Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a set pattern to how Penelope woke up most mornings. Her mind would wake before her body, eyes still closed, and she would take stock of the world around her.

There would be the warmth trapped under her sheets and the pressure of a heavy limb on her waist and a leg wrapped around her shin. If she shifted, the arm around her waist would tighten and a voice above her head would murmur complaints.

That was not how she woke up this morning. It wasn’t unusual for her husband to wake up before her, but typically he did not leave their bed unless he was desperate to relieve himself and he would usually return quickly, entangling his limbs with hers until it was time to get on with the day and tend to their children.

Penelope had gone to bed the night before feeling ill. Colin had softly sung the same lullabies he used for their little ones for her. She had eventually settled into a fitful sleep full of odd dreams of yellow ball gowns and unkind laughter interlaced with splotches of ink and the smell of parchment.

The upsetting dreams made her want to curl against Colin and just breathe in the scent of the lavender satchels in their mattress that was warmed by their body heat.

But Colin wasn’t in their bed. His body wasn’t pressed against hers. The body next to her was much too small to be her husband, but also much too large to be their three year old Elliot or their one year old Aggie.

“Five more minutes, sister,” the high voice of a child mumbled against Penelope’s back. The same voice whined when Penelope sat up, pulling the coverlet away from them. “Penelope!”

Felicity, Penelope’s younger sister glared at her half heartedly. Except the Felicity in her bed wasn’t the same Felicity that Penelope had seen at tea for the weekly meeting with the rest of the Featherington family. That Felicity was seven and ten and had been excited about showing Penelope her progress with her watercolors as the only Featherington accomplished in the art.

This Felicity looked no older than nine or ten.

“What—what is happening?” Penelope asked. She slapped her hands immediately over mouth at the sound of her own voice. To her own ears her voice sounded as if she still had her child pitch that hadn’t smoothed and deepened slightly until the tail end of her eighteenth summer.

“Are you okay, Penelope?” Felicity scrunched up her brows in concern.

“I’m just—“ Penelope swallowed heavily and took a calming breath. It had to be a dream. No matter how solid everything felt, it had to be a dream. “Fine. I am fine.”

“I didn’t scare you with my nightmare, did I?” Felicity scooted closer, snuggling into Penelope’s side and rubbed her face into Penelope’s abdomen.

When Penelope was in her early teen years, it was an action that made her uncomfortable. It was not just because she knew she was fleshier than the rest of her family, but because Felicity favored Philippa, whom younger Penelope had considered the prettiest of the sisters, in looks and while their elder sister was…more simple than purposefully mean she was closer to their eldest sister that always had a cruel thing to say. There was a slight worry that Felicity would grow into a copy of one of their elder sisters and forget that Penelope was her favorite.

But that was almost a decade ago and Penelope had long settled into a comfort in her own body.

Penelope brushed Felicity’s hair away from her face, running her fingers gently through the loose curls that escaped her braid.

It was an odd dream. She and her sister were so much younger and looking around the room, Penelope was just as surprised to see that they were in her old bedroom at Featherington house. Wouldn’t her and Colin’s residence in Bloomsbury make a more appropriate setting? Perhaps not since the guest in her dream was her younger sister.

Everything was so vivid and oddly tangible. It was so peculiar.

“It is a good thing it is Monday. No church service today.” Felicity sighed contently as she snuggled even closer. “And we did say we would have tea with the Bridgertons.”

“Did we say we would join them for tea or was I invited for tea and you found an invitation for yourself as my tag along?”

Penelope could not resist reaching out to tickle Felicity's ribs. She squealed and wriggled her body, but couldn’t escape Penelope’s hold. They only stopped when there was a knock on the door.

“It is time to get ready for the day, Miss Penelope. Have you seen young Miss Felicity?” Rae, Penelope and Felicity’s shared lady’s maid, opened the door. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards and mirth filled her eyes at the sight of both of the younger Featherington girls in Penelope’s bed.

Rae had followed Penelope to serve as the housekeeper, the head of staff, after Penelope was married. It was odd to see her back in the green of the striped maid uniforms for the Featherington family rather than the navy blue of the servants of her family with Colin.

When Penelope noticed Rae began to wrap her hair in tighter curls than she had worn in years, Penelope shook her head and tried to ask for her hair to be done the usual way, but Rae only cocked her head in confusion.

If this was a dream, Penelope should have been able to simply have one of her preferred hairstyles. Instead, she had to explain what it was that she wanted, unable to summon the pamphlet she had first procured for her lady’s maid in the fall of 1814.

“That is lovely,” Felicity cooed as Rae tied a pink ribbon into Penelope’s loose curls, sweeping all of her hair to the left so she could secure the bow just below her ear. Daisies were woven into her curls on the left side of her head, cascading into the bow. Penelope smiled at the looking glass, pleased with the kiss curls framing her face. “May I have something similar?”

There was so much longing in Felicity’s eyes and Penelope was transported back to the morning when Felicity had pleaded to be allowed to copy Penelope’s style. Their mama had not been receptive to the idea. Just the other day, Felicity—seventeen year old Felicity—had begged Penelope and Colin if they could sponsor her for her first season so that she could escape Portia Featherington’s fashion taste and matchmaking ways.

“I want to find love like you,” Felicity had grumbled, her head in Penelope’s lap. “I don’t want Mama to shove me in front of every man with title she can. Or worse. Shove me in front of  Gregory Bridgerton and hope for another Bridgerton son-in-law!”

“In twin tails, perhaps? Not the kiss curls, but the way Philippa rolls her forelocks away from her face would suit?” Penelope suggested, pulling out vibrant pink ribbons from a drawer at her vanity. The little face framing curls Penelope favored were too mature for her younger sister even if this was a dream. Felicity nodded her head enthusiastically, only stilling when Rae got to work.

It was an odd morning. Penelope’s only options were the old day dresses that her mother had forced her in. She went with the safest option, a pink day dress with giant floral embellishments on the skirt to be worn with a matching cap sleeved spencer jacket that was dotted with the same yellow flowers. The hemline had been lowered to mark her as a lady. She could have been out in society already or in preparation for the time.

Would it be strange to ask what the date was in her own dream?

When she was younger the only time Penelope didn’t require a chaperone was when she crossed the square and spent the day in Bridgerton house. She and Felicity crossed the square like they always did, her younger sister practically skipping alongside her in her own bright pink dress, swinging Penelope’s arm as they held hands.

“Felicity, that’s not how young ladies behave,” Penelope chided her on instinct, pulling her closer to tuck her hand in the crook of her elbow.

“Do not tell me that you will cease to be any fun now that you will debut in a week,” Felicity gasped.

So it was the Spring of 1813. Penelope frowned as she felt the gentle breeze on her face and the sound of life in Grosvenor Square surrounded her.

It was unsettling as Penelope and Felicity were informed that Lady Violet and her younger children were in the informal drawing room. Penelope took the all too familiar stairs to the second floor, her stomach churning at the solid feel of the steps under her foot.

The lady of the house was supposed to be Kate Bridgerton, formerly Kate Sharma. The younger Bridgerton children were supposed to be Edmund and Miles and they should have been in the nursery.

“Thank God you’re here.” Penelope barely had time to fully take in the drawing room when she was yanked by the arm.

