- he supposed that he wanted to see her, to assure himself that she really was fine.

He had a momentary pause of worry that he might not be let in, recalling that his last few conversations with Penelope had not been good ones. But to his relief, he was taken up to an empty drawing room without any delay. He’d even been treated to a tea tray, absentmindedly plucking an apple tart into his mouth as he waited.

Minutes ticked by as Colin waited, causing him to grow nervous with every passing moment. This time, there was no question in his mind that he needed to apologize.

But just when he was beginning to worry that she might not come down after all, Penelope appeared in the doorway. He stood up and gave her a nod in greeting, mustering up a small smile. He felt himself release a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when her own lips turned upwards. 

“Penelope, I just wanted... Er, I’ve just come to-“ he cringed slightly. He wasn't a frequent maker of apologies, and what could be the right words for something like this?

“It’s alright,” she said, giving him leave from what was sure to be a lame explanation. It wasn’t really alright, they both knew that, but he appreciated her grace all the same.  

“I’m sorry for how I’ve acted,” was what finally came from his mouth. 

Penelope nodded, “I’m sorry too.”

He let out a small chuckle; even when he was the one in the wrong, she somehow had the decency not to rejoice in it. “Are you alright?”

Her eyes widened slightly as if she were surprised by the question. After a moment's paused, she answered, “Uhm, yes. I think so.”

He swallowed involuntarily, racking his mind for a comforting word to say. Why had he decided to come and see her in the first place again? “I’m sure you’ll have another chance,” was what came tumbling out of his mouth.

Penelope gave him a side-eyed glance, letting out a rather unfortunate snort. She had begun to pace absentmindedly, whereas he had returned to his seat. After a moment, she sighed, “You really don’t need to say things we both know aren't true.”

Damn, he had no clue what to say to that.

He watched her wordlessly, but she just sent him a humored grin that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “It’s alright,” she waved her hand. “I suppose I’ll just die an old maid. One who's never known love or kissing or...”

She’d meant the statement to be taken jokingly, but it was weakened by the hint of bitterness in her voice. Her face had developed a faraway expression as she continued to pace, making it seem like she’d forgotten who was still in the room with her. 

“No,” he muttered after a moment, and her head twitched in his direction at the sound. From where he was sitting, he noticed the curves of her figure. And the delightful shade of pink that her cheeks had taken. And he saw that her brows were fuddled together in a way that seemed quite endearing to him. In fact, she really looked rather fetching. 

An almost rueful chuckle escaped from her lips. “No? Well, I don’t suppose you or-“

But her words had been cut off.

Suddenly, Penelope was breathless. The entire room had gone silent except for the rapid pounding of blood in her ears. She hadn’t even noticed him move until she’d been forced into an abrupt halt to avoid colliding into him.

Colin himself hadn’t realized that he’d left his spot on the sofa and taken three great strides towards her until he was just mere inches away from her. 

There was a strange underlying air of urgency as he moved slowly, placing a hand under her chin and tipping her face up towards him. He could feel her trembling under his fingertips, or perhaps he was the one trembling. She was looking at him with wide, bewildered eyes but made no attempt to back away. He glanced down to her lips for a moment, parted just slightly in surprise, before returning to her eyes. And as if it were his first time seeing them, he noticed the rather exquisite ring of gold just inside the iris. How had he never noticed how enchanting the color brown could be? 

It took all of his strength to restrain himself from just doing what he so desperately wanted; or perhaps more accurately, what he so desperately seemed to need.

But Colin was aware of the consequences an action like this could make. And although he was ready to accept them, he needed to be sure that she was as well. So far, however, all she had done was stare up at him. 

It seemed like an endless moment of torturous silence before Penelope finally made an incomprehensible sound. But then a whisper came from her, so clear and unambiguous that he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to hear anything else again.

“Please.”

Colin didn’t hesitate to close the gap between them upon hearing the word, feeling as though he was being drawn to her by a magnetic force. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing; his mind had seemingly been abandoned by his body.

There was something about her mentioning the simple word ‘kiss’ that had made it impossible for him to have any coherent actions. She shouldn’t have to go on forever without experiencing a kiss. She should get to appreciate the taste of someone else’s lips against hers at least once in her life. And he knew that he had enough experience to ensure that she would enjoy this one.

However… Despite the number of kisses Colin had shared in his lifetime, theirs was completely different from any before. It felt almost as if it was just as much his first as hers. It only took him a few moments to realize that not only was this kiss different than any that came before, but it was also better. There was a burning in him that he hadn’t ever experienced before. He tasted the cinnamon leftover from the tart he had been eating, but there was also a hint of something else that was entirely her own. He could smell her- a floral scent. Perhaps honeysuckle? He wasn’t exactly sure, but it seemed to intoxicate him. Had Penelope always smelled this way? He’d never been close enough to know her scent. Or maybe he’d just never noticed.

At that moment, he couldn’t dream of ever kissing another person ever again, of ever wanting to feel someone else’s warmth against him. He wanted her. And only her.

On the other end of the kiss, Penelope was in a haze of her own, completely overtaken by the feeling of his lips on hers. Her breath had become haggard and unsteady as he moved against her mouth, feeling a type of bliss she'd never even imagined possible. She was frozen in time and hadn’t any clue as to what to do. Other than her lips, every inch of her body remained extremely still. Her knees might have let out if she wasn’t pressed so firmly against him, held up by his capable arms. In a distant part of her mind, she thought that she aware of his hands gliding along her frame before they landed softly right below the small of her back. She hadn’t ever been held by anyone like this and he was- was he mumbling her name? It was becoming increasingly arduous to understand anything that was happening around her.

After however long, Colin pulled away with heavy breaths, bringing a hand back up to delicately hold her chin. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him through her lashes, feeling misty and unsteady. Was this what it always felt like to kiss someone? She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same with all of the women that he kissed.

And then Colin said the most peculiar thing, staring deeply into her eyes as he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “You can kiss me too.” There was a softness in his voice that she had never heard before and it made her heart swell almost uncomfortably. She blinked at him, utterly mystified by his suggestion. Surely… surely, he did not expect her to- “A kiss,” he met her lips again for just a moment and her stomach flipped, “is for two people.”

Her mouth parted and a hand moved up to rest carefully against his chest. She watched as it rose and fell with his deep breaths. Her gaze then moved up to meet his. His eyes, dazzling emerald green as always, appeared darker than normal. His smile, the one she had spent a decade pondering, was small but just as captivating as ever. Only a few more inches and she would be able to meet his lips again. 

But rather than move forward, Penelope felt herself push against him and take an agonizing step away. This- all of this- wasn't right. 

His reaction was perplexing to her. He looked angry, frustrated… was it possible even a bit hurt? She was still too flustered to analyze his expression. All she knew was that he looked anything but pleased. And that seemed to confirm worries she hadn’t even realized were there: he’d kissed her out of pity. What had she said again? She had implied, even presented a subtle challenge. And then when she had been able to get out of it, she’d allowed herself to say the opposite of what she knew she should. 

“Thank you,” she finally muttered, a hand haphazardly coming up to rest under her chin where his had just been.

“Thank you?” Colin echoed, quickly taking on a look that could only portray irritation. “You don’t- that’s not what you say to a kiss.” And then his expression changed completely, and he looked worried, licking his swollen lips. “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-“

Penelope shook her head violently, putting up a hand to stop him. “No, I implied…” she trailed off, and his head shook as well.

“I’ve ruined-,” he whispered, unable to continue. He almost looked ashamed now.

She looked sharply at him, “You have not. No one else is here, and I’m sure neither of us has any intention of telling anyone.” Although she had meant for it to sound strong, her voice came out as a pained whisper. She felt confused, and hurt, and guilty, and-

There was a pause so heavy that it felt like it was sucking the air out of the room. 

Colin’s body made an awkward movement in the direction of the door. “I should go.”

Penelope nodded in agreement, shutting her eyes tightly to avoid looking at him any longer. She listened as his footsteps made their way to the door.

“I didn’t-“ She peered up at the sound of his voice, but his back was facing her.   

“You didn’t what?” she called after him, almost desperate to know what he wanted to say. As if his words could make any difference.

But he shook his head roughly, giving her one last look. “Never mind. I should go.”

And before she could even decide whether she wanted to push the subject further, the door shut firmly behind him, leaving a chilling silence in its wake.

Chapter Text

“Colin? Helloooo, Colin!”

He sucked in a gasp as his eyes shot open, having been startled from his sleep. After a few blinks, he saw that he was face-to-face with his youngest sister.  

“What the hell was that for?” Colin grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d unfortunately dozed off in one of the more uncomfortable armchairs in his mother’s drawing room.

“Language, brother,” Hyacinth mockingly scolded before giving him a wicked grin. “You were mumbling in your sleep.”

He felt his body tense up for a moment, the memory of his dream returning to him.

Oh, dear God. He’d been dreaming about… Well, taking into account the uncomfortable drop in his stomach and the heat that had risen to his cheeks, it was quite obvious what his dream had entailed. He only hoped that his damn mumbling hadn’t incriminated him.

“Oh, you can stop panicking. I promise that nothing intelligible came from your mouth,” she replied with a slyness he didn't appreciate. “Anyway, I need you to accompany me to the theater next week.”

He squinted up at her. On any normal day, Colin would have agreed or, at the very least, given a well-humored excuse as to why he could not. However, he had not had a normal day since Friday. And his bad mood had been quickly revamped by the recollection of the dream he’d been having that he definitely should not have been having. And due to the unfortunate timing of Hyacinth’s request, he hadn’t found it in himself to even supply his answer with a smile.

“No,” was all that came out in a harsh voice.

She frowned, hands moving to her hips. “You can’t accompany me?”

“Can’t, won’t, whatever suits you more.” It really wasn’t the day for this.

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he snapped with the patience resembling that of a toddler. Colin had been far more disagreeable than usual over the past few days, and it was only more highlighted by the stark difference from his generally sunny disposition.

“Why are you in such a bad mood?”

Colin felt his jaw clench reflexively. He’d already heard that question more times that week than in his entire life, and if there was anything that could fuel a temper more, it was that. 

This time, a frustrated groan escaped from him. “None of your bloody business, Hyacinth. Leave me alone,” he practically snarled.

The sound of his voice caught him off guard; Colin hadn’t even been aware that he knew how to snarl. Taking a glance at the younger girl, he almost cringed when he saw that her face had fallen in both hurt and surprise. He wasn’t the type to raise his voice, even when irritated.

Dammit, he’d done it now. He sighed, “Hyacinth-“

But she just gave him a glare and stalked out of the room before he could finish, leaving Colin to feel like the utter ass he was. Now there was yet another apology he’d have to make, and his sister wasn't the type to be gracious in her acceptances. Giving his head a rough shake, Colin decided that it was probably best not to stay for supper.

As his carriage made its way back to his lodgings, he glanced in the direction of Penelope’s house, feeling a bothersome twinge in his stomach that now seemed to accompany any thought of her.

They’d fallen into a rather regrettable pattern, consisting of him losing his self-control and needing to follow it with an apology. He would have already gone to make amends this time, but he felt rather apprehensive about what would happen if he returned to her house, or if he met her again in that drawing room. He wasn’t even sure what he would want to happen if the situation arose.

Colin had experienced more change in his emotions in the past few days than ever before in his thirty-one years on earth. He was haunted by the memory of their kiss, the feeling of her body pressed against his, the warmth that had radiated from her. It had been the best of his life, and the longing he’d felt in the moment had been incomparable to that of any before. But that didn’t make it any less irresponsible.

Although he wasn’t exactly clear as to what he thought of the kiss, Colin had a gut-wrenching awareness that he shouldn’t have done it. And he especially knew that he shouldn’t have continued thinking about it in the way he had. Perhaps it was wrong because he hadn’t ever truly thought of doing so before, and that the act had been done out of nothing more than a moment of impulse. Perhaps it was because he’d always regarded her almost as a sister (except, of course, he reminded himself, that she wasn’t his sister).

Or, most likely of all, perhaps it was because he had recognized that she’d thought that the kiss was done out of some merciful act of pity. And that the reason she thought so was because the people she’d encountered in her life, including himself, had convinced her that that was all she was worth.

Turning away from the window, Colin tried to push that intrusive judgment out of his mind. He’d rather focus on simpler dilemmas, ones that he could actually settle. And the first one was an uncomplicated apology. He was a gentleman, and she was a lady, and gentlemen certainly did not kiss ladies on a whim.

He would have to do it at the masquerade ball the next evening. She would be sure to attend, and it would be easy enough to get her alone... but not too alone. 

Penelope smiled slightly as she looked at her reflection, something she so rarely was inclined to do. Since the ending of her courtship with Mister Ainsley, her mother seemed to no longer care very much about what she wore. And that sweet indifference allowed Penelope to choose her own costume for the ball that night.

She'd chosen to don a 17^th-century-styled gown that was a rather pleasant shade of deep purple. It wasn’t anything special really, especially not for a masquerade ball, but the ruffles weren’t garish and the fabric wasn’t citrus-hued. It was just conventional enough that there would really be no need for Lady Whistledown to comment on her outfit at all, which was more than good enough for Penelope. 

Another notable part about her attire was the mask she had picked out for the occasion. It was gold and a bit ornate to match her gown, but most significantly, it was one that covered almost all of her face. She'd gone to other masquerades in barely-there masks or sometimes completely bare-faced, as to her mother's choosing. But tonight, she was almost unrecognizable in the covering, with only her hair and lips exposed. And when her lady’s maid finished fastening it into her chignon, Penelope felt something different in herself. 

When she entered the ballroom soon after, there was a surge of unfamiliar confidence that passed through her. Her costume felt like a layer of protection she’d never before possessed, and it felt like she could be free to be whomever she wanted.

And she was different for the night. She was a woman who laughed, and joked, and flirted without any hesitancy. And, strangely enough, it all seemed to flow so naturally from her that Penelope wasn't even sure if the mask had hidden her wallflower personality or simply allowed her to embody who she truly was. She couldn't recall herself ever being so self-assured. Except, perhaps, at Francesca Bridgerton's wedding, where she'd had one too many glasses of champagne. But even then, she'd really only focused her attention on-

Though she had been there for hours, no one at the ball had yet discerned her identity, a fact that was met with both satisfaction and disappointment. When a gentleman she vaguely knew had asked for her name, she’d responded only with amused coyness, “Now, if you were really meant to know, you already would.”

Her voice wasn’t even a piece of evidence for most; many members of the ton had never even heard Penelope say more than a few words And even those who might have known her well enough couldn't seem to figure it out. 

She’d actually just left a group of partygoers to get some lemonade when she first spotted someone with whom she was actually almost painfully familiar. Even under the guise of his demi-mask and the dim lighting of the ballroom, Penelope was absolutely sure that it was Colin. To her, it seemed that his green eyes sparkled even across the room. She recalled the last time she’d seen them, and her stomach practically flipped over itself. Maybe if it had been any other night, she would have turned and scurried away in the opposite direction.

But tonight was different, and Penelope wasn't going to allow herself to be scared. 

Taking a deep breath, she approached the refreshment table and gave him a breezy bow of the head. He returned her acknowledgment with a polite nod and an ambiguous smile, making it difficult to tell if he’d recognized her or not. Surely, not. If he had, Penelope somewhat doubted he would have been anywhere near so cordial, not after their- Well, she assumed he certainly didn't know. 

“It’s exceptionally good tonight,” he commented, motioning toward the cup in her hand. Glancing at him, Penelope considered that it was rather incredible how handsome he managed to look even with his face half-covered. 

She just replied with a mysterious smile and nod as she sipped. Funny, she hadn’t even been aware that she held the ability to smile mysteriously. 

He looked at her with an amused twitch of his mouth. “You agree then?”

Almost without meaning, Penelope took on a voice that was lower than natural. For whatever reason, she liked the idea of him not knowing her identity. “Oh, yes. Quite delicious.”

It was very possible that he had bitten down a smirk. “And what of the music? Is it to your liking?”

She hummed slightly, tilting her head as she listened. “I suppose it is. And you?” An innocent smile played on her lips as she stole a glance at him.

His face took on a deliberating expression and he mocked her hum. “I suppose I would have to agree. Though,” he paused, “I think it would sound better on the dancefloor.”

On any other occasion, Penelope would have surely shut herself down by then. But, as she looked up at him, her confidence didn't waver. Surprising even herself, Penelope batted her eyelashes more flirtatiously than she would have ever imagined possible. And whether or not Colin recognized her, she didn't seem to care. “Is that an offer?

She could almost imagine an eyebrow quirking up under his mask, taking a moment as he examined her visible features. “Under the assumption that the respondent wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I suppose she wouldn’t be.”

“Fantastic then,” he grinned and formally extended his elbow for her to take. Without a second thought, she gracefully accepted it. 

They joined the floor just as the music was beginning, the melody of a waltz playing. Though Penelope had partaken in such a dance before (and even, on occasion, with Colin), there was a newfound intimacy in it that made her cheeks flush under her mask. His fingers felt like they were burning holes through her dress and glove, as if the mere memory of his touch had branded her. Just yesterday, they'd been this close, closer even. And the memory almost took her breath away. 

Colin tried to watch her carefully as they danced, wondering what he could perceive from under the shelter of her mask. It covered her face a bit more than he would have preferred, but he was almost convinced that she was blushing. Something about the thought made the corners of his mouth twitch. "You really are a lovely dancer." 

Upon seeing his rather sly expression, Penelope asked, “I trust you won’t mind if I accidentally stepped on your foot?” She gave him a rather exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes that he found oddly adorable.

“If it were to be an accident, I would politely ignore it and inform you that my boots are steel-toed,” he maintained a deadpanned expression on his face. “However, seeing as you’ve never done so before, I would consider it doubtful to be a chance mishap.”

“Does that mean we’ve danced before? I don’t seem to recall…” she pouted slightly as if in deep thought and Colin felt his stomach tighten as his eyes flickered to her lips. 

He tilted his head slightly before admitting, “It’s been a while." And then he gave her a happy grin, "Nice dress, by the way”

"Thank you," she smiled. "It's my favorite color." 

He looked at her with an amused sternness, wondering whether she was trying to test him. "No, it's not."

Although her eyes narrowed a bit, the rest of her exposed face showed only humor. “So it's not. How long did it take to figure me out?”

He laughed, “I recognized you as soon as you approached. Even with the change in voice.” 

“Did you?” she looked a bit surprised. “No one else has.”

He shrugged mildly, “Well, I suppose I know you better than most people.”

Penelope watched him for a moment before giving a small nod, the corners of her mouth lifting. “And what gave me away?”

“Your hair,” he answered without pause, daringly removing the hand on her back to pull on the curl that was sitting delicately against her collarbone. He could have sworn he felt her back tense just slightly when his hand returned to its original position. “And what gave me away? Apart from my brothers, I mean.”

Although the question had been more of a tease than anything, Penelope answered rather seriously. “Well, Gregory is obviously still away, and I don’t think Benedict is even in town…” She looked up at him with some added consideration. “And your eyes could belong to no one else, not even your brothers.”

Though it hadn’t exactly been a compliment, Colin felt his chest rise. There was something about the way she’d said it that he quite liked.

He might have returned with a compliment of his own, but the music seemed to end too quickly. He leaned down to give her an elegant bow, rather missing the feeling of her hand in his.

“Thank you for the dance,” Penelope said as they reached the perimeter.

“And thank you as well," he grinned. And as Colin looked down at her, he suddenly couldn’t seem to remember why he’d been in such a foul mood earlier. Nor why he’d been so apprehensive to see her. She was so delightfully carefree tonight that it seemed odd to even imagine her in any other way.

Just as Colin was considering how he might lengthen their conversation, Penelope’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. “I need to go find Felicity.” He wasn’t sure if he’d conjured up the note of disappointment in her tone.  

“Oh,” Colin tried to hide the air of regret in his own voice, “I’d imagine she’s with Hyacinth.” Those two were almost as inseparable as Penelope and Eloise, and certainly twice as impish.

Penelope nodded and stayed silent for a moment, as if waiting for more from him. He would have happily offered to help her find them if he knew for certain that Hyacinth would not mention their disagreement from the day prior. But being who his younger sister was, there was no doubt that she would. And this would lead to Colin having to explain why he’d been in such a rotten mood. And he imagined that this would lead to some awkwardness considering Penelope was too intelligent not to draw the dots together.  

“Right,” she said after a rather long moment. “Well, see you.”

He forced a smile on his face and nodded before she turned the other way. He watched her go, feeling a small pang in his chest once her curls disappeared into the crowd. With a harsh swallow, Colin knew that he'd made yet another mistake with the woman. 

The next morning, the Bridgerton family found the third son in considerably better spirits than they had the entire week before. Although they didn’t note the change aloud, it was quite evident by their teasing looks and light jabs that they'd all noticed. But Colin didn’t seem to mind; he was feeling far too cheerful to do anything but shrug good-naturedly and laugh along.

His cheerful disposition didn’t change when after the rather delicious meal, he found himself making his way towards the Featherington household yet again. Despite the truce they had seemingly formed the night before, he still wanted to give Penelope a formal apology. He needed to make amends properly, that was all, and it seemed silly to wait for yet another event to cross paths.

When he arrived, Colin realized that he’d been quite lucky that Penelope’s mother and sister had been out during his last visit and silently prayed to God that his good fortune would continue. He wasn’t really certain why, but he felt like it’d be better if Penelope was in her own company.

He felt a satisfied grin develop across his face when he was led to the drawing room and found the women sitting on a sofa alone, a book laid face-down next to her. 

“Nice to see you,” she greeted him with a timid smile, not at all with the tenacity she’d held the night before.

“I thought one was meant to make a gentleman caller wait?” he teased, hoping to put her a bit more at ease. Deciding rather carefully, Colin chose to sit on an armchair just nearby her.

It seemed to work a little because Penelope chuckled and gave a small wave of her hand. “I was already in here. And I hardly think we need to follow such a practice.”

Although there was nothing inherently unpleasant in the statement, something about it bothered him. He considered disputing her claim, but she continued.

“Was there a reason for your visit?” He opened his mouth to answer, but she quickly added, “Not that it isn’t good to see you.” Penelope had begun flattening her skirt quite unnecessarily.  

He cleared his throat to answer, but she interrupted again, “Would you like for me to call for a tray? I’m sure Briarly-“ she’d already stood from her seat to go, but he rather impulsively grabbed her hand to stop her.  

“Er, no. I’ve just had a large breakfast,” he chuckled with a small tug. In all honestly, Colin wouldn’t have been opposed to some food. But at the current moment, he cared more about avoiding interference by the butler than about eating.

“Oh,” her eyes flickered to their enclosed hands, her head tilting in confusion. After a moment's pause, she let go and returned to her seat. “Is everything alright, Colin?”

Her eyes looked wide and curious, not unlike how they had been before he’d kissed her. The memory brought an easy smile to his face.

“I kissed you,” he turned to look at her directly. “And as a gentleman to a lady, I apologize for that.” She frowned slightly, more so in confusion than anything else. She looked like she might argue, so he continued before she could. “That being said, given that we are a gentleman and lady…” the corners of his mouth lifted, and he readied himself. This was the time.

And then, as if she’d been slapped into comprehension, Penelope’s lips formed an ‘O’ shape in the most delightful way he’d ever seen. The sight made him desperately want to kiss her again.

And then it lost its adorable nature because she began violently shaking her head. “No, Colin. No, I- I-,” her back straightened as she frowned, looking down at the ground in thought.

“No?”  he repeated, his head jerking back. She must not have understood him. “Penelope-“

Her eyes darted back up to him. “No,” she asserted. “You once said that you’d never ma-“

“I know what I said,” Colin interrupted, wincing slightly at the memory. He’d prefer not to be reminded of the recollection at a time such as now. This was not at all how he’d thought the conversation would go. Hadn’t Penelope wanted this? He’d always thought that she’d held him at least in some regard. “But things have changed and I-“

Her head shook again forcefully, but her voice had lost its edge. “Nothing’s changed. You’re not obliged to anything; the kiss was just-“

“Nice,” he supplied forcefully.

Lines creased her face as her frown deepened, “A favor to a friend. That’s all.”

He could feel himself growing frustrated, wondering how this had possibly gone so awry. Why wasn’t she understanding him? “No, you’re mistaken. I want-“

But he was silenced by a hand that had firmly pressed against his chest, just as it had been after their kiss. Her eyes were shut tightly, “Please. Stop saying things you don’t mean.”

This conversation was beginning to feel a bit too familiar as they both sat, nothing but the sound of heavy breaths filling the air. Colin clenched his fists, feeling both angry with her and resentful with himself. He supposed he ought to have gotten down on a knee, perhaps even proclaimed his love to her. Maybe then it would have worked out.

But he knew that she wouldn’t believe him. And in all honestly, he didn’t even know if he would believe it either. He had no idea whether he was in love with her or not. Every love match he had ever seen had been made within mere weeks of knowing the other. And he’d known Penelope for- how long? A decade? And in all that time, he’d never considered the potential for loving her.

Penelope, on the other hand, had considered herself to be in love with Colin since their first meeting many years ago. But she had proven to herself that she had no interest in a marriage that didn’t involve reciprocated adoration. And though she was unsure of her own current feelings, she knew for certain that he didn’t love her. Whatever had brought him to this decision, whether it was obligation or lust or infatuation, was fleeting, and she knew that they would both regret it in time.

Later that afternoon, Colin found himself in the club, swirling around the last remnants of brandy in his glass. Earlier that day, he had planted himself in a comfortable leather chair, getting up only to request a refill or to relieve himself.

His mind felt hazy and unfocused as he watched the brown liquid move around, relieved that he seemed unable to focus on anything more. He didn’t think he was entirely drunk any longer, but he definitely wasn’t lucid enough to process any coherent thoughts. Other members had come and gone, some accompanying beautiful women on their arms and others accompanying nothing but a hangover. Colin was unlikely to leave with either: he didn’t generally suffer from the latter and didn’t seem to care for the former.

He didn’t want to think about it; he didn’t want to be trapped in his mind any longer. He was meant to be easygoing, the charming Bridgerton brother with no concerns. And yet, here he was.

He didn’t understand what exactly had happened, only that he felt rather awful after the entire ordeal. He considered his siblings: married, surrounded by children, so utterly and disdainfully happy. He also imagined his mother and sister, both widowed and faced with unimaginable heartbreak.

Why had he thought himself ready? He barely even knew who he was and had absolutely no idea about his purpose.  

His eyelids drooped with exhaustion as he continued to absentmindedly turn the glass in his hand. Perhaps he might wake up with a clearer head.

He’d just barely dozed off when a strong hand grasped his shoulder, pulling him upright. “Colin. Are you alright?”

He squinted up at the gentleman, immediately recognized two familiar thick eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Anthony! What’re you doing here?” there was the hint of slurring in his greeting.

Anthony took the seat next to him and quickly grabbed the half-emptied glass before the younger man could protest. “I have a meeting scheduled here,” he answered a bit curtly. “What are you doing here?”

Colin remained tight-lipped for a few moments, trying not to look as sloshed as he felt. “I had a lot on my mind.”

His brother nodded, giving him a stern look. “Is there anything you need to discuss with me?”

He waited patiently for an answer, watching the younger man with a careful eye. “I don’t want to get married,” Colin admitted eventually. The words came out sounding more foolish than he’d meant, and he could almost feel himself pouting.

Anthony chuckled wryly, “Yes, you’ve made that quite clear.”

Before Colin could stop himself, the alcohol seemed to make his next statement come tumbling out, “And certainly not to Penelope Featherington.”

This time, his brother let out a humorless snort, “Yes, you’ve also made that abundantly clear. I do suggest you stop saying that aloud.” Though it had been many years, it seemed that no one could forget Colin’s unfortunate choice of words years ago.

He pushed his palms against his eyes for a few seconds, letting out a frustrated groan. His lowered inhibitions were playing with his mind, pushing him to say more. And then, his mouth was forming words before his brain could even manage to stop them, “What do you do if you can’t stop thinking about someone?”

Colin shut his eyes tightly, fearing to hear the laugh that was sure to come from his brother’s mouth. But there was nothing- not even an audible breath. He spared a glance at Anthony. His older brother held a serious expression, but there was also a small hint of his signature smugness.

“No, don’t answer that,” Colin said quickly, springing out of his seat with a bit of a wobble. “I’m drunk.”

Anthony nodded, “I daresay you are. Perhaps you might go home now?”

“Yes, I think so. Nice to run into you,” he gave him a lighthearted smile before practically running from the club.

He needed to leave; it had been far too long. Colin needed to put as much distance as he could between himself and London. To maintain his sanity, he needed his life to go back to how it had been before this blasted season. 

Chapter Text

“You’re leaving again?”

The question cut into Colin like a knife, but he ignored the sensation with an easy smile. He was sitting across his mother in her office, having arrived minutes earlier in order to tell her about his upcoming trip.

“Yes, I’ve always wanted to see France,” his chipper voice didn’t falter despite the firm frown that had formed on the woman’s face.

Violet’s mouth twisted in a way that held an uncanny resemblance to that of her second daughter. “I thought you might stay for the remainder of the season. It’s not even July yet.”

Colin held his smile, willing himself not to lose his temper with the person he most respected in the world. “I only promised to stay until your birthday, and that was well over a month ago.”

His mother paused for a moment, considering him. “I thought that your delay had meant,” she sighed, allowing him to come to his own conclusions. Had meant he was ready.

With great strength, Colin fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ve spoken and danced with every eligible lady on your list and have come to the realization that it’s simply not my time.” Maybe if he was straight-forward, this discussion could finally come to its peaceful end.

Her lips pursed in a way that showed both motherly warmth and indignation. “You are thirty-one, Colin. I just want to make sure that you’re happy.”

In a movement that was both gentle and incredibly evasive, the gentleman got up from his seat and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Mother, if you ask anyone in London, they will tell you that I might just be the happiest man in town.”  He gave her a peck on the cheek and flashed an incandescent smile before escaping from the room.

And by all accounts and appearances, Colin did, indeed, resemble a happy man.

He only met with a certain red-haired lady once more before his departure from the city. Neither party had been particularly looking forward to a reunion, but it had happened mostly by unfortunate chance: Colin had been ultimately forced into accompanying Hyacinth to the theater following a rather laborious apology for snapping at her the week prior. Penelope, on the other hand, simply had no good excuse as to why she could not attend with her own younger sister. And, of course, their younger sisters' dear (and rather irritatingly) close friendship forced them together. 

Despite the inward air of awkwardness, regret, hurt, and everything else brewing inside, there was no observable hostility between Penelope and Colin. They exchanged little more than a few words of greeting accompanied by bright smiles and hollow eyes. Though no one else knew, they were equally proficient performers, quite accustomed to hiding what truly lied beneath.

Colin didn’t even bother to tell her that he was leaving again; it had already been reported in Whistledown that morning. And Penelope made no effort to ask him about it.

As his feet had taken him away from the Featherington drawing room that day, Colin had gone through a similar ray of emotions as the day of their kiss. Even as he walked away, there was a part of him that was hoping, waiting for Penelope to call out to him, demanding that he stay, demanding that he expose every thought and desire he had. But the door never opened and there wasn't any protest, not during the first time nor the second. In fact, after his last visit, it was she who had told him to leave. 

There was more, of course. He’d also felt humiliation, shame, guilt, anger. The resentment he’d held for both her and himself was almost unbearable. He still had his pride, and the scorn of rejection did not die so easily.

It was only when London was already far behind him that Colin’s anger began to chip away. He still wasn’t sure where his proposal had come from- whether it was from desire or lust or need or whatever else. And though he would have followed through on his word without any reservations, he knew that Penelope had been right to not allow him to finish.

The truth of the matter was that whether or not he was married, Colin still wouldn’t have a purpose. Even if he was happy in marriage, there would be no way for him to be happy in life. He’d continue with nothing to do and no one to be, and that thought terrified him more than what he might miss when he was gone.  

The distance made it easier, at least he told himself that it did. It was easy enough to convince himself during the waking hours, allowing any doubts or wandering thoughts to be pushed away. But the suspension of consciousness that came with the night made the memories and worries he had harder to control, haunting him through intermittent dreams that became more scattered as time passed.

He enjoyed France considerably, spending his days riding and drinking and talking and fencing and doing everything else he could to keep his mind occupied. Although they were generally quite cheerful, his family’s letters often filled him with homesickness and regrets he preferred not to think about. He found himself anticipating the missives with reluctance, which, in response, caused him to send back even less than he had in the past. When he was away, he was able to ignore their worries and concerns almost wholeheartedly.

Colin didn’t return home until the first bloom of spring and with the full intention of departing just a fortnight later, well before the tittering of the social season could even begin. He joyfully showered his nieces and nephews with gifts and toys and supplied his family with beaming smiles and humored quips. His mother and siblings had not been overly enthused by his plans, as expected, but Colin came and left in such a whirlwind that their disapproval almost went unnoticed.