Eloise Bridgerton, her dearest friend in the world, practically dragged her to the settee furthest from the pianoforte. Felicity had immediately headed towards where Hyacinth and Gregory were playing cards by the window, not even reacting to the way her older sister was snatched from her side.

“Every single conversation has been about Daphne’s upcoming social calendar.”

Despite the youth of her face and the higher hemline and more modest neckline of her dress, Eloise at least no longer had a child’s pitch and it almost made it easier to pretend that she was not a seventeen year old girl, but the grown and much swollen with child woman Penelope had visited the month prior.

“Oh.” Eloise frowned, gray eyes narrowed as they roved over Penelope’s face. “That’s a different look.”

“Doesn’t she look fetching?” Felicity trilled. She and Hyacinth were arm in arm, taking a turn about the room, no doubt plotting some prank. “I picked those daisies for her yesterday.”

“Yes, you did.” Penelope hid a smile behind her cup of tea that Violet had just handed her. “She’s quite proud of being the first to give me flowers even though I won’t be officially out until next week.”

And not that back in 1813 of reality Penelope had received flowers from anyone other than Felicity, Hyacinth, and Gregory. And then again in 1814. It wasn’t until it was almost 1815, after they were engaged that Colin gifted her bouquets.

“You look lovely, you always do,” Eloise rolled her eyes, “but since when do you darken your lashes?”

Since seven years ago, Penelope thought to herself.  She had given up on avoiding the sun to keep from freckling, but had decided at eight and ten that she could partake in some of the similar trends of her married sisters. She happened to like how her lashes looked when sooty or the way her lips looked when lightly stained with a homemade pomade Rae provided.

“You do look lovely, Penelope.” Violet smiled encouragingly, but her eyes swept over her form. The dowager viscountess didn’t need to state what was on her mind. It was still unfortunate that Penelope was dressed in the frocks chosen for her by her mother.

In reality, Kate Bridgerton had been the one that suggested Penelope wear shades of green and blue when the two of them became acquaintances. Penelope had bought herself new dresses in her third season and they had made a vast improvement that made her feel more comfortable in her own skin. They had helped with her confidence, but not with the marriage mart. She had initially garnered attention but her own awkwardness and shyness had been an obstacle outside of the fact that most members of the ton didn’t want to align themselves with the Featherington family.

Not that it had mattered. While her husband found her pretty in her new dresses, he had claimed to have found her just as charming in the ugly yellow and over embellished frocks of her childhood.

It was such a strange dream. The tea was warm in her mouth as was Eloise’s thigh as she leaned into her to whisper complaints about all of the preparations for Daphne’s calendar for the season and about Portia insisting that Penelope debut a year early.

Prudence was still unwed and so was Philippa, it made no sense to anyone why Portia Featherington would want to manage three daughters out on the marriage mart at the same time. If Felicity were closer in age and not still in the school room, there was a chance she would have pushed all four girls out.

But Philippa found her Mr. Finch in 1813 and due to the mourning period of their father—and needing to wait for the dowry that was supplied by Cousin Jack—had married him in 1814. And then Prudence found Mr. Dankworth in the off season, fortunately when a maternal aunt passed away and Penelope could funnel Whistledown earnings into the inheritance with help from her solicitor.

“You do look very lovely.” Eloise turned so that she was face to face with her. There was a forlorn smile on her face. “You just also look…older. Somehow it has made you seem so more than the lowering of your hems.”

Penelope knew what she meant. Even though her voice had returned to its younger pitch and her cheeks were rounder, the styling choice of her hair and tints had melted off the effect of her mother making her appear as some gaudy porcelain doll.

“If I was older I would sign all of your dance cards,” Gregory mumbled around a biscuit, the tips of his ears red.

Penelope tuned out the bickering of the youngest in the room as Felicity threw an insult at Gregory and warned him off of her sister. Hyacinth had joined in to make a jest about his height and how even Penelope was too tall for him to partner. Felicity attempted to defend her sister, but her words fell flat when she giggled through them. She was already even with her older sister’s height and Penelope knew that she would grow taller than her as well.

But the words were muted as Penelope focused on Daphne struggling at the pianoforte. Daphne was unfortunate to be one of the three Bridgerton girls that did not have Francesca’s musical talents, unable to carry a tune with a bucket. Francesca who was sitting beside her sister and moving the music sheet and would be leaving to Bath in a couple of weeks to stay with their Aunt Winnie for more in depth lessons.

Penelope was quite accomplished when it came to the pianoforte. In all honesty, she played far better than Daphne, but was skills below Francesca. But it wasn’t something she encouraged others to know about her. After experiencing the loss of her family’s pianoforte when her mother had to sell it before her second season, Penelope rarely touched the one Portia had insisted be bought to replace it before Cousin Jack fled to America.

At the time it felt temporary, like it could all be taken away.

It wasn’t until she was a married woman that she would play in the Featherington drawing room to the delight of her children and her nieces and nephews.

Because it was a dream, there could be no harm in playing in front of an audience. Her shyness wouldn’t be an obstacle because no one would remember it, they all were just figments of her dream world.

Right?

Felicity and Hyacinth had decided to take a break from circling the room and collapsed together in the spot meant for a single person next to Penelope. The way they fell, banging into Penelope smarted. Felicity’s elbow dug painfully into Penelope’s thigh.

“Hyacinth!” Eloise reprimanded, rubbing where Penelope had been pushed against her. “Are you okay, Penelope?”

Penelope’s brows furrowed downward, chest heaving as she struggled with each breath.

Why had that hurt so much? Dreams did not hurt the body, only the mind and heart.

Why were all of her senses in order? She could taste everything. She could hear everything and see everything with such clarity, none of the hazy edges of the dream world.

“Penelope?” Eloise looked at her with concern. “Are you well? You look peaky.”

“Did the nerves hit you just now?” Felicity asked, taking Penelope’s hand in her own. “I knew it was odd that you all of a sudden seemed fine about being out when you were begging Mama for weeks to delay your debut until next year.”

It was at that moment that Penelope could sense it. She could sense him. She stared at the open door of the informal drawing room, her hearing tunneling as she heard the voices of her brother-in-laws and her husband picking up in volume the closer they got to the room.

But that was not her husband that stepped through the entranceway. That was Colin Bridgerton, only just turned twenty a month prior and with his cheeks still rounded from youth. His brows were furrowed and his lips twisted as he followed his older brothers into the drawing room. In 1813 Penelope was not already looking toward the door. She had been looking down at her lap when she heard the older Bridgerton brothers walking in. Now, she stared straight ahead, the shyness she felt when Colin was near not present.

It had to be because of the memories she now had of Colin that altered this faded memory. For as Penelope looked at the doorway with anticipation, Colin’s gaze paused on her and his face smoothed before a grin spread from ear to ear as if he was excited to see her.

“Pen!” The younger version of her husband greeted her excitedly. The smile on his face did not last. It slipped and concern filled his green eyes. “Are you well?”

Eloise was clutching onto one of her hands and with the other she was using the back against Penelope’s forehead to check her temperature.

“You don’t feel warm,” Eloise muttered.

“She has seemed off since we woke,” Felicity explained to Lady Bridgerton.

They were discussing her, but Penelope did not join the conversation. She focused only on holding onto Eloise’s hand, using it as a lifeline. Unlike Colin who was not yet her husband, it did not matter that Eloise was not the Lady Crane of reality. Penelope always had Eloise’s love and affection.

“I suppose it would be best if I went home,” Penelope muttered at the same time as the viscount made his way around the sofa, cutting Colin’s path towards her.

“I shall escort Miss Featherington and Miss Felicity home.”

Anthony was safe. Despite his rank, he had always been as an older brother. He was kind and gentle with her and it was his treatment of her that had opened Kathani Sharma’s heart to the possibility of him. Anthony had escorted Penelope home on many occasions. It wouldn’t be as jarring to experience his attentions as Colin’s would be.

A Colin that was not yet her husband, but her friend. A Colin that she did not freely touch or look at him with unrestrained adoration.

For the most part, Penelope kept her head down as she and Felicity prepared to make the walk back across the square. Her thigh throbbed from the small injury—too real to be a dream.

Eloise told her she would call on her the next day to check on her while Hyacinth and Felicity whispered to each other, conspiring as they always did. As it was settled that the Featherington girls would return home, the drawing room returned to its normal routine, Daphne once again taking to the pianoforte.

Turning back for one last look at the Bridgertons, Penelope’s eyes locked on Colin who was filling a plate full of biscuits and sandwiches. Despite the way he was stacking his plate, he was watching her and frowning.

It was as Felicity grabbed onto her arm and pulled her out of the drawing room that Penelope realized that Colin had been watching her long before she set her sights on him as she scanned the room.

Penelope woke up alone. Alone and in her childhood bedroom. For the third day in a row. Her hand slid down to her lower abdomen. The life that was supposed to be fluttering there did not exist yet and neither did the beautiful children that she had already given birth to.

She had three days to accept that something had happened that had sent her back to just before her first season. She wished she had more time, but with having to wake up every day in the wrong house, the wrong bed, without her husband and children—Penelope had to accept that her current present was her new reality.

No matter how often she cried every morning, hours before Rae came to get her ready for the day.

It was Thursday and while Felicity was still in the school room, there would be no one in the Featherington household that would be her ally. Just a week shy of age seven and ten, Penelope’s social calendar would not just be filled with time spent with the Bridgerton family, but controlled by her mother.

Her silly, over critical, conniving, but well meaning mother. The woman that picked at her weight and her love of books, but also never realized that she was leaving early from balls to make Lady Whistledown deliveries because she simply believed Penelope was tired and needed a break from social functions and let her be. The same woman that did all she could for her four girls after the death of her husband.

Penelope wanted to give her mother some slack, but their history was not the same in this time.

“Yellow is a happy color, Penelope!” Portia chided her as Penelope held up a bolt of pale green colored fabric.

“We share coloring, Mama.” Penelope and her sisters had inherited her mother’s dark auburn hair and while she was paler than her mother and sisters and more prone to freckling—the same colors worked for her. “And green is lovely on you.”

Flattery, but honest flattery. Penelope’s tastes had always been more simple than her mother’s. Portia preferred over embellishments and adored bright eye-catching colors for her girls. Unfortunately, Penelope was not fond of how yellow, orange, and red looked with her peaches and cream complexion and how they clashed with her hair and the way it had way too much red in it.

Her mama blinked owlishly at her, pink dusting on her cheeks. When was it last that someone had given her mother a compliment? Another strike against her father, whom Penelope had been avoiding.

“Happy colors will help you find a husband,” Portia chirped, a pleased smile on her face. She bit her lower lip in which Penelope knew was in thought. Penelope clutched the bolt tighter to her chest, widening her brown eyes up at her mother in a way that Colin had once told her was unfair. Portia nodded to herself and then to the modiste. “One gown wouldn’t hurt.” She raised a finger in warning at Penelope. “Just the one. It will be your birthday present.”

It had been easier to convince the modiste to make her gowns in the style and cut she was accustomed to. The modiste did eye her curiously, perhaps wondering how a girl that wasn’t even out in society yet would know about Parisian fashion, but seemed more than eager for the project. The gowns would be a compromise of both her and her mother’s tastes.

Penelope would still wrinkle her nose in distaste at the colors, but at least she would stand proudly, confident in the way she carried herself in dresses that did not drown her.

Making their way down the street, they followed behind their mother in age order. Prudence, the eldest and the favorite, right next to their mother and Philippa right behind them and walking much too close and pulling herself out of step with Penelope.

Being Lady Whistledown was instinctual. It was hard not to collect gossip as no one deemed Penelope consequential. She was invisible even in her citrus dresses. Eloise had once teased after the reveal that perhaps it was her height that made it impossible for anyone to realize that she was present.

In this time—place, world, nightmare—Penelope’s first draft of her society paper had already been seen by her father’s solicitor. It was up to Penelope if she were to properly publish after her debut, but everything was in place.

Penelope had no need for Lady Whistledown as an individual. But her family, both the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons, did.

There were columns she regretted, but if she were truly stuck in the past then she would have no need to write them.

The conundrum she kept circling back to was what she was to do about the funds. In 1813, Penelope did not use her money, occasionally making donations to charities and to Lady Danbury’s school for girls, but unable to really use any of it except for the occasional trip to Gunther’s for ices or to buy a gift that could be mistaken for her use of her pin money.

Her parents had hidden their struggles with money. Penelope’s mama was not in the know until the end of Spring and after the death of Lord Featherington. It wasn’t until the off season that Penelope had been made aware when a visit to their family’s country seat had made it clear that they would forever be seen as guests at the estate once an heir was found.

It was the summer that Felicity was taken from Penelope. In the autumn when the social season began again, Felicity was sent to a maternal aunt to live with because there was no funds for a governess. When Cousin Jack had been proclaimed the heir, Felicity still remained in Bath until after summer when Aunt Petunia died.

When Aunt Petunia died, Penelope had worked with her solicitor—her father’s former solicitor—and funneled portions of her Whistledown funds into an inheritance for her mother. Perhaps this time around she could create a pretend relation so that her mother would have the funds to keep all of her daughters together and so not to rely on Cousin Jack and his schemes. Penelope would have to wait until her father inevitably died for she could not think of a single thing to prevent it within her power. She also didn’t want to risk her father stealing her mother’s inheritance and have him gamble it away. As ridiculous as her mother could be, the money would be safer in her hands, especially if they could root out Jack again and Portia worked with the Featherington steward and fixed the ledgers for their estate.

Her mother would have made a fine lord if she had been born a titled male.

On the subject of pretend relations, Penelope could not help but think of her distant cousin—so distant that Penelope was unsure if she had ever actually been a true relative or just a pawn in her father’s dealings. Marina Thompson would be arriving soon as a favor owed for the debt Archibald Featherington owed to Mr. Thompson.

Penelope had done her a disservice in the 1813 of her reality when no one could be bothered to listen to Penelope Featherington. Marina Thompson did not care for the ton and society, but she did not deserve the harsh words Penelope put to paper even if she had been manipulative, deceitful, and unfeeling of others in her desperation.

Penelope, now as a married woman and a mother of two of her own children and one on the way, understood how love could make someone act foolishly. For Penelope’s Elliot was born from an act of love that anticipated her and Colin’s vows.

She felt for the Marina of her past. The poor girl of nine and ten that did not know the consequences of her actions when she lied with her beloved.

Penelope did not care for Sir George Crane. If he had been a better man, he would have married Marina and made sure that she was protected before he left to fight for his country. He would have married her before lying with her. But he was who Marina loved and whose brother Penelope would be writing to within the initial weeks of her time in London.