He didn’t cross paths with Penelope during his visit. As it had happened, she wasn’t even in town during his brief return. In an off-handed comment that Colin did well in hiding its secret significance, Eloise mentioned something about her visiting family in Ireland. There was some obscure mixture of relief and disappointment that resulted upon hearing the fact, but it was quickly pushed aside.

There was no hesitancy when Colin left on his next adventure, no reason to waver as he set forth towards Greece.

Penelope hadn’t been particularly surprised when she’d overheard that Colin was leaving. On the contrary, she’d rather expected it, perhaps even counted on it. She had grown accustomed to him leaving and almost managed to completely convince herself that it made the hurt less so.

During the days that immediately followed Colin’s call (the second one, that is), Penelope had found her resolve swaying like a pendulum. It was nothing like when she’d made her decision regarding Mister Ainsley. That would-be rejection had been calculated, carefully reasoned through weeks of deliberation. And it had been met with ultimate sureness, a certainty that she had made the correct choice for herself.

But with Colin it was different. There hadn't been the luxury of time, nor any proper proceedings. And afterward, she felt no peace, no conviction. The logical part of her brain understood that she’d done right by both of them and that her assertions were legitimate. But another part, one that was more likely driven by her heart than her mind, wondered if she had truly given away her final chance for happiness.

She found herself most missing the normalcy they’d held once upon a time. Though, if she were completely honest, she wasn’t sure when the last time that had actually been, or if it had ever been. Had it been before the kiss? Before he’d broken her heart on the front steps of his mother’s house? Was it even possible to have a normal friendship (or friendly acquaintanceship) when one party was so hopelessly in love with the other?

Penelope had to forcibly shake her head whenever such thoughts panged her mind and her heart. It didn’t matter. He was gone, and she couldn’t even blame him for it. Given the option, Penelope considered that she too might have preferred to leave it all behind if given the choice.

As autumn rolled in, she found herself recuperating after the most grueling social season of her entire life. Though she hadn’t received any proposals (technically), she had made some deeply life-alternating choices. In the end, she had chosen herself and would need to learn how to feel content with that.

Life was how it had always been and the people around her were as they had always been. Penelope wasn’t sure if it was for the best or worst that only she knew the entire truth of what had transpired that summer. She hadn’t even dared to tell Eloise about what had happened with Colin and that hurt more than any other secret she’d ever held.

When there was no word about Colin’s return as the year ended, Penelope chose not to consider it too thoughtfully. She, of course, nodded effectively and made a show of passive interest whenever he was mentioned, but she simply didn’t want to care anymore.

It was only a relief when she’d been able to convince her mother into sending her to visit family up north. Spring was welcomed with open fields and fresh air, and Penelope held a determination like never before. She was a much different person than her last visit years ago. She was older, both in age and mind, and was growing to understand her own worth.

During her visits before, there was always a part of her that missed the liveliness of the city and the excitement of the social season. She wasn’t a country girl at heart, not at all, but this trip had been different. She felt lighter away from the hectic city and the draining nature of the social season. Even more than she had ever before, she understood the simple need to get away.

But it wasn’t all bad. When she returned to London, Penelope was met with a divine verdict: she was officially on the shelf, according to her ever-affectionate mother. Normally, this was a judgment that most women regarded with absolute horror. However, for Penelope, this was followed by a rather blissful settlement: she was a hopeless case, so it was no longer necessary to dress her. Upon her first solo visit to the modiste, Penelope (and the rather elated dressmaker) realized that her days of lemon, canary, and citrine were long over. 

And the change had been noticeable to more than just herself, as made so abundantly clear by whichever friendly (and sometimes unfriendly) face she met.

“Has your mother gone color blind?” was Eloise’s immediate response, taking in the blue (blue!) morning dress Penelope had worn to see her that day. The redhead blushed, hiding her pleased smile behind her hand. “Absolute peaches and cream,” her friend complimented, giving Penelope an affectionate pat on the cheek.

“It’s a shame it took you until spinsterhood to learn how to dress,” came from Cressida Twombley, accompanied by an absolutely sinister smile that seemed almost too natural.  

When they met at a luncheon, Lady Kate Bridgerton gave a knowing grin while she nodded approvingly, “I always knew green was your color.”

And Felicity’s smile was only genuine as she shuffled through the cool-hued frocks hanging in her sister’s closet, “Perhaps you’ll allow me to borrow something?”

Even Lady Whistledown’s column featured the rare compliment, describing the jade-colored gown she had worn to the first ball of the season as “rather unobjectionable” and that “perhaps Mrs. Featherington had finally developed some taste.” (Penelope had made sure to take great care into hiding that specific paper from her mother.)

The best compliment she’d received was quite possibly from Hyacinth Bridgerton, who was rather well-known for her forthright cheek. "You look lovely, Penelope,” she commented with a thoughtful gleam in her eye. “I always thought your dresses were a bit dreadful.”

But no matter the positive reaction to her change in wardrobe, Penelope’s spinsterhood had been fully cemented. Even without her ripe age of twenty-seven, the failed public courtship with Mister Ainsley had certainly sealed her marital fate. Not that any of this took Penelope by surprise; she’d fully accepted her destiny the year prior.

As she grew more accustomed to her new role, Penelope began to realize just how many benefits there actually were. Not only could she wear whatever she wanted, but she could also read as much as she wanted, eat any delicacy she was so inclined to, and choose whether she wanted to speak to someone or not. She no longer had to be forced into awkward conversation with third-tier bachelors or stand on the outskirts of the ballroom, humiliatingly waiting for someone to ask her to dance.

Though there were drawbacks to her status as well. She missed the actual act of dancing and the eagerness that used to accompany a particularly good ball. She had also begun to notice that despite her mother’s attentions moving to Felicity, there were comments, hints of what she had planned for the future. There were times that Portia would fondly note, provoking nothing short of absolute horror from her third daughter, that the two might grow old together. And for Penelope, that would surely translate into servanthood.

Still, she tried not to dwell on that dooming thought too much. Perhaps if Eloise, who had just rejected her sixth marriage proposal, stayed a spinster as well; maybe then there’d still be hope.

Lady Whistledown too had begun to grow tiresome for the woman. It seemed that every year the gossip was just more of the same: this courtship, that marriage, a new hawkish mamma, another Bridgerton baby, her dress, his party, their garden escapades, and so on and so forth again and again. Penelope had spent so much of her life standing quietly and listening, examining every gown and lingering look across the room. There were times where she began to wonder whether she might have enjoyed herself more had she not spent so much time concentrating on everyone else.

It didn’t help that Whistledown had an obligation to report about a certain Mister’s absence from the social season. Upon hearing that Colin had returned for a brief time in the spring, coincidentally just a few days after she had left for Ireland, Penelope hardly reacted with more than a blink.

“Oh, what a shame,” she’d mumbled at the time when her younger sister informed her, giving a small shrug and bringing her attention back to the novel in her hand. Though she visibly only showed calmness mixed with borderline indifferent regret, her mind and heart both whirled uncomfortably.  

She tried not to think about him often, but it proved to be a difficult feat. In the past, his absences had made it easier to keep him from her mind but that was before everything had changed. It had been easier to forget him before their history had become so complicated.

The memories appeared farther apart as their parting eclipsed a full year. Even then, it seemed that at any moment’s notice, Penelope could recall every detail she had ever taken in about the man. She could picture his effortless smiles and glittering eyes, his tight scowls and crossed arms. She could hear his voice, pleasant and teasing, as well as sullen and patronizing. Worst of all, she could feel his hand grazing her wrist, his warm body pressed against hers, his lips dancing with her own.

The memories were mixed with bliss and pain, joy and bitterness. Over time, she might learn to separate them, or simply to push them all away. For now, however, she just needed to keep moving forward, content with herself and her life.

Chapter Text

The plan had been Greece. Colin had wanted to see Athens and Sparta and Olympia and all the other places that had once held the great heroes of the past. He thought that perhaps if he saw those places, felt the grounds and the air, then maybe he’d finally find what he was so desperately seeking.

Unfortunately, his plans were interrupted. The War of Independence had made it far too dangerous for Colin to continue his travels there. But he couldn’t return home, not when he’d made it so far and still hadn’t gotten his fill of wanderlust.  

He’d been having supper at an inn when an older gentleman told his own stories about a recent trip to Cyprus. After a few beers and a couple hours of conversation, Colin had been convinced that the island should be his new destination.

“And people always say that Aphrodite will bring you love,” the traveler had finished his tale with a wink. Colin supplied him with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Love prospects aside, Cyprus was just as marvelous as it had been described. The beaches were beautiful, the people were friendly, and the food was simply glorious.  

And even apart from that, there was the history that Colin had been seeking as well. Accounts of Alexander the Great, Mycenaean Greeks, and Aphrodite swirled throughout the island. He relished in Aphrodite’s beach for many days, watching the waves and recording them with his quill. He didn’t mind that it sometimes took him hours to figure out the right way to convey the true feeling of sitting on that beach. To Colin, if he were never to return to the places he saw, then at least he’d be able to do it through his own written word.

Eventually, sitting on a beach in Cyprus with nothing but his journal to hold his thoughts began to make Colin feel melancholy. He met new people constantly, both local residents and fellow travelers alike, and it seemed that everywhere he went his winning smile gained him friends. But after some time, it just wasn’t enough.

As he always did eventually, Colin admitted to himself that he was growing tired. He missed home, maybe even more than he had ever before. He felt lonely and homesick, neither of which were necessarily new, but felt different all the same. He hadn’t been home in almost a year, and it was beginning to feel far too long. He just wanted to be home.

And so, he allowed his heart to pull him back to London. There was something strange in his return trip, an uneasiness he didn’t want to address. It would be only April when he reached the city, right at the beginning of the dreaded social season he’d avoided for so long. He almost shuddered when he remembered the last season he’d been present for, the one that had been so… tumultuous. So much so that he chose not to think about it at all.

Colin wasn’t sure if his retching was due more to the choppiness of the seas or the worry of what lied ahead for him. 

As accustomed, he didn’t warn his family of his upcoming arrival. He preferred the lack of expectation mixed with merry surprise that accompanied his returns. And, not to mention, that he often returned to the city on a whim, which meant that his letters were rarely sent early enough to arrive first.

As his carriage neared Mayfair, Colin couldn’t help the absent-minded fidgeting. He felt nervous about returning home without an escape plan already in mind. He honestly wasn’t sure how long he was prepared to stay; he hadn’t really thought it completely through. But the thoughts of staying at his mother’s home (since his bachelor lodgings had been given up due to his lengthy traveling escapades) only worsened his nerves.

It was still morning when he arrived at Number Five, just as his family was sitting down for breakfast. With a charming grin directed towards Wickham the butler, Colin snuck into the breakfast room.

“How lucky, I’m just in time,” he said casually, moving behind Hyacinth to steal a piece of bacon.

There was a moment of silence before his presence registered and then his mother let out an “Oh!” before rushing to embrace him. She inspected him at an arm’s length, “You’re so… tan.”

The day was spent answering questions and telling stories, including having to explain that he’d, in fact, been in Cyprus all this time. Colin took it all in stride, as he always did. And it was only nearing the end of the day when his mother uttered those convicting words.

“And how long are you planning on staying?” she’d asked with as much air of casualness as she could muster. It was honestly quite astonishing that she’d been able to hold herself back for almost an entire day.

Colin didn’t allow the sigh to leave his lips and instead flashed her a lopsided grin with a shrug. “That’s as much a question for me as it is for you.”

“For the remainder of the season?” Violet tried not to appear overly concerned, but there was a hopeful inflection in her voice that made even his siblings look at him expectantly.  

He tilted his head with some forced amusement, “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.” Before his mother could ask a follow-up question, he jumped out of his seat. “I think I need to rest a bit,” Colin added with a wink before dashing out of the room.

He was just about to reach the stairs when a hand latched onto his wrist. He turned and met his sister with a sarcastic smile. “Yes?”

Eloise returned his smile with a mocking innocence, “How long do you actually plan to stay?”

Colin shrugged similarly to how he had just moments prior. “I’m really not sure. At least long enough to deplete Anthony of some of his brandy supply.” He flashed her a cheeky grin before turning back around. But again, he was caught by her unyielding grip around his wrist. This time, he made no effort to look amused when his eyes rolled.   

“Come on, Col. Surely, you can tell your own sister?” Eloise’s clasp on him only tightened as her mouth twisted in concentration. He had a momentary desire to do something rather unpleasant in order to remove her, but he was still basking in the fresh return home and withheld himself.  

He blinked at her, pausing to consider his answer. “Alright, fine,” he sighed. “I’m at least staying for the season.”

Eloise's eyes widened in surprise, but then she took on a rather annoying triumphant face. “Fantastic.”

He grabbed her arm before she had fully turned away, “Don’t tell Mother.”

She scoffed slightly, more entertained than bothered. “Yes, yes, of course not.”

Colin gave her the sternest big brother look he could manage, imagining the one Anthony had directed towards him many times. “I mean it, Eloise. Promise me.”

Eloise stifled a laugh at his expression but waved him off as he dropped her arm, “I promise, calm down.” Looking quite pleased with herself, she scurried back to the direction of the drawing room. Colin felt his eyes roll as he turned back to the stairs.

Returning to his room, Colin fully realized what he had just committed himself to. He wasn’t sure when he’d decided that he would stay for the entire summer, but it seemed right. Strangely enough, the thought of an entire social season didn’t bother him too much. He didn’t think that he wanted to get married any more than he had in the seasons prior, but perhaps he could just enjoy the festivities while keeping his family happy all the same. He needed the break from traveling, and this was his opportunity.

The next day, Colin found himself humming as he shuffled down the halls of Bridgerton House. He was coming from Anthony’s office, having just escaped his eldest brother’s interrogation. His inquires had been quite similar to their mother’s, surrounding the ever-lasting worries concerning his traveling and marriage possibilities and happiness and everything else Colin would have preferred never to speak about. Though he knew it all stemmed from their love of him, it was bloody irritating. He was a grown man, and it was his life, and he really wished that they could all just accept that.

The entire Bridgerton brood, including all seven of his siblings and all ten of his nieces and nephews (eleven if one counted the unborn one in Sophie’s stomach), had been called to gather at Bridgerton House for tea in honor of Colin’s return home. He greeted the drawing room with his acclaimed charming smile.

He was met with his mother, Hyacinth, and Gregory, with whom he had arrived earlier (Eloise had been meant to join them but disappeared sometime before they’d left with the promise of arriving on her own), sitting with Kate and her three children.

Colin nodded to his sister-in-law before going to greet the little ones. Edmund, Anthony’s oldest, was almost ten years old, and proudly showed off his newly learned fencing form to his delighted uncle.

A few minutes later, Colin was sitting at the table, balancing a little Charlotte on his knees and a blueberry scone in his hand. “Can you believe that you’ve put up with my brother for an entire decade?” he asked Kate with a goading grin, prompting a glare from said brother who had just taken a seat next to his wife.

“I honestly can’t,” she deadpanned before giving Anthony a smile that was so sweet it very well could have been mocking. His eyes narrowed at her, but it didn't hide the humor in them. 

They chatted a bit as more Bridgertons made their arrivals. Francesca had just joined them when Eloise came barreling through the doorway.

“And where have you been?” he distantly heard one of his sisters ask, a bit too distracted by Charlotte’s sticky hands reaching for his hair.

He certainly snapped to attention with Eloise’s answer. “The Featherington house; I’d meant to tell Penelope that Colin was back.” Her voice was nothing but nonchalant, for the statement was completely ordinary for her. Meanwhile, Colin could practically feel his ears perk up. The feeling that had overtaken his chest was rather uncomfortable, quite likened to a spasm more than anything else.

Before he could even recover or consider whether it was worth asking for more details, Francesca pointed out wryly, “I think Whistledown bested you.”

The mention of the article almost threatened a frown to Colin’s face, which still stubbornly held his plastered-on smile despite it all. He’d read the paper earlier than morning and found that he had not-at-all appreciated the author’s lengthy discussion about his personal matrimonial prospects or his lack of title. She’d also gone to great lengths to mention his age, famous charm, and that he had “an appalling tendency to leave London at the drop of the hat.” None of it had been necessarily false, he had to admit, but he wouldn’t have chosen to endorse it.

“And I already told Felicity yesterday,” Hyacinth added with a bit of a snort.

“Yes, yes, she already knew,” Eloise huffed. She leaned in slightly, casting a glance at their mother before murmuring, “I asked if she wanted to join us, at least to escape her insufferable mother for the afternoon, but she said no.”

Colin had to physically bite his tongue to avoid blurting out, Why didn’t she want to? Nothing good could come out of showing his family too much interest in Penelope. With the exception of almost divulging the secret to Anthony in a drunken state a few years ago, he’d never told anyone that anything had ever transpired between the two.

He heard Eloise say something to their sisters in a voice too low for him to hear properly, but he was quite sure that he heard something along the lines of Mrs. Featherington, a list of some sort, and "dimwitted”.

Just then, Daphne and Simon arrived with their children, soon after followed by Benedict and Sophie’s family. Colin greeted them all warmly, truly happy to see them all.

But even with the laughter and joy, worries pricked the back of his mind. Without wanting to, he mulled over Eloise’s words.

Of course, he wasn’t surprised that Penelope had declined the offer to join them. Even without knowing just how complicated their history was, an absence from their family tea hardly warranted a real excuse. What worried him more was whether there was any particular reason Eloise had made such an effort to inform her of his return. Was it possible that Penelope had told her something? The girls were extremely close friends, he was well aware of the fact, but this was her reputation at stake. Surely, she wouldn’t have. That would be foolish, and he didn’t much consider Penelope to be foolish.

He’d been back in the city for less than forty-eight hours and already she was stuck in his thoughts. While he’d been away, Colin had made an effort not to consider her very much. He didn’t like thinking about her, not about her distinctive hair or her wide eyes or her quick wit or her curving lips. Though he would have liked to claim that he was above holding grudges, he couldn’t help the pang of embarrassment he felt whenever she cropped up into his thoughts. He’d acted like a buffoon towards her, and she, in turn, had done something to his heart that Colin couldn’t bring himself to admit even in his own mind.  

But that was easier when he was hundreds of miles away. Now, he was already committed to an entire London season, which guaranteed that a reunion would be eminent. He wasn’t sure what they would be like together again, exposed to the public eye. He wondered if she’d regard him coldly, or with the indifference they’d both held the last time they’d seen each other. Even more so, he wondered how he might react to seeing her again.

“Colin, are you listening?” Benedict’s voice brought him back to attention, and Colin returned the beaming smile to his face.

“Of course, just considering what cake we’ll be serving at the party,” he replied easily, eliciting a chuckle from the group. Though his family knew him well, they believed the excuse without much pause.

The main topic of conversation, other than Colin’s illustrious tan (which it seemed that everyone needed to comment upon) and travel stories, was that of their mother’s upcoming birthday ball. Earlier that afternoon, Anthony had proudly informed him that they had coerced their mother into agreeing to the party with the threat of revealing her true age (a fact that even Whistledown lacked the nerve to divulge).

He was thankful for the party in some ways. It allowed Colin to take the week decompressing from the initial excitement of his return. He took some time to meet with old friends and catch up on business, as well as just to enjoy the feeling of being back home. He wasn’t sure how long until he would feel that nagging tug of leaving, but he’d promised to at least make an attempt before giving in this time.

Just a few days before his mother’s ball, Colin had been taking the walk back to Number Five when he realized the date. It was a day that had been ingrained into his mind for years. Exactly two years prior, before he’d had any idea of what was to come, he’d made the trip to the Featherington home just that morning. It had been similar to his present-day: a random recollection as he strolled toward his mother’s house, a pleasant spring morning, and the knowledge of a specific birthday.

But it was different today than it had been then. Two years ago, he hadn’t even hesitated when he made that sharp turn and found himself at Penelope’s doorstep. It wasn’t a planned visit, but it didn’t need to be one. He had just been Colin and she had just been Penelope, good friends and nothing more. At the time, there was no question about whether the visit would be a good one.  

Today, however, he stopped on the street to glance in the direction of the house, imagining how a visit would go. And then he shook his head and resumed his original route, rejecting the idea almost as quickly as it had come.

It wasn't their time on that afternoon, but the reunion was, as Colin had known, inevitable.

Their time came about an hour into his mother’s birthday fete. Admittedly, Colin had to do a bit of double-take when his eye caught sight of the familiar highlights of red in her hair. At one time, he’d come to know them well. But now, it had been almost two years since he’d seen them out of his dreams.

For so long, he’d considered her to be right; that he hadn’t cared for her in the way that really mattered.

But at that very moment, something inside of him stirred. And he wondered if perhaps they’d both been wrong. It was like no time had passed at all, and he felt his feet move him towards her.

He thought that perhaps he’d say something debonair and charming, a quick-witted way to introduce himself to her again.

Instead, he barely registered the éclair in her hand as she moaned, “Good heavens” just as he was approaching. Something about the sound made his stomach twinge and it seemed that all the words he’d planned had left his mind completely.  

“That good, eh?” was what came from his own lips.

That good, eh? What the hell-

Rather unfortunately, Penelope choked on the pastry at the sound of his voice. Even more unfortunately, she then coughed at the sight of him, and a few globs of cream narrowly missed his ear. Although he was unimpressed with himself, he couldn’t help the amused smile that crept onto his face. Though things were certainly different, they were also quite the same.

She squeaked out his name, covering her mouth in embarrassment. There was no matching smile as they exchanged a few polite words before the shock had worn off. And once it had, a dreadful silence was left in its wake.

He rocked back-and-forth on his heels, fully grasping the situation at hand. Colin wasn’t a person who was used to being speechless, except, it seemed, in the company of the woman in front of him. The deep-seated irony of it was that he used to have the opposite effect on her.

Penelope, on the other hand, had busied herself with trying to find a place to set down her half-eaten pastry. Watching her carefully, he realized that she did look a bit different than he’d remembered. As his eyes traveled down from her hair to her face to her- er, collarbone, and farther down, he finally could pinpoint exactly what it was.

“That’s a nice dress,” he acknowledged aloud, motioning to her green gown. There was something about the way her fair skin and hair stood out that made him sure he’d never seen her in the color before. It was a shame that she’d never worn green before; it rather suited her.

Penelope paused, forgetting about the pastry still in her hand, and looked down at the dress before glancing up at him. “It’s not yellow,” she allowed a minuscule smile that showed just a hint of warmth.

“So it’s not,” he nodded appreciatively and gave her a wide grin. He might have given her a more sophisticated compliment, but he was just glad to be rid of the silence. It seemed that the ice had been broken. Or, at the very least, cracked.

A calmness seemed to spread over the pair, allowing them to fall back into pace. It was so easy to push away the past that plagued them, and Colin found himself unable to remember that he’d meant to be upset with the woman. Soon, she was asking him questions about Cyprus and he was flashing her smirks and she was quipping back and he was calling her cheeky. There was no forcing it, no need to excuse themselves from the other.

And then the remainder of pastry cream in Penelope’s long-forgotten éclair fell to the floor in a satisfying plop, and Colin had to physically stop himself from laughing as her cheeks flushed. The teasing felt so pleasantly familiar.

He didn’t feel nervous any longer, effortlessly daring her into hiding the empty pastry into a nearby potted plant. He playfully tormented her, and she took it as well as ever, returning with her own lighthearted barbs and demure smiles.

And out of almost nowhere, his hand reached out towards her. “Penelope Featherington, I think you should dance with me.”

Her head nearly lurched in surprise, and Penelope could do no more than just blink at him for a few moments. They’d been simply enjoying a conversation, and now here they were, yet again; a wave of déjà vu passed over her. She glanced at his outstretched hand, almost afraid to touch it, and then back to his face. He was looking at her so seriously, and she felt a nervous chuckle escape her lips.

“That’s very sweet of you to ask, but you don’t have to dance with me any longer,” was the only excuse she could come up with to say aloud. 

But Colin didn’t seem to understand. In fact, he looked a bit taken aback by her answer, so she hurried to continue. “It’s official now. I’m a spinster. There’s no longer a reason to dance with me just so that I don’t feel left out.” There was more to her reason, much more. But they were surrounded by so many members of the ton that she didn’t dare to say anything else. 

“I want to dance with you,” Colin ground out, frowning, and Penelope felt herself swallow harshly.

They watched each other, both trying to communicate something that the other didn’t quite seem to understand. After a rather disreputably long pause, Penelope finally sighed, “Very well.”

Neither smiled as Colin took her arm, silently leading her to the dancefloor. The music was just beginning for a minuet, and Penelope again felt that unfortunate sense of familiarity. They’d only shared a handful of dances in the past- what was it? Seven years? And she could remember them all with painful accuracy.

“You seem to rather enjoy giving rejections,” Colin stated flatly when they were near enough to not be overheard. Her mouth parted in surprise at the jab, feeling every bit of antagonism that had been meant to accompany it. She’d seen Colin angry before, that much was true, but never so directed towards her.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked coldly the next time they stepped toward each other. Her eyes narrowed in a way that challenged him to try and repeat himself. She had a partial mind to tell him that she'd finally managed to even the score he'd set so many years ago. 

He gave her an ironic smile and she felt her own lips purse in irritation. “Was something wrong with your éclair? You look as if you’ve swallowed something vile,” he commented loudly, causing a few heads to turn towards them.  

Penelope tried to keep her face placid as she waited the entire ten seconds before they were directly in front of each other. “Do you need to shout it to the entire world?” she hissed.

The corners of his mouth remained upturned as he bent down into a low bow once the music was beginning to end, “I think that was the loudest whisper I’ve ever heard.”

If they hadn’t been so exposed to onlookers, or if Penelope simply held the boldness, she might have stomped him on the foot. Instead, both parties mumbled their thanks as they returned to the edge of the ballroom. They were just about to part ways, quite finished with their little reunion, when a booming voice interrupted them, calling out for the gentleman.

Penelope gave him the smallest of smirks as the sound of the pounding cane neared them, happy to make herself scarce if it meant leaving him to his torture. But Colin seemed to forget whatever anger had been seeping through him moments before because he took a light hold of her elbow. The touch caused a chill down her spine. “Save me,” he groaned.

She looked into his pleading green eyes, weighing whether to help or slip away. It was no secret that she was better at dealing with Lady Danbury than he. But he’d been so rude to her just minutes before. She was just about to shake her head when, in a moment of absolute desperation, Colin offered to bribe her into staying.

Penelope scoffed slightly, half-amused, “Don’t be silly, I-“

“Twenty.” 

“Done,” she gave him a smug look, one that she was rather unaccustomed to. It was almost cruel how much enjoyment she received from watching him squirm (almost), but he’d certainly seen her squirm enough in the past for it to be fair.

Despite himself, Colin felt the urge to laugh as he watched Penelope glide over to meet the elderly woman, suddenly giving off only an air of easiness. He had no doubt that she was mocking him, but he was oddly more humored by it than anything else.

He stayed silent as the ladies spoke, looking around the room as if engrossed by something else. However, Penelope’s distraction worked for barely more than a minute, and very soon Colin felt a sharp pain as Lady Danbury’s cane made contact with his ankle. He could have sworn he heard Penelope stifle a laugh.

“Good choice dancing with this one. I’ve always liked her. More brains than the rest of her family put together,” Lady Danbury motioned towards Penelope, who opened her mouth to disagree. Colin personally kept his mouth shut, not exactly finding the lie in her claim. There might be an argument made for her younger sister, but even then, he wasn’t necessarily confident in it.

Lady Danbury gave a victorious laugh before Penelope even had the chance to speak up, and Colin decided to intervene before another insult was thrown at the girl’s family.  

“It is always a delight to see you, Lady Danbury,” Colin said, attempting to straighten his back and flash her one of his most winning smiles.

Colin kept the grin plastered on his face, even when the older woman turned to Penelope and muttered something about needing to watch out for him and his glibness. He watched Penelope carefully, daring her to agree with a quirk of his brow. She caught his gaze for a moment and seemed to challenge him right back.

“It is rarely necessary that I do so, as he is most often out of the country.” The words sounded innocent without context, but Colin knew they had an underlying bite to them.

“See!” Lady Danbury turned back to him after beaming at Penelope. “I told you she was bright.”

Penelope’s own eyebrow seemed to quirk as her head tilted slightly, now awaiting his response. Colin simply gave yet another charming grin, “You’ll notice that I did not contradict you.”

Though Lady Danbury gave him an approving smile, she was quick to make some rather unflattering comments about his lack of intelligence, making her preference for Penelope even more evident. Colin wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to with such condescension, but he didn’t seem to mind. Oddly enough, he found it rather nice that someone else noticed just how brilliant Penelope was, even if it was at his own expense.

When Lady Danbury mumbled something about women needing to look out for one another, Colin tried to excuse himself from the conversation, feeling like he’d stumbled on some secret between the ladies in which he wasn’t meant to be included. However, the older woman would simply not allow it. The conversation continued, circling around Lady Danbury’s unpleasantness, Penelope’s wit, and Colin’s charm (which he had received confirmation was in fact, a complimentary trait).

“I like her,” the older woman pointed again at Penelope, eliciting the fair girl’s cheeks to take on a suiting rosy tint. “Did I tell you I like her?”

She certainly had, and it was becoming very apparent just how much. I like her too, Colin almost replied. But no one else knew just how much. “I believe you did,” was all he muttered, looking around to avoid Penelope’s eyes.

Seemingly unaware of the tension between the two, Lady Danbury roped them into conversation with a few other partygoers. The discussion was rather trivial, revolving around the mundanity of the season. Colin found it a bit of an ironic topic; in his opinion, a party was only as boring as the guests were. Personally, he hadn’t had any difficulty in keeping himself entertained that evening.  

And in a way that increasingly irritated him, Colin noted the surprise everyone seemed to have whenever Penelope uttered a word, as if she’d been invisible before then. Bloody hell, if he could notice her from across a ballroom, surely these people could see her from a few feet away?  

“What’s odd?” Colin directed the question towards her after she’d been interrupted, yet again, by a woman exclaiming how she hadn’t seen her standing there.  

Penelope shot him a thankful smile before explaining mildly, “I think the lot of you are having a jolly good time talking about how bored you are.”

Though the rest of the circle met her statement with mindless stares of incomprehension, Colin grinned. He thought he understood her lack of popularity a bit more now. Perhaps it wasn’t that Penelope was too shy, but that everyone else was simply too stupid.

And then the conversation pivoted to Lady Whistledown of all people, despite the fact that someone far more interesting and intelligent was actually among them. This was followed by accusations about her real identity and an utterly ridiculous offer (made by Lady Danbury herself) of one thousand pounds to anyone who unmasked the famous columnist.

He likely wouldn’t have engaged in the discourse at all had it not been for Penelope turning towards him and asking for his opinion. In all honestly, he didn’t much care about Lady Whistledown’s true identity, under the assumption that it wasn’t one of his sisters. But he feigned interest, just happy to see that Penelope still wanted to speak with him despite his earlier flare of hostility.

Soon after, Eloise came hurling towards them as the excitement flowed through the ballroom. A tad annoyed by her interruption, Colin tuned out most of the conversation between the two girls, only cutting in to express his disbelief that Penelope would allow herself to get wrapped up in the nonsense.  

And then, to his delight, Lady Danbury reappeared to put her attention back on Penelope, asking directly who she thought Lady Whistledown could be. Though she stammered first, Colin smiled at her encouragingly, trying to egg her on to keep talking.

That seemed to work because Penelope’s back straightened and her voice sounded strong. She seemed relaxed, confident even. He realized that in the time he’d been away, she’d changed in more ways than just her wardrobe.

He couldn’t hear what Lady Danbury leaned down to say to her, but he watched Penelope’s face take on a thoughtful expression. Whatever it was, he rather thought it was flattering. The older woman gave her one last nod (that, oddly enough, looked rather maternal) before stalking off to another circle.

“She likes you,” Colin mumbled to her once Lady Danbury was gone. “If you didn’t realize.”

Penelope seemed to break out of her trance and blinked at him a few times. She then chuckled, a blush coming across her cheeks. “I like her as well.”

They both smiled at one another, but words seemed to be lost. Neither of them had imagined that they would be spending so much time together that evening.

As he looked down at her, Colin considered whether it would be completely tasteless to ask her to join him on the balcony, either the public or the private one. Perhaps if they could spend a few minutes alone-

“I think it might be time for you to ask another lady to dance,” she suggested, pulling him out of his thoughts. There was a strange look on her face even as she said it, but she spared no hesitation before stepping away to join Eloise.

“Right,” Colin said, nodding rather unnecessarily. Right.