Her only hesitance was if her interference would lead to the loss of Eloise’s marriage to Phillip Crane. How would Colin make friends with Phillip if he didn’t visit Marina at Romney Hall to check in on her? She could not lose that connection for her dear friend. If need be, Penelope would have a time playing as a Matchmaking Mama.

Penelope could not hide out in her room and read her time away. It would be suspicious if she locked herself away even more and being alone didn’t alleviate the panic that came in waves.

She had taken to sitting at the pianoforte and playing. Her fingers moved clumsily at first until her training had come back to her with practice. When she played, she wasn’t forced to take part in conversations and her mother preferred that she focus on proper pursuits of gently bred ladies than to have her nose in a book.

“Can you play a tune that I know?” Prudence griped as Penelope practiced a glissando. “What is the point of these nameless songs?”

The songs weren’t nameless, but Penelope couldn’t take credit for them when the base of the compositions belonged to Francesca. Penelope couldn’t remember the scores in full, but she couldn’t ask Francesca for them because they did not exist yet.

Penelope only lifted her eyes to look at Felicity who was on the floor by the pianoforte, playing with a wooden top that Hyacinth had given her that Penelope suspected actually belonged to Gregory.

Felicity’s brown eyes widened and she shook her head slightly in horror. Penelope smirked slightly and kept playing, ignoring her eldest sister.

“Mama!” Prudence whined, stomping her foot.

Portia looked up from her deck of miniatures, exasperated. Penelope braced herself for her mother to force her to entertain Prudence’s request.

“Prudence, your sister is finally showing interest in something other than her dusty books. Please don’t discourage her.” Prudence stomped over to the sofa Philippa was seated at, working on her latest embroidery project. Portia continued to shuffle through her miniatures. “Perhaps we can find Penelope a musically inclined suitor?”

“He’s not exactly musically inclined, but there’s a suitor with a pleasant singing voice across the square,” Felicity muttered, only loud enough for Penelope to hear as she shifted through her music sheets. Penelope glared at her, but Felicity only shrugged, smiling smugly to herself.

Even when Penelope had given up on the idea of Colin Bridgerton, Felicity had been the biggest champion of their relationship alongside Hyacinth. Penelope would not have been surprised if the both of them would have conspired together if there was even an inkling of Colin having an interest in her before he surprised his entire family with the announcement of their engagement.

“I don’t see how Penelope could possibly have a chance of finding a husband on her first season out,” Prudence raised her voice over the tinkling of the piano keys. “She weighs two stone more than a debutante should.”

“And the unfortunate spots,” Philippa chimed in. “The sun is not kind to Penelope.”

“Well,” Portia clucked her tongue, “there will perhaps be a lord in need of an heir that finds her figure a boon for child rearing.”

Penelope rubbed at her forehead, a headache forming. Her family was so tiring.

The words had hurt when she was once in reality seven and ten and yearning for a love she thought would never be. Now, Penelope had the memories of Colin pressing kisses to her soft stomach and the reverent look on his face as he touched her rounded hips and plush thighs before reaching for the heat between her legs.

“You are so beautiful,” he had said, voice hoarse and in awe even as his eyes swept over her the first time she was bare to him, eyes not stopping at her full breasts but sweeping over the rolls of her stomach with the way she was propped on the settee they made love on.

Penelope trilled out arpeggios, far more than required for the song she had selected to drown out her sisters’ remarks. Felicity had scooted closer to the piano bench, leaning against Penelope’s seat.

“When you get married,” Felicity mumbled, “do not leave me with them.”

Felicity would never have the same problems as Penelope when it came time for her to debut. She was already a little beauty despite the unfashionable red in her hair that she shared with her sisters and mother and would one day be the most attractive and charming of the Featherington sisters.

And one day Portia would be better. Their older sisters would be better. And they both would have brothers sweeter than any gentlemen Penelope once thought possible outside of the Bridgerton family.

But that was a world only Penelope knew and that reality was not today.

“Come,” she nodded her head to gesture to Felicity for her to join her on the bench, “let us practice your scales.”

Felicity scrambled to join her and they leaned into each other as their fingers danced on the keys together. Closing her eyes, Penelope pretended that it was a normal Tuesday at Featherington House and her children were napping with their cousins in the nursery while the adults enjoyed tea together…

But then her father coughed from his wingback chair, cutting into her daydream.

Right, she grumbled inwardly. I’m not home. I’m somewhere far away.

“Penelope?” Felicity intertwined their fingers, stopping them from creating any more sound.

“I think I’m going to turn in.”

She bid her mother and sisters goodnight, begrudgingly including her papa in her sentiments. He looked at her curiously over his evening paper, but Penelope averted her gaze.

As cruel as Prudence of the past could be and as difficult as it was to attempt to carry a conversation with this version of Philippa and as sorrowful as it made her to see Felicity as a child instead of the young lady she was supposed to be—it was Lord Archibald Featherington that Penelope could not will herself to be around.

He was her papa, but he was also the man that essentially abandoned his family and did wrong by them before his death. He did not love her mother and did not provide her the security he was meant to. He did not love Penelope or her sisters—not enough to protect them as he should.

Prudence and Philippa had been disappointments. Penelope was a third failed attempt at an heir and Felicity was an accident after their parents imbibed too many spirits and too much champagne one evening after six years of a cold marital bed.

He did not love them. And while Penelope at age seven and ten could say she loved her father—Penelope as a grown woman of four and twenty with a husband and children of her own…could not.

“Good afternoon Bridgertons!” Penelope chirped in greeting. She had been over for tea on Mondays for years and was never announced by any footman, the butler, or Mrs. Wilson.

Perhaps it would have been better if she had been so there was more warning of her presence. Or maybe Benedict would have still choked on a gulp of tea upon her entrance.

His spluttering had caused the distraction Penelope used to make her way to the sofa Eloise was sitting on and reading her book. All eyes were on him as she made herself comfortable next to her dear friend.

“Are you reading something new?” Penelope asked. Eloise nodded her head, lifting her head to acknowledge her. The smile on her face at the sound of Penelope’s voice slipped into a slack jaw expression. It was very similar to the look she gave Penelope in the fall of 1814 when Penelope first debuted her new wardrobe and Penelope almost laughed.

“Has your mother lost all sense!?”

Taken aback, Penelope flinched at Eloise’s cry. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You—you are on display!” Eloise hissed, lowering her volume, eyes shifting from Penelope’s face to her chest. “Is she attempting to dangle you in front of suitors like a side of beef?”

“I know it’s still yellow, but I did select the cut of my own dress.” Penelope pursed her lips. It was not the reaction she had expected. She did not anticipate such a reaction from Eloise. “I think the fashions of Paris suit me rather well.”

“Doesn’t seem very patriotic,” Eloise drawled, frowning at Penelope’s dress. Her eyes roved over where the dress nipped in and showed Penelope’s figure to advantage. The adjusted line for her waist so it didn’t cut across her bust and the neckline—which was completely appropriate, thank you—suited Penelope more than the childlike cuts of the dresses her mother used to have made for her. “It’s really happening then. You will debut and find a husband and leave me.”

“You have far too much confidence in me,” Penelope giggled. “And I am not seeking a husband in my first season.”

If events repeated, it would not be until her third season when they were older that Colin realized that he was in love with her. If she was to be stuck in this other world of the past, Penelope would need to practice patience and strengthen her friendship with him.

“Oh, but they will seek you.”

Unlike the Eloise of 1814, this Eloise had no warning of Penelope’s change in style. That Eloise had known that Penelope was in search of a husband and had worked to make herself prettier. This Eloise was distraught, upset with change.

“What are you on about now, Eloise?”

Colin had moved from his spot next to Benedict on the other end of the large drawing room and plopped down on Eloise’s other side. It didn’t escape Penelope’s notice that he had traveled the path that led him first to the tea tray so that he could snatch a plate full of butter biscuits.

“Some unknown lord is going to take my Penelope away.”

Oh, that was rich. It seemed Eloise would always be in a state of dramatics when it came to Penelope on the marriage mart. She had been upset that summer before Penelope’s third season when she had told her that she would be seriously trying to find a husband. Eloise hadn’t learned from their fight during her first season when Penelope told her that she did in fact want to marry and have children. Granted, Penelope hadn’t tried at all during her second season, so focused as she was on Colin.

It was difficult to be at odds with Eloise when all she wanted was for her to be by her side. They had argued when Penelope wanted to catch the eye of suitors and they argued when Penelope had avoided Colin.

“I will not stand between you two—this has to end.”

“Always the dramatics, Eloise.”

Colin grinned, turning his attention to Penelope. Penelope saw the flicker of his green eyes, first on her face then downward then back to her face only to flicker back down and up to her face quickly.

“….other parts I’ve been…I’ve been dreaming about.”

Years into marriage, her husband still made her blush bright hues of pink and red. It didn’t matter that in her mind she was four and twenty and had more experience with Colin Bridgerton. He still managed to find a way to cause her cheeks to warm and pinken with just a smile even now when the Colin she interacted with was still twenty.

“What exactly is she taking umbrage with?”

“A completely unfounded belief that I shall find a husband in my first year out.” Penelope snatched the book Eloise was reading out of her hands, ignoring the dumbfounded look on Colin’s face. “It will not happen. There will be no suitors. Tell me about what you are reading, Eloise.”

“I don’t see your mama allowing you to decline dances or callers, Penelope,” Eloise grumbled, ignoring Penelope’s request and taking her book back.

“I will not have any callers, Eloise.” Penelope could not help but roll her eyes. Her only true callers had been Lord Debling and Colin. And that hadn’t happened until late 1814. Colin didn’t even officially call on her until they were engaged and they had to learn how to navigate what having a proper chaperone was like. “And no one will be asking me to dance just because of a dress.”

The change in dresses had not made any changes to her dance cards. The only man to sign them was Lord Debling and that courtship had resulted in the way it was meant to.

It was difficult not to share with Eloise that she was not the Penelope she knew from this 1813. Difficult, but she knew she could not share it with her for the same reason Eloise had told her that she could never have shared the Lady Whistledown secret with her: Eloise would not have been able to keep it a secret. She had been most impressed that Penelope had been able to keep it a secret from Hyacinth and Felicity.

“We will miss our trips to Hatchard’s because you will be too busy with some pompous lordling taking up residency in your family’s drawing room or taking you to promenade.”

Eloise’s voice was filled with so much disgust that Penelope could not help the indelicate snort that escaped her. The sound caused Colin to laugh as well. The old Penelope of 1813 would have been too embarrassed to make such a sound in front of him. It was a comfort to feel so at ease with him instead of bashful and unsure.

“Careful, Pen. Eloise will surely set up camp in the Featherington drawing room and play the dragon. She’ll be the fiercest of all chaperones.”

“Oh, she will steal your sticks for sure. Fencing lessons or not she will skewer any interloper.” Penelope poked Eloise’s side with a teasing grin.

“I do not appreciate it when you two gang up on me.” Eloise used her book to lightly smack Colin’s arm.

“Oh, but you are just fine when I’m the one singled out.” Colin took her book and tapped Eloise’s head with the spine.

“Because that’s the proper order of the world.” Eloise grabbed Penelope’s hand, squeezing it affectionately. Eloise chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully and then reached out to tug lightly on one of Penelope’s loose curls that wasn’t pinned up. “As long as you like this new look of yours, I like it.”

Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes fondly. “I do. Although I could do with less yellow.”

“What exactly is wrong with yellow?” Colin asked thickly, chewing on a biscuit. Crumbs fell from his mouth as he spoke before he could catch them, spraying onto Eloise’s dress.

“Chew with your mouth closed and then swallow, Colin,” Eloise tutted, rolling her eyes. “Do you really need to be instructed on how to eat? You’re as bad as Gregory, nothing but a child in that overgrown body of yours.”.

The joyful mood was lost to Eloise’s statement. She stood up, leaving her book behind to go fetch herself a plate. Eloise was always doing things like that, moving on from a conversation before it was properly concluded when her attention was grabbed by something else.

It was the smallest of slips, but Colin’s smile faltered. It still graced his face, but was much more subdued at the comparison.

Colin at age twenty was in a limbo. He was right in the middle in age between Gregory and his older brothers, and while they included him in their revelry, the gap was still large between him and his older brothers and they treated him like a boy.

“What could Eloise be reading that she did not care to tell me about?”

It was instinct. That was all Penelope could blame her next set of actions on. In the same beat that she picked up Eloise’s abandoned book, she scooted so that she sat in the center cushion and licked at the pad of her thumb. It wasn’t until she was examining the cover of the book and the title page that she realized that she had used that thumb to wipe at Colin’s lower lip before settling into the couch and taking the same thumb into her mouth to lick the crumbs off.

“Pride and Prejudice? I hope she enjoyed it even though it is a romance. You know how she gets when…” Penelope’s voice teetered off as she felt eyes on her.

Colin was watching her with wide eyes, lips parted and cheeks flushed pink.

“Forgive me, I—“ Penelope was at a loss. How did she explain away such a familiar act?

“It’s fine, I—“ Colin squeaked, his voice catching in his throat. He cleared his throat, raising his fist to cover his mouth.

The silence between them was awkward and so familiar. They could have been standing under a willow tree in Rotten Row ages eighteen and twenty-one, unsure of how to be around each other after an intimate encounter again. Penelope could not help but giggle. Both moments involved Colin’s lips in some way.

“Now, what’s so funny?” Colin narrowed his eyes, but they gleamed mischievously and the corners of his lips kept twitching upwards.

“I’m sorry.” Penelope bit her lower lip to contain her giggles. “My hand just moved on its own.”

“Well,” Colin cleared his throat again and grinned, leaning closer and tilting his chin up, “did you at least get it all?”

Before Penelope could respond, Eloise came back and sat back down in the narrow space between them.

“Cook made some of your favorites.” Eloise held up her plate to Penelope and offered her a sandwich. “I’m surprised there’s any left after Colin made himself a plate.”

Penelope raised her brow quizzically at the two siblings and scrunched up her nose in thought. Eloise was always at odds with Colin over something when they were younger. She could not remember for the life of her why Eloise was so antagonistic towards Colin on this day in 1813.

“You are really attacking your brother today, Eloise.” Penelope attempted to make it seem as if it were just an observation and not a raise to his defense. She dug behind a cushion and found the embroidery project Eloise had abandoned and hidden.

Lady Violet was never going to be able to sway Eloise into taking interest in the pursuits of genteel young ladies. Penelope pulled at the threads to untangle the mess Eloise had made and took over the abandoned project.