Chapter Text

Penelope returned home just a bit past midnight, feeling both light and heavy in her heart and mind. The ball had been a memorable one to more than just her, no doubt cementing itself as the highlight of the season as Bridgerton affairs seemed to always do.

Bridgerton. Just the thought of the word caused an ache within her. She’d tried to prepare herself for the moment that she knew would come. She’d known that seeing him wouldn’t be easy, not with so much lack of contact, and certainly not with how they’d left the state of their friendship. She’d rehearsed it in her mind, what she might say, how she might try to come across as reasonably friendly but demure.

But no matter how much she’d readied herself, he’d still managed to take her breath away. His voice always seemed to send a shock through her, even before everything had gotten so muddy between them. Tonight, she’d nearly choked on that cursed pastry when she heard it rumbling in her ear. And then she turned to face him, and it was somehow so much worse. His already handsome features, the same ones she’d been able to recall with impeccable detail for years, seemed even more prominent than before. His thick, chestnut hair sat perfectly atop of his head. His green eyes still managed to stand out to her even in the dim candlelight.

And his smile. Oh, his smile was just as captivating as ever.

Though she would have wished it away, she couldn’t help but replaying their conversation in her head. The familiar laughs, the playful teases, the coldness in her voice, the edge in his own, his continued acknowledgment of her, and the encouragement that followed. It was all too much. They were beginning to sound like characters in a novel: melodramatic and utterly ridiculous.

Forcing away the thoughts about Colin, Penelope focused on a more pleasing part of the evening. “Isn't it nice to discover that we’re not exactly what we thought we were?”

Those were Lady Danbury’s words, the ones the older woman had leaned in and whispered so that only she could hear. Though her words were simple, there was something about them that brought a smile to Penelope’s lips. It almost felt as though Lady Danbury had looked directly within her, seeing something that was hidden underneath.

Penelope knew that she was more than what people saw her as, that she had secrets that could shock the entire city. But she'd still always thought that she knew herself at least. Yes, she was more than just a shy, quiet woman, but she still was shy and quiet. And she knew that there were parts of her that were interesting, but what about the rest?

The question whirled through her mind, both lulling her to sleep and waking her up the next morning. Despite her mixed feelings about the events of the evening prior, she couldn’t help the permanent smile tugging on her lips. Perhaps there was more than even she knew.

She nearly found herself skipping on the streets later that afternoon, on the way to her weekly tea at Number Five. Her presence at tea on Monday afternoons was practically law after so many years, and the walk was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She allowed herself to be distracted, softly singing Lady Danbury’s words as she hopped through a delightfully soggy patch of green in Berkeley Square.

"Not. What. I. Thought. I. Was." She accompanied each word with a hop. "Something more. Something more. Something moooore."

Just as she allowed herself a slide, a familiar voice caught her off guard, as it always seemed to manage to do. 

“Penelope!”

In yet another presentation of her perfect grace, Penelope almost tripped at the greeting, skidding to a stop. She heard her voice come out an octave too high as she called out his own name. How did he always manage to find her at the worst times?  

There was a momentary worry that crossed her mind as she waited for him to reach her, noting the absence of his usual grin. But her worries passed once he came into view, spotting the glimmer of amusement in his bright greens eyes once he was close enough to her.

“Were you dancing?”

She blinked at him, feigning ignorance in her embarrassment. She wasn’t sure how long ago he’d noticed her. “Dancing?”

“It looked like you were dancing,” he shrugged, the corner of his lips twitching from the threat of a smile.  

“Oh, no. Of course not,” she put on a playfully serious face to match his own. Technically, she hadn’t been dancing, but it was easier than the true explanation. 

He hummed and nodded. “Pity, then. I would have felt compelled to partner you, and I’ve never danced in Berkeley Square.” Based on the slight narrowing of his eyes, Penelope knew he was baiting her more than anything. Yet another challenge, as always seemed to be the case with him.

If it was another day, hell, even if it was yesterday, she might have floundered at his teasing. She could hold her own against Colin most of the time, but he was certainly still better at their underlying competitions than she was. But today, Lady Danbury’s words floated in her mind, and she was determined not to lose whatever game they were playing.

So, Penelope played along, offering a wicked smile in his direction. “That’s a shame. It’s rather enjoyable.”

Colin looked pleasantly surprised as the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Penelope Featherington, you said you weren’t dancing.”

“I lied,” she tried her best at a mysterious shrug, inspecting her gloved fingers.

And her confidence didn’t waver until Colin, the half of the pair who never seemed to need to hesitate, drew out his arms in a perfect waltz position. He wiggled his eyebrows slightly, waiting for her to join him. “If that’s the case, then surely this must be my dance.”

She might have cursed aloud right then and there. What was his constant fixation with dancing?

She remembered her request to him years ago- the one that she’d made after he’d humiliated her in one of the worst ways possible. He’d respected it for a long time after that. But it was a rule that she’d allowed to be broken a few too many times, making the line grey and unassuming.

And with the comment he’d made the night before, she knew that she’d humiliated him as well, at least in part. But that did not mean that she was willing to allow her heart to be broken once again.

Quickly, she waved down his arms. “Enough of that.”

He crossed them in almost mocking disappointment, “And why not?”

“We’re in public, Colin,” Penelope reminded, motioning around them. There was no masking the exasperation in her voice.

He tsked her. The man actually tsked her. “And why should that matter?”

“You know exactly why,” she answered with as much calmness as she could muster, looking down towards the ground so that he couldn’t see the flush rising to her cheeks. People will think you’re courting me.

After a moment, she heard an audible sigh come from him, as if all his sense had returned at once. Neither of them spoke for some time, unsure of what they could say that would neither betray their own self nor agitate the other. Penelope’s eyes remained downcast, examining the specks of mud that had laid claim on Colin’s boots. Colin, on the other hand, was watching her closely. He hadn’t meant to upset her; he just often didn’t know when their banter might lead off into unwanted territory. When she would choose to shut him out. 

“Perhaps we should start anew?” he was the first to break the silence, forcing Penelope’s gaze to rise to meet his.   

Her eyebrows scrunched together. “I beg your pardon?”

“Make a fresh start,” he answered simply, waving his hand. Her head tilted slightly in confusion and he had to stop himself from smiling. He could see the wheels in her mind turning, wondering exactly how far back he intended.  

“I meant just for this afternoon, you ninny,” Colin supplied, giving her a soft, teasing grin. He felt some satisfaction when the joke was enough for her to return his smile with her own, albeit a smaller one. Even with everything in their messy past including, at times, blatant hostility, they might still be alright.

They chatted a bit more casually, soaking in the summer air while they rested in the shade. Colin leaned against the tree they were standing under, perhaps making an effort to appear utterly relaxed. Penelope stood a bit more formally, slowly twisting the parasol in her hands as they spoke.

It was too easy, she thought as she watched him talk. It was too natural for them to fall back into their rhythm, feeling that familiar tug of wanting to make the other laugh. She wasn’t sure if everyone who met with Colin felt the same way, but he was certainly one of the only people who made her feel comfortable enough to do so.  It was too easy to remember why she had once loved him, perhaps why she still might love him. And it was too easy to forget precisely why she shouldn’t love him.

Until the inevitable moments where it wasn’t. As they had for many years, they stumbled over the line of friendship and… whatever else they seemed to be. They could be giggling one moment and jabbing in the next. There was fondness from both, as well as unquestionable irritation and animosity.

Though she was still quite sure that Colin had never loved her, even during the disastrous almost-proposal in her drawing room years ago, Penelope knew that she had, at the very least, hurt his pride. And as poised and carefree as Colin Bridgerton liked to appear, she knew better than to underestimate his character. She had seen him at his best and his worst, in ways she knew were normally hidden. It was almost funny to think that a woman like her could snub a man like him, but it had been made abundantly clear.  

After yet another stumble of lazy smiles and uncomfortable questions, Penelope couldn’t stand there for a minute longer. “Enough. Let us be on our way to your mother’s.”

Wearing a grin that was too large to properly hide the twinge of uncertainty underneath, he offered her his arm. “Do you think she’ll have biscuits?”

Penelope rolled her eyes in an attempt to hide her own smile as he practically dragged her down the street.

They made their way quickly and in silence, although not exactly an awful one. There was one moment, just as they passed the front steps to enter the house, when both parties felt a surge of emotion as they avoided meeting the other’s eye. They’d shared a few incidents on those steps, some that were good and one in particular that was rather dreadful.

When they finally reached Lady Bridgerton’s drawing room, they were both met with familiar warmth. Colin, ever-so predictable, made a beeline for the food after a quick greeting while Penelope was motioned to her well-established seat near Eloise.

The conversation was much of the same. They circled from the biscuits to Felicity’s potential betrothal (to a Mister Geoffrey Albansdale) to Lady Whistledown (she certainly seemed to be the major topic of conversation this season) to Hyacinth’s marital prospects back to Felicity’s potential betrothal (Colin had decided to include himself in the conversation by turning directly towards Penelope and asking her about it).

As Penelope stammered her way through explaining how Mister Albansdale might go about a proposal, Colin’s special attention to her sister made her stomach churn. Just a few weeks earlier, her mother had suggested that Felicity might be the right match for the esteemed bachelor. The thought had sickened Penelope then but somehow felt even more wretched now. Not only was her sister practically an infant in comparison, but- he was Colin. And even though he wasn’t her Colin, per say, he was still… Her Colin.

His eyes were still boring into hers when she vaguely heard Eloise say something about finding it ridiculous that a woman’s father (or in the Featherington case, closest male relative) would be asked for a woman’s hand in marriage before asking the actual woman. Colin’s eyes left Penelope to look towards her sister, and suddenly Penelope felt like she could breathe again. 

With the brewing of yet another Bridgerton sibling spat, she moved her own attention to the opposite couch where Kate held her squirming daughter, Charlotte. Locking eyes, Kate gave her a subtle but knowing grin, always one to enjoy the added entertainment.

Penelope was trying not to laugh when suddenly Eloise’s hand waved towards her. “I’d much rather be a spinster than be married to a bore. As would Penelope!”

Colin’s eyes jerked to the redhead, watching as her back straightened with a jolt. “Er, yes. Of course,” she mumbled, nodding slightly as her eyes remained glued to the teacup in her lap. He was quite sure that she was actively avoiding his gaze while his own was stuck on her. He tried to ignore the twisting feeling in his abdomen that accompanied. 

Though she thought that she could feel his eyes on her, Penelope was desperately hoping that she was wrong. Oh, why was her best friend like this? She would have much rather preferred discussing her marital prospects, or more accurately, lack thereof, in the company of literally any other person on the entire planet. Well, perhaps except Mister James Ainsley. Although the aforementioned gentleman had been quite cheery since his wedding the season prior.

Eventually, her willpower faltered, and Penelope found her eyes rising up on their own accord. She saw the striking green instantly, and he was wearing an expression that she couldn’t even begin to translate. Far too quickly, he broke away and began stalking across the room, rumbling something about needing more substantial food.

The next hour was spent with more idle conversation, but Penelope was beginning to feel stifled with the company. She normally loved her tea with the Bridgertons, but Colin's lurking presence put her on edge. He'd been relatively quiet since the sandwiches had arrived, despite finishing them off in mere minutes. 

“Did you dance with the Earl of Kilmartin at the ball last night?” Eloise turned to ask her quite suddenly. 

“Uhm, no,” Penelope answered, her voice inflecting slightly in question. “Felicity did, I believe.”

Eloise nodded mildly, her face taking on a rather twisted smile as she sipped her tea. “Francesca wants to introduce you two; she thinks you might make a nice match.”

“What?” Penelope had to stifle her incredulous laugh with a cough. Not only was the Earl the infamous Michael Stirling, London’s most sought-after bachelor of the season and perhaps the most handsome (Colin not included in that estimate), but Penelope was also rather confident that he was in love with Francesca, who’d been married to and widowed by his cousin a few years prior. She’d met Michael at Francesca’s wedding years ago, if only for a few moments, but it hadn't taken her long to recognize the look on his face then. She’d known the look on his face, and it was one that hid a futile love.  

“It’s just what Fran said,” Eloise shrugged, trying to appear innocent. Whether or not she was aware of what she was doing, she was certainly doing her best at putting Penelope in some unwanted spotlight that afternoon.

Feeling more than one pair of Bridgerton eyes on her, Penelope forced pleased nonchalance into her voice. “Well, I’ll be sure to ask for an introduction if I run into him again,” was the most appropriate response she could think of in the current company of the room. Quite purposefully, she avoided looking in the direction of the table. 

Before anyone else could entangle her in yet another precarious topic of conversation, Penelope rose from her seat. “I should likely make my way home now. Mamma will be expecting me.”

Lady Bridgerton smiled before taking on a maternal sort-of tone, “Did you bring a lady's maid with you?” 

“No, but it’s a short walk. I’ll be fine,” Penelope returned a mild smile. Even at eight-and-twenty, she still heard the question more times than she would like. 

Kate glanced at the clock, pulling Charlotte back into her arms. “We’d best be off as well." She turned to Penelope, "Would you like a ride home in our carriage?”  

The younger woman shook her head, “I’ll be quite alright. It’s only a few blocks away.” Really, what good was spinsterhood if she couldn't even take a seven-minute walk alone? 

“Then perhaps Colin should escort you home,” Lady Bridgerton suggested, and Penelope’s neck almost snapped to look at her. The older woman looking absolutely innocent as she smiled and motioned towards her son. He had already stood when she first had, though she couldn't be sure if it was due to anything more than impeccable manners ingrained into him. Polite gentlemen were always supposed to stand when a lady did. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

He looked in their direction impassively, but nodded and gave his usual smile, the one she was never quite sure was genuine or not. 

Penelope gulped. She’d already spent more time alone with him earlier than she’d ever planned for the day. “Er, no, of course not,” she tried not to allow her voice to sound overly fervent. Glancing at Lady Bridgerton, she caught sight of the stern motherly stare that was simply impossible to refuse. Though this wasn't a notably uncommon conversation, the persistence wasn't exactly normal. Quickly, she turned back to Kate. "Right. I would really appreciate a ride in your carriage then." 

She tried not to look at Colin as he left the room to alert the coachman. 

They were in the carriage just a few minutes later, taking the short ride to the Featherington home. Penelope twisted her fingers as she sat across from Kate. "It really isn’t far; I could have easily walked.”

The woman across nodded slightly, looking out the window. “You could have, and I’m sure Colin wouldn't have minded escorting you.”

Penelope bit the inside of her lip, attempting to keep her face as placid as possible. “It would have been too much trouble for him.”

Kate’s head turned to face her and there appeared to be a small smile playing on her lips. “Is that all?”

It was Penelope’s turn to face the window, trying hard to hold back the blush that was tempting her cheeks. “Of course.”

“Hmm,” Kate was silent for a moment. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Though one could say that mealtimes were Colin’s favorite parts of the day, he was quite relieved when supper ended and he was finally able to forgo the forced grin that had been firmly plastered to his face since that afternoon. He was rather sick of women that evening, he thought, having spent the better half of the day listening to his sisters chitter away. While the girls finally retired to their bedchambers for the evening, Colin walked right out the front door. He needed a drink, and preferably in a place where he wouldn’t risk running into any member of the opposite sex.  

He didn’t glance in the direction of Mount Street as he passed it, unwilling to allow himself to think about the last time his feet had taken him down that path. That time had been utterly disastrous, and the time before then had somehow been even more haunting. With a small shudder, he pictured the dream he’d had just the night prior. The one that hadn’t visited his mind in months. The one with her in it.

It had taken one evening, just one evening to revert back to the person he had been two years ago. One encounter for his desires to be brought to the forefront, making himself remember what he preferred to forget.  

At least present-day Colin, stalking his way down the streets of Mayfair, could allow himself to admit the emotion that was surging through him. He’d felt it before, in small bursts as he witnessed a dance or a look of too-familiar concern, and once, in a large burst when he’d practically erupted in a public park.

He couldn’t accept what he was feeling then, almost scared of its implications. But tonight was different. Perhaps he was a bit different.  

Tonight, Colin Bridgerton could concede that it was jealousy he was feeling. Jealousy because he didn’t like- no, he couldn’t fathom the idea of Penelope Featherington with another man. And the admission, even if only to himself, was enough to give rise to even more unpleasant emotions. Shame, resentment, disorientation, everything in between. It pained him that he had little right to feel possessive. He knew that, in all good sense, she wasn’t his. And he wasn’t quite sure which one of them was more at fault for that.  

She was keeping him at arm’s length, just enough to be able to push him away whenever her mask seemed to chip away. That was especially made clear by the rather frantic manner in which she’d declined for him to walk her home. It had been his mother’s offer, of course, rather than his, but it didn’t make the sting any less so. He hadn’t even been sure if he was ready for another trip with her alone, albeit one as short as the stroll to her house, but he certainly didn’t appreciate her reaction. She looked as though she’d been asked to choose between two horrendous methods of torture.

Enough. Giving his head a bit of a shake, Colin turned his focus to the ground before him. He often preferred to walk rather than take his carriage, especially when he needed to ease his mind. And the walk to his club was just the right length to calm him down.

But just after he’d ordered his drink at the bar, Colin glanced around the room. And of course, as if pulled straight from the pits of Hell, he saw the devil himself sitting at a table across the room. Almost without warning, Colin’s seething jealousy returned and he had to jerkily turn away to avoid scowling.

The logical part of Colin’s mind knew that his reaction was unwarranted. There was little likelihood of a courtship between Penelope and Michael Stirling ever materializing, but the idea vexed him all the same. He’d had the immediate inclination to leap across the room and forcibly shut Eloise’s very large mouth when she’d mentioned the Earl earlier that day. Instead, he’d had to camouflage the literal lurch his body made by standing up to look out the window.  

Colin wasn’t in any temperament to speak to the other man, but he was quite begrudgingly aware it would be the polite thing to do. Michael was his sister’s cousin through marriage, making them relations of a sort. Not to mention, the pair had quite a bit in common, a fact that Colin didn’t much appreciate in the current moment. They were both well-seasoned travelers (all the more distinguished by the rather scandalous tans they both bore), only a few months apart in age, and were rather famous for their charming personalities (though Michael’s reputation leaned a tad more rake than rogue).

But before either his poor disposition or good-mannered breading could win out, Colin overheard Francesca’s title being uttered from the table. He turned slightly, just enough to make out the other two men sitting with the Earl.

Though Colin wasn’t really the fighting type, he was still a Bridgerton, and he certainly wouldn’t allow any of his family’s names to be dishonored. After a few moments of listening, he was quite sure that the phrase “ain’t like a virgin” had come from one of the idiots’ mouths and, with a small sigh, turned to confront them.  

He hadn’t even made a step towards the table when he witnessed Michael lunging across the table. And in just a blink of the eye, the two men were on the floor, and the Earl’s hand was clasped firmly on the idiot’s neck. Hardwick, the idiot, was still sputtering as Michael hissed something to him. He looked absolutely menacing, and Colin distantly recalled that he’d been a soldier in the war.

As he and others watched the exchange, something occurred to Colin. Though he had been entirely prepared to defend Francesca’s honor as any good brother would, Michael’s reaction was even more so. It had been practically feral.

It only took a few moments to realize that Earl Kilmartin was, in fact, in love with Francesca. And that was something that Colin simply couldn’t ignore.

So, he didn’t think twice as he followed Michael out into the hallway, flashing him a lazy smile as the other man turned to face him. He was still breathing heavily, fiddling with his cuffs as he tried and failed not to look irritated by the interruption. It was clear that he had no desire to have a conversation.

Nonetheless, Colin motioned to a private salon. “Come join me.” Although his intentions were purer than they might have been several minutes ago, Colin didn’t at all mind tormenting the Earl just slightly.  

He engaged in pleasant small talk, acting as though he didn’t notice Michael’s irritability nor the curse he muttered under his breath before ordering a drink. The meager conversation continued, mostly with Colin just filling the air as he waited to say what he really wanted to say. Michael was a man of little words that evening, looking almost murderous every time Colin gave him a smile. His inability to hide his indignation was only more confirmation.

“You should just marry her, you know,” Colin finally said, smiling pleasantly as Michael nearly choked on his drink. Funny, he seemed to have a talent for catching people by surprise. 

He kept talking, even through the Earl’s stammering and continued disputes. If there was anything Colin knew how to do, it was win an argument. And besides, he liked Michael and knew that he would do everything in his power to make Francesca happy, which is all anyone could hope for their sibling. He’d already pushed Anthony to Kate, helped Benedict to Sophie, and now, he was more than happy to nudge Michael to Francesca.

There was another small reason, one that was far more selfish than anything else. But Colin felt that the good deed was enough to balance out the fact.

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth, Michael, it seemed, had run out of arguments, and Colin was prepared to go in for the final kill.

“The point is moot, anyway, is it not?” Colin shrugged slightly, leaning back in his seat.

He could tell Michael was debating within his own head, wondering what the hell he meant by that, his eyes moving slowly across Colin’s face in an attempt to read him. Unfortunately, the charming Bridgerton male could hold a mask better than anyone. “And why is that?”

Colin calmly picked his drink back up, pretending to sip as he peered at the gentleman over the glass. He resisted the urge to smirk as he casually inspected the remaining contents, giving Michael a good enough amount of time to think through the statement himself. Finally, he explained. “Well, because you so clearly don’t wish to marry her.”

Michael opened his mouth immediately, only to shut it just as quickly. But the words didn’t need to come for Colin to know what he’d wanted to say. He rather thought he knew exactly what was going on in the Earl’s mind, having come to the realization that they might have even more in common than he’d originally thought.

It only took a few more moments of prodding before Michael excused himself, practically fleeing from the salon. He wasn’t sure exactly what would come of it, but Colin thought that he might have set the trap quite well.

He stayed in the private room for some time, watching the full drink as it twirled in his glass. He’d practically seen a reflection of himself in Michael, one that was frightened by the ideas of marriage and love and everything else that came from them. But it was easier to push someone else, especially when the other was an Earl while he remained as nothing but a floundering third son. It seemed that Colin knew the right path for everyone else but was very much still wary about his own.

Over the next few days, Colin found his mind straying more often than he would have liked. His conversation with Michael was often echoed, mixing itself into the incessant thoughts and concerns. It was as if the words had been spoken to him rather than by him.

You should just marry her. It sounded easy enough when said.

But he’d already tried once and failed miserably. Although… Had he really made a true, sincere attempt? Upon proper recollection, the words had never even managed to leave his lips.

He turned to his journals in solitude, as if the memory of Cyprus might give his mind peace again. He skimmed through them, hunting for grammar mistakes or edits he might make. Though he rarely found anything to change; Colin didn't feel as if he were an accomplished enough writer to know how to correct his writing. Honestly, he didn't think of himself as a writer at all. 

It was a quiet morning at Number Five, one that Colin was taking full advantage of. His mother and sisters had left earlier that morning, thank God, allowing him some time to go through his things without any interference or nosy eyes. Though he loved his mother and siblings dearly, he was more than glad to be moving out later that afternoon. 

And it was because he was alone, with nothing but his own thoughts and a few silent maids to keep company, that he hadn’t expected anyone to be in the drawing room after only stepping out for a few minutes.

He hadn’t expected primarily the one person who had been weighing on his mind to be standing near the table. He hadn’t expected to see her looming over his open journal, eyes wide and as a hand reaching out to turn the page.

“What are you doing?” He couldn’t help the surge of anger that coursed through him, not at all softened by the lovely shade of blue she was wearing that morning. He couldn’t even crack a smile as her hand snapped back and she squealed out his name, the same way she’d done so many times before.

He didn’t want to be quite so coarse as he strode across the room, seizing the journal and shutting it with a sharpness he rarely held. The back of his mind was screaming at him to stop, to calm his anger, lest ruin whatever scrap of friendship he still held with the woman. But she’d read his journal, some of the most private inner workings of his mind. The ones he felt rather embarrassed to have.   

He didn’t even know why he was questioning her presence in the room. She’d explained that she was meant to meet Eloise. And obviously, she’d been taken to the informal drawing room; Penelope was family to his sister in all definitions of the word except blood. Of course, she’d be brought into this room to wait. Still, he was much too upset by her intrusiveness to care about the logistics.  

As she stammered on, Colin tossed the book onto a chair and crossed his arms, glowering at her. She had no excuse to give, other than a rather weak argument about the journal being left out in the open.   

Finally, Penelope, with cheeks the shade of crimson, mumbled, “I’d better go. Please tell Eloise-“

“I’ll go,” he snapped, unable to stand the sight of the room any longer.

Carelessly, Colin stormed around the room to retrieve his things, most pointedly grabbing the journal from the chair. After a moment, he could feel her shuffle behind him, practically nipping at his heels.

“Why do you have to make it so difficult to apologize?” Penelope’s voice hissed in his ears, only slightly less aggressive than his own had been.  

He didn’t want to look at her, couldn’t even bring himself to do it. Perhaps because I’m usually the one doing so. He realized how many times their situation had been reversed, how many times he’d been the one to grovel. “And why, pray tell, should I make it easy?”

She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Because it would be the nice thing to do.” There was something about the word nice, the one that had been used to describe Colin all his life, that made him turn to face her. The movement was so quick, so brought on by rage, that Penelope nearly crashed right into him.

He glared at her, and she scowled right back up at him. Their conversation extended much further than just her invasion of his privacy, they both knew that. But neither of them was willing to address the larger problems aloud. After another moment, Colin audibly huffed and turned again, rounding up the rest of his belongings on the table.

She was arguing to his back, and he was snapping in equal measure. Whatever other worries they held were easily concealed with their quarrel about the journal, the one to which neither of them was willing to admit defeat. Colin was still snatching items off the table as they went back and forth, first stacking the remaining books, then the rock he’d forgotten to give Benedict, then his ink bottle, then the-

“OW!”

The letter opener. The damned letter opener he’d taken out to open yet another invitation to some damned party he didn’t care to attend. The letter opener whose blade had found its way directly into his palm.

The anger drained away instantly, replaced entirely by the tremendous pain in his hand. He barely heard Penelope whisper his name as she rounded to face him. Her face paled as her eyes reached his hand: blood was gushing from it, and Colin could feel himself blanch as well.

Perhaps, if he wasn’t in such pain, he might have laughed when Penelope’s first instinct was to shriek something about the carpet and grab a piece of paper to protect it from the blood spouting from his palm.

But his hand was searing and he slumped down into a chair. Penelope, who had taken on a slight greenish tint, sat down across from him, carefully balancing the blood that was pooling onto the paper. “I have a handkerchief in my pocket,” he suggested hoarsely, trying his best at a reassuring smile.

She nodded, soft brown eyes carefully moving from his face to his breast pocket. Her fingers moved quickly, lightly grazing against his beating heart as she retrieved the fabric. He ignored the twist in his gut.

Penelope gently held his hand in hers, inspecting it carefully as her brows knitted together. She had an obvious aversion to blood, as evidenced by the grimace she was trying to suppress but looked quite determined to do a proper examination of the wound. It was only then that he noticed how bare her hands were, lacking the gloves that normally separated their contact. Though he was still distracted by the gash, he could feel the warmth radiating from her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she almost whispered, putting down a firmer pressure as she covered the cut. “This is all my fault.” Her eyes flickered over to where the journal now rested.  

He didn’t want the apology, especially not now. Not when she was so carefully tending after him. “That I sliced open my hand?” He tried his best at a crooked smile, wishing that it was enough to ease her. But it wasn't. 

“If you hadn’t been so angry…” she wasn’t looking at him, keeping her gaze instead on their hands.

He shook his head, “Don’t be silly, Penelope.”

Her face rose and they locked eyes for a brief moment. It reminded him of just how long it had been since they had been so close to each other. She was just across the table, separated by mere inches they could close without much strain. He glanced downwards to another part of her face, so quickly that the movement could have been missed with just a blink. He was feeling too many things at once- pain, desire, joy, embarrassment.

“Colin,” Penelope said quite suddenly, leaning in closer. “I must tell you-”

The seriousness of her voice caught him off guard. Was it finally time?

But she barely managed a word out before footsteps echoed in the hall. Ever the most proper butler, Wickham was bringing Penelope a meal for her wait. Colin could have cursed the old man at that moment.

Dropping his hand, Penelope bolted out the chair and scurried towards the door. She tossed Colin his journal quickly, which he used to hide the injured hand. The last thing he needed was for Wickham to find out because that would only be followed by his mother finding out.

He was rather impressed by Penelope’s ability to feign surprise as the butler entered the room, as well as the immediate bright smile that accompanied. The ruse made it easier for him to ignore his pain and offer a jovial greeting of his own. It was funny, he considered; they were very much like two actors who were the only ones privy to their performance.

The seconds ticked by tortuously slowly as Wickham handed off the tray to Penelope, and all Colin could do was bite his tongue to ignore the throbbing in his hand. Only when the butler’s steps disappeared down the hallway did Colin release the groan he’d been holding in. Penelope, comically businesslike, quickly resumed her position across from him, replacing the soaked handkerchief with a clean napkin. He watched her with a half-smile as she carefully examined his hand, murmuring her judgment on the state of the cut (despite, she admitted, not knowing anything about wound-care). There was something so pleasant in how she looked after him.

His eyes shifted downwards again, remembering the feel of her lips in a drawing room that was both similar and very different to the one they were in now. And he wanted to kiss her again.

But before he’d even been able to begin leaning in, Penelope’s gaze rose up to meet his. “I’m sorry again for…” her chin tilted to the journal next to them. “In all honesty, I didn’t recognize your handwriting at first- it was neater than I expected- and then I just couldn’t stop myself.” She gave him a small smile, one that was both remorseful and amused.  

Colin didn’t care for any more apologies from her, but something else did strike him. “You’ve seen my handwriting.”

Penelope’s eyebrow quirked and she frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “No, I definitely haven’t.”

He let out a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and scoff, “And what about my-“

And then his mouth clamped shut, his mind having had finally caught up to his words.  

Letters. The word hung in the air, unspoken but so blatantly apparent.  He’d written them. Certainly, he’d written a few during his time away. Some had included apologies of his own, for what exactly he hadn’t even fully understood. Others contained harsh, bitter words. And a couple simply held elaborate, and oftentimes foolish, accounts of whatever meal he’d just eaten. All of them, however, had been crumpled and tossed into a fire, never to be sent.

He could see her mind working, far too quickly than to his preference, until there seemed to be a moment of comprehension. Her lips formed a silent Oh in surprise, and Colin waited for her to decide whether or not she wanted to press the matter. To his relief and slight surprise, she let it go with a minuscule shake of the head.

Instead, she took on a resolute face and began talking about his journal again. He braced himself for the worst. Maybe she’d laugh at him, maybe she’d tell him how poor the work was. He honestly had no idea what she seemed so determined to tell him.

But she took him by surprise. She didn’t laugh or pity or say anything negative at all, actually. She loved it. She offered compliment after compliment about his work. And he could tell that her words had nothing to do with him or her but rather just her own passion for literature. He’d known that she was an avid reader, but he hadn’t been aware quite how much.

“You really liked it?” Colin tentatively asked after a few minutes. He felt a bit foolish, like a young boy asking for more praise. But he still couldn’t believe it, and Penelope didn’t hesitate to give more, albeit with the hint of amusement in her smile.

She liked the happy gleam that had returned to Colin’s eyes. The thought that Colin Bridgerton had been embarrassed about anything was inconceivable to her, especially something as good as his writing. It had transported her to Cyprus and had left her transfixed and itching to read more. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance.

And then the conversation turned, and Penelope found herself saying, “It’s good to have something in your life. Something satisfying- that will fill the hours with a sense of purpose.”

She wasn’t surprised by the question that followed: And what do you do to fill your hours with a sense of purpose? But she was surprised by the answer she wanted to give him. Although by accident, she’d learned something about him that morning that no one else knew, and she oddly felt the inclination to return the favor. There wasn’t a living soul who she’d shared her secret with, no one to offer her compliments and praises. But she wanted to tell him; she wanted to see whatever Colin’s reaction would be to her unknown life.

But, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she found herself blurting out about her reading and embroidery and tried to ignore the meager smile Colin offered her. She moved her gaze down at the now empty hands wringing in her lap.

And it was all fine. Until they got to the topic of his travels. She was jealous of his freedom and independence, allowed to go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. He had every opportunity in the world to do whatever he pleased.

It was fine until Colin mumbled, “It’s not enough.”

The tone in his voice wasn’t pleasant or casual, but rather bristly and loaded. She stared at him for a few moments, unable to understand. He tried his best to look unaffected as he explained that despite his traveling and wealth and popularity, he had nothing to do in London. The comment stung Penelope more than she would have liked to admit, and she had to fight off the urge to scoff. He, a man of utmost charm and stature, had nothing for him here.

“When all is said and done, I’ve very little to complain about,” Colin admitted, turning to look directly at Penelope. He hesitated slightly before continuing, eyes filled with nothing but sincerity. “But I’m telling you because I think maybe you’ll understand.”

She swallowed and had a fleeting urge to reach across and grab his hand again. Instead, she just nodded, keeping her own hands securely rested in her lap. “You can tell me anything, Colin.” And she thought she meant it.

The corner of his mouth lifted just a bit, readying himself to say aloud what he’d only ever admitted in his own mind. She’d understand because she was Penelope, and no one seemed to understand him quite as she did.

He stammered through his explanation, through the worries that had plagued him for more than a decade. His older brothers, the Viscount and the artist, with their great big passions and duties. That they had purposes while he had nothing. That the ton and everyone in it thought of him as nothing but a superficial charmer.

But she didn’t understand, looking at him with nothing except skepticism and confusion. He tried to further explain his point, feeling both shame and anguish by her lack of comprehension. The longer he spoke, the more idiotic he realized he sounded. But he really thought she’d understand.

“Even Lady Whistledown refers to me as a charmer,” he ran a hand through his hair.

Under the table, Penelope’s hands clenched together. Oh, good heavens. “Does it really matter what Lady Whistledown thinks?” She never would have dreamed that anyone could take the word “charming” and turn it into an insult, but Colin Bridgerton had certainly done it.

She didn’t feel any pity when his hands flew down to smack his knees in exasperation, prompting a yelp of pain from him. “I couldn’t care less about Lady Whistledown. But whether we like it or not, she represents the rest of society.”

Penelope didn’t care what Colin thought about the column or columnist, but she was growing tired of his whinging. Here was the most popular man in London telling her, renowned wallflower-spinster, Penelope Featherington, about how awful his life was. And he kept going, claiming that she didn’t understand. And maybe she didn’t, but she also didn’t know if she cared to either. She couldn’t find it in herself to try and see his point of view.

Finally, Penelope couldn’t take it anymore. “If you want a new direction in your life, then for heaven’s sake, just pick something out and do it. The world is your oyster, Colin. You’re young, wealthy, and you’re a man. You can do anything you want.” The accusation in her voice was obvious enough to prick him.

He looked hurt for a moment and then scowled at her. “It’s not that simple.”

She almost rolled her eyes, giving him one long stare before stiffly getting up and smoothing out her skirts. “It’s exactly that simple.”

And for the very first time, Penelope stormed out the door, leaving Colin behind to gape at her.

And he felt absolutely awful. He knew he had little right to complain about his life, especially not to someone who society had been resoundingly unfair towards, but he just thought that she would understand. They shared secrets together, ways of thinking, but it didn’t matter.  He felt guilty and shameful.

But he also felt hurt and indignant. He’d shared the two most hidden parts of his life to her, one by circumstance and one by choice. And she’d praised one while practically scoffing at the other. She now knew more about him than any other person and still she hadn’t accepted him. And that hurt like hell.

Chapter Text

With her final word, Penelope walked straight out of Number Five without even a glance back. She'd just about had it with Colin Bridgerton and his moods, and she stalked so forcefully back to her own home that the journey took barely over half the normal time- which was certainly not an easy feat in the long skirts of her morning dress.

“It’s not that simple,” she mocked under her breath. Of course not, Colin. With your perfect family and your perfect charm and your perfect popularity. You, who has every right and possibility to do whatever you want in the world. 

What right did he possibly have to complain to her? She was an on-the-shelf spinster who had to hide anything she could ever be proud of. Her life’s work, the money she’d earned, even the courting she’d ended, all of it had to be secret. And sure, he didn't know the entirety of it, but he certainly knew her options in life did not include his ability to leave the country at the drop of a hat without any regard for anything, or anyone, else.

She was still muttering when she reached her house, forcing a pained smile to Briarly as he took her coat and parasol before darting towards the stairs. She just needed to get to her bedchamber, and then she could- 

“Penelope? Are you alright?”

Oh, for Heaven's sake. She hadn't even made it to the first step yet. With an agitated turn of the head, she saw a frowning Felicity coming towards her down the hall. 

“Yes?” The question had come out a bit more like a snap than Penelope would have preferred, but she couldn't find it in herself to even pretend to care. 

“You were mumbling," Felicity answered when she reached her, brows crinkling in concern as she took in the state of her sister. 

“No, I wasn’t.”

Felicity crossed her arms. “Yes, you were.”

“I wasn’t," Penelope insisted with a bit more harshness in her tone. And when Felicity opened her mouth to argue again, Penelope cut her off with an impatient wave of her hand. “In any case, it doesn’t matter. I need to go to my room.”

Felicity's eyebrows perked up and she side-stepped to block the stairs. “Weren’t you meant to go shopping with Eloise?”

Penelope let out a harsh breath, trying to keep her temper subdued long enough to get past. “Change of plans! Don’t you have anything else to do rather than interrogate me?”

Neither said anything more for a moment, choosing instead to just glare at the other while the hall clock ticked. Though their bickering did not usually reach the levels of families such as the Bridgertons, the Featherington sisters were certainly not immune to sibling squabbles. And in the current moment, as Felicity continued to stare at her with narrowed eyes and crossed arms, Penelope considered doing far more than just snapping at her.

After a rather long time, the younger sister was the one who finally conceded, dropping her arms and rolling her eyes in the process. "Fine, mope about then. Hyacinth's meant to be here and I don't want to be late. You will have to tell me sometime, however," she warned. And with a final scowl, Felicity flicked her skirts and rolled her eyes in what was potentially the most annoying fashion possible before walking back down the hall. Finally alone, Penelope huffed as she grabbed the banister and hastily made her way up the stairs. 

When she finally reached the privacy of her own room, Penelope drooped into one of the upholstered (and rather gaudy) chairs near her desk, taking a mournful glance out the window. It was a perfectly fine sunny day; one which she might have enjoyed if not for the unfortunate luck of running into Colin. She was supposed to be strolling down the streets of London with Eloise right now, chatting and giggling as they floated in and out of the shops. She might have gotten a new book, or perhaps a new bonnet- oh, it wouldn’t have mattered what she would have gotten, because she would have felt about a thousand times less dreadful than she did at that moment.

There was more muttering and scoffing, irritated nail flicking, even a few unflattering words written on a sheet of paper before it was ripped up into shreds. It didn't take long, however, before the anger began to ebb away, allowing something else to start clawing its way into her chest. 

‘I’m telling you because I think you’ll understand,’ he’d told her. ‘You can tell me anything, Colin,’ she’d promised. 

Penelope shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she recounted the conversation. She'd been cross with Colin in the past, they were both quite familiar with that experience, but even then, she'd always at least attempted to see his side of the situation. And she knew that in all of their rifts, he'd never intentionally tried to hurt her. With some uncomfortable realization, she knew that this time had been no different. 

She wasn’t sure whether she agreed with his complaining nor was she sure that she really understood his reasoning, but perhaps… Perhaps she could have made more of an effort to do so. Even if her sentiments hadn’t changed (because in all honestly, Colin did have every opportunity at his feet), maybe she could have told him a bit differently.

He'd decided to trust her, even after he’d caught her reading his journal. The journal that she knew was his about ten seconds after she'd crossed the room to read it. The one that he had never mentioned to her, and based on his reaction, to anyone else for that matter. The journal that held one of the most beautifully written travel passages she’d ever read.

How could he think that his life had no meaning when he could write like that?

His neat handwriting- she'd never expected he'd have neat handwriting. Not messy, of course, but she'd always imagined that Colin Bridgerton would have long, swooping letters or lazily scribbled words or- or anything else really, just something that embodied his effortless charm. 

'And what about my- ' letters. She'd almost been positive that he'd meant to say letters. 

She'd never received a letter from him, she was more than certain. Perhaps he'd simply meant the letters he'd sent home. Perhaps he assumed that Eloise showed her his letters. 

Or perhaps it was something else. She couldn't keep a diary for obvious reasons, but on occasion, Penelope did write down her thoughts when she especially needed. And perhaps... Colin was the same way. 

Despite her foul mood, she felt the corners of her mouth rise. They were both writers, whether he or anyone else knew. It was a bit surreal- even when she'd considered herself in love with Colin, she'd never thought that they had much in common. As far as she'd been aware, they were practically as different as two people could be. 

But there was more to him that she knew, just as there was more to her than anyone knew. Just that morning, she'd gotten to see two parts of Colin that she'd never even been aware of before. With a small swallow, she wondered if there might have been even more that she'd missed. 

She also wondered what in the world she could say to make things right. 

Only a few blocks away, Colin had finally finished hastily throwing the rest of his belongings in his bag and was just about to reach the front door when his own younger sister approached him. As discretely as he could, he concealed his injured hand (which was regretfully still covered in a blood-stained napkin) from her line of sight. 

"When did you get home?" he blurted out, wondering why the hell she couldn't have appeared a half-hour ago instead. 

"Oh, hello, Colin," Eloise greeted with a slight frown, causing Colin to force a smile in response. The last thing he needed was to risk a bad mood on his family, especially not with this particular sister. “Did you see Penelope? Wickham said she was waiting for me.”

He felt his jaw tighten just slightly and cleared his throat before answering. “Erm, no. I think she might have gone home.”

“That’s odd.” Eloise's frown deepened, but luckily she seemed a bit more thoroughly distracted. "Why would she do that? Is she ill?" 

Colin shrugged unassumingly, trying his best to look disinterested. “No idea, I didn't really get a chance to speak with her." Eloise nodded slowly, looking more at the ground than at him. He used the opportunity to excuse himself, dashing around her in the most casual way he could. Her footsteps were already retreating down the hall as he slipped out the front door, hearing her distantly call out to Hyacinth. 

With a low grunt, Colin gripped his hand under the coat he'd placed over it. He needed to go see a physician, one that could easily determine whether or not he required stitches (Penelope had said she didn't think so, but immediately followed it by admitting that she knew absolutely nothing about wound care), as well as one whom he could rely on to be relatively discrete about it. The last thing he needed was for rumors to begin flying about how he’d cut his hand open.

Thankfully, he didn't need stitches, but a rather large bandage was required to cover the wound, one that almost refused to be hidden. He knew he was skilled enough to avoid giving away his story, of course, but he'd need to make a show of it to his family to dissuade any additional questioning. As far as he was concerned, no one else would ever have to know. 

Well, except Penelope, whom he had stopped cursing almost the moment she'd fled Number Five. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't hurt, that it wasn't painful to tell her his deepest truth, and for her not to understand him, but he also knew that he'd sounded like a spoiled child. So, despite it all, Colin found himself itching to make amends with her as the day went on. At the very least, he needed to see her. And although he would have much preferred to spend his evening hiding out in his new residency, Colin knew exactly where he'd have to be instead. She would be there, there was no doubt, and thus his night was set. 

Later that day, Penelope stood with Felicity on the perimeter of the Smythe-Smith music room, making her best attempt to look interested in the artwork hanging on the wall. The paintings were the same ones she had examined the year prior, as well as the year before that (and the year before that...), but Penelope thought that pushing through her disinterest was better than appearing rude.

Felicity, on the other hand, did not seem to share her opinion and was instead looking at the audience gathering around the room. “I wonder what that's about.”

“Hm?” Penelope asked, turning to follow her sister’s gaze. “Oh.”

Perhaps, had she not been such a wellbred lady, she would have let out a curse. 

The annual Smythe-Smith musicale was the last place Penelope ever thought that she would see Colin Bridgerton. Though she attended the event year after year out of a sense of kind duty, it was not a popular affair. Most attendees were there out of politeness or in the hopes of having a private laugh- men like Colin were rarely included in either of those two groups.

And yet, there he was.

Penelope felt an unpleasant tug on her heart as she looked at him. He was turned away, leaning in to speak with his brother, Anthony. Her eyes instinctively moved downwards to the bandage on his hand, the one Colin was making a great (though incredibly unsuccessful) attempt at hiding.

“Do you know what happened to his hand?” Felicity clarified, turning back to her sister, and Penelope had to stop herself from grimacing.

“No, why would I?” It seemed that her only line of defense that day was deflection.

Felicity huffed slightly, shrugging. “Hyacinth said he was there around the time you were. I thought you might have seen him.”

Penelope pursed her lips, humming a response as she glanced back towards Colin. He was still speaking to Anthony, who was wearing a small smirk as he mumbled something.

“Perhaps you should go inquiry about his wellbeing?" 

Penelope tried to hide the startled jerk her neck made when she looked back at her sister. “What?”

Felicity shrugged again, her face looking quite impassive. “He’s your friend, is he not?”

Penelope opened her mouth to argue but immediately had to close it. As far as anyone else knew, she didn't really have any reason as to why she wouldn't go say hello to Colin, and to refuse Felicity's suggestion would only be suspicious. 

Blasted Felicity. 

“Fine,” Penelope finally mumbled, hardly bothering to spare another glance before making the torturous way towards Colin. 

She wanted to get back onto better terms with Colin, she surely did, but she hadn't thought that she'd have to do so that night, less than twelve hours since their last encounter. And she definitely didn't think that the best setting for their reconciliation was a very crowded and public music room. 

Once she was in earshot of the brothers, Penelope overheard Colin mumble, "I wish I'd left the bloody thing at home." Despite the nerves bubbling in her stomach, she felt herself smile, gaining that last bit of confidence she needed to speak to him. 

But just as she had been about to reach out and touch his arm, a young woman appearing at his side halted her. And when that girl pouted her lips at him, oozing flirtation and sympathy, another seemed to pop up out of thin air. And then another. And then a fourth, of course, just for good measure. 

Despite the new arrivals, Colin seemed to be able to feel Penelope’s gaze on him, and his eyes met hers for just a moment. She saw a flash of confusion on his face before he looked away to give his flock of women a familiar well-mannered smile. Penelope bit the tip of her tongue, taking a few rather large steps back.

Though she wasn’t normally the type to call another female dim-witted, there was something about watching the ladies stumble over themselves to get to Colin that made them seem especially foolish that evening. Especially the one that was practically pretending to swoon-

“Nice to see you, Miss Featherington.” 

Penelope nearly sighed as a familiar figure joined her side, pulling her eyes away from Colin and his gaggle of girls. 

“You as well, Lord Bridgerton.” She nodded politely, trying her best at a cordial smile. Though she liked Anthony and he’d certainly come to her rescue in the past more times than she could count, his domineering presence always put her a bit on edge.

“Did you wish to speak to my brother?”

She blinked at him for a moment, trying to decide what would be her safest answer. She considered making up an excuse, but it seemed rather pointless to try to fib; she was quite certain that he’d seen her approaching them. “I just wanted to inquire about his injury, but it seems that he’s a bit… Preoccupied.” She couldn’t help glancing back at Colin, accidentally letting out a small scoff in the process.

“Ah, yes,” he followed her gaze back to Colin and the small crowd of women he’d attracted. And then he let out a sound that seemed halfway between a snort and a chuckle, one that caused Penelope to turn her head and stare at him. She’d never known the Viscount to be much for laughter, even of that sort. “Unfortunately," Anthony's face turned a bit more serious, "he’s been incredibly tight-lipped about the whole thing. He won't even tell me what happened.”

“Oh,” was all Penelope said rather dumbly. Of course, it made sense why Colin wouldn’t want to tell anyone about the injury, especially not about how he’d been so careless as to slice it on a letter-opener. “Well, I hope it’s not too serious.”

"No stitches were required, that much I know." 

"Ah, well. That's good." Luckily, she didn't have to fake the relieved look on her face. As upset as she'd been with Colin (and as annoyed as she felt in the present time), she was at least glad he wasn't badly hurt. 

Anthony nodded, glancing around as the audience was beginning to take their seats. “I’d better go find Kate. She was trying to find us seats in the back row.”

The corners of Penelope's lips quirked upwards and she hid them behind her knuckles. “I’ve heard the back is where the acoustics are best.”

His eyes widened in panic for a moment before he realized that she was joking, and then he looked mildly surprised. “Of course. The acoustics.” He watched her carefully for a moment, a hint of his own smile forming. Though Penelope had no trouble joking with Colin or Eloise, she doubted she’d ever said anything even remotely comical to the Viscount. But something had been different since her conversation with Lady Danbury. She didn’t feel quite so timid anymore.

She shrugged, wanting to finish what was beginning to feel like an inspection. “I should go find my seat as well. Tell Kate I said hello.”

Just a few seconds after Penelope disappeared into the crowd, Colin had finally managed to pry off his last admirer. “Damn,” he muttered before reaching Anthony, who was wearing a rather perplexed expression.

“I think Miss Featherington wanted to speak with you,” his older brother said before he even turned to look at him.

Yes, I noticed, is what Colin wanted to reply, but he simply nodded and kept his mouth shut.

Anthony’s mouth twitched just slightly into a smirk. “Do you want me to save a seat for you in the back?”

“No, I’m alright,” Colin answered, looking over as he watched Penelope pull her sister into the second row. “Wait-“ he turned back to look at his brother. “Why are you sitting in the back?”

Anthony, who was quite aware that his brother had never attended a Smythe-Smith musicale before, simply grinned. “Enjoy the concert.”

“Right,” Colin replied absentmindedly, taking a step towards the front of the room; he didn't have time to consider what Anthony meant. Unfortunately, Eloise seemed to appear out of nowhere and plopped herself into the seat on Penelope’s other side before Colin had gotten anywhere near their row. Ah, hell. Now he’d have to deal with his sister as well. He made a silent prayer that Hyacinth wouldn't pop out as well. 

He groaned quietly, taking another step towards them until he was intercepted by Lady Somershall, who had decided that now was the best time to ask Colin how long he’d be staying in London (as if he'd tell her) and whether he would like to meet her niece (not even a little bit).

His eyes flickered back to Penelope as more people began to take their seats; there was only one unoccupied seat near her now. He flashed Lady Somershall a devilishly charming smile before taking a few fast strides around her. 

As he drew closer, Colin realized that the open seat was behind Penelope... and immediately next to Lady Danbury. He could see the old dame dangerously waving her cane near the girls' noses as she told them something. Lovely, now he'd have to deal with an angry Penelope, a badgering little sister, and Lady Danbury. 

It wasn’t the best option, but it was his only option, so he gave his head a little shake and walked over. He needed to hear what Penelope had wanted to say to him earlier, and he had a few things to say to her as well. 

"Mister Bridgerton!" Despite the fact that Lady Danbury had appeared to be mid-sentence as she leaned over to speak to Felicity, she dropped the conversation as soon as she saw him enter her row. 

He felt a surge of satisfaction when he saw Penelope’s head whip back at the sound of his name. And he almost laughed when she scowled, watching him closely as he made his way along the row, gifting smiles and apologies to the already-seated members.

Felicity whispered something to Penelope, who in turn glared at her sister, as Eloise acknowledged him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Colin, I didn’t know you were coming.”

He shrugged casually, giving them all an easy smile as he took the seat next to Lady Danbury. Given that he was directly behind Penelope, her only choices were either to look straight at him or blatantly ignore him, and it seemed that she had no choice but the former. “Changed my mind at the last moment. I’ve always been a great lover of music, after all.”

“Which would explain your presence here.” Eloise’s voice was notably dry as she spoke, making Colin again question what was so wrong about these musicales.

Instead of answering, he faced the woman who was still scowling at him, whether or not she was aware of it. “Good evening, Miss Featherington.” He gave another exceptional smile before nodding towards Felicity, “Miss Featherington.”

The younger Featherington answered only with a nod and a smile of her own before glancing at her sister. Colin also watched Penelope intently, beaming at her as she took a longer-than-necessary moment to reply. Though she was doing a poor job at masking her irritation with him, he was doing quite well in hiding his entirely. 

“Good evening, Mister Bridgerton,” she finally forced out, and Colin wondered whether it was possible that only he could hear the bristle in her voice. 

He gave her another quick smile before looking around the entire group to inquire about the program of the evening, feigning rapt interest. Though he liked music well enough, he would have never attended one of these silly events if it hadn’t been for a certain woman sitting in front of him. The one, Colin noted, who had turned back to face the stage as the rest of her party engaged with him in conversation. In fact, Penelope only actually opened her mouth to shush them when the music started.

And over the course of forty-five dreadful minutes, Colin began to realize why Anthony and Kate had chosen to sit in the back. The playing was exceptionally awful, and it didn’t help that Lady Danbury would prod him on the foot with her cane whenever there was a particularly badly played note. Once the music finally began to end, Colin silently vowed that he would not make another appearance at the Smythe-Smith musicale ever again.

Despite the music (if one could really call it that), however, Colin spent most of the performance focused on the back of Penelope’s head. She kept fidgeting, first with her fingers and then with her skirts, tapping and twisting more and more with every song. He watched as the few red curls that were deliberately left out of her hairstyle bounced slightly whenever she shifted. There were a few moments when Colin would feel the sudden urge to reach out and ease her, but he kept his hands clasped firmly together. Not only was he was quite certain that he was the one at fault for her squirming in the first place, it also just simply wouldn't be appropriate. 

Once the overly polite round of applause ended, Lady Danbury turned to him. “So, Mister Bridgerton, what did you think?”

“Er, lovely. Pity I’ve missed it all these years.” He couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from following Penelope as he watched her get up from her seat and exit the row by herself.

“Ha! Liar, I’m sure” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was wearing a rather knowing smile.

Colin flashed her a cool grin, “I guess we’ll never truly know.” He allowed himself another quick glance towards the refreshment table where Penelope was now being handed a glass of lemonade. This could very well be his only opportunity to get her alone. 

“Well, go one, then.” Colin’s face whipped back around to meet Lady Danbury’s, who was giving him a slightly irritated look. “You won’t have another chance; I can assure you of that.” She hit his ankle with her cane before using it to motion towards Eloise and Felicity.

He considered contradicting her and even went as far as to open his mouth. But instead, Colin decided it was better not to question the old woman. Whatever Lady Danbury thought, it hardly mattered at the moment. And he really did need to speak to Penelope.

“Thanks,” he muttered after a moment, nodding politely.

“Hmph,” was all she replied, giving him an almost well-humored glare before turning to torment the gentleman on her other side. Swiftly, Colin exited the row, keeping a firm gaze on the woman at the refreshment table.

“Penelope,” he murmured once he was close enough, trying to avoid startling her. 

She turned around quickly, eyes widened only slightly. And before he even had a chance to think of what he wanted to say, she blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

He gaped at her for a moment. “You are?”

“Yes,” she nodded earnestly but still with some hesitation. “At least, I think I am.”                    

The corners of his lips rose, and Colin felt a weight lift off his chest. He hadn’t been expecting an apology, nor did he really think that he deserved one, but it made him feel better all the same. Without even considering it, he offered her his uninjured arm. “Take a turn with me around the room, will you?”

Her eyes flickered around at the audience milling about, but no one was paying any attention to them. Nonetheless, just being with him in public made her nervous. “I don’t think-”

But he moved his arm a tiny bit closer towards her and her words deflated into a sigh. “Please, Pen,” he almost whispered, wearing a small smile that felt like it was only meant for her. Her heart fluttered despite itself.

She nodded slowly, her own lips curving up, “Very well.” Carefully, she put down her glass and took his arm.  

They were silent for a minute, keeping a slow pace as they walked around the room. Appearances had to be maintained, of course, so both of them held firm, pleasant smiles as they moved around the room. 

Colin was the first to speak, his voice low but clear in her ear, “I would like to apologize to you.”

It was now Penelope's turn to be surprised as she looked at him with raised eyebrows. The words were reasonably familiar, but she hadn’t been expecting them this time. “I was the one who stormed out the room.”

His head cocked slightly, “Hm…” There was a hint of a grin on his lips, one that somehow showed both melancholy and fondness at the same time. “Well, I suppose you were due one.” He’d certainly done so a few times before, and it seemed only fair for her to return the favor.   

She chuckled quietly, “Perhaps. But I shouldn’t have been so rude.” And she meant it, giving him an apologetic glance.

Colin dismissed her comment off with a discrete shake of the head. “Nonetheless, I would like to apologize for being such a whiny little brat.” And he meant it as well, having spent the entire afternoon repeating the conversation to himself. Though he had told her the truth, he’d still sounded like an utter ass while doing so.

Penelope literally tripped on her skirts at the word ‘brat’, but Colin held a firm enough grip on her to keep her steady. He bit back a laugh, wanting to finish his apology. “I am aware that I have many, many things in life for which I am grateful, but…” He tilted his head side-to-side for a moment, trying to find the right words. 

She put her hand over his for a fleeting moment, short enough to look innocent to any onlookers but long enough to make his stomach flip. “Colin, you have every right to your feelings,” she said quietly. “But-” She sighed again.

“But what?” He looked at her keenly, leaning towards her a few inches.

She squinted at him for a second before shifting to look ahead, avoiding his eye. She had given their conversation a great deal of thought, but her opinion still hadn’t changed. And she really would prefer avoiding another conflict, particularly one in public.

The hand on her arm squeezed gently, just enough for her to know that he wanted her to continue. The gesture made her chest swell.

Penelope had met so many people who never bothered to listen or care for her opinion, but here Colin was, specifically asking and waiting for it. Actually, she thought, Colin always seemed to care about what she thought. And despite how many times he’d hurt her or infuriated her in the past, she couldn't think of a single occasion when he'd ever made her feel insignificant. 

She looked back towards him, keeping her voice soft. “Colin, if you feel frustrated by your current situation, you should do something to change it.”

And then he said something that surprised her, shrugging a bit. “That’s what I do. My mother accuses me of picking up and leaving the country completely on whim, but the truth is-”

“You do it when you’re feeling frustrated,” Penelope finished for him, almost speaking more to herself than to him. She met his eyes again and he nodded, looking a bit surprised.

She had never really taken the time to consider why Colin traveled quite so much. She’d always imagined that he simply enjoyed it- enjoyed being the charming adventurer everyone regarded him as. She’d always assumed that his disinterest in London life was in the same way hers could be: fatigue of the same company and conversations, a desire to see something different. But that wasn’t it. Colin wasn’t just bored; he was aimless. Or, at least, he seemed to think he was.

It was almost unbelievable to think that she, Penelope Featherington, a permanently on-the-shelf spinster wallflower, had her own duties and responsibilities while Colin Bridgerton had none. Though no one else knew it, Penelope had something to do every day. Something that mattered, that filled her life with meaning. And surely, a life with unseen meaning was better than one that only held appearances.   

But Colin’s life, she considered, didn’t have to be that way. “I think you should publish your journals,” Penelope said quite suddenly.  

He stared at her, blinking slowly. He had never even had the intention of allowing anyone to see his writing, let alone publish it. And frankly, who would even care to read it? The Bridgerton family, Penelope said, a beautiful laugh leaving her lips as she began listing them off. He found himself grinning despite her teasing. Fine, his family, but who else? The ton, of course, Penelope explained. Maybe at first, they’d only read for his name, but over time…

They had been standing still for quite some time at that point and Penelope was holding her hands on her hips, looking rather exasperated. Colin was still debating his point when Eloise came over to them, looking incredibly curious. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” they both replied immediately, and Colin saw Penelope blush slightly. He had to stop himself from laughing.

Eloise glared at the pair and turned to interrogate Penelope on the matter. When it looked like Penelope might crack and try to explain, he cut in. “It’s a private matter.”

His sister ignored him completely, looking expectantly at her best friend as Colin gave her a look of warning over Eloise’s shoulder. Penelope glanced between the two, looking a bit conflicted. Finally, she sighed and turned to Eloise, “I’m sorry. I really can’t say.”

Colin hid his grin of triumph from Eloise, who made an overdramatic showing of the betrayal. She continued her questioning of Penelope, who in turn committed herself a bit more. Her own smile was sheepish, but Colin could see the amusement in her eyes.

“I can’t believe it,” Eloise repeated for the umpteenth time, finally turning back to look at her brother.

He laughed. “Did you think I told you everything?”

Eloise scowled at him. “Of course not. But I thought Penelope did.” She gave a pointed look back to the other girl.

His eyes flickered to the redhead, noticing the guilty lurch in her throat. His mind flew back to their kiss, as well as the events following the kiss. In some odd way, he felt a pleasant warmth in knowing that there were some things that were just between them.

Penelope’s mind, in turn, flew to the kiss as well. But it also focused on other secrets that she’d kept for much longer. Ones that she generally didn’t allow herself to feel guilty over.

She hid it well, however, with a small giggle as Eloise continued her tirade. It wasn’t the time to fret over it, especially not when Colin and Eloise had somehow managed to get into another rather absurd round of bickering. And as she shared a brief, private smile with Colin, Penelope decided that it had been quite a lovely evening. 

Chapter Text

The happiness Penelope experienced during the Smythe-Smith musicale (or rather, after the actual music-playing) did not linger into the rest of the week. In fact, the following days had been exceptionally awful. The investigation (or, more accurately, witch-hunt) for Lady Whistledown had reached its crescendo like never before. With Lady Danbury’s offer of one thousand pounds in exchange for the unveiling of the columnist, there had been a growing string of harmful events- formerly trusted maids and footmen being followed, injuries sustained while eavesdropping through library doors, rifts and accusations thrown between friends. The search was developing into absolute pandemonium.

Penelope wasn’t particularly worried about her identity being revealed- she’d managed to fool the ton for over an entire decade. She had years of practice in being careful and quietly listening to the rumors and chatter that surrounded Lady Whistledown. And the only person who had even considered accusing her was Lady Danbury and it was an accusation that no one else seemed to have taken at all seriously. Even those whom she held closest had no idea.

No, it wasn’t the secret that worried Penelope. It was the frenzy that had overtaken society, the obsession that didn’t seem to be wavering. The allure of a monetary reward was too enticing to stop people from doing crazy things, and it was all becoming very disturbing.

The final straw had been when Colin had told her that he was absolutely convinced that Eloise was Lady Whistledown in disguise. And what might say that he was not at all thrilled with the theory. 

“She can’t be,” Penelope had replied immediately, holding her hands together to keep them still.  

“Why not?” Colin asked, a deep frown etched into his forehead. He looked quite unlike himself. 

Because… Because… “Because there is no way she could have done that for ten years without my knowing,” was the only explanation that came to mind. Of course, Penelope knew quite well that wasn’t true. One certainly could keep a secret like that, even from their dearest friend. But she knew that Lady Whistledown wasn’t Eloise, and she needed Colin to believe it as well. 

But blasted Colin. He had, apparently, been paying quite a lot of attention. Every rebuttal Penelope gave was quickly swiped away with another piece of damning evidence that Colin had collected. He’d noticed that Eloise would lock herself in her room for hours just to return with ink-stained fingers. And that when she wrote, she did so only in isolation. She was also nosy and clever and everything that one needed to be Lady Whistledown.

But she isn’t, Penelope wanted to scream. She isn’t because I am!

Perhaps, under different circumstances, she might have said her thoughts aloud. Except that Colin was quite resolute in his thinking that Eloise being the columnist would be an utter disaster.

“It would be so very dreadful. She’d be ruined,” he’d told her.

Colin said that Lady Whistledown had insulted more than enough people over the years to garner a hatred from the public. A public, Penelope thought, that sought after her every written word. 

Personally, Colin didn't hate her, but he claimed that everyone else did. It wasn’t anything that Penelope herself hadn’t considered over the many years, but she did think that Colin’s claims were a bit more dramatic than necessary. Yes, she’d insulted people, including those who were much more powerful and important than she was. But she only truly insulted the especially rotten individuals, and she never revealed information that might actually be harmful.

But it wasn't his words that unnerved Penelope so much, rather it was the forcefulness behind his accusations. If Colin, who was generally quite mild-mannered and immune to gossip, had gotten to such a point of investment as to accuse his own sister, then what of the rest of the ton?

It was that frightening realization that gave Penelope the final push to do what she had been wanting to do for years. And on the 19^th of April in the year 1824, Lady Whistledown officially bid an “au revoir” to London society.

She only needed two attempts to perfect what she thought would be her final column. She’d been ready to move on with her life for quite some time now, and she knew exactly what she wanted to say. She was done with the chapter of her life that revolved around muted parties and a keen listening ear. She was ready for a new start, one that had yet to be planned out. 

However, life was never quite so easy. And any margin of peace Penelope had been given was snatched away within just a matter of days.

Lady Whistledown's exit column was published bright and early Monday morning. At the Featherington home, it took just moments after its arrival and placement into Portia Featherington’s hand for a spoonful of porridge to be accidentally splattered across Penelope’s face. Mrs. Featherington spent the rest of the day in a period of mourning that rivaled the one she’d undergone after the passing of Mister Featherington.

The matron Featherington was still so upset by the news that she refused to attend the Macclesfield ball that evening, and Penelope was sent as Felicity’s chaperone in her stead.