Eloise scoffed, set her plate on her lap and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “We’re in a disagreement.”

“Over what?” Penelope leaned across Eloise to ask Colin directly.

“Lord Byron,” Colin deadpanned. “She turns her nose up at Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage.”

“You take issue with Canto II?” It wasn’t until 1818 that Penelope and Colin would have experienced Canto III and Canto IV. Lord Byron was one of the influences for Colin’s first tour. As a couple they had planned to go to Greece together to visit the places Colin had written to her about, but had to wait until Elliot was old enough for travel. Agatha had been conceived during that trip.

“She takes issue with Lord Byron in general, but at least it’s for real reasons she can articulate,” Colin offered diplomatically. “Unlike Benedict, who I believe he and his friends just envy his success.”

“Now was that so difficult to say?” Eloise narrowed her eyes, flashing him a smug smile.

This was…nice. Penelope settled back into the sofa as Colin and Eloise exchanged banter. Penelope worked on making scalloped seashells out of whipped spider’s wheel stitch that Philippa had once taught her in a moment where she wasn’t being influenced by Prudence. The Penelope of April 1813 wasn’t supposed to care for or know how to properly make the stitch for another few weeks.

It had been an evening after Albion began courting Philippa and she and Prudence were at odds. Prudence was jealous that her younger sister had a suitor and had taken to mocking her intelligence more often than usual. Penelope—obsessed with romance as she was, still is—had been giddy at witnessing the courtship and had been more than excited to volunteer to listen to Philippa gush about her Mr. Finch. Out of the four Featherington girls, while they all were accomplished in embroidery, it was Philippa that was the most talented. She wasn’t a bright girl, but her projects were the ones they all fought over in their house.

Penelope licked her lips as her stomach churned. It had been a week since she woke in the new 1813. It was easier when there was something to occupy her thoughts, when she wasn’t alone.

It was easier when she was at Bridgerton House. There was always the unease of walking in and being transported back in time before she would come over for tea with Kate and notice that the decor wasn’t the same. But the Bridgerton family was the same as they always were. A bit more subdued with their affections for her, but still as kind as always.

At home, Penelope still had to deal with Prudence’s sharp words as she became more and more irritated by her lack of success in the marriage mart every year. The two of them were never close and it wasn’t until after the both of them were married and mothers that Prudence had softened towards her.

Felicity was always the sweetest child and Penelope thanked God every day that she was loved by her so much, but the age difference made it hard. Prudence and Philipa were only two years apart in age from each other and that had made it easier for them to be friends. Even the four years between Prudence and Penelope made it difficult and that wasn’t even taking for account the different tastes in hobbies.

“Penelope!” Eloise snatched the embroidery hoop out of Penelope’s hands. “Mama will never believe that I made this.”

Colin snorted as he took the handkerchief project from Eloise. He stroked the embroidered shells and examined the stitches. Penelope’s stomach sank as she watched his fingers brush over the shells.

Subconsciously, Penelope had created a design that replicated the shells that Colin had given her when he came back from his first tour. A token of warmth from the beaches of Cyprus after she had told him she wished to live vicariously through him during the winter.

“This could never pass for one of Eloise’s. It’s far too neat.”

“Sorry. I was woolgathering and just kept on working.” Colin handed Penelope the embroidery hoop back. Their fingers brushed together and Penelope had to remind herself that lingering touches were not the norm for them. “Just give it away before she notices that you didn’t even bother to make an attempt at practicing your chain stitch.”

“Was that what I was doing?”

“I should hope so,” Penelope guffawed. She set to removing the handkerchief from the hoop. “That was the closest approximation I could make.”

Colin snickered, falling to his side a bit from barely restrained mirth as he laughed at his sister’s poor attempts at embroidery. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last that Penelope fixed Eloise’s projects for her.

The two of them would sequester themselves away from the others as Eloise read aloud and Penelope attempted to salvage whatever Eloise was working on. Daphne would purse her lips in annoyance as she made her own pretty pillow sheaths, happy with her neat stitches.

“Ugh!” Eloise elbowed Colin’s ribs as he continued to laugh at her. “It’s not as if you would be any better.”

Penelope bit her lower lip and kept quiet. Colin couldn’t embroider designs, but he had learned how to repair buttons and some rudimentary stitches while away on his first tour. He was pretty adept with his hands, skillfully working with them despite his large fingers.

His hands…

Penelope primly cleared her throat, folding the handkerchief into fours. It wouldn’t do for her to overheat in the drawing room, skin flushing pink due to inappropriate thoughts—memories.

“You’re heaving.” Eloise snapped Penelope out of her thoughts. She shot Penelope’s bodice a disdainful look before rising to her feet. “I’m going to locate another scrap to practice on.”

She left the room, leaving Penelope to watch after her, eyes bugging out at her friend’s comment. She really needed to discuss with Eloise the need to filter some of her thoughts, especially in the presence of her brothers.

“Do you think she’s actually coming back with a scrap of fabric?” Colin asked, picking up Eloise’s discarded plate and eating her biscuits.

“She will probably wait and hope we forgot what she left to retrieve in the first place.” Penelope flattened the handkerchief on her lap, debating. Before she could change her mind she handed it to Colin. “Here.” She leaned in closer to whisper, fluttering her lashes up at him, “In case you become afflicted with more crumbs.”

Bashfully, Colin took the handkerchief from her. He once again traced the shell design. Penelope knew that at this age, Colin hadn’t been on any sandy beaches yet. Any shells he had seen were sketches in books or art or trinkets in the market.

This Colin did not understand the significance.

Penelope stood up, dusting her skirts. Colin looked up, eyes following her movements.

“I should check on Eloise. She’s probably collapsed on her bed.”

Colin nodded and Penelope made due with one of his friendly smiles.

He was not her husband, just her friend.

This was not the Colin that rubbed circles on her stomach and murmured sweet words to their unborn child. It was not the Colin that had excitedly declared to his siblings that if they had another boy his name would be Thomas and if they had another daughter that her name would be Jane.

He was not even the Colin of their letters yet. The small, occasional missives they shared now were nowhere near the same as the correspondence they shared while he was on his tour.

“Penelope.” Violet intercepted her before she left the room to look for Eloise. “Would you like to come over for lessons on floral arrangement? Daphne is looking forward to them, but I believe Eloise would benefit from your company.”

Eloise wouldn’t. Violet Bridgerton had never been able to interest Eloise in floral arrangements. Eloise wasn’t really interested in anything to do with flowers or botany until Phillip Crane entered her life.

And it wasn’t likely that they would let Eloise take up shooting clay birds when they weren’t at Aubrey Hall during the off season. There was very little besides reading and going to museums that Eloise enjoyed in truth when they were in London.

“I would be delighted,” Penelope responded, even though she already knew how little care Eloise would have for the lesson. Anything to keep her out of her own house.

Out of all of the people of 1813, Penelope was least prepared to see Marina Thompson.

“She’s beautiful,” Penelope had said to herself upon Marina’s introduction as their cousin from the country, but she had been unable to keep the watery edge out of her tone.

Beautiful and very much alive, Marina smiled politely at them all. She was still fresh faced, happy in her love of George Crane, and unaware of what missing courses meant. Pragmatic but sweet before her desperation twisted her.

Penelope couldn’t stay in the house and interact with her. She was grateful for Lady Bridgerton’s invitation for floral arrangement lessons. She knew Marina would be arriving soon, but her heart had not been prepared to see her once again breathing and real.