At the ball, the season’s obstacle of a lack of engaging conversation was not at all apparent. It seemed that there was talk of Lady Whistledown everywhere one went, whether it was wanted or not. There was fainting, and sighing, and quite literally sniffling (from Penelope’s very own sister no less). Though a small part of her surged with pride, Penelope couldn’t help but feel that it was all rather ridiculous. It was a gossip column for Heaven’s sake, not the Second Coming. And if Colin was indeed correct and everyone secretly hated Lady Whistledown, then why were they all so damn upset?

She’d considered herself rather lucky when Lady Danbury called her away from her fretting company of Lady Bridgerton, Hyacinth, and Felicity. Of course, the countess wanted to discuss Whistledown as well, but at least she wasn’t blubbering while doing so.  

But Penelope found herself looking around the room while they talked, searching for a familiar face. She knew that he’d be there that evening, and she knew that she wanted to speak to him.

Something had passed between them the night of the musicale- something that hadn’t been there before. She’d seen him in a completely different light, one that was unflattering and uncompromising, but one that made her only more drawn to him. And there was something in the way he’d looked at her, looked for her, that made her feel as though it all might not be as unrequited as she’d always thought.  

“Fine wines?” Penelope repeated vaguely while turning back to look at Lady Danbury, who had been saying something about people aging.  

The older woman gave her a stern look as she tapped her cane against the floor. “Hmmph. And here I thought you weren’t listening.”

“No, of course I was listening,” Penelope replied quickly. “I was just… distracted.”

The next words Lady Danbury spoke elicited a rather embarrassing gasp from Penelope. “Looking for that Bridgerton boy, no doubt.” When Penelope did nothing more than stare at her, eyes widened in surprise, the countess nearly rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. It’s written all over your face. I’m just surprised he hasn’t noticed.”

“I imagine he has,” the words slipped out of Penelope’s mouth before she realized, and she instantly regretted them. Trying not to cringe, she glanced at Lady Danbury, praying that the old woman’s hearing really was as bad as she claimed.

But, of course, tonight was not Penelope’s night.

“Has he? Hmmph.” Lady Danbury's mouth formed a tight frown. “Doesn’t speak well of him that he hasn’t done anything about it.”

Penelope felt her throat lurch as she tried to mask her face. That’s not exactly true, is what she might have said, if she were a different person who believed different things. But, she supposed, that was yet another secret she would likely die with.

Luckily, they were interrupted by someone stepping onto the platform of the ballroom, looking as though she were the Queen herself. Penelope grimaced; nothing that woman wanted to say could be pleasant.  

Cressida Twombley had been Penelope’s least liked person in all of London since her very first season, when the latter had purposely knocked a biscuit out of Penelope’s hand, claiming that she “hardly needed it” in front of a dozen other girls. Since then, they’d shared more than enough distasteful exchanges for it to be clear that Cressida would never grow out of her cruelness.

Lady Danbury seemed to agree with her sentiments, but soon after stopped mid-sentence when her eyes focused on something behind Penelope. And then her lips curved strangely, as if forming both a frown and a smile at the same time.

And then she said, “Your Mister Bridgerton is approaching.”

Penelope couldn’t help sucking in a breath as she looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Colin was moving towards them, wearing an expression that could only be translated as determination. Her heart made a leap. It was clear that he had sought her out, and she desperately wanted to know why.  

“Lady Danbury,” he gave her a low and graceful bow before turning directly to Penelope. “Miss Featherington.”

“Mister Bridgerton, how nice to see you,” Lady Danbury said, not at all bothered by the lack of attention paid to her by the rest of her party.

Colin didn’t reply, rather choosing to wait for Penelope’s answer instead. She tried at a smile and murmured, “Mister Bridgerton.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up. “I’d hoped…”

But then he paused, a frown taking hold of his lips as he turned to the platform that was now garnering a ferocious amount of attention. Hoped what? Penelope wanted to scream.

But unfortunately, she would never find out the end of Colin’s request.

“Oh, that wretched- I can’t believe- Oh, my. Oh, my.” Hours after she’d left the ball, Penelope was mumbling to herself as she paced around her bedchamber, the skirts of her nightgown sweeping across the floor beneath her. The only other sound in the room came from a clock that ticked as the hour hand neared the one. The room was quite dim, with just a single candle flickering on her desk.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she’d said. “I am Lady Whistledown.” The entire ballroom had erupted into a collective gasp.

Surely, one would only assume that the true Lady Whistledown could utter such words, correct? Whoever would willingly want to put themselves under such scrutiny- such potential for ruin?

Well, that would be wrong. Because one person seemed to have no trouble doing so at all. And unfortunately, it was the worst possible someone in Penelope’s opinion.

Cressida Twombley had single-handedly taken all the work Penelope had done in twelve years and claimed it as her own. The woman who had tormented her incessantly for over a decade, the one who was horrible and mean and petty, easily had the ability to tarnish the name of Lady Whistledown.

Penelope was struck with a nausea of such force that she could barely think straight. All care and speculation about what Colin had wanted to tell her were pushed away, and she could hardly manage to answer him when he asked if she was all right.

She felt as though she might very well be sick right there in the ballroom. Of all possibilities, this was one of the worst. Of all people, it had to be her.

And then, making it all the more awful, Cressida glided towards them. Specifically, she made her way to Lady Danbury, wearing what Penelope would describe as a vicious smile on her face. She wanted the money, of course. But Lady Danbury didn’t seem quite so intent on giving it.

Though she stood by the countess in support, Penelope’s mind was reeling as they spoke. She imagined the years of her life that she’d spent listening and writing and sneaking and pretending- and how all of it would be for naught if Cressida took it away.

“What do you think, Miss Featherington?” Lady Danbury suddenly turned to her and Penelope’s entire body jerked.

“What…. I… I beg your pardon?” She was quite aware of what was being asked, but she needed more time to form some kind of reasonable answer.

“Is Lady Twombley Lady Whistledown?” Lady Danbury clarified, giving her a pointed look.

“I- I’m sure I don’t know,” Penelope muttered, suddenly quite aware that Cressida, Colin, and the sizable crowd they’d attracted were all watching her intently.

But Lady Danbury wasn’t satisfied. In fact, she gave Penelope such a look that almost made her nauseous again. “Oh, come now, Miss Featherington. Surely you have an opinion on the matter.” The countess’s expression read exasperation and impatience, and panic filled in Penelope. Though she wasn’t certain that Lady Danbury knew the whole truth, she was obviously not going to let it go.

Penelope wanted to hide, to run away. She looked around her and saw dozens of pairs of eyes watching her, all silently waiting for her to speak. She’d been invisible for so many years, but she was certainly not invisible now.  

She could feel her body shutting down as a figure stepped to her side- Colin. “Miss Featherington, you look unwell. Would you like to leave?”

“Yes,” she said, glancing up at him. His green eyes were focused on her, kindness pouring from them. He was trying to come to her rescue, and she had been quite ready to take it.

Colin. Colin, who had always cared to hear what she thought. Who had always given her the chance to speak her mind, and had never made her feel poorly for doing so.

Her eyes darted to Lady Danbury, who was still watching her with a hard stare. ‘Not exactly what we thought we were.’  

Running is what the old Penelope would have done. The one who hid behind Lady Whistledown because she thought that it was the only version of her voice that mattered. But as of that morning, Lady Whistledown was no more. And all that was left was Penelope Featherington.

Which is why she straightened her back and waved off Colin’s suggestion. And in front of Cressida, Colin, and the crowd that had gathered around them, Penelope turned to face Lady Danbury and clearly said, “I don’t think she’s Lady Whistledown. I think she’s lying.”

She was only vaguely aware of Colin pulling her a bit closer to his side, but the warmth from him only seemed to fuel her more. “I’ve always liked Lady Whistledown,” Penelope continued, turning to look directly at Cressida. “And it would break my heart if it turned out to be someone like Lady Twombley.”

“Well said, Miss Featherington!” Lady Danbury clapped her hands together, donning an incredibly proud smile. “That is exactly what I was thinking, but I couldn’t find the words.” She turned to Colin and whispered something near his ear, but Penelope’s attention was focused completely on Cressida. Her head was whipping back and forth in anger, unsure whether to place it on Penelope or Lady Danbury.

Penelope felt calmer than she ever could have imagined as she stared at Cressida. The latter looked as though she might actually reach out and strike her, but Penelope just couldn’t find it within herself to care. “I will not be insulted by that… by that nothing!” she said in Lady Danbury’s direction. She then turned back to Penelope, “I demand an apology.”

Blinking, Penelope nodded thoughtfully. “That is your prerogative.”

It was, perhaps, one of the first times in Penelope’s life where she had said exactly what she’d been thinking. And it felt rather glorious.

The Whistledown talk continued, but all Penelope could think was how much she needed to get home. Cressida had promised to give Lady Danbury proof. Well, Penelope thought, she certainly couldn’t allow her to do that.  

Which is why she’d practically dragged Felicity away from the ball soon after. She needed to send word to her publisher- Lady Whistledown had one more column to release before retirement. In the carriage, Penelope was tapping her fingers on her knee, already planning out what she would write. She wasn’t paying much attention to her little sister, who continued to grumble about leaving early and question what had gone on with Cressida. That is, until-

“Do you and Colin Bridgerton often hold hands?”

The question caught Penelope so off guard that she was almost surprised her neck hadn’t snapped off. Slowly (and very carefully) she asked, "What are you talking about?”

Felicity let out a short snort that was both unbelieving and amused. “You were holding hands when Hyacinth and I joined you. And I’m quite sure that you continued doing so until he left to fetch our footman.”

Penelope’s eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to recall just a few minutes ago. She’d been too distracted by the surge of adrenaline in the moment to notice exactly how close Colin had been. Looking back, she realized that at some point he had taken her hand. And neither of them had made any attempt to let go.

And, oddly enough, she wasn’t sure what was stranger: the fact that Colin had taken it in the first place, or that it had felt so natural that she’d barely even noticed.

“Oh, erm-“ Penelope shrugged slightly, feeling warmth rise to her cheeks. Thank the Heavens that it was too dark to see clearly.

She could see the whites of Felicity’s teeth as she smiled, nodding profoundly. “I’ve always wanted a brother, you know.”

Penelope considered how to respond as her face continued to burn. After a few long moments, she decided to ignore the implication in Felicity’s statement entirely. “You already have brothers: Nigel and Robert.”

“Fine,” Felicity’s nose scrunched in the moonlight, “I suppose what I mean is that I’ve always wanted a brother whom I actually liked.”

With a slightly exasperated shake of the head, Penelope sighed, realizing that any more discussion with her sister would be futile- and likely dangerous. Aside from Eloise, Felicity knew her better than anyone. And unlike Eloise, she didn’t hesitate in telling Penelope exactly what she thought- about anything.

Choosing not to respond, Penelope quickly turned to face the window. She glanced at the houses as they passed by, biting her lip to try and hide her smile.

But that had been hours ago now, and Penelope hadn’t the time to ponder Colin or the feelings that continued to bubble inside of her. She had stopped her pacing to sit back down at her desk, rereading her article for what was likely the tenth time. Crumbled-up papers were littered around her, all containing the same overall message but written in different ways. But this one, the one she currently held up to the candlelight, was perfect. This was the one she would go down to deliver herself tomorrow morning, as soon as breakfast ended, and she could disappear without any problems. Mister Albansdale had promised to call upon Felicity with the intention of meeting their sisters and brothers-in-law (God help him), which gave Penelope the perfect opportunity to duck away for a bit.

With a small smile, she carefully folded the approved paper into a clean envelope and locked it away in her desk before shredding the rejects. This was exactly what she needed to do. She couldn’t allow Cressida to take everything she’d worked for. It simply couldn’t happen.

When she finally tucked away into her bed, Penelope felt wide awake. She recounted the entire evening, from Lady Danbury’s pride to Cressida’s rage to Colin’s grin. Despite herself, Penelope let out a quiet giggle and covered her face with her covers. She wasn’t exactly sure who this Penelope Featherington was, but she thought she very much liked her.

Breakfast the next morning was a particularly torturous affair. Penelope had slept badly- tossing and turning for hours on end caused by a mixture of nerves, anticipation, and exhilaration. And her family’s endless inquiries about the evening before only made it worse. Thankfully, Briarly did eventually come in to announce Mister Albansdale’s presence, and Penelope was able to sneak off without anyone noticing. She supposed that it paid sometimes to be invisible.

Cutting through the servant entrance, she quickly moved towards the far corner of Mount street, the very one she knew was hidden from any room in the Featherington home. She nodded at the hired hack, a scruffy man who she’d used before and never asked questions, before taking a glance around her and ducking into the carriage.

She rubbed her arm as they took the familiar route as they traveled north passed Oxford Street and then east past Bloomsbury- much farther than anyone in her circles would ever even consider traveling. Her first few journeys alone into the City had been terrifying, but after so many years of practice, Penelope didn’t hold such fear any longer.

As she checked that the envelope was still secure in her bag for the third time, the carriage came to a stop. Quickly, Penelope clamored down the steps, promising to return in just a minute or two. With an almost unnecessary inspection around her (because whoever did she know that would be caught dead here?), she strode into St. Bride’s Church for what might have very well been the last time.

She moved swiftly through the center aisle as she always did, lightly grazing the pews with her fingers as she passed.

“Seven… Eight… Nine,” she silently mouthed before reaching her target. Carefully, she sat down into the row and slid until she was directly behind the fourth pocket. Despite the fact that she was fairly experienced in doing this, Penelope’s heart pounded in her ears, and she took a glance around the room to reassure herself. Not a soul, living or dead as far as she was concerned, was in the room with her.

She allowed herself a silent reassuring breath before placing her envelope into the pocket, carefully hiding it just behind the prayer book. The hard part was over, she told herself as she exited the row. Lady Whistledown’s Society Pages were over.

And then, as if a demon leaping from the very pits of Hell, an all-too-familiar face emerged from the shadows. Except that there was no familiar humor or warmth in it. And there was no hesitation as the figure took large and powerful steps towards her.

Penelope felt as though her heart had dropped down to her feet, and she experienced the same wave of nausea she’d had the evening before. He was moving so quickly, while she wasn’t sure if she could move at all. Her breath was ragged as her mouth opened on its own accord.

“Col- Col-” she tried, gasping for air, but there seemed to be none. She felt like she was drowning without the need for any water. He looked livid, angrier than she’d ever seen him. Angrier than she’d ever seen anyone really.

There was nothing pleasant in his expression when he reached her, wasting no time in wrapping a firm hand around her upper arm. As if she could ever even consider running now. “That would be Colin.” His voice was strange- alarming even despite the look on his face.

She blinked a few times and nodded, swallowing harshly as she tried to imagine what she could say- what possible excuse she could come up with for being in such a place entirely alone. Would he believe that she was there for some midweek visit to church? Even so, she doubted that it would explain why she was so far into the City or why she was alone in doing so. Finally, she forced out a weak smile. “Colin! What a… what a…” What a what, Penelope?

“Surprise?” he finished for her. Though he still sounded eerily calm, his fingers were rigidly pressed into her skin, and his green eyes seemed to rage with fire.  

Finally, Penelope seemed to regain her wits. Her mind was very much still focused on the secret that had never been so close to being revealed, but she did her best to distract Colin. He was a writer; she could use that. St. Bride’s had some association with writers. Well really, the association was to journalists, but what difference did it really make?

Perhaps her distraction may have worked better if she wasn’t babbling quite so much, or if her eyes weren’t darting around so frantically. She caught herself taking glimpses of the pocket containing the envelope more times than she would have liked, and there was no question about whether Colin was intelligent enough to notice. All he did in response was watch her with an almost bored expression. From an outside perspective, it may have seemed as though he was listening with mindful patience. But Penelope was quite aware that his stare was more of a sneer, and that he was simply waiting for her to give up.

But she’d been keeping her secret for twelve long years, and she had no intention of having it unveiled now. And Colin just kept listening to her explanation with a mocking sort of expression. He only decided to respond once her loop of rather feeble excuses turned to some absurdity about the church being his because of the weak connection it had to writers. 

The look of mocking on Colin's face held as he dropped the hold on her arm. “My church,” he mused, deliberately speaking slowly. “What a lovely notion.”

Penelope’s eyes snapped up to look at him, her breath hitching. She didn’t at all like the tone in his voice. “I’m afraid I don’t catch your meaning.”

He tapped his jaw with one of his fingers before holding out his hand like he was presenting her with a gift. “I believe I’m developing a taste for prayer.”

“Prayer?” Penelope could hear the crack in her own voice, forcing her gaze to stay directly on his face. She was almost certain she knew where this was headed, and she had no idea how to stop it. Inside her mind, she imagined two carriages crashing into each other. “You?”

“Oh, yes,” the corners of his lips quirked without even a hint of geniality. She’d never seen Colin like this- cruel, calculated. Hot-headed and temperamental, yes. But this? It almost sent a shiver down her spine.

“I… well… I… I…” Well, say something! Anything!

But she couldn’t. She could hardly focus on anything other than the thrashing that kept occurring in her chest.

He gave her an emotionless smile that showed absolutely nothing before spouting some nonsense about wanting to pray as Penelope continued to try and delay what seemed to be inevitable. She considered how she might possibly dart around him and into the pew, ripping up the envelope before he reached it. But his legs were longer, and her morning dress surely made her slower. Perhaps, though, if she could catch him off guard…

“I didn’t think you were a particularly religious person,” Penelope muttered to him, taking minuscule steps towards the pew. They both knew perfectly well that he wasn’t, but they seemed to be playing yet another kind of sick game. They always seemed to be playing some kind of a game.

“I’m not,” Colin replied coolly, taking a long enough moment for Penelope’s eyes to narrow. “I intend to pray for you.”

She could practically feel her throat convulsing. “Me?” she asked, attempting to sound as innocent as possible; it seemed that playing ignorant was her only option at that point. If only she could delay him for a little while longer, maybe then she’d be able to reach the pew before he realized.

“Because,” Colin’s voice had suddenly lost any attempts at staying level and Penelope froze, worried that he’d noticed her moving. “By the time I’m done, prayer is the only thing that is going to save you!”

And in one swift movement, he pushed her aside and headed straight towards the pocket containing her envelope. Penelope’s jaw dropped as she instantly took off after him, almost tripping over her skirts. “Colin! No!”

He had the envelope in his hand by the time she joined his side, holding it far out of her reach. Had she really held that same hand less than twelve hours before?  “Do you want to tell me what this is? Before I look myself, do you want to tell me?”

There’d been a point when Penelope had wanted him to know, had felt the urge to tell him herself But not now, not today. In fact, she rather felt like she might cry in desperation if he did find out the truth now. He was already so angry, and she couldn’t imagine how he’d react to her long-hidden secret. 

“No,” she could only whisper, her voice breaking with the word. “It’s mine. It’s a secret.”

In stark comparison to hers, Colin's voice came out louder than before. his eyes flashing wildly. “A secret worth your welfare? Worth your life?”

Her eyes squinted, a confused, sad frown on her lips. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for a woman alone in the City? Alone anywhere?” he asked incredulously, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In the corner of her eye, his hand was clutching her envelope so forcefully that it was beginning to crease.

Penelope blinked at him for a moment, her desperation and sadness letting go with a frustrated breath through her nose. Why was he always so hung up on her being unattended? She was eight and twenty, for goodness sake, and she was confident that she knew more about the City than he did. She knew the risks, but she also knew how to handle herself.

But now was not the time to argue with him about such things, for it would only be a surefire way to enrage Colin even more. Instead, she looked at him squarely, channeling her emotions into a final plea. “Colin, please.”  

There was a moment where she was sure she saw his resolve waver. His raised eyebrows relaxed slightly and the fury in his green eyes seemed to soften; the arm that was holding the envelope dropped just an inch.

She kept her voice as soft as possible, training her eyes to stay glued to his. “Colin, please… don’t.”

She held her breath as she waited for his reaction, wishing with all her might that he'd take pity on her. But she remembered the look on his face the week before when he'd caught her looking at his journals. She’d had little regard for his privacy even though she'd known it had been wrong- so, did she have a right to ask him for hers? 

“Colin,” she repeated, the tears threatening her eyes causing her voice to crack. Gently, she put her hand on his empty one, trying to regain an ounce of the strength he’d helped to give her the night prior.

He looked at her with a rather pained expression, the skin around his eyes crinkling for a reason much other than laughter. He looked as if he might speak, but then there was a flash of regret-

And finally, Colin shook his head, pulling away his hand to tear open the envelope in one fell swoop.

She might have let out a cry- she wasn't quite sure, for Penelope couldn't bear to stay and watch him read it. She ran out of the church the moment the paper met the open air, and he made no attempt to catch her. 

Instead, all his attention fell to the page, eyes racing across it. The handwriting was swooping and elegant- perfectly capturing Penelope’s essence. But the words weren’t Penelope's- they were someone else's. And that signature at the bottom made his heart stop. 

“Oh my, God,” he sank into the pew, rubbing his forehead with his unoccupied hand as the other one held up the paper. “Oh my, God.”

He was holding a Lady Whistledown article. And not just any article, but one that had yet to be published. One that was dated for the next morning and firmly denied Cressida Twombley as the author. He couldn't bloody believe it- not of her deep dark secret nor of the words itself. It was all so- 

“Ridiculous,” Colin muttered to himself as he folded the paper haphazardly. Of everything he’d imagined Penelope to be hiding in the last few minutes- a secret lover or a gambling debt or an anonymous pen pal, he had never even considered this. And this was far worse than anything he'd thought of. And, painfully, he realized just how obvious it was. 

Stumbling out of the pew, Colin clenched and unclenched his fist a few times. He needed to get out of this damned church, and quickly. He needed to talk some sense into her.

The choking sob he heard from Penelope as he stepped outside almost broke his resolve. She was sitting on the front steps of the church, a puddle of mint green and auburn, as her face looked down at the ground. There was a large part of Colin that fiercely wanted to wrap his arms around her, to make sure that she would be all right. But the rest of him was still too angry- too surprised- too hurt to bring himself to comfort her.  

“Get up,” was all he could manage, his voice sounding cold and very much like someone he didn’t know. To Penelope’s credit, she stood up without so much as a wobble, despite the streaks of tears across her cheeks. His heart made an awful lurch as he realized that he’d never before seen her cry- and with the knowledge that it had been brought on by him.  

Still, he couldn’t find the strength within himself to console her. All he could manage was to simply tell her to get into his carriage and then instructe his driver to take the long way back to Mayfair.

As the carriage began to move, Colin took slow, even breaths as he watched Penelope. She was keeping her eyes glued onto the spot next to him, appearing almost as angry as he was. After a few long minutes, he held out the paper to her. “I believe this is yours.”

He kept his gaze firmly on her as he watched her read the article she’d written, examining her eyes as they moved across the page. She moved slowly as she folded the paper, taking long enough to make him want to reach over and rip it up in small pieces.

“Did you guess?” She wasn’t looking at him, and the forced smile she gave only made him more irritated.   

Did he guess? Well, obviously not, considering he’d spent weeks accepting that it was Eloise. He’d told Penelope that he thought it was Eloise. He’d told her how dangerous it was and how awful and this whole time-

He had never felt so angry in his life, never been so hurt or humiliated. He’d thought that he’d known Penelope- that the only secrets she had were the ones she shared with him. So much of himself had been revealed to her, but he hardly seemed to know her at all. She was a completely different person than he thought she was. She even went by a bloody different name.

He wondered who the hell the woman in front of him could possibly be as she tried to explain herself, acting as though there was nothing wrong with what she’d been doing. How many times had she ventured so far from Mayfair, to places in London where well-bred ladies were never meant to travel? And no less, on carriages driven by strange men who certainly didn’t have good intentions. She wasn’t stupid, Colin knew that painfully well, but then why had she put herself into such a precarious position?

It was apparent that Penelope’s irritation was growing as their conversation continued, her mouth tightening into a thin line. Colin’s own temper was still thriving, and he stared at her with unbelieving eyes. “Do you have any idea what will happen to you if people find out who you really are?”

If he, someone who – who liked Penelope quite a decent amount felt as if his anger with her might rip him apart, Colin couldn’t imagine how the rest of the ton would react. Particularly the part that she’d insulted on more than one occasion.

“I’ve had over a decade to ruminate the possibility.” Penelope was digging her nails into the palms of her hands to stop herself from yelling. He wasn’t her father or her brother or- anyone, really who needed to be so concerned. And he had no right to be so angry with her. She was the one who deserved to be angry; he’d ripped open her sealed envelope and read it. And now he was lecturing her about something she knew much more intimately than he.

“Are you being sarcastic?” The warning tone in his voice made her want to roll her eyes.

“Not at all,” Penelope snapped. “Do you really think I haven’t spent a good portion of the last ten years of my life contemplating what would happen if I were found out? I’d be a blind idiot if I hadn’t.” And he seemed to think that she was.

Colin grabbed her firmly by the shoulders, forcing their eyes on each other. She felt the heat from him through her sleeves, scowling back at him.  

“People will stop talking to you. They will cut you dead-“

“People never talked to me,” she snapped, sitting upright to be more eye-level with him. “Half the time they didn’t even know I was there. How do you think I was able to keep up the ruse for so long in the first place? I was invisible, Colin. No one saw me, no one talked to me. I just stood and listened, and no one noticed.” She could feel her blood boil as Colin looked at her as if stricken.

“That’s not true,” he tried to disagree, but the attempt was all the more weakened by his inability to hold eye contact. Penelope almost laughed.  

“Oh, it is true, and you know it. You only deny it,” Penelope’s finger jabbed him in the arm and Colin raised his eyes to look at her again. “Because you feel guilty.”

He felt himself swallow. He hated that word. “I do not,” his voice raised without his intention.

Penelope scoffed, trying to shrug off the hands that were still on her shoulders. “Everything you do, you do out of guilt.”

His mind flashed back to their kiss- to what he’d tried to do after the kiss. “Pen-“

“That involves me, at least,” Penelope bit out before he had a chance, and his arms dropped from her and crossed around themselves.

He almost groaned out of frustration. He hadn’t done anything out of guilt- not for many years at least. And yet, she still didn’t believe it. She still couldn’t see it.

But neither of them could seem to understand the other, arguing back-and-forth until it was clear that they’d reached a stalemate. Colin couldn’t understand how Penelope would ever be willing to put herself into such danger, and Penelope couldn’t understand why Colin didn’t see that he was tearing down all of the work she’d put in for over a third of her life.  

Their dispute had reached back to the topic of Cressida- and why Penelope refused to take such a perfect opportunity to relieve herself of the blame (or glory, depending on which of the pair was asked). But why, Penelope asked, could Cressida be Lady Whistledown without the fear of being cast out of society, while Penelope had no hope?

“That’s because no one believed her,” Colin snapped. But then the next words that tumbled out of his mouth did so accidentally. “And besides, she’s…” He stopped himself, swallowing. He should have kept his damn mouth shut, but the look on Penelope’s face made him painfully aware that she knew what he’d meant to say. “… different.”

Penelope felt a crack in her heart. She took a moment before slowly turning to look at him. “Different how?”

Of course, she knew what he’d meant. Cressida was popular, and beautiful, and self-assured, even if she did use all her power to be mean and vicious and cruel. Meanwhile, Penelope was… Penelope. She was awkward and unattractive, and every other unpleasant descriptive she’d used on herself over her lifetime. She wasn’t a Twombley, or a Danbury, or a Bridgerton. She was just Penelope Featherington, and it seemed that that was all she would ever be.

“I see,” she finally said into the silence. She could see Colin gaping at her out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

“No, you don’t. I-“ the words came quickly from his mouth, but Penelope was quicker.

“No, Colin. I do. I suppose I’d just,” she let out a breath, “always hoped you were different.”

She glanced at him and suddenly, his hands were back on her shoulders, forcing her to keep looking at him. There was a glint in his eyes that she didn’t recognize, an intensity that allowed her to read his questions. “I thought you believed in me,” she whispered, remembering all the moments when Colin had been the one to encourage her, to listen to her, to make her feel important. “That you saw beyond the ugly duckling.”  

Colin stared at her face, his heart twisting at her words.

He didn’t know who the woman in front of him was- the one who had a secret life that he could have never imagined. She’d done things he couldn’t even comprehend, risked more than just her reputation. And she’d hidden it all from him. And yet…

He knew her face. He knew the golden flecks in her brown eyes and the light sprinkle of freckles over her nose and the soft curls of hair that lied against her cheek. He knew how her eyes widened and how her mouth pursed. Without even noticing it, he'd learned every part of that face. 

His eyes flickered to her lips, catching sight as the tip of her tongue came out to lick them. Another one of her fidgeting habits. His gut wrenched.

She was the girl who had always been in the background, the one who people somehow always seemed to miss. She was kind and funny and clever- far more than anyone else of the ton.

And, he realized, she was absolutely beautiful.

She was Penelope- Pen. His Pen. Or, at the very least, he desperately wanted her to be his.

He needed her to be his.

“You’re not ugly,” he whispered, his voice suddenly filled with urgency. Penelope stared at him, eyes widening in the way that he adored so much. “You’re beautiful.”

Penelope felt as though her heart was shattering within itself. “No. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” She could barely breathe, shutting her eyes tightly. She couldn’t look at him if he kept lying to her.

But his fingers dug into her shoulders, forcing her to open her eyes again. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated, sounding more sure than she’d ever heard him before. He was looking at her so directly that she couldn’t even try to tear her gaze away. There was something in his face, whether it was the ferocious gleam in his eye, or the tiny smile imprinted onto his lips, that made Penelope want to believe him.  

“I don’t know how… I don’t know when…” Penelope couldn’t speak as his fingers moved down to gently touch her lips. She almost gasped when she met his face again. His green eyes had darkened, somehow intensified in a way she’d only seen them do once before. Her heart flipped in its chest as Penelope glanced down to his lips. Suddenly, she realized that she desperately wanted to meet them with her own. “But you are.” He was now so close to her that she could feel his hot breath while her own breathing was nonexistent. They’d only ever been so close once before.

And then, as if he could read her deepest desires (or, perhaps, even shared them with her), Colin closed the gap between them. Their lips met tenderly, bearing all the cautiousness they’d held over many years. Penelope felt herself relax, letting out the sigh she’d been holding in herself.

It was soft and loving and careful, and Colin pulled himself away after a few moments, eyes searching her face. “What is it?” Penelope heard herself whisper, not quite aware of it. Unlike after their first kiss, she somehow knew that there would be a second now. She wasn’t worried that he’d done it out of pity or guilt or anything other than the fact that he’d simply wanted to.

“You are beautiful,” Colin repeated, shaking his head as if in awe of her. Penelope felt her heart flutter. “I don’t know why nobody else sees it.”

Penelope opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to say that she didn’t care if no one else saw it. All she cared about was that Colin saw it, and that she believed him when he said it. She felt beautiful, she felt it with her whole chest as Colin Bridgerton looked at her as if she were the sun in the sky.

But she couldn’t speak; she was breathless, and Colin didn’t seem to mind. He simply gave her another long look before leaning down to kiss her again. This one was greedier than the first, containing a hunger Penelope had never experienced. She felt it within herself as well- heat seeping from her bones as his lips moved against hers.

Colin wanted her with such a ferocity that he could barely even comprehend what he was doing. He’d been with women in the past- but he’d never simply needed someone quite so much. He couldn’t believe that he’d wasted twelve years of his life not kissing this woman. But he knew that he would not waste even one moment more.  

He wasn’t even quite sure how they’d ended up horizontal on the carriage bench, him carefully balancing her. All his mind could focus on were Penelope’s lips, and her squirming body beneath him, and the mint green dress with buttons that were done up far too high for his liking. And then her hand moved up to run itself through his hair, and Colin felt his entire body shiver.

And then she giggled, and it very well might have been the sweetest sound Colin had ever heard. He couldn’t help the grin as he pulled away a few inches. “I beg your pardon?”

Penelope blushed a deep shade of pink, causing her to somehow look even more beautiful than she already did. She was simply glowing as she shook her head, fighting off her own smile as she bit her lips.

“Oh, no, you must. I couldn’t possibly continue without knowing the reason for the giggle.” He didn’t really care very much, but he was quite enjoying the way Penelope looked as he continued asking. His lips teasingly moved from her ears to her neck to the collarbone he’d spent so many years admiring. How had he not realized how much of a goddess this woman was? She could have passed for Aphrodite herself if she so wished.

His hands moved to their own desires, though careful to move slowly and to remain higher up. They itched to move farther down her warm body, to reach every curve and crease he knew was there, but this was more than enough for now. And as she moaned and gasped out his name, Colin concluded that that was the true sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

And much to his delight, her hands moved as well, hesitantly but somehow still with a fervor that mirrored his own. Her fingers were soft as they grazed across the bare skin of his back as his shirt became untucked, and Colin felt them leave a burning trail in their wake. Just as their first kiss had been, everything with Penelope felt new to him as well. Every other encounter he’d ever had seemed like a poor man’s practice in comparison.