Marina would not be happy. She would be safe and content, but it wouldn’t last—could not last unless Penelope could find a way to save Sir George for her.

“Are you well?” Daphne had asked as she fussed over the arrangement she was making for practice.

“Yes,” Penelope replied hoarsely. She cleared her throat and gave her a quick smile as she fumbled with stalks of flowers.

Eloise had ditched them not even a quarter of an hour into the lesson, but Penelope didn’t chase after her.

“Which ones do you like?” Daphne held up a few stems. “I like how the colors pair, but I understand they all have their own meaning so the display could send the wrong message depending on which flowers are bundled together.”

“What are you trying to say?” Gregory piped up from where he was seated on the sofa. He had his nose in a book about the language of flowers.

Penelope smiled softly, endeared by the sight of him. He was always such a sweet boy. She had to resist cooing over him now that she was in a time where he was once again shorter than she was with soft cheeks. She kept peeking up at him as she worked to remove the thorns of her roses, remembering when he had been so excited to become an uncle to Anthony and Kate’s Edmund and then her and Colin’s Elliot. As his siblings’ children were born, Gregory had loved to spend time caring for them and being an older brother whenever he came home from Eton.

“Ah! Daphne.” Colin stumbled into the room, hair ruffled and coat missing. It wasn’t until he rounded the sofa and settled next to Gregory that he noticed Penelope. “Pen!”

She returned his beaming smile with one of her own as she carefully placed some of Daphne’s blue hyacinths among her yellow roses and reached for some yellow larkspur.

“Why did you come in here in such a hurry, Colin Bridgerton?” Daphne narrowed her eyes at him, hands on her hips.

“I shall not tell you as you will find out sooner or later.” Colin leaned back on the sofa, hands clasped in his lap as he crossed one knee over the other.

“I would much rather find out now. Especially if I’m involved in some way.”

“I think I would rather it be a surprise.”

“Now I’m even more suspicious, especially because Hyacinth has been missing.”

The banter filled Penelope’s ears and she enjoyed the liveliness. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine they were all at Aubrey Hall and Penelope was under the shade of a tent with Violet, Elliot in his grandmother’s arms as Penelope rocked Agatha, enjoying the relative peace while yards away the rest of the Bridgertons were fighting over Pall Mall mallets.

“Pen?”

Startled, Penelope jumped, having not noticed when Colin had stood up from the sofa, two of his fingers at her elbow. She swallowed thickly, her throat aching. The gesture wasn’t new. He did things like it when they were only friends, but Penelope wanted to lean into the touch, more than she was allowed to at this time in their lives.

“Yes?” She asked, wrapping her bouquet in brown parchment paper and tying the bundle with a yellow ribbon that Daphne had provided for her.

“You went somewhere.”

“I was just in my thoughts.”

“But,” Colin looked over his shoulder at Gregory who still had his nose in his book before turning back to her, “you’re crying.”

Penelope wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. He was right, tears had slid down her cheeks freely without her notice.

“Some pollen got in my eye,” she lied. “I’m fine.”

Except she wasn’t. Physically, Colin was the same height and had the same green eyes of her husband. But his jaw wasn’t chiseled and covered with the shadow of a beard. He still wasn’t as broad and narrow at the waist and his curls weren’t long and disheveled in the way her husband allowed them to get because he was always running after their children.

Even their outfits were too different. Her husband wore dark colors, mostly black, and his suits were tailored in the Parisian style the same way her dresses were and he could typically be found without a cravat.

Penelope loved this Colin—that was not the problem. But he was not the man that she shared all of her thoughts and her dreams with or built a home with. Not yet.

Penelope looked down at her bouquet and swallowed thickly again, struggling to keep her tears at bay. She had replicated the bouquet from their wedding ceremony.

Scooping the flowers in her arms, Penelope said her goodbyes to Daphne and Gregory. The both of them insisted that she allow them or Colin to walk her back across the square but she wanted to be alone.

“Are you sure?” Colin asked. So much concern and kindness in his eyes. “I could get Eloise, she’s only locked away with Francesca in her room.”

“No.” Penelope shook her head and gave him a watery smile. “I know she wants to spend as much time with her as possible before Francesca leaves to Bath. I assure you, I am fine. Here.”

Penelope grabbed one of the spare stems of veronica and handed the blue flower to Colin. Despite the confusion in his eyes, he took the stem from her.

Loyalty. Fidelity. Love.

“For you.”

Always for you.

Colin let the confusion melt off of his face and he gave her a cheeky smile.

“My first flower of the season.” He gave an exaggerated bow, playful as always. “And sure to be my favorite,” he continued to joke as if she had been a gentleman caller. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Penelope returned his cheek, keeping her voice light.

I don’t want to break your heart again.

Arriving at Featherington House, originally Penelope was going to hide her bouquet in her room or give it to Felicity. Cutting across the foyer, she saw her mother giving instructions to Varley and a set of maids. Marina’s arrival was as much a surprise to her mother as it had been to Penelope and her sisters back in the original 1813.

Penelope knew that she would be coming this time, but it wasn’t as if she could warn her mother without being able to explain where she had received the information.

“Good afternoon, Mama.” Penelope stopped at Portia’s elbow. Portia was pinching the bridge of her nose. It was a gesture that revealed the stress she felt.

“Where were you? With the Bridgertons again?”

It used to be that Penelope could only hear the bitter edge in her mother’s tone, the jealousy that coated Portia’s words at times.

Now she could hear the weariness mixed with her envy. The exhaustion of having to do so much more with so much less.

“Lady Bridgerton invited me for lessons,” Penelope explained and held out the bouquet to her mother. The last time she had handed a similar bouquet to Portia was at her wedding. “For you, Mama.”

There was no security in their home and even if Portia Featherington never had the love of a husband, she would have it from her daughters.

“Oh.” Portia took the bundle of flowers, looking unsure as to how to respond, but the corners of her lips twitched upwards. “Thank you, Penelope.”

When did Penelope’s father last attempt any gesture, even one as small as this? Just a simple bouquet of flowers? When did Portia Featherington last receive flowers that weren’t the stems that her daughters picked for her from the garden or the fields of their summer home?

“I would like to check on Felicity if she is done with her lessons.”

Portia waved her hand dismissively and returned to her task at hand. But as Penelope made her way up the stairs she looked down and saw her mother continue to cradle her flowers instead of handing them off to a maid.

She held them with the same care that she held the Lord Featherington Penelope had given her, their sweet Elliot.

Love. Friendship. Forgiveness. Lightness. Loyalty.

The Bridgertons are by far the most prolific family in the upper echelons of society. Such industriousness on the part of the viscountess and the late viscount is commendable, although one can only find banality in their choice of names for their children. Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth—orderliness is, of course, beneficial in all things, but one would think that intelligent parents would be able to keep all of their children straight without needing to alphabetize their names.