And then, encompassing him in such a dread that he felt like his heart might squeeze from his chest, he realized that they were no longer moving. “Oh, God,” he groaned, lifting his head to peek out the window. The familiar streets of Mayfair looked back at him. Fu-

“What is it?” Penelope’s voice was magnificently breathy as she tried to lift her own head.

He grimaced down at her. “We’ve stopped.”

It took Penelope a moment to understand what that entailed, but once she did, her eyes broadened, and she practically threw his body off hers. “Oh, God!” Frantically (and rather unsuccessfully), she began yanking up the bodice of her gown. “Can’t we just ask the driver to keep going?”

He almost grinned at her shamelessness, quite pleased to see that at least she shared his sentiments. Although he would have loved to move forward with her idea, he was now achingly aware that Penelope deserved better than to continue having her virtue be taken out of the back of a carriage (although it was a very nice carriage indeed). Waving away her hands, he pulled up her bodice in one swift motion. She sighed slightly, but it was one of acceptance.

As he took in Penelope’s rather disheveled state, with her swollen lips and lopsided hairstyle, Colin felt even more resolute about what he was about to do next. He wouldn’t even mind facing Portia Featherington if it meant that he got to make this woman so disheveled for the rest of his life. He took a deep, serious breath. “Very well, then. Make yourself presentable.”

She looked at him, eyebrows scrunching together in a rather adorable way. “I can race to my room. No one will see me,” she reassured.

He began tucking in his shirt briskly, “I doubt that.”

“No, I assure you-“

“And I assure you, you will be seen,” Colin doubled down, attempting to smooth down his hair as Penelope put a few loose curls of her own back in place. “Do I look presentable?”

“Yes,” Penelope’s answer came far too quickly to be honest. But, he supposed, he would have done the same had she asked. That was a part of marriage anyway, wasn’t it? Lying to make the other feel better sometimes?

“Good,” he flashed her an easy grin before hopping down from the carriage. Turning towards her, he stuck out a hand. 

Penelope blinked down at him for a few moments, eyes moving between his face and his outstretched hand, but she didn't take it. “You’re coming in as well?”

He squinted at her, partly due to the morning sun in his eyes and partly due to her absurd question. “Of course.”

Penelope didn’t speak, nor move, for a few very long seconds, and all Colin could do was stare up at her. He could tell that something was going on in her mind- something he didn’t quite understand. Was she really so intent that he bring flowers and try to woo her mother first? He didn’t mind the idea- well, the first half of the idea- but it was only a matter of time before someone spotted him out here and rumors began flying. Even without Lady Whistledown, the ton was still bloody nosy.

And then a strange worry flared in his mind. Did she not want to marry him? 

Surely, Penelope wanted to marry him.

They’d been through so much together, shared so much between them, surely-

She was still just staring at him, and so, with a huff, Colin realized that she would not be stepping down on her own. “For God’s sake, Penelope,” he grabbed her hand and pulled. “Are you going to marry me or not?”

Chapter Text

Are you-

Marry- marry? 

Penelope.

Marry? Marry- marry. 

… What? 

She was still gaping at Colin, one foot precariously hanging from the carriage, when the tug on her hand came. And though the pull itself hadn't been especially forceful, it had a much more resounding effect when taking into account that Penelope could hardly keep her knees from buckling. Due to this unfortunate circumstance, one moment she was staring at sparkling emerald eyes, and the next she was met with the pavement as her cheek collided with his boot (luckily, it did not seem to be steel-toed). 

Pain erupted from the pit of her stomach as she fought for breath, an ache resonating from the hip that had slammed against the curb. Vaguely, she could hear Colin yell something as his foot carefully detached from her face. She squinted and saw him just above her as he gingerly cupped her cheek. Brushing a feather-light thumb over what Penelope was sure to be the imprint of his boot, Colin cringed slightly. "Are you all right?"

All right? Has he forgotten what he said moments ago? “It’s nothing, really,” she croaked out, her own hand reaching to touch her cheek. Thick eyebrows crinkled together as he looked down at her, the corners of his mouth pinched in concern. But the pain was receding quickly, and all Penelope could think about was what had happened before she fell. “Just a bit surprised, that is all,” she tried to make her tone pointed, but Colin didn’t seem to notice. 

“Why?” he absentmindedly mumbled, still far too concerned with inspecting her face. 

“Why?”

The edge in Penelope’s voice finally drew Colin’s attention back, and he tilted his head slightly. “Yes, why?” He was looking at her as if she were mad- when in reality, it was very much the other way around. She blinked for a few moments, her mind practically screaming at him. 

“Er, well,” she started, feeling her senses fully returning. She glanced at the streets, now incredibly aware that she was lying on the pavement in front of her house while Colin Bridgerton crouched mere inches above her, far closer than propriety would have ever allowed. Her face twisted uncomfortably as she turned to look at him, taking a long pause before speaking. “It might have to do with your mentioning marriage.”

Colin’s lips formed as a frown as he took her arm and helped her to her feet. After he was assured that she could stand properly, his hands moved onto his hips. “Well, what did you think I would say?” 

Why does she keep blinking like that? Colin might have been more concerned that she was concussed if not for the fact that the bewildered stare she was giving him was the same one she’d been wearing since before her fall out of the carriage. She looked as though she were in a trance, trying to work something out in that odd brain of hers. 

And the longer she stared at him, the more confused and frustrated he felt. Surely, she didn’t think that he would practically ruin her in the back of a carriage and not have the decency to intend on a marriage? Surely, he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Even two years ago, when he’d come to her with the intention of asking for her hand. She hadn’t even allowed the words to exit his mouth then, but now she was acting as though she simply hadn't heard the words at all.

“Not that,” Penelope answered after an excruciatingly long pause. Colin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as her eyes shifted over his face. He'd finally found a woman with whom he wanted to spend his life- with whom he wanted to settle down and have a family. They'd already had years of hardship. Surely, this wasn’t meant to be difficult as well?

It was his turn to blink down at her, trying to understand why she seemed so bloody confused. Hadn’t he said that he wanted to marry her in the carriage- before their escapades had even begun? Hadn’t he told her that he couldn’t waste another moment without her being his? And hadn’t she agreed when she’d kissed him back? It was all starting to grow fuzzy in his mind. He couldn’t remember what they’d even been discussing before.

When it was clear Penelope didn’t have anything more to say, Colin took matters into his own hands. “Don’t you have a reply?”

Penelope had gone back to gaping at him, rather resembling a fish choking on oxygen. He returned her staring with the same amount of confusion. Only it was quite obvious that they were confused about very different things. 

Colin huffed slightly, casting a longing sideways glance at her front door. “Penelope, take my arm before it starts to rain.” 

She looked up at the sky above them. It was a perfect day with crystal-clear skies and nary a cloud in sight. She gave a dubious sort of expression. 

“At the rate you’re going,” she could practically hear the roll of Colin’s eyes, “we’ll be here for days.” There was a hint of irritation in his tone that flared annoyance in Penelope. How was he possibly acting like any of this was normal? 

“I… well,” Penelope didn’t even know what she was meant to say. She was still so completely unaware of what was happening; it felt as if she were in the midst of a dream. And then she cleared her throat, forcing her voice to take on a stronger edge. “Surely you can forgive me my lack of composure in the face of such tremendous surprise.”

Colin’s frown remained as he looked at her with impatience, but there was a flash of something else as well. Hurt, Penelope realized. She’d seen it on him before. But that seemed to disappear quickly as his hand reached for hers. “Let’s just get going.” Rather abruptly, he turned on his heel and began pulling her towards the front steps. 

But this time, Penelope yanked back and out of his grasp. “Colin,” there was a sharpness in her voice that she hadn’t expected. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but-” she waved her hands out of frustration as he turned to look at her. “Oh!” Her fingertips moved to her temples as Penelope dashed away towards the side of the house. 

The image seemed imprinted into her mind. Colin’s back to her, three Bridgerton brothers simultaneously turning to look at her, a beet-red face with stunning green eyes stammering out apologies. 

I am certainly not going to marry-

Penelope let out a small groan of frustration and shook her head.

As he watched the back of Penelope’s skirts whip away from him, Colin thought he felt his heart drop to his stomach, or perhaps to his feet, or maybe even to the deepest pits of Hell itself. But it took only a few moments of shock for him to regain his composure and shoot after her. 

He followed her through the side gate and into the small garden, a place he had never set foot in before. For a second, he wished that his first time here could have been under different circumstances, ones where he could have simply appreciated just how pretty Penelope looked surrounded by blooming flowers. Instead, his eyes focused on her departing figure, which was moving at a much quicker pace than he could have thought possible. 

But Colin was still taller, and it only took a few wide strides until he neared her. Taking a silent deep breath, he reached for her hand again. “Penelope, stop.”

She didn’t yank her hand away this time, but she also didn’t turn to face him. Penelope couldn’t seem to bring herself to look at him, at whatever expression accompanied the affliction in his voice. 

It was odd- here was Colin, the man she’d yearned for since she was fifteen, holding onto her and practically demanding that she marry him. And yet... And yet it still felt like her heart was breaking all over again. A part of her, one that was louder than it should have been, was still screaming out that this wasn’t right. That Colin was wrong and that his intentions were wrong. She didn’t want to believe it, but the ugly duckling was still there, even if for a moment he’d made her think that she was beautiful. 

I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington.

“You don’t really want it,” she murmured, not even sure if Colin could hear her. 

Though it seemed he did, because she thought she heard a sigh pass from his lips. Still holding onto her hand, Colin slowly moved to face her directly. “Penelope,” the expression he held was unreadable, but she somehow knew that hers showed every emotion she had. “I said something terrible many years ago, and I-”

She put her other hand up to stop him, “Colin, don’t. We’ve talked about this.”

He let out a frustrated breath and grabbed her other hand, pulling it down. Penelope looked surprised for a moment but made no attempts to move, and Colin held both of her hands firmly in his own. “No, Pen. Please, let me finish. I’ve wanted to say this for a very long time, so please just finally allow me.” She opened her mouth to speak, but his earnest eyes staring deep into hers made her swallow away any reply. 

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at her again. “As I was saying, many years ago I said something that I have regretted ever since,” he paused, as if giving her another chance to interrupt him, but Penelope kept her mouth tightly shut. “I always thought that I regretted it because it was a cruel, awful thing to say- which it certainly was. It was easily the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I deeply apologize for it.” He felt her fingers twitch slightly in his hands but focused all of his attention on her face. Her lips were downturned, her eyebrows were furrowed together, and her eyes... Her deep brown eyes were looking back at him with an intensity that he didn’t recognize. There was something flashing in her mind, something that he didn’t quite understand. But he rather thought he liked how it felt, nonetheless. 

“But now…” he continued, speaking slowly to make sure his words came out exactly as he needed them to be. It wasn’t like Colin to think much before he spoke. In fact, he usually found that he could easily charm people into hanging onto any word that came from him. But this was Penelope, and she deserved more than just charm. His mouth had hurt her so many times before, and it was crucial that this wasn’t one of those moments. “I think I now know why I’ve regretted it so deeply. Because not only was the statement cruel, but it was also a lie.”

A soft whisper escaped Penelope’s lips, but not of a coherent reply. She looked dazed, and even Colin was a bit surprised by his own words. But he was certain of their truth as soon as they left his mouth. This is what his heart had been trying to tell him for years. He’d only been too blind to realize it. 

“Penelope, you are the only woman whom I could ever imagine marrying.” He squeezed her fingers lightly, staring directly into her eyes. “I want you; I want to marry you.”

Penelope was breathless, looking up at him with slightly parted lips. Her mind was working so quickly while it attempted to catch up to what her ears were hearing. Her gaze was darting from his lips to their intertwined hands to his hopeful green eyes. She was blinking rapidly, trying to recover her voice. Never in her wildest imaginations could she have ever thought this possible. It simply couldn’t be real. 

“Colin-” she breathed out, her mind spinning. She felt as though she might faint. And in the smallest voice that had ever uttered from her lips, she whispered, “Don’t. Please don’t say things you don’t mean.” She didn’t want to pull away again- repeat the same words she’d said so many times before. But she couldn’t stop herself. She simply couldn’t bring herself to believe that this was really happening. 

After a few long moments, she pulled away, and Colin appeared too stunned to keep his hold on her. They stared at each other, and Penelope’s face was filled with so much anguish that it physically pained him. She looked paler than normal, making the pink glow of her lips and the gold brightness of her eyes all the more prominent. She was so beautiful, so damn perfect in every way. And it had taken him far too long to admit it to himself. 

And then tears welled up in those mystical eyes of hers, causing the ever-growing ache in Colin’s heart (and it had been his heart all of these years) to swell. He had caused her so much pain over the years. And his heart almost broke when he realized that she was still in pain. That she still didn’t believe him. 

Colin snapped back into consciousness when he realized that she was inching away from him. He had let her go so many times before, but he couldn’t allow it to happen even one more time. 

“No,” his voice was stronger than he felt as he grasped her forearm. She licked her lips unconsciously, her eyes darting between his face and his hand. 

“Penelope, I do mean it. Every word. I’ve been blinded for a long time- years, in fact. I wanted to do this years ago, and I should have followed through then. But I won’t make that mistake again… Marry me, Penelope.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she continued to look up at him. For a moment, Colin wanted to say more, to do more. He wasn’t sure what else there was, but his mouth wanted to keep moving. And his body wanted him to cup her cheek and wipe away the tears that were still in her eyes. He wanted to pull her against his body and hold her. 

But there was a small change in her features as Penelope finally spoke, “I-”

Unfortunately, Colin wouldn’t get to hear what she’d wanted to say to him. Penelope’s voice cut into silence as she was interrupted by a loud throat clearing behind him. 

Penelope, who had been staring at Colin rather misty-eyed, tore her gaze away from him to look at their intruder. And after presumably seeing who the owner of the throat was, she sucked in a breath and immediately took a large step back. The lurch in her throat made her look absolutely guilty. 

“Briarly,” she almost whispered, before clearing her own throat. “Erm, is everything all right?” 

Colin twisted to see the Featherington butler, who appeared a bit surprised to see them. Briarly cast him a very subtle odd look before turning back to Penelope. “Mrs. Featherington was wondering where you might be, and I saw Mister Bridgerton’s carriage.” 

Colin turned back to Penelope, who suddenly looked almost as though she might be sick. “Your mother recognizes my carriage?” he whispered.

Her eyes moved to glance at one of the windows looking down at them. “No,” she whispered back, “But he does.” She turned to the butler again and attempted a smile. “I’ll be right in, thank you.”

“Er-” Colin looked between Briarly and Penelope. “Wait,” he directed at the butler. He then turned back to Penelope. “What is your answer?” 

She blinked at him in surprise, though she didn’t forget what he’d said for even a moment. “I- Are you sure-”

Colin let out a loud sigh that was both impatient and humored, “Yes. Ardently so, desperately so- whatever they bloody say in romance novels.”

He grinned at her despite the situation they were in, a genuine lopsided one that would have melted her heart years ago. Hell, it still melted her heart now. 

Penelope had once decided that she would never marry without love. She hadn’t allowed herself a perfectly good marriage because she had made the choice that she wanted all or nothing. And here Colin was, and there was no longer any doubt about what he was asking her. 

In all honesty, she wasn’t even certain whether she loved him. She had seen so many sides of Colin- the unflattering ones, the ones that could be wicked and whiny. He had hurt her on more than one occasion. But, she supposed, she’d done so to him as well. 

She was drawn to him, despite all the parts of him that were disagreeable. He made her feel like no one else did, gave her the confidence she needed to truly be herself. He made her feel beautiful. He made her feel seen even when she was invisible. 

So, even if she wasn’t quite ready to say the words aloud, she knew that this was the closest to love that she’d ever felt. Much more than all of the years she’d claimed she loved him. This was real, with flaws and beauty and perfect imperfection. 

And something, whether it was his twinkling eyes, or his lopsided grin, or the way he’d spoken with a firm, assured voice, told her that Colin felt the same way. And that was more than she could have ever imagined. 

Finally, Penelope let the corners of her lips rise and gave him a tiny nod. 

Chapter Text

Colin didn’t hesitate after he saw Penelope's tiny nod. In fact, she barely had time to fully form her smile before he grabbed her arm and began marching them both towards the butler. “Is Mrs. Featherington home?” He flashed the older man a beaming grin, already quite aware of the answer. 

Briarly blinked twice in surprise before responding, “Yes, but-”

“Excellent.” It didn’t matter whatever the butler’s objections were; there was simply no time left to waste. “Where is she?” 

Penelope spared a look at Briarly, who was doing his best to regain his normally stoic demeanor. She could certainly understand his shock, considering she was still in one of her own. “In the drawing room, but I should tell you-”

But Colin seemed fairly intent on not letting anyone delay him further and was already striding down the hall before Briarly could even manage the end of his sentence. And with a firm hand still clutching her forearm, Penelope was being dragged along, trying not to trip as she had to double her steps to match his long gait. 

“Mister Bridgerton!” Briarly literally yelled out. Penelope’s head whipped around to look at the older gentleman. Their family butler was usually the picture of poise, and she was quite sure that she had never heard his voice grow above conversational. 

There was a spark of worry in his eyes as he directed a small shake of the head at her. 

Penelope opened her mouth to ask him, but her question went unspoken as realization hit her. Why she’d been able to sneak off earlier that morning without a problem. Why her mother had been expecting her.

It was Tuesday. And Tuesday meant- 

With a small gasp, Penelope ground her heels into the floor. But she didn't stop- Colin was still pulling her, either not noticing her suspension or refusing to care. Dear God. She certainly believed that he really wanted to marry her now, but could he do so a little less fervently? 

“Colin, Colin!” She was actually sliding across the floor as he continued plowing forward. “I really think- Aaack!” 

And in perhaps the second least-graceful moment of Penelope’s day, her heels caught onto the edge of the hall runner, and she toppled into him. 

Somehow, Colin was more prepared for this fall, reacting with nary so much as even a blink as he caught her and placed her rather unceremoniously back onto her feet. “What is it?” he asked briskly. The businesslike manner he’d taken on might have been humorous to Penelope had she not been aware of what terror awaited them just beyond the door leading into the drawing room. It had been left slightly ajar, but perhaps they might still manage to escape... 

“Penelope,” Colin’s looked down at her, squeezing the nook of her elbow. His lips were tightened into an impatient line. 

“Er...” She was still looking around the hall, desperately trying to find a way out. Maybe she would be able to convince Colin to sneak into a coat closet with her, decorum be damned. They were already planning on marriage, and it might distract him just long enough to-

“Penelope,” Colin repeated firmly, now having planted his hands on his hips and quite literally tapping his foot against the ground. “What the devil is the matter?” 

His tapping foot matched the quickening rate of his heartbeat as Penelope turned back to look at the butler for some help, who simply shrugged his shoulders. Returning to face Colin, he saw the teeth chewing on her bottom lip. “This really might not be the best time to speak to my mother.”

Colin's chest seemed to be growing tighter, causing worries he wasn't even aware he had to build in his mind. Why didn’t she want him to see her mother? Mrs. Featherington wouldn’t forbid their marriage, right? Surely, Colin Bridgerton was an excellent match for her daughter?

But Penelope’s expression didn’t give way to any comfort. She looked incredibly nervous, her eyes darting between him and the door leading into the drawing room. She’d said yes in the gardens, but had she not actually meant it? Colin swallowed harshly, “You’re not planning to refuse me, are you?” 

Her lovely brown eyes widened as she forced herself to maintain her gaze on him. “No, of course not,” she said quickly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. 

With a quick pat on her hand, he grinned, already turning back towards the drawing room. “Then this is an excellent time.” 

“But it’s-”

“What?” He let out an irritated sigh, twisting to look at her. Really- how hard was it meant to be to ask for a lady’s hand? Penelope grimaced in response but stayed silent. And if she didn’t have a reasonable excuse, Colin simply didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t letting her go this time, not when he was so close. Anything Penelope seemed to be worried about simply couldn’t be more important than what he needed to do. 

“Let’s go,” he said, quickly striding over and opening the door fully before Penelope could do anything but scurry after him. 

Oh, God. Oh, dear God. Why did it have to be Tuesday? 

Penelope begrudgingly slunk in behind Colin to see her mother, three sisters, two brothers-in-law, and the family cat all staring up at the unexpected guest. Stealing a glance at her future fiancé (though Penelope still couldn’t bring herself to believe that any of this was truly happening), she caught the horror that flashed across his face as he took in his audience. That caused a flare of worry in her own body. If there was anything that would convince Colin of why he shouldn’t marry Penelope, it was the dreaded weekly Featherington family meeting. 

But to her somewhat surprise (for, at the end of the day, he was still Colin Bridgerton), Colin’s horror was almost instantly replaced by a shining smile. That same charming, effervescent grin that had filled Penelope’s mind for so many years. And her entire family returned the sentiment- except for Felicity, whose beaming smile was cast directly at her sister. And Penelope would have smiled back if it wasn’t for the fact that she still felt like she might be ill. It didn’t matter how well Colin or her relatives put on appearances- this was going to be a disaster, she was sure of it. 

Barely two minutes later, Penelope had been proven to be quite intuitive. Robert, Prudence’s incredibly emphatic husband, had already practically erupted Colin’s eardrum while Nigel, Philipa’s fairly absent-minded husband, had given him such an earth-cracking slap on the back that he might have dislocated Colin's shoulder. Penelope felt as though she might have died right then and there, had it not for the fact that her intended was somehow still standing there in her drawing room, enduring her family with an impressive smile that she rather thought only appeared forced to her. 

Any warmth, however, almost instantly turned into a chill when Portia seemed to finally be reminded that her third daughter was present. “Terribly sorry, Penelope. Didn’t see you.” The young woman felt her gut wrench as her mother looked at her distractedly, completely oblivious to the fact that Colin had offered Penelope his arm to join him in sitting down. “Won’t you please go and ask Cook to increase our order? We’ll surely need more food with Mister Bridgerton here.”

Penelope felt her smile drop a bit further. Right. This was who she was, who she would always be. It didn’t matter whether she was a Featherington or a Bridgerton or even a Whistledown- she would always just be Penelope, even to those whom she held close. She partially registered Colin's elbow tightening as she tried to remove her hand, but didn't meet his eye. “Of course,” she answered her mother quietly, prying herself from Colin’s hold.  

But the firm hand wrapped around her forearm startled her, as did the uncharacteristic volume of Colin's voice. “Can’t she ring for it?” 

Portia, who had been trying to wordlessly convey something to Felicity, didn’t seem to notice the abrupt change in his tone nor the way he was holding onto her daughter. “What? Well, I suppose she could, but it would take longer, and Penelope doesn’t mind, do you?” Her mother cast a rather pointed look at her. One that easily translated into Hurry up, please. 

Swallowing, she shook her head. Would this torture never end?  But before she could move, Colin’s icily ground out, “I mind.” The hand on her arm twitched and Penelope took a careful glance at him. She could already see his cracking exterior, showing hints of the temper that had begun seeping through. Her mother was going to ruin this, there was no doubt.

Portia looked at the gentleman with a bit of confusion but had no choice but to offer Penelope a seat after his directness. And although there was some disagreement about where she should sit (her mother had suggested a seat about ten feet away from the inner circle, and Felicity had been practically admonished for offering up her own), Penelope had ended up on the other side of Colin, who was lodged between her and her mother. Rather painfully, it did not go by unnoticed to Penelope that Colin had to physically pull her into his side for her mother to finally concede to allowing her to sit with them.

She could practically feel Colin’s anger oozing from his skin and through the fabric of her dress, her side pressed firmly against his on the crowded little sofa. There were frustrated lines etched into his forehead as he continued to try and appear pleasant, and Penelope felt an intense urge to reach up and smooth them out. She’d witnessed his temper in the past (just that morning, for one), but it somehow seemed even more fragile now than it had been then.

“Philipa, perhaps you should fetch the food, since Penelope has forgotten to ring for it,” her mother’s prodding voice reached her ears.

And even though Penelope wasn't sure exactly when she would have had the chance to ring for the food, she heard herself immediately apologize before hurrying to rise from her seat. 

Except that a familiar hand again found hers before she had even taken a step. And none-too-gently, Colin yanked her back down onto the sofa, somehow pulling her even closer into his side than she’d already been. “Don’t worry,” he directed a tight smile towards her. “Your mother said Prudence could go.”

“Philipa,” Penelope blurted out automatically. Though she was certainly not pleased with how her family was acting, she couldn’t stand the idea of Colin hating them or vice-versa. Despite their (many) flaws, her family was still hers. And she would never be able to marry in good faith if her groom couldn’t stand the sight of them.

His eyebrows crinkled together as he blinked at her. “What about Philipa?”

Penelope wasn’t quite sure what was making her keep going, but she rather thought that this was a good way to redirect his anger slightly. “She said Philipa could go, not Prudence,” she answered with a small shrug. 

He looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Does it matter?”

“No, not really, but-”

Apparently, Penelope's mother was not quite so interested in their odd little spat. Loudly, she interrupted them by turning to Felicity, who had been watching the entire exchange with rapt interest. And, almost eliciting a groan from Penelope, her mother began boasting about Felicity's watercolors. 

To his credit, Colin retained a rather polite façade as he inquired about her painting, but the confusion on his face was glaringly evident to Penelope. Though the entire Featherington clan was extremely aware of what was going on in the matron’s head, the poor Bridgerton gentleman seemed to have no idea.

And despite the fact that her mother’s attempts twisted Penelope’s heart, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of joy in Colin’s reaction. The continued shifting of his side against hers only served as a reminder why he was truly there, and it was only for her. 

She also thanked the Lord for gracing her with an angel of a little sister. Somehow, Felicity had managed to get Philipa and Nigel to finally leave the room to fetch the food, and the departure seemed to put Colin a bit less on edge. 

Unfortunately, the effect was mostly ruined when Prudence suddenly cut in. “I think I shall go out to the garden,” she announced, taking her husband’s hand. “Penelope, why don’t you come with me?”

Penelope opened her mouth, considering what she might possibly say. She couldn’t accept the offer for obvious reasons. But she also had no idea how to refuse. She was Penelope, and she rarely (if ever) refused a request from her family. She could feel every pair of eyes watching her, awaiting the reply that they each thought was the easy one for her to make. It was eerily similar to how everyone had watched her at the ball the evening prior. 

Colin tensed next to her and she caught a glimpse of his striking green eyes looking at her. He’d already come to her aid twice (or even thrice?) against her mother, and she had no doubt that he would do it again if she accepted Prudence’s offer. But she didn’t want him to have to come and rescue her this time.

The same feeling she’d had at the ball seemed to wash over her, the same reassurance that Colin had somehow silently given her. She was supposed to be there; the man sitting next to her was there only with the intention of asking for her hand. She was Penelope Featherington, for goodness’s sake, and she was more than just what people saw her as.

She lifted her chin slightly. “I don’t think so, Prudence.”

And despite her confidence, neither Penelope’s older sister nor mother took to her answer kindly, but she wasn’t going to back down, not today. This was her day, her engagement, and she was going to make herself known.

She was still, however, extremely thankful that one other person seemed to understand the full extent of the situation. Felicity, her now undoubtedly favorite family member, interfered again, taking on the brunt of their mother’s irritation. To distract from Penelope’s disobedience, her younger sister had begun insisting on leaving the room to go and fetch her watercolors. Regrettably, Portia was still very much unaware of the true situation and refused to stop arguing with her.

“For God’s sake,” Colin’s voice finally rang out, causing Penelope to suck in a quiet gasp. She’d heard him curse before, but she was quite sure that he’d never done so in such public company. “Let Felicity go. I need a private moment with you, anyway.”

Despite the inappropriateness of Colin’s tone, Penelope couldn’t help the tugging of her lips. Carefully, she covered the smile with a hand. She didn’t want Colin to hate her mother, of course, but she couldn’t help feeling the care he had for her behind his irritation. Discretely, she grazed his forearm, hoping to give her some of the same reassurance he always managed to give her.

Prudence and Robert finally left the room after a pointed look from Mrs. Featherington, who appeared to be getting more and more excited as the conversation continued.

“Penelope,” her mother said rather dismissively, “perhaps you should accompany Felicity.”

She didn’t even have a chance to open her mouth before Colin spoke. “Penelope will remain,” his voice ground out harshly. The two remaining sisters shared a look that was both nervous and slightly amused. 

Felicity was wearing an incredibly genuine smile as she looked at Penelope, nodding slightly in approval. But it dropped when they both looked back at Colin, who was giving their mother an absolutely piercing glare. With a slight shiver, Penelope prayed that she would never be on the receiving end of such a look.

But, yet again, Penelope was reminded of just how lucky she was to have such a lovely little sister. Upon seeing the tension, the youngest Featherington suddenly squealed, “I’m gone!” And before their mother could even react, Felicity shot out of the room, giving Penelope a little wink before shutting the door firmly behind her.  

There was a beat of silence as the trio turned back to each other. Penelope examined the weak, confused smile on her mother’s face. Portia’s eyes were darting between her and Colin, and for a moment, Penelope thought that realization had finally hit her. Really, Colin couldn’t have made it any clearer now than if he had literally gotten down on one knee (although, even then, her mother might have thought that he was attempting to fix his shoe).

Finally, her mother spoke. “You desired a word?” 

“Yes,” Colin’s voice sounded a bit more chipper than it had moments before and Penelope almost couldn’t believe it. After all of that, he still wanted to marry her. And seemed rather eager about doing so as well. She almost couldn’t comprehend why anyone would willingly choose such relatives. And then his next words made her heart leap and her stomach flutter. “I would be honored if you would grant me your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Penelope beamed at Colin’s profile, feeling the warmth from him flooding into her. Somehow, this all wasn’t just a dream she’d imagined. Colin truly was here sitting in her drawing room, asking for her hand in marriage. 

Her chest continued to fill with adoration as her mother’s expression changed. Portia looked exuberantly, delightfully shocked, as she clapped her hands together. Penelope made a reach to take Colin’s hand.

And then she retracted it as her heart sank down to her stomach, cracking a few times along the way.

“Felicity! Felicity!” Her mother was crying out, running towards the door. “Felicity!”

Colin’s body jerked and Penelope could feel him turn to look at her. But she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him, instead shutting her eyes as she groaned. “Oh, Mother.” She might have cried if it all wasn’t so extremely ridiculous.

Why had she expected anything else?

Her future fiancé (if they ever actually got the chance to become engaged) bolted from his seat, and Penelope felt the cold loss that was left in his wake. “Why are you summoning Felicity?” Oh, Colin. He still didn’t understand how truly ludicrous her mother could be.

Mrs. Featherington turned to look at him, unmistakably perplexed as she turned from her position in the doorway. “Don’t you want to marry Felicity?”

Colin gaped at the deranged (and he truly was beginning to think that she was) woman, absolutely baffled. And then he quite literally almost gagged. Felicity was Hyacinth’s age. He’d met her when she was a child, and he was already in university. What in God’s name was wrong with this woman?

He simply couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “No, for God’s sake. I don’t want to marry Felicity.” He stared at his future mother-in-law (dear God), who was still looking absolutely befuddled. “If I’d wanted to marry Felicity, I’d hardly have sent her upstairs for her bloody watercolors, would I?”  

Well, if he was going to curse, he might as well do it properly. And at this point, he didn’t really give a single damn about what Portia Featherington thought as long as she gave her blessing to marry Penelope. (Although, in all honesty, he didn't really care whether he got her approval or not at that point.) 

“Mr. Bridgerton, I don’t understand,” Mrs. Featherington admitted slowly, wringing her hands in a way that Penelope did. Only when Penelope did it, it was endearing. When her mother did it, it was incredibly irritating.

He felt as though his head might explode. He’d done everything so clearly- arriving with Penelope, insisting on her sitting with him, insisting on her staying in the room while everyone else left. He’d always thought of Portia Featherington as a dimwit, but now she was cruel in addition to moronic. Colin suddenly wished that he had gotten a chance to bring flowers, if only to show this blasted woman exactly how highly he thought of her daughter. He would have brought roses, or no, tulips. Expensive tulips. The freshest he could find imported straight from Holland.

He glanced at his future bride. She still had her eyes shut, and a few of her fingers were digging into her knee. If nothing else, Colin was truly glad that he would be taking Penelope away from this miserable household.

“Penelope,” he practically snarled, taking the hand that had been digging into her knee. Just to further his point, he pulled her up and into his side until they were rather scandalously pressed against each other. If this had been any other situation, Colin would have very much enjoyed the sensation. “I want to marry Penelope.”

The woman in question might have swooned in that very moment- if not for the terrifying look that Colin was giving her mother. Her mother, who just couldn’t seem to grasp the situation despite it being glaringly obvious. “But-”

“But what?” The fury in Colin’s voice was so great that it made Penelope wince. And though she could appreciate that his anger stemmed from a fierce protectiveness of her, it made her feel uneasy. Colin didn’t understand her mother, but Penelope did.

It wasn’t that her mother didn’t love her. In fact, Penelope was sure that she did. But Portia had long since assumed that Penelope would be around forever, and thus be the daughter who would stick with her until the end of her days. And though that idea had struck absolute horror into her, Penelope understood why it had been a great comfort to her mother. Only unfortunately, at some point along the way, Penelope had shifted from daughter to personal servant.

“But- but-” Portia looked almost frightened by Colin’s presence. And it made Penelope’s stomach churn.

She wouldn't be all right if Colin hated her mother, even if the older woman did deserve it. “It’s all right, Colin,” Penelope stepped in, placing a soothing hand on his upper arm. “I-“

He looked down at her with a touch more tenderness than he’d allowed for her mother but with sharpness all the same. “No, it is not all right. I’ve never given any indication I’m the least bit interested in Felicity.”

Yes, I know that. But my mother doesn’t.

Somehow, her younger sister seemed to appear in the open doorway at that exact instance, notably not holding any painting supplies with her. But it only took one glance at Colin for Felicity to clamp a hand over her mouth and turn right around, again shutting the door behind her. But even that distraction wasn't enough. 

“Felicity is an infant. Good God,” Colin spat, clearly having lost his resolve to even try to remain civil. “Marrying her would be like marrying Hyacinth.” The harshness in his voice had returned as he faced her mother again.

And Penelope couldn’t seem to help herself; she just wanted him to calm down a bit. “Er, except for the incest,” she muttered, weakly attempting at a joke. Colin responded with a rather unamused look in her direction. Apparently, humor was not a great way to distract him; she’d have to find another way when they were married. Perhaps- she momentarily glanced down at her chest.

“Right,” she said, looking back up. “It’s just a terrible misunderstanding, isn’t it?”

She looked between her mother and Colin, hoping that one of them cared for her enough to agree. The former was staring directly at the floor, as if in a silent discussion with the carpet. Penelope looked at her future groom instead, swallowing harshly. “Isn’t it?” She bit her lip as she looked at him, wordlessly begging him to go along with it. 

Colin’s face softened a bit, and he gave her a tiny nod that made Penelope’s heart sore yet again. “It certainly is,” he forced out after a moment.

Taking a small breath, Penelope turned back to her mother. “Mama?”

Her mother was still looking down, muttering to herself. “Penelope?” she said absentmindedly.  

It was like a knife running through her chest. In the same way Colin had made her heart leap, Penelope’s mother made it sink. She loved her; Penelope knew that she loved her. So, then why couldn’t she just bring herself to understand? To just look up at her daughter and think yes, yes. Of course, he wants her.  

But Portia’s head did not rise. And Penelope realized that if she wanted to marry Colin, she’d have to put things into her own hands. Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin, mustering up the strongest voice she could. “I would like to marry Mister Bridgerton.” Penelope took a small step forward. “He asked me, and I said yes.”

Penelope’s shoulders dropped when her mother finally met her gaze. “Well, of course you would say yes. You’d have to be an idiot to say no.” The knife plunged itself deeper into her heart as Penelope felt her nose sting- warning her of the tears she was dying to spill.  

She had nothing more to say, nothing more that she could say. Even her own mother would never see it. Penelope let her own head drop.

But then she felt Colin step forward, putting himself between her and her mother. “Mrs. Featherington,” the coldness in his voice was clear as a winter’s day. “I suggest you begin treating my future wife with a bit more respect.”

My future wife. Something about the words halted the tears that Penelope had almost shed. She looked at him and held his arm without thinking. Not only was this man hers- she was his as well. And somehow it felt so entirely right.

“I love Penelope,” her mother’s trembling voice made her head turn. Portia was looking between her daughter and the man asking for her hand, still appearing a bit too bewildered to lift any of the hurt in Penelope's heart. “Of course, but-“

Colin tensed immediately, grabbing hold of Penelope’s hand in a protective sort-of maneuver. “But do you know her?” he asked, shaking their intertwined hands slightly. “She’s lovely and intelligent and has a fine sense of humor. Who wouldn’t want to marry a woman like that?” The tone in his voice practically dared Portia to disagree and seemed to promise the consequences in the event that she actually foolishly did.

Penelope blinked a few times, eyes only for her future husband. And suddenly, there was no question about it. She loved him. There was simply no doubt that she loved this man with her entire heart, with her entire soul. She’d been put onto this planet for him and him alone, and she even dared to believe that it was the same way around as well.

Something more. Lady Danbury had seen it first, somehow in that bizarre mind of hers. And then she’d allowed Penelope to see it too. And now, Penelope realized, that Colin saw it as well. She didn’t know exactly how long he’d seen it, but she was certain that he did.

“Thank you,” she heard herself whisper, squeezing his hand. Colin looked down at her with so much fierceness and affection that Penelope wanted to cry again. And for a moment, one blissful and utterly complete moment, it felt as though they were the only people in the entire world.

Then she heard her mother clear her throat. And before Penelope knew it, Mrs. Featherington had walked the length of the room and wrapped her arms around her third daughter.

Penelope’s hand dropped from Colin’s, but she didn’t quite yet know what to do with it. She wasn’t sure the last time her mother had embraced her like this- whether her mother had ever embraced her like this. It was awkward and uncertain, but little by little, both pairs of arms tightened around the other.  “I do love you, Penelope,” her mother’s voice was soft in her ear and Penelope heard the wobble in it. “And I am very pleased for you.”

They pulled away slowly, and Penelope could see that her mother’s eyes were blurry with tears. And though she wasn’t ready to forgive her mother for everything, the words were enough for now. As she let out her own sniffle, she saw Colin holding out a handkerchief for her, ready for whenever she would need it. She felt her own tears trail down her cheeks as she took it, glancing at the blue fabric. Now, and for the rest of her life, she had someone who would offer her a handkerchief when she needed it. She had someone who cared enough to know when she would need it.

Penelope beamed at him as she heard her mother say, “We are delighted to welcome you to the family.” And much to his credit, Colin nodded almost politely before turning back to face his fiancée. Through her weepy eyes, she smiled at him.

Somehow, this was still real life.

Chapter Text

A few minutes after their proposal had been finalized (and Colin had refused to even discuss the dowry), the newly engaged couple was standing in the Featherington foyer. “Are you certain that I can’t convince you into moving in with me today?” Colin asked again, sounding both joking and a touch serious at the same time. 

Penelope gasped, giving him a scandalized look until her smile gave her away. “You know very well that we can’t.”

He looked down at her before casting a rather distasteful glance towards the hall leading back to the drawing room. “I don’t think I like the idea of you staying here any longer.” He’d never thought that Penelope was poorly treated in her home prior to that afternoon, but his opinion had certainly changed. And although his fiancée seemed fully intent on forgiving her mother, Colin didn’t hold Portia in any high regard.

Penelope tried to wave off his concern but secretly felt the sudden urge to swoon (actually swoon- what was happening to her?). “Oh, Colin,” she lowered her voice, carefully reaching up to meet his jaw with her fingertips, still feeling surprised that she was now at liberty of doing so whenever she desired. He shivered slightly under her touch but held her gaze. "I’ll be fine.”

Instinctively, he leaned into her tough and gave her an indulgent sort-of grin, nodding. "Alright." And then he grinned, "We’ll tell my family at supper tonight.”

Though Colin didn’t notice, Penelope’s body did a slight jerk. Dropping her arm slowly, she tried not to show him the tension she felt. Her voice almost cracked as she repeated back, “Tonight?” She’d already been invited to supper that evening to celebrate Eloise and Francesca’s joint birthday, but the thought of announcing their engagement to the entire Bridgerton family made her feel suddenly lightheaded. With a pang of guilt, the thought of Eloise, in particular, made her rather uneasy. 

But Colin’s smile only grew. He was so incredibly happy- more than he ever would have expected. Happy with how the morning had gone, happy with the match, happy with the engagement. And he was so eager to share the news with his family.

And, perhaps, he also wanted to make sure that he got to tell them before Mrs. Featherington began announcing it herself- and no doubt started taking credit for arranging the entire thing. “It’s perfect. Fran left for Scotland all of a sudden, so she won't be there, and I’m quite sure that this is the best gift I could possibly ever give to Eloise.”

Penelope felt her heart flutter at his words, at the pure joy she felt radiating from him, but even so, her anxiety still grew. There was no way she would be able to convince Colin to wait, she somehow knew that, so she just nodded, giving him a weak smile. "Yes, of course, you're right. But- erm, Colin?" 

“Yes?” He was now swinging her hand in the way that only the most nauseating of couples did (Penelope didn’t mind in the least).

She looked down at their feet for a moment, chewing on the inside of her lip. “Would it be all right if I tell Eloise myself? We’re meant to go shopping later today and I can’t imagine that I’ll be able to hold in the secret.”

The hand that had been swinging hers stopped abruptly and Penelope immediately knew why. Colin’s grin had dropped ever so slightly upon hearing the word ‘secret’. She could almost hear his thoughts, the words, "But you're so good at keeping secrets," screaming in his mind. 

Quickly, Penelope added, “But you can tell everyone else! In fact, why don’t you announce it before I get there?”

He frowned, noticeably stiffer than he’d been moments ago, “I’m not-”

“It’ll be too obvious if I’m already there. Think of the suspense you could put them through.” She flashed him what she hoped was a dazzling smile.

Honestly, Penelope didn’t think that anyone would assume their engagement even if she arrived at supper in a wedding dress and veil, but just as she felt nervous about Eloise's reaction, she was also apprehensive about seeing what the rest of her soon-to-be family would think. She knew that the Bridgertons generally liked her- they'd defended her enough times to be certain of that. But she also knew that Colin’s choice would be ... surprising to the ton. And she wasn’t sure if her heart could handle another reaction even close to the disaster that had been her mother’s. Especially not from Colin’s family.

Colin, on the other hand, was considering that the last time he'd spoken to Eloise, they'd had a row. Though he now knew better (far better than he would have ever liked to know), at the time he'd rather brazenly accused his sister of being- well, of being something she was definitely not. Perhaps, it would be better for Penelope to tell her. And then maybe they'd be able to bury the hatchet without the need for him to grovel...

After a moment of contemplation, Colin finally nodded, relaxing slightly. “You know, you are absolutely right.”

Penelope smiled, squeezing his hand affectionately. “I’m glad you’re getting used to saying so.”

“Oh!” Colin smirked, “Did I know that you were so cheeky when I asked you to marry me?”

“Ask? Or demand?" she teased with an innocent smile, and Colin looked like he was ready to argue. "I'll see you tonight, Colin." 

But right as Penelope began turning away, the hand still holding onto hers pulled her back. “Wait-”

She looked at him with the slightest bit of concern, “Yes?”

Colin’s face was completely placid, leaving no hints as to what he wanted to tell her. Penelope felt her throat tighten as he looked down at her. Almost tortuously, he leaned in until his face was a bit too close to hers. “Why did you giggle?”

She frowned as her head jolted back slightly, “What are you talking about?”

And then his face took on a wicked grin as he lowered his voice in a way that made Penelope feel rather hot. “In the carriage- Why. Did. You. Giggle?”

Immediately, Penelope blushed a deep shade of pink, both from the reminder of their activities that morning and for her untimely giggle in the midst of them. “Oh,” she let out a nervous laugh. She considered feigning ignorance for a moment, but then her eyes met his face, full of care and joy. And she decided that she didn't want to start their marriage with any more secrets. “Erm, your hair…”

Colin raised an eyebrow suspiciously, raking a hand through the hair in question. “What about it?” Penelope tried to look away while her face felt like it had been lit on fire, but Colin squeezed her fingers. “You promised you’d tell me.”

“Erm… It’s just like Eloise’s,” Penelope finally answered after a few very long seconds, shutting her eyes to avoid looking at him. She could practically hear Colin’s laugh before he even opened his mouth. Instead, she heard a small snorting sound as he tried to restrain himself, and Penelope opened her eyes to glare at him.

“I see…” Colin’s strained voice came out. “Well, I suppose we’d better consider changing my soap then.”

Penelope gave him a scowl that didn’t quite have the effect she desired. “Go, please! I’ll see you tonight.”

Colin put a hand over his heart theatrically, "Oh, how you wound me." But before he turned to go, he swiftly brought her hand to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Until tonight, my dear, Penelope."

And all Penelope could think about on the way to her bedchambers was the tingling feeling that remained on her hand. It was like she was in a daze- a magical, wonderful, mystical daze. She was engaged. She was engaged to Colin.

Penelope had been so mystified that she hadn’t even noticed Felicity sitting in an armchair, wearing an incredibly impatient expression. “Well?”

“Well…” she didn’t continue for a moment. And then, she bit her lip, feeling a warm flush spread across her cheeks. “I believe that I am engaged.”

Hardly half a second after the admission left her lips, an earth-shattering screech left Felicity’s. And before Penelope had any time to register what was happening, her little sister’s arms were wrapped so tightly around her that she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“Is there anything specific you’d like for your birthday?” Penelope asked, her arm looped through Eloise’s as they strolled down the streets of Oxford. Distantly, she recalled that just that morning (had it really only been a few hours ago?) she’d been sitting in a hired coach as they passed this very street. And now, Colin knew her deepest secret, and they were engaged to be married. 

Eloise hummed for a moment, “I suppose I could do with a new quill. Or maybe some ink.”

“Perfect then!” Penelope smiled a bit too brightly as she steered them towards the correct shop. “I’ll get you a nice quill and some purple ink- only your favorite for today, of course.”

Looking unnervingly skeptical, Eloise watched her friend carefully. “You’re oddly cheerful.”  

“I’m just happy that it’s so sunny today.” Penelope avoided her gaze as she dragged them both into the shop.

Eloise’s mouth had formed its notorious twist. “Right.”

“Erm-” Penelope grabbed a quill with a nice full feather and presented it grandly. “How about this one?”

Rather than answering, Eloise’s eyes narrowed a bit.

Penelope felt herself swallow before turning away to look at a few other quills. “Well, it’s just my favorite day of the year,” she explained in a voice that was just slightly too high to be believable. Unfortunately, it seemed that all of the excitement (and other, less pleasant, emotions) of the day had completely stolen any skill revolving around maintaining her composure. 

“Penelope,” Eloise said, a notable hint of warning in her tone, as her hands went to rest on her hips.

The newly- (and secretly-) engaged woman picked up an ink bottle, pretending to inspect it closely. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was so nervous about telling Eloise, but she couldn’t help it. Surely, Eloise would be happy for her? For both of them? She was her dearest friend, so she'd want the best for her. 

But… Penelope remembered all of their plans. The promises they’d made to be spinsters together. Prior to today, Eloise had been her one saving grace from the thought of being her mother’s personal servant for the next thirty years.  And though she doubted that Eloise had needed her quite as much as Penelope had needed her, she imagined that some part did.

“Something happened today,” she muttered before bringing the chosen quill and ink bottle to the shopkeeper. Penelope managed a weak smile as she paid and then wordlessly instructed Eloise to follow her outside. She certainly couldn't tell her the truth anywhere they might risk being overheard. 

The famously nosy brunette looked like she was about to burst from curiosity as Penelope guided her to a patch of shade under a large tree. Taking a deep breath, Penelope looked directly at her best friend.

“As I was saying, something happened today…” A rather lot of somethings, actually.

Penelope broke off again and apparently, Eloise couldn’t hold herself any longer. “Yes, yes. You said that already. But what was that actual something?”

“Well, I-” Penelope resisted the urge to wring her hands together. “I-” Eloise was giving her an absolutely restless look, hands planted firmly on her hips.

And then it just came out, a jumble of barely comprehensible words. “Colin asked me to marry him.”

Eloise's eyes seemed to grow to the size of saucers, or perhaps Penelope just imagined that they did. “My brother, Colin?” Thankfully, there wasn’t anything inherently upset in her voice.

Penelope nodded but couldn’t bring herself to say anymore. She’d really wished for a tad more finesse when she finally got the news out. 

Her best friend- her dearest, closest, most beloved friend in the world, was at an utter loss of words. And then, just as Penelope began to feel her heart sink, Eloise’s lips formed a smile. One that was a little bittersweet, but still entirely genuine all the same.  

“And I can assume that you said yes?” The tone was a bit teasing, but Penelope didn’t mind in the least. All she did was grin and nod.

“I mean, I knew that you-” Eloise cut off, but they both knew what she meant. “But I didn’t know that you-” She waved her hands in a rather frantic manner. “You know what I mean.”

Penelope laughed and nodded again, “Trust me, I know.”

Still looking a bit awestruck (but just enough to make Penelope feel giddy rather than offended), Eloise shook her head a few times. “I just can’t believe it… When- How did this happen?”

Even though she knew it wouldn’t be a good enough answer, Penelope just shrugged, a giggle sprouting from her lips.

Eloise didn’t seem to notice, her own mind still processing. “Am I the first to know?”

“Other than my family, yes. I wanted to tell you myself before Colin announced it tonight.”

Eloise shook her head again, “Well I’ll be… Penelope Bridgerton. It suits you.”

The newly engaged woman blushed for the umpteenth time that day as Eloise’s arms came around her. “I do love you, El,” Penelope whispered.

“Oh, pish and tosh,” Eloise smirked as they moved apart, obviously not looking to be sentimental at the moment. “Don’t think that you’re getting off that easily. I want to know everything... Oh!” She gasped before casting Penelope a look of mock betrayal. “Is that why you two were being so secretive at the Smythe-Smith musicale?”  

“Something like that…” Penelope said, looping together their arms again as she led them back to the sidewalk. And though she wasn’t exactly sure what she might tell Eloise (in light of every detail surrounding that morning being off-limits), she felt much lighter than she had a few minutes before. “Just wait until you hear what my mother did…”

A few hours after Colin had made the single most life-changing decision of his entire thirty-three years on earth, he stood up from his spot at the dining table. “Family," he picked up his glass. "I have an announcement to make."

The entire Bridgerton clan in attendance turned to look at him, sharing glances between each other. Some looked amused- Kate, Benedict, Daphne, Hyacinth; others looked confused- Gregory, Simon, Sophie; two looked skeptical- Anthony and their mother, Violet; and one looked almost bored- Eloise. Even the children who were old enough to join them looked at Uncle Colin with rapt interest.  

He grinned at them, a delightful, mischievous grin as he felt their intrigue grow. Even though his experience with Mrs. Featherington hadn’t been very … pleasant (if one were to try and sound polite), Colin knew that his family would be happy. Yes, they might be shocked. And he rather wickedly imagined that they’d all be quite scandalized to know exactly what had transpired between him and Penelope throughout the years (and especially in his mother's carriage that morning). But they all liked Penelope, and after the initial shock, they would completely understand exactly why it was such an excellent match.

“My dear family,” Colin spoke slowly as he put special care into every word. “Bridgertons,” he turned to look at each of them individually. “Bassets,” he nodded at Daphne and Simon. “I am so very glad to have you all here to tell you about my news.”  

He paused again for dramatic effect, beaming down at them. His family, and in particular, his siblings, were beginning to pull faces, but Colin didn’t mind in the least bit. “I am, of course, quite disappointed that Francesca couldn’t be here to complete our brood tonight, but I’ve made sure to take care of that.”

He was met with a few confused looks but made no efforts to further explain what he meant.

Prior to his arrival at Number Five that evening, Colin had stopped by the club for a celebratory drink. And while there, he’d sent a rather eager messenger to bring the news to his sister in Scotland.

With a private smugness, Colin thought that he wouldn’t be surprised if the Bridgerton family was in store for a second wedding that season.  

After what felt like an eternity to the rest of the party, Colin continued. “Well, it is with my deepest pleasure that I can announce to you all," he took a sip of his drink before proceeding, "that I am getting married."

Colin’s grin widened as he was met with about a dozen stunned faces. But, yet again, he made no effort to say more. 

When it was quite clear that the newly engaged gentleman had no intention of continuing, Anthony was the first to speak up. “And do you have a particular bride in mind?”

“Oh,” Colin chuckled as if he’d forgotten. He hadn’t, of course, but he liked the effect. And with his bright, signature smile, he answered, “Penelope Featherington.”

There had been quite a few ways Colin had imagined his family would take the news. He’d pictured speechless silence and dazzled smiles and, perhaps even a round of applause. He’d even had a daydream where they’d all stood up and surprised him with a choreographed musical number.

Of everything he’d expected, none of it was what actually came next. 

There was about half a beat of silence, maybe. And then there was laughter. Loud, inappropriate laughter that came from his two eldest brothers, and was quickly joined in by his sister-in-law, Kate. Colin attempted to say something to shut them up but was cut off when his mother had somehow reached him with superhuman speed and enveloped him in a hug. 

“Oh, Colin. I’m so happy for your both,” he heard her say over the roar of laughter. She seemed either not to notice or care about how her older sons were acting. 

"Thank you-"

Over his mother’s shoulder, Colin cast a lethal glare while Eloise too narrowed her eyes at her brothers and sister-in-law. “And what is so funny?” she asked them with an icy voice.

Colin could imagine that in Eloise’s point of view (as well as a majority of the room's), it appeared as though they were laughing at his choice in Penelope. But he knew much better than that. And had his mother not have been still clinging onto him, Colin likely would have strode over and punched both of his brothers squarely in the jaw. 

“No, no,” Kate explained as she tried to stifle her laughter. “We’re thrilled that it’s Penelope. We’re just shocked it took so long.”

Before either Eloise or Colin could interject, his mother released him, smiling so warmly that he feared she was about to tear up. "As long as it's all come together now." And then she glanced towards the door, “Is she going to be joining us?”

“She’s on her way,” Colin answered absentmindedly, feeling a bit disoriented by the reaction he was receiving. 

Benedict let out another hearty laugh, sharing an annoyingly knowing look with Anthony. “Why didn’t you wait for her?”  

Colin frowned slightly. This was not how he had expected it all to go. “Well, I-”

“Oh, Colin, you do have a flair for the dramatic,” Hyacinth sighed with a small roll of her eyes. “It’s not like it could be anyone else.”

“What do you mean by that?” Eloise asked, suddenly looking a bit put off.

Their youngest sister snorted, “Colin’s been stuck to Penelope like glue lately. You should have seen them at the ball yesterday, they were quite the pair.”

Eloise’s mouth twisted; she’d feigned illness after her fight with Colin and had made a point to skip the ball. Colin, on the other hand, felt himself flush slightly. For some reason, he’d assumed no one had noticed his closeness with Penelope. Especially considering that he'd barely noticed it himself. 

“Am I the only one who was surprised?” Eloise asked with a slight hint of indignation.

“No, I am,” Benedict paused his laughter long enough to add. “Though, I have been out of town for quite a while.” He gave her a rather cheeky grin, prompting his wife, Sophie, to elbow him firmly in the ribs.

"Same goes for me,” Gregory added in an equally irritating tone. “I’ve been away at school.”

Colin slumped down in his seat a little bit; he’d very much been expecting a different reaction. He didn't know what exactly, but he hadn't expected them to take the mickey out of him. 

Anthony, with a much sterner expression than he'd been wearing a minute prior, leaned in across the table. “You did speak to her mother, I presume?” 

He scowled at his older brother. “Of course, I did. She was delighted.” Out of the corner of his eye, he was quite sure that he saw Eloise clamp a hand over her mouth. 

"And how is Mrs. Featherington as a future mother-in-law?” Hyacinth asked far too sweetly.

Colin’s jaw tightened as a few coughs filtered throughout the room. He opened his mouth to reply, but Daphne came to his rescue.

“Well, I for one think that this is fantastic news.” She smiled at him warmly, and Colin was immediately reminded of why she was his favorite sibling. “Penelope’s such a sweet girl, and you seem very happy, Colin.”

He grinned and nodded, instantly feeling more settled at the reminder of why he'd been making the announcement in the first place. He was engaged. He was engaged to a beautiful, witty, amazing woman. "I am."

Thankfully, Daphne's input worked to halt the badgering. And in turn, every one of his family members seemed to be incredibly happy for him. 

Violet had already begun talking about going to see Mrs. Featherington the next day to start the wedding planning when Wickham came to the doorway.

"Miss Featherington-"

But Colin didn't need to hear any more; he had already stuffed an entire bread roll into his mouth and bolted out into the hallway before the butler even finished his announcement.

Penelope had insisted on waiting in the front hall until she was announced, feeling her quickening pulse as she absentmindedly pulled on the sleeves of her dress. The Bridgertons liked her- and she liked the Bridgertons. So, then, why did she feel so nervous?

She’d been nervous for Eloise’s reaction as well, but that hadn’t been so bad. At the same time, however, Eloise was her best friend… And she saw Penelope as more than what most people did.

Her mother’s less than subpar reaction would not be the worst she would experience, Penelope was quite aware of that. Everyone would question Colin’s decision to marry someone so unpopular… And especially someone so old. She knew that Colin might not have minded those things, but society certainly would not be so kind.

And though she liked to think that the Bridgerton family was a lot better than the rest of society, she couldn’t quite get herself to calm down.

“Miss Featherington!” Colin’s exuberant voice boomed through the halls as he neared her.

Despite her nerves, Penelope felt the corners of her mouth rise naturally as he came into view. Colin, her Colin. How utterly strange it was that he was now her Colin. “Mister Bridgerton,” she greeted with a hint of a tease, even making a show of giving him a curtsy.

“You look absolutely lovely,” her fiancé said, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek. Penelope swore that her stomach completely flipped over itself.

She nodded her thanks with a small, bashful smile before reaching out to brush off a large crumb from his jacket. “Did you tell them?”

Colin grinned, putting his arm through hers as he led her down the hall. “I most certainly did.”

Penelope waited for him to say more, but Colin didn’t seem to think that there was anything left to say. She gulped. “… And what did they think?”

“Oh, they laughed,” Colin said rather thoughtlessly, still too happy to be thinking straight. But he didn't miss the surge of panic he felt through his future wife.

“At me, I mean. Anthony and Benedict- they seem to remember what I said years ago.”

“Oh…” Penelope answered, a worried frown crossing her face as she looked towards the floor. She'd considered skipping the evening after she'd returned home from shopping with Eloise, and maybe she should have followed through with that plan. 

Colin squeezed her arm and lowered his voice. “They’re absolutely delighted, I promise.”

Penelope didn’t quite believe him, but they’d already reached the dining room, which meant that there was no retreating now. And as Colin led her into the room, Penelope braced herself for the absolute worst.

But almost the moment after they entered the room, Penelope was swallowed into a fifth pair of arms that day.

“Oh, Penelope,” Lady Bridgerton’s voice whispered in her ear. “I did always hope that it would be you.”

She froze for a moment, too stunned to speak. This embrace felt much different than the one she’d shared with her mother. Oddly, it felt… Warmer, more maternal. After a moment, Penelope's was so quiet that it was a wonder that Violet could even hear her. "Really?" 

Violet held her at an arm’s length for a moment, beaming at her future daughter-in-law. “Really.”

In the next ten minutes, Penelope had been congratulated more times than she could have ever imagined. It seemed that everyone really was happy for them. Kate enveloped her in another hug, Daphne winked at her, Benedict raised a glass, and so on and so forth. Even the Duke of Hastings (or Simon, as she was meant to call him now) smiled as he nodded at her from across the way.  

And once they had all finally managed to take their seats, Violet stood up from her end of the table. “Before we begin the celebrations for Eloise’s birthday,” she gave her daughter a fond smile. “I’d like to propose a toast to Colin and his lovely future wife, Penelope.”

Penelope flushed as she raised her glass along with everyone else. She glanced at Eloise, who gave her a small smile as she nodded her agreement. And then, to her other side, Penelope looked at Colin. And she felt her heart soar as she was met with those sparkling green eyes and that lopsided grin she loved so much.

Colin felt equally happy as he looked at his fiancée, taking in her warm brown eyes and delicate glow. She fit perfectly with them. And more importantly, she fit perfectly with him. 

Hmm. 'My future wife.' He rather liked that. 

Chapter Text

Four days after Penelope and Colin had become betrothed, their engagement ball was held at his mother’s home. And though the actual ball hadn’t gone quite according to plan (thanks to a rather sneaky decision on Penelope’s part and an unfortunate surprise made by her overzealous publisher), the night had ended as if through divine intervention.

At least, that was the only way the gentleman could have described it as he rode home from Mayfair, sporting a very large and very uncontrollable grin.

When Colin had led his fiancée from the ball and to his old bedroom at Number Five, his intentions had had little to do with romance. In fact, his mind had been firmly focused on the argument that was brewing between them. She’d betrayed his trust by releasing the column, and on the way had ruined what had been meant to be a wonderful night for them.

He’d been extremely upset with her, more upset than he’d ever been in his life. Far more than when Benedict had filled his riding boots with spiders, or when Eloise and Francesca had stolen his breeches and forced him to walk back to Aubrey Hall wearing nothing more than his undergarments. And even more than when he'd first found out that Penelope was Lady Whistledown. 

But somehow, all of his anger had dissolved in a single instant. And Colin had fallen in love.

Well, no. He supposed that he’d been in love for far longer than he could even say. He wasn't sure when, or how, but Colin Bridgerton had fallen in love with Penelope Featherington at some point in the decade he’d known her.   

And he certainly hadn’t wasted any more time after he’d realized it.

Just the image of her in his mind made his grin widen. That night, even more than before, Penelope was his. She would only ever be his.   

And, perhaps, even more importantly, Colin was hers. For now, and forever.

But despite the extreme elation the future groom was feeling when he returned home, his heart hurt to know that he had done so alone. And his entire body ached to know that he would go to bed alone, and that he would wake up alone, and that he would eat breakfast alone.

It all sounded so very dreadful.

An entire month was far too long to have to wait to marry Penelope; he simply couldn’t fathom such a time wasted. He wanted her to have the protection of him and his name. He wanted her to be out of that awful house. And, perhaps most of all, he just wanted her there. He wanted her there with him.

So, he knew exactly what he needed to do. And Colin woke up early the next morning with as much determination as a man going off to war.

Much to the surprise of his family, he met them at church for the first time since his arrival back to London. He only answered his sisters' suspicions with an innocuous smile, catching the equally skeptical eyes of his beloved. His beloved, who seemed to remember the details of their magnificent night just as well as he did, for her face turned a delightful shade of pink with every glance they shared.

Oh, God forbid he was forced to wait any longer to marry that woman.

When the service was over, Colin was still wearing a beaming grin. And then he promptly sought out the Featheringtons- only to pass by Penelope with a small wink before walking straight to her mother.

And that was how an engaged young man and two giddy Mamas found themselves sitting together in Lady Bridgerton’s drawing room later that afternoon.

“Mother, Mrs. Featherington, I’m so glad that the three of us could meet today,” Colin smiled as he watched them settle into the couch across from him. The women, who had somehow become the closest of companions that week despite years of subtle animosity, nodded synchronously as they exchanged their own pleasantries.

Colin picked up his cup and took a sip. “I think that we may have some business to discuss.”

“Is this about the flowers?” Portia immediately jumped in, her face taking on a slightly troubled expression. “Because I told Penelope that roses were not in fashion this season, but she-”

“It’s not the flowers,” Colin cut her off, feeling a flare of annoyance rise within him. He couldn’t stop himself from adding, “But if Penelope wants roses, then so do I.”

Violet gave him a small smile of approval. “Yes, I do have to agree. I think that they’re rather timeless.”

Mrs. Featherington’s mouth thinned in a way that told Colin that this was a repeat argument. And then she straightened her spine, looking as though she was gearing herself up to continue. Ugh, leave it to Portia Featherington to have him discussing flowers at a time like this.

“I think we should move up the wedding,” Colin announced before they could begin debating something else they deemed as important- such as what color ribbons the bridesmaids would wear.   

The proud smile that had been on his mother’s face disappeared at the same instant Portia’s mouth fell open. And for a few moments, both women just stared at Colin, who had taken the pause to enjoy one of the lavender scones on the table.  

Finally, Violet sputtered, “M-move up the wedding?” at the same time Portia whined, “What about our planning?”

Calmly, Colin finished his pastry and leaned forward to look at them more directly. “I do think it would be in our best interest.”

He was met with a few rapidly blinking eyelids until his mother recovered first, looking rather distressed. “And why would that be?”

Colin paused for a few seconds before taking on a voice that was filled with not-so-hidden intention. “I think we all know why.”

Portia gaped at him with wide eyes that rather unnervingly resembled Penelope’s (but lacked the endearing quality her daughter’s had). “You’ve been engaged less than a week.”

“And- and you only just returned earlier this month,” Violet nearly shrilled as her neck began to redden.   

“Yes,” Colin nodded as he gave them a smile that he knew was just the right amount of devilish to be charming. “But Penelope and I have known each other for a very long time.”

Both mothers shared a confused look before turning back to him. “So?”

“So, we have known each other for a very long time,” Colin repeated, saying every word slowly and pointedly, giving the mothers just enough time to listen between them. “And when I returned home this season, we did not require much time to become reacquainted.” He paused and pretended to take another sip of tea. “In fact, we spent almost the entire evening of your birthday ball together, Mother.”

Violet’s lips immediately pursed as she began working out the math in her mind. Her birthday party had been a bit more than two weeks ago, which would put the original wedding date a rather lengthy seven weeks afterward. And she knew as well as he did that a seven-month pregnancy was a far greater task to explain away than an eight-month one. 

And although Colin knew quite well that he and Penelope had done little more at the ball than share a single dance (and a fairly awkward encounter), the mothers certainly had no idea.

“But- but-” his mother frowned as she tried to reason a way to salvage her plans. This was going to be her first wedding in six years, and she’d really wanted a proper engagement followed by a large, extravagant wedding. Unfortunately, however, it seemed that her eldest children were all hell-bent on tempting scandal and ruining her fun each time.  

Colin turned to face his future mother-in-law instead, wearing a smile that was just the slightest hint cheeky. “Hadn’t you notice her disappearing?”

He knew damn well that she hadn’t, of course. He supposed that if the woman had taken any notice of what Penelope did in her free time, then she wouldn’t have unintentionally allowed her young daughter to engage in some disastrously dangerous activity for a dozen years.

“Er, I-” Portia’s shoulders lifted in a rather erratic movement that resembled a shrug, but the frown on her face revealed the doubts that were going through her mind.  

“I see that we're in agreement then,” Colin smiled pleasantly as he reached for a biscuit. “I was thinking this Saturday.”

“Saturday?” his mother repeated, no longer hiding any of her distress. “But the Modiste-”

“I am happy to provide extra incentive to the Modiste.”

“But what if the church-”

Colin bit into a third biscuit. “The church will be fine.”

“There will be talk-”

“Might I remind you that your birthday was two weeks ago, Mother?”

And then there was a silence. A long, glorious silence when it seemed that both women had run out of arguments. The mothers turned to each other, each wearing a tight frown as they locked eyes for a few moments. Across from them, Colin leaned back in his armchair, cheerfully chewing as he waited for them to concede. Even if they did think of any more reasons to oppose his decision, it hardly mattered. He had woken up that morning determined to be married by the end of the week, and Colin wasn’t the type to give up after he'd made a decision.

Finally, both mothers released a shared crestfallen sigh. “I suppose we can make the arrangements,” Portia nodded slowly.

“But,” Violet looked at her son with a stern expression. “Mark my words, Colin. None of us will be resting until the two of you are standing at the altar exchanging your vows.”

Colin grinned as he finished off the last biscuit. “I think that I can speak for myself and my future wife when I say that we are more than happy to oblige.”

Despite undergoing a great deal of embarrassment when she was informed of how he had done so, Penelope had been enormously pleased to hear that her fiancé had managed to move up the date of their wedding. In all honesty, she absolutely loathed the idea of having to go through another month of planning and was secretly just as excited as Colin was to truly begin their life together.

Lady Bridgerton had been correct in the prediction that the Modiste had not, in fact, been entirely thrilled. However, it seemed that it wasn’t only Penelope who could recall the extensive array of unflattering frocks she’d gone through over the years. With the memory of poor colors and unruly ruffles in mind, the dressmaker had gone to great lengths to ensure that the wedding gown was stunning even with the rush.

And stunning it indeed was.

Penelope’s head tilted slightly to the side as she examined her appearance in the mirror, donning a small smile that had graced her lips the entire morning despite the tension running through her. She couldn’t seem to quite recognize the woman in her reflection. That woman was getting married. That woman was going to be a Bridgerton. And that woman looked beautiful.

Her fingertips delicately ran over the muslin of her dress, marveling at how a simple piece of fabric could make her feel. 

The morning after the engagement had been made, Penelope had woken up at the crack of dawn feeling an indescribable joy. Except, it took her a few moments to realize exactly why she felt so happy. And then it took her a few more moments to understand whether the reason was real or if she had just dreamt it happening.

The truth came to her in a few minutes, however, because her mother had burst into her bedchambers and hastily began opening all the blinds while listing off the lengthy catalog of things that needed to be done that day.

Penelope had finally allowed herself to admit that her wedding was really happening as they made their way to her first visit to the Modiste that morning. She’d been a bundle of nerves and excitement, all the more amplified as news of the engagement traveled exceptionally fast (it seemed that the ton did not at all need Whistledown to gossip). They had reacted… just as expected, and Penelope could feel the eyes following her as she walked down Oxford street with her mother and Lady Bridgerton. And though it might have bothered her more on another day, the bride was far too elated to truly care. After the warm reaction Colin’s family had given her, she didn’t much mind what anyone else thought.

She had, however, felt rather nauseous when her mother immediately pointed to a lemon-colored silk and suggested that it was the perfect color for her wedding attire.

Penelope had frozen for a moment, suddenly drawn back into her early seasons where she had silently allowed her mother to force her into anything she saw fit. She recalled the way most people eyed her gowns (and the way some people commented upon them). She could also imagine Colin when he saw her- not disappointed, of course. But perhaps a bit confused, his eyes crinkling together as though he didn't really know the woman in front of him. 

Luckily, as Penelope stood fixed in her thoughts, Lady Bridgerton had no such qualms and quickly jumped in with her own suggestion.

Penelope had blinked for a few moments, staring at the fabric Violet had been holding out to her. It was absolutely lovely- the softest and most beautiful blue she could imagine. But Penelope had known that it wasn’t just blue. It was Bridgerton blue, the very shade that the family was famous for.

The significance of the suggestion had not been lost on Penelope. She had spent years admiring the Bridgertons, for their popularity and grace and charm. And though Violet had embraced her into the family long before her engagement to Colin had ever materialized, the offer was her true welcoming.

And though she appreciated it immensely, Penelope’s heart had already settled on something else. The wedding had been labeled the “Bridgerton-Featherington” affair, that was true. And she would be a Bridgerton, that was true as well. But the marriage... The marriage was going to be between Colin and Penelope.

The bride felt tears sting her eyes as she took in the lightness of the sage green material that made up her wedding dress. Her hair stood out against the color even under her veil, and the ivory lace detailing seemed to give her skin a glow she hadn’t been aware she possessed. And, Penelope smiled, she could already imagine Colin’s eyes sparkling against the color when she finally got to stand across from him on the altar. 

It was absolutely perfect.

Her eyes trailed down the reflection until they reached the small glimmer coming from her finger. That was perfect as well.

She hadn’t been expecting it when Colin came to call upon her a few days after their engagement ball. In fact, she’d completely forgotten about that funny little detail until she was staring down at the small open box in her fiancé's palm.

“Oh,” Penelope had breathed as a hand slowly came up to cover her mouth. “It’s beautiful, Colin.”

He gave her a grin that was just a hint arrogant, wasting no time as he pulled off her glove and slid the ring onto her finger. “It reminded me of you- of us, really. Pink for you, green for me.”

Sitting on her finger was a simple gold band with two tear-shaped gems tilted together to form a heart- one emerald and one amethyst. It was neither overly large nor traditional, but it twinkled in the afternoon light in just the way to catch the eye.

She’s stared down at it for a few very long moments, not quite believing that she was looking at her own hand. Penelope had never imagined her betrothal ring. She’d never imagined herself getting betrothed in the first place, and ever since her engagement there had been so many more pressing matters on her mind.

Colin, however, obviously had taken the time to think about it. And although Penelope had never pictured her ring, it was exactly right. He was exactly right that it was them.

She gave him a jerky nod and sniffled. “They’re my favorite colors.”

Colin’s hand reached out to pull her chin up, and his lips twitched smugly. “And did you think that I ever believed that was a coincidence?” He gave her an impish wink that specifically brought her attention to his magnificent green eyes.

Penelope blushed, “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Oh,” he grinned, leaning down just close enough to make her entire neck flush. “Are you sure?”

Penelope let out a breathy chuckle before she scoffed. “And do you think that you were so subtle?” She lifted a finger to loop an auburn curl around it. “Red.”

And Colin, who was rarely one to be bested, clamped his jaw tightly together in the hopes to hide his smile. “I suppose we can come to a draw," he accepted, giving a little shrug before leaning over to meet her lips with his. 

The present-day bride twisted the ring several times around her finger, thankful for the little connection to Colin as her stomach began to flutter rather uncomfortably. Unfortunately, it seemed that she was very much not the type of woman who was serene on her wedding date. 

A sudden knock on the door cut into her thoughts and startled her. “Pen, are you ready?” Eloise popped into the room, holding out a bouquet of white roses to her. “Our mothers are practically threatening to drag you down the aisle if you take any longer.”

“Oh, right.” Penelope blinked rapidly a few times before clearing her throat. She’d run back into the room after everyone else had finished getting ready, claiming something about needing to fix her shoe and waving off the maids who tried to follow. That had been at least five minutes ago by then. “I’m ready.”

Eloise’s mouth curved into a small smile. “Are you sure? Because you look like you’re trying to run down the fabric of your dress.”

With a glance downwards, Penelope realized that she was rather vigorously flattening out her already-flat skirts. She let out a nervous giggle as she clamped both hands firmly around her bouquet. “Yes, yes, I’m sure.”

But Eloise didn’t miss the way her best friend’s lip caught between her teeth. With a small sigh, she leaned over to give Penelope a tight hug. “You’re allowed to be happy, Pen. You know that right?”

She was quiet for a moment as she took in the warmth of her dear friend before her voice came out in barely a whisper, "Is everything going to change?" 

Eloise leaned back with a small smile, considering her for a moment. "Hardly. If anything, I'm only going to become more annoying." 

Penelope gave a chuckle as her eyes grew misty. “You’re my very best friend, Eloise.”

“And your best sister now as well.” Eloise squeezed her once more before pulling away and firmly putting her hands on Penelope's shoulders. “Now, enough of this sentimentalism. You look absolutely beautiful, and I don’t want to be one of the reasons our mothers kill you because you couldn’t make it to the altar by noon.”

Penelope let out a watery laugh but nodded, sparing one final glance in the mirror before following Eloise out the door.

And just fifteen minutes later, Penelope was taking deep, slow breaths as she watched her bridesmaids disappear into the church. First Prudence… then Philipa… then Felicity… then Eloise, her matron of honor, who turned at the last moment to give her best friend a little wink before she left.

As the hem of Eloise’s dress vanished, Penelope rather thought that both her stomach and heart had migrated to her throat and that the latter was beating thrice as fast as normal. She shut her eyes and counted a full ten seconds before taking her uncle’s arm and stepping into the aisle.

Her eyes found him immediately, as if drawn by an invisible string. There he was, her future husband, standing tall and strong at the end of the church. 

Unfortunately, however, all she was met with was the back of his thick head of chestnut hair.

Her knees buckled slightly as she tried to focus on her walking rather than the dozens of pairs of eyes that had all turned to look at her. Oh gosh, was Colin’s family really that large? And was that her nephew sticking a finger up his nose? And why were Hyacinth and Gregory elbowing each other in the second row?  

She swallowed, turning away to look straight ahead.

And suddenly, it was like the rest of the world melted away as she finally met those dazzling eyes she adored so very much.  

At the altar, Colin had been bouncing on the balls of his feet as he listened for the music to begin playing, trying to see if he could peek at what was going on behind him in the reflection of a candlestick. Penelope had been delayed for whatever reason and he’d grown uncharacteristically nervous as he waited with his brothers in a back room (the bloody lot of whom would not stop making jokes about her having run away).

When was he meant to turn around? Now? Now. Yes, he could hear the music.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that everyone was now looking away from him. And when he allowed himself to turn fully around and follow the gaze of the guests, Colin wondered what the hell he’d been doing for twelve years.

Somehow, he felt a surge of love and devotion that was even larger than the night he’d known he was in love with Penelope. She was ethereal, stunning, beautiful, and so many other words that couldn’t even begin to describe her. She was simply the most radiant person to have ever graced the universe.

And then, just as Colin thought that his heart might burst out of his chest, her eyes locked on his, and it felt as though his heart had stopped working altogether. He beamed at her with the largest grin he’d ever donned, and her wobbly lips transformed into a smile that lit up her entire face. She blinked harshly a few times, and Colin had to mirror her accordingly.

How could it have ever been a question? He loved this woman so damned much. He loved all of her- from her mind to her humor to her beauty and even to the parts he couldn’t stand. God help him, but he loved this woman with every part of his being.

More tears welled up in Penelope’s eyes as she neared Colin, no longer feeling any of the uneasiness that had been plaguing her mere minutes before. She wasn’t even sure why she’d been so nervous; all she needed was to see him to know that there was nothing else in the world that could be more right than marrying this man.

And it seemed that such was the way in both bride and groom because neither of the couple could seem to look anywhere else after their eyes had met. In fact, they were so enraptured with each other that it was a wonder any vows were recited at all.

They managed, however. And then Colin swiftly grabbed his new wife’s hand and pulled her into a kiss that was sweet and lovely and just the slightest bit fervent for such an audience.

The two were smiling like mad as they rode to the reception, holding hands and feeling the effects of the absolutely perfect day that it was.

Well… Technically speaking, it had rained the entire morning (it was London after all), and both Colin and Penelope generally held a preference for sunshine. But neither of them noticed the weather very much- the chapel could have very well flooded and both of them would have still considered the day to be perfect.  

And though Colin would say that his favorite portion of the wedding had been their kiss, he secretly agreed with Penelope that it was their first dance.

Colin and Penelope had shared many dances in their lives. Some were good, some were bad, and some were simply awful. Their first dance as a couple at their engagement ball had fallen in the latter category and had very much not been the grand romantic moment either of them had been hoping it would be.

However, their first dance as husband and wife created its own category entirely. The waltz they shared was graceful and dreamy and everything it should have been. Colin’s lips were raised in a permanent grin that was every bit as sincere as it was charming. And Penelope’s cheeks held onto an exquisite pink glow that made her look sublimely flushed all afternoon.

“Did I tell you how absolutely beautiful you look today?” Colin whispered as his fingertips tapped her against her back.

Penelope smiled, glancing down at her dress. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I do,” Colin said with an appreciative grin as his eyes traveled downwards. “But I didn’t mean the dress,” he leaned down until his lips rather scandalously brushed her ear. “In fact, I think I’ll actually prefer when you’re no longer wearing it.”

His lips twitched rather wickedly as Penelope’s face turned bright red. She glanced around the room, horrified to see that the entire room was, indeed, still watching them. Thankfully, however, it seemed that newlywed couples were given certain indulgences at their own weddings.    

Penelope allowed herself to relax a bit more into his arms before sending her husband a glare. “I’m not leaving until I get an éclair.”

Colin’s grin switched from wicked to boyish at the mere mention of food. “A rather excellent idea. I’m starving.”

Penelope felt the corners of her lips lift. “I have a feeling that I’ll be hearing that quite a lot.”

“Which part?”

“Hmm...” Penelope tilted her head. “Both.”

Colin gave her a serious nod. “Well, you are always brilliant, and I am always hungry.”

They were still shooting each other teasing smiles and loving stares when the music ended. And after he led them off of the dance floor, Colin gave Penelope a rather unnecessarily low bow and a gentle kiss on the hand. “Your wish is my command, my darling.” And with a wink, he headed off towards the refreshments.

Penelope sighed contentedly as she watched him go, a sigh that seemed to say this is real life. She wasn’t given too long to relish on the moment, however.

“Mrs. Bridgerton!”

The oddest thing to Penelope was just how quickly she turned at the sound of her new name. She’d only been Mrs. Bridgerton for a few hours, but it somehow felt just as right as Miss Featherington had been (and Lady Whistledown, for that matter).

An infamous tapping of a cane accompanied the call as the owner of the boisterous voice approached. Penelope smiled warmly, “Lady Danbury.”  

After the disaster that had been their very massive engagement ball, both Penelope and Colin had thought it best to keep the actual wedding small (well, as small as it could be when taking into account their combined ten siblings, five siblings-in-law, sixteen nieces and nephews, as well as a handful of uncles, aunts, cousins, and a few select friends). But no matter how small, Penelope knew that she wanted Lady Danbury there.

“Did your new husband run off because he saw that I was approaching?” the countess asked with a raised brow, although the fond glint in her eyes was impossible to miss.

“Certainly not,” Penelope defended loyally. She glanced back at Colin, who was speaking to Benedict and Sophie as he piled food onto a plate that looked as though it would balk under the weight. “He’s gone to get me something.”

Lady Danbury gave her a proud nod that was just the slightest hint sly. “Good girl, make sure he knows exactly how lucky he is to have you.”

Penelope smiled at the older woman as she felt her heart swell. She could count on one hand the number of people who had always seemed to believe in her, and Lady Danbury was absolutely one of them. 

Something more.

And before either of them knew it, Penelope’s arms were wrapped around the countess.

Barely a moment’s hesitation passed before Lady Danbury’s arms tightened around the bride as well, and Penelope’s eyesight blurred for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. When they both let go, she was quite sure that she heard a sniffle come from the older woman as well.

“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” Penelope whispered, still holding onto her hand. “I don’t think we could have been here today if it weren't for you.”

"I love to be given credit where credit is due,” she announced in a haughty tone, though Penelope saw the tenderness in her eyes as she leaned in and lowered her voice. "But I'm afraid I can't take all of it. I may have pushed you, my dear Penelope, but it was all still up to you." 

Lady Danbury cast her a small wink as Colin reached them, somehow balancing a plate that was piled with delicacies several inches too high and two champagne flutes. He passed one glass to Penelope dutifully and she just smiled her thanks, still too affected by the older woman's words to speak aloud. 

“I do hope that you’re not disparaging me to my own wife on our wedding day, Lady Danbury,” Colin greeted with a pleasant nod, much too happy to care even if that had been the case. 

“Hmmph,” the countess gave him an assessing look and tapped her cane on the ground a few times. “Not today, Mister Bridgerton. This wedding proves that you’re far more intelligent than you appear. A bit delayed, perhaps, but certainly not dim-witted.”

Penelope choked on a laugh as Colin’s jaw dropped slightly in surprise. But before he could even think of a reply, Lady Danbury slipped the second champagne flute from his hand. “Congratulations to the lovely couple,” she said, lifting her glass before sauntering away with a speed that seemed far too quick for a woman who depended so much on a cane.  

Colin gaped at her retreating form. “Did she just compliment me?”

Penelope giggled, taking an éclair from his plate. “I think you might be in store for even more praise now that you’ve married me.”

Colin glanced down at his wife (God, he loved how that sounded) with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have some type of magic that I don’t know about?”

With a tiny shrug, Penelope took the rest of her pastry and pushed it into Colin’s mouth. “I guess you’ll find out.”

“How odd it is that I’ve never been here before,” Penelope mused as she stared up at Colin’s- er, their terrace home in Bloomsbury. She turned to look at her new husband. “Is it odd to have me here?”

Colin looked down at her, an amused grin tugging on his lips. “Not at all. I only moved in a few weeks ago, and you’ve managed to occupy most of my thoughts since then.”

Penelope blinked for a few moments, her mouth slightly parting as warmth crept up her chest and into her face. “Well-” she blinked a few times and cleared her throat. “Well, it’s still odd that I’ve never set foot in my own home.”

“And you won’t set foot in now,” the corner of Colin’s mouth twitched up as Penelope looked back at him with furrowed eyebrows. “I intend for you not to have laid a step in this house until supper, or perhaps even breakfast if I’m so lucky.”

“Wha- Colin!”

But it was too late for questions. Both of Colin's arms had already tucked beneath Penelope and lifted her right off the ground before she could even try to swat them away. 

He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, you can make introductions along the way.”  

Penelope stopped her swatting to gape at him for a few seconds. And then she sighed, “I must have been a martyr to marry you.”

Colin nodded thoughtfully. “A martyr who is now very much stuck with me.” He flashed her one last grin before leaving the front steps and entering their home. 

Chapter Text

Anyhow, I especially enjoyed the bit in chapter eight where you likened the character’s dress to a “lemon pudding that never quite set.” I read it aloud to Amanda and Penny, who both absolutely burst into giggles. And then Georgiana, of course, immediately followed, though I am not quite sure if she fully understood the reference… I did have one note, however-

“Mama?”

“Hmm?” Penelope looked up from Eloise’s lengthy missive, which had been sent a mere two days after she had received the first draft of Penelope’s third novel, Twenty Shades of Citrus. “Yes, my love?”

All three of her children were sitting at the table across the room, practicing their letters (or, in little Jane’s case, her scribbles), but it was her oldest, Agatha, who posed the question. “How did you and Papa meet?”

Penelope blinked for a few seconds in surprise. Of course, she knew how she and Colin had met. In all truth, she even knew the exact date. But she couldn’t recall anyone ever asking her- everyone always just assumed that they had met as everyone in the ton met, through their families. Not their daughter, however, who was staring back at her with wide, inquisitive eyes that gave Penelope the uncanny sense that she was looking at a reflection of herself.

“Oh,” she put down Eloise’s letter. “Well-”

But just then, the door to the mint-green drawing room swung open. “Darlings, I’m home!”

Colin had one hand hidden behind his back as he immediately made his way to his children, taking the time to give them each a peck on the head. Penelope’s lips curved into a smile as she watched her husband, feeling that familiar flip of the heart that occurred whenever Colin entered a room. She’d finally realized, after seven years of marriage, that such a sensation would likely never disappear.

“Now… Have I forgotten someone?” Colin asked with an exaggerated frown, using a finger to slowly count them. “One... Two... Three...”

The children, to whom the question had been directed, were more than delighted to play along. “Mama!” came three tiny shouts.

“Oh- Mama?” Colin made a show of looking everywhere but in her direction. “Is she here?” he bent down to examine under the table. “Here?” He motioned to a curtain.

“No!” Agatha chided with a frustrated huff. “She’s right there!”

Following the small finger pointed towards her, Colin finally turned to face his wife. “Oh my,” he sucked in a large, dramatic breath as he placed a hand over his heart. “She’s so beautiful that I had mistaken her for a painting.”

Despite herself, Penelope blushed; she just couldn’t help it. With a grin, Colin took a few long strides to meet her before leaning down to give her a kiss. “Hello, Wife.”

“Husband,” Penelope nodded, a suspicious smile on her lips. “What have you done this time? Booked tickets to Africa without telling me?”

“Oh, nothing of the sort,” Colin waved his hand dismissively. “Canada, though, I've heard is marvelous.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose An Englishman in North America might be interesting.”

“Or better yet, An Englishman’s Family in North America?”

“Oooh,” his wife returned with a hint of sarcasm. “I think that would be a grand idea if not for a few obstacles.” She first glanced at their three very young children before looking down at her rather distended belly.

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Next year, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

There were a few seconds of silence as both husband and wife tried to win their standstill, but Colin was the first to break. With a sigh, he shook his head. “Are you ever going to ask me about what’s behind my back?”

Penelope tilted her head and feigned a surprised gasp. “Oh! And here I thought that you’d lost an arm. I was just trying to be polite.” She innocently pouted her lips in a way that made Colin’s gut jolt.

“I’m touched for your concern, really. But alas, you’re mistaken, my dear.” He gave her a mocking smile before dropping into a ceremonious bow. “A gift for you, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

The arm that had been hidden came around to offer her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Red chrysanthemums. Ones that were gorgeous and full and no doubt specifically chosen. “Oh, Colin,” she gushed as he handed them to her. “They’re lovely. But why-?”

He gave her that perfectly lopsided boyish grin that hadn’t changed in the slightest with age. And then he endearingly accompanied it with a bashful shrug. “I saw them and thought of you.”

Alright, that might not have been precisely true. In all honesty, Colin had arrived at the florist’s already knowing exactly what he was getting. He liked to make a point of getting his incredibly deserving wife flowers every so often just because he felt like it (he also always made sure to do so whenever his mother-in-law paid a visit).

And he almost always got her red flowers, for the simple fact that they reminded him of her.

After setting the flowers in a nearby vase, Penelope wrapped both arms around Colin as his own snaked their way around her waist. “Well, thank you, sweet husband of mine.”

”I aim to please.”

And for a moment, the couple simply looked at one another, still just as captivated as they had been when they were newlyweds. The area around Colin’s eyes crinkled in the way they always had, the only notable difference being a few more pronounced lines. Penelope’s cheeks glowed a lovely pink in the same way they had when he’d first fallen in love. And her enchanting lips moved-

“Mama?” The voice somehow came so soft and so admonishing all at once.

“Oh,” Penelope leaned back and blinked as she was knocked out of her trance. With Colin’s arms still holding her, she turned back to their daughter. “Yes, my love?”

Agatha gave her an expectant look that seemed far too practiced for a girl of barely six years old. With a small shudder, Colin considered just how much she seemed to embody her namesake; he could practically feel his toes being crushed by a tiny cane.

“My question…”

Penelope’s head tilted slightly, and then her eyes widened. “Oh! Right, of course.”

“And what is this mysterious question?” Colin raised a brow first to his daughter and then to his wife. “Perhaps about L-U-N-C-H?”

Agatha and Thomas, who had both been taught to read almost immediately after they’d exited the womb, giggled in unison. And in the ever-present younger sibling's pursuit to not be left out, Jane quickly joined them.

“I have no doubt that Cook started preparing a spread fit for an army the moment she heard your horse enter the grounds,” Penelope gave him a good-natured roll of her eyes. “But no. Actually, Aggie asked about how we met.”

“Did she?” Colin asked with a twinkle of his green eyes. “And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing yet," she gave him an amused look. "We were rather rudely interrupted.”

“Best not keep her waiting any longer then,” he nodded seriously before giving his children a wink. Rather adorably, they all nodded eagerly back before attempting to return his wink.

Stepping out of their embrace, Colin took Penelope’s hand carefully as he led her to the sofa. Though she was in the midst of her fourth pregnancy, her husband’s incredibly sweet-but-bordering-on-annoying attentiveness had returned yet again. 

Agatha had already taken a cross-legged seat on the floor, immediately followed by Jane waddling closely behind. Thomas, who had been trying to make a show of disinterest, restrained himself for about twenty seconds before running over and plopping down as well.

“Alright,” Penelope took a deep breath. “Well, first off, your papa and I knew each other for… some time before we got married.”

“A point, I might add, that was not entirely my fault,” Colin interjected, receiving an amused look from his wife and a few dubious expressions from his children. Even Thomas didn’t look like he believed him. What happened to sons sticking by their fathers? 

Traitors, the whole lot of them.“Alright, fine. It was mostly my fault.”

Penelope smiled in her victory before turning back to their children. “As I was saying, it was some time. And although I was eight and twenty when we married-”

“A fact both of your grandmothers are always quick to remind me of,” Colin mumbled almost accidentally and was immediately met with multiple sharp looks. He flashed them all a charming smile, the one he liked to pull out whenever he was in trouble. “So sorry. Please continue, my darling.”

His wife blinked at him. “Do you want to tell the story?”

“Erm- the little lady asked you, I believe.”

Penelope gave him a pointed nod before continuing. “As I was saying, I was eight and twenty when we married, but I first saw your papa just two days before my sixteenth birthday. I was in the park with your aunties and grandmother doing…” Her eyebrows crinkled together. “Whatever it was we used to do.”

Colin reached across to squeeze her hand. “Strolling, perhaps?” he drawled, earning a glare from his wife.

“Perhaps,” she replied before facing her children again. “Anyhow, we were in the park. And do you remember how I always say to make sure your bonnet is properly fastened?” Though the question was mostly directed towards Agatha, all three little humans nodded their heads accordingly. “Well, mine wasn’t. And so, a large gust of wind came and blew it straight off my head.”

A collective scandalized gasp came from the children, all staring up at their mother with widened eyes. Colin, who had been fondly watching his wife with his chin resting on a fist, stifled a laugh as he watched her give them a melodramatic nod. “And before I knew it, my bonnet had flown away right onto the face of a man riding on horseback.”

“Attacked is more the right word,” Colin cut in, promptly another look from Penelope. But he just shrugged. “It’s not every day that one gets viciously detained by a piece of flying headwear.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “And barely a few seconds later, the gentleman had fallen off his horse and onto the ground. Directly into a large patch of mud.”

Another gasp came from the floor as Thomas turned to his father. “Was that you, Papa?”

Colin smiled, first at his children and then at his wife. “I believe so. Unless I’m mistake and you did that twice?”

“Oh, no. Of course, not,” Penelope gave him a reassuring pat on the hand. “Only you.”

He grinned before looking back at their children. “I seem to recall your mama then running over and shrieking some sort of apology at me.”

Penelope cringed. “I was very embarrassed. Here was this strapping young man who had been plunked down onto his bottom in the mud due to my inability to tie a bonnet properly.”

The three children laughed at the word ‘bottom’ and each cast a funny look at their father. Colin dramatically threw a hand over his forehead, “Ruined my favorite pair of breeches in the process.”

Once the giggling had quieted, Agatha's face took on a thoughtful frown. “Wait… But if you met when Mama was fifteen, why did it take…” she held out her hands as she tried to do some counting on her fingers. Evidently giving up on the arithmetic, she threw up her arms, “however long before you married?”

Penelope turned to her husband with a mocking sort-of smile. “Colin?”

He opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it before opening it again. “I think that we’ve had enough story-telling for one afternoon.”

“But-”

“No-”

“Oh, I do so very much love you little terrors,” Colin announced as he lifted himself off the sofa rather menacingly. Immediately, the three children squealed and jumped from their own seats as their father dashed towards them.

Penelope didn’t attempt to hide her large laugh as Jane buried into her side to escape Colin’s outdrawn arms, giving Thomas and Agatha just enough time to clamp themselves around both of his legs and pull him down to the ground. 

Later that evening, when all of their children were asleep, husband and wife were sitting quietly in their own bed.

“Colin?” Penelope asked quite suddenly, resting the novel she’d been reading on her nightstand.

“Penelope?” He replied in the same tone, peering up at her through his reading glasses.

“Have I ever told you about when I fell in love with you?”

Slowly, Colin set down his glasses and book as he turned to look at her, taking the time to try and remember. “I don’t imagine it including my mother’s front steps?”

Penelope cast him a glare that was weakened by her amused smile. It was funny how years of love and marriage could make something that was so serious at the time seem rather comical now. Especially when taking into account that both of Colin’s older brothers still brought up the incident at every opportunity (namely, through insinuating toasts or letters on their anniversary), they really hadn’t had any choice but to look back at the moment with little more than silly irony. 

She shook her head, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Alright,” Colin gave her a small smile and shrug, “I’m at a loss then, I’m afraid.”

Penelope leaned her head against the pillows, wearing a fond expression. “When you fell off that horse, I thought it was the most dreadful thing that could have ever happened in my entire life. I thought that you were going to yell, or scream, or whatever horrible thing that you were quite at liberty to do-”

Abruptly, she sniffled and somehow, Colin had already retrieved a handkerchief from who knew where and was holding it out to her. Pregnancy made Penelope especially prone to spontaneous fits of emotions, and Colin knew her well enough to always recognize even the smallest of quivers in her voice. With a watery chuckle, she accepted and gave him a sweet smile.

“And even though you had just fallen six feet from your horse, and you were absolutely covered in mud, you just stood up and started laughing. And then you smiled, right at me. And my heart was immediately taken.”

Colin felt his own eyes become misty as he looked at his wife, his heart filled with nothing but adoration for the beautiful woman in front of him. “I wish I could say the same, but unfortunately, you were barely out of leading strings then. And as you did say, I was absolutely covered in mud.”

Penelope breathed out a laugh as she dabbed her eyes carefully. “Quite right.”

“However,” Colin whispered as he reached to hold up her chin. “I can say with complete clarity that I love you now.” He leaned over and softly met his lips to hers. “I love you now, and tomorrow, and next week, and next year… I loved you as Miss Featherington and Lady Whistledown and Mrs. Bridgerton... I have and will love you forever, if we want to get into specifics.”

Penelope smiled into the kiss as her hand met his cheek. “I love you too.”

And she most certainly did.

Penelope had been fifteen when she first fell in love with Colin. Twenty-one when he’d broken her heart. Twenty-six when she’d broken his heart. Twenty-eight when they’d both fallen in love with each other. And now, at thirty-five, she was still falling in love with him. More and more each day.

This was bliss. This was real life. This was love. And it was shared by the both of them.