Furthermore, the sight of the viscountess and all eight of her children in one room is enough to make one fear seeing double—or triple—or worse. Never has this Author seen a collection of siblings so ludicrously alike in their physical regard. Although this Author has never taken the time to record eye color, all eight possess similar bone structure and the same thick, chestnut hair. One must pity the viscountess as she seeks advantageous marriages for her brood that she did not produce a single child of more fashionable coloring. Still there are advantages to a family of such consistent looks—there can be no doubt that all eight are of legitimate parentage…

Ah, Gentle Reader, your devoted Author wishes that were the case amid all large families…

The rake formerly known as Earl Clyvedon has finally seen it fit to grace London with his presence. Although he has not yet deigned to make an appearance at a respectable evening function, the new Duke of Hastings has been spotted several times at White’s and once at Tattersall’s. His grace has resided abroad for six years. Can it be any coincidence that he has returned only now that the old duke is dead?

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

26 April 1813

It was the first proper ball of Penelope’s first season in the new version of 1813 and she was once again in a citrus colored frock. The gown was in the Parisian style that Penelope favored, but the color was still garish and clashed with her hair and skin. The tangerine satin wasn’t even a shade of Featherington yellow or green. Bold and bright, the dress did nothing to make Penelope more visible, not even the giant jeweled butterfly hair ornament pinning her loose curls tossed over her shoulder together.

She had always been invisible at events. Even when standing next to Colin or Eloise, other people never noticed her when they struck up conversation with them. Returning to 1813, that fact had not changed.

No one would be asking Penelope to dance at her first ball. In her original 1813, Penelope had spent the entire night listening to conversations no one was interested in inviting her to. It had also been the night that Anthony Bridgerton kept interfering with Daphne’s prospects. And it was the ball that Mr. Finch fell in love with Philippa at first sight. A pity they had not danced together.

It was, unfortunately, also the ball that Colin first laid eyes on Marina Thompson.

Penelope knew she shouldn’t, but she had been avoiding Colin, refusing to look for him in the crowded ballroom of Danbury House. It had hurt that first ball to see him dance with other debutants; she did not want to witness the younger version of her husband flirting.

Instead she marveled at the decor. Her memories didn’t do the event justice. The candle light reflecting off of the chandeliers and crystals gave the impression that the room was full of diamonds and other sparkling gems.

“Perhaps we should take a turn? Get away from Mama?” Penelope whispered to Philippa. Maybe at least one of them could have a dance if they found Albion Finch. It was too bad that Prudence wouldn’t be introduced to Harry Dankworth until the summer of 1814.

Philippa cocked her head, brows furrowing quizzically. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, she and Prudence were being pulled away by Portia.

Oh, dear, Penelope groaned internally as she trailed after them. Standing tall alongside Lady Danbury was Simon Basset, the Duke of Hastings. Penelope had almost forgotten how embarrassing it had been to watch her mother—and other mothers—try to shove their daughters in his direction.

Penelope had to keep from grinning when she saw the now recognizable tells of nerves in his mannerisms as Portia attempted to make an introduction for Prudence. His eyeline stayed above the small gathering of women, searching for something or someone. The duke did a double take when his gaze landed on Penelope and something flashed in his eyes that confused her. It looked like relief.

“And this must be your third daughter?” Simon cut her mother’s rambling as she not so subtly hinted that he should take to the floor with one of her older daughters.

“Why—why yes. That…that is my Penelope.”

Penelope pursed her lips in frustration. It wasn’t pleasant being back in a time when her mother did not think much of her beyond her being a third failed attempt at an heir. She missed the relationship with her mother that she had in her own reality.

She missed the mother that read Penelope’s romance novels and bragged about how talented her daughter was after years of telling Penelope to stop reading so much.

“Miss Featherington.” Simon bowed his head and held out his hand towards Penelope, a pleading look in his eye. “Would you do me the honor?”

Ignoring her mother’s gaping and the shock on her sisters’ faces, Penelope allowed Simon to sign her dance card and then lead her to the dance floor. He moved quickly, as if her mother was going to cut in and insist he switch partners, and Penelope couldn’t resist teasing him.

“I am happy to have assisted in your escape.”

“My apologies if it appeared obvious that you were my safest option,” Simon muttered, looking around once more. “But I believe that you may be able to help me beyond escaping the mamas.”

Penelope almost stumbled on her next step. This did not happen in her original 1813. Simon had been kind enough to make sure her mother did not forget to mention her when Portia had forced introductions upon him, but he had not danced with her.

“And how could I help a duke?” Penelope squeaked. She licked her lips nervously. This wasn’t her husband’s brother-in-law. Not yet. And he wasn’t yet the man that had been part of her support when her identity as Lady Whistledown was revealed nor was he yet the man that was her ally during the annual Bridgerton Pall Mall match.

“I believe you could help me locate a friend of mine. A Lord Bridgerton and his family. I was distracted and did not notice them arriving.”

The song ended and Simon bowed his head. Penelope curtsied, confused as to how Simon would know that she knew where the Bridgerton family was in the ballroom.

But then again, how did Simon know that of all of the ladies being flaunted in front of him, that Penelope Featherington was a debutant whose mother wouldn’t have expectations of him? As if he knew her and her family already?

“Are you,” Penelope licked her lips again, “sure that it is the viscount that you are looking for out of the Bridgerton brood?”

It was a gamble. Penelope’s heart beat a violent tattoo, her eyes scanning his face. Could it be? 

“I’m looking for my wife,” Simon whispered as he led her away from the dance floor. Penelope quickly steered him in a different direction, guiding him towards the refreshments where she saw a familiar head of light chestnut hair standing alone without her brothers.

“She’s getting lemonade. Make haste, Your Grace,” Penelope hissed under her breath, releasing him with a shove at his elbow.

Penelope watched as he turned to look at her over her shoulder, brows drawn in confusion. The small distraction as he walked ahead caused him to stumble right into Daphne Bridgerton who was making her escape from the detestable Nigel Berbrooke.

She couldn’t hear their conversation, but Daphne kept turning back, a worried look on her face. She said something to Simon and then relief washed over her as he offered her his arm and led her away to the other side of the room. Penelope sighed, feeling exhausted so soon in the evening. She wished there was a chance to speak to the Duke of Hastings, but Daphne needed him more than she did at the moment.

Penelope could only hope that Lord Bridgerton wouldn’t find them so quickly and intervene. He had made Daphne’s first season so difficult in the original 1813 that she had gone months before Simon arrived in town without a suitor.

“Neatly done The One Who Doesn’t Speak,” a deep voice with a Scottish accent congratulated her. Penelope groaned at the descriptor, remembering hearing it during her third season out. She gasped, recognition dawning as she realized that only one person had called her that, much to both her and Colin’s annoyance.

Penelope turned quickly and caught the charming smile of Colin’s friend and Francesca Bridgerton’s second husband, Michael Sterling. The one Francesca had just recently eloped with and had informed her family of the marriage through letters back in the time Penelope originated from.

Upon waking every morning, Penelope had felt so alone in the world despite being surrounded by everyone she loved. A heaviness lifted from her shoulders now that Simon and Michael had made their presence known to her.

“Lord Kilmartin,” Penelope exhaled. Michael winced, but the smile remained on his face.

“Not yet,” Michael whispered back. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles through her sheer gloves as he bowed. Smoothly, he signed her card for the next set before releasing her hand. “I am only Mister Michael Stirling, the Kilmartin spare, but I do believe a certain Lady will be calling me the Merry Rake soon.”

Michael quirked a brow and gave her a knowing smirk.

“Probably not this time around,” Penelope giggled. He knew exactly what he was doing with his flirtations. When Penelope wrote about the events of the Danbury House ball, she would have to mention a tidbit about Michael who hadn’t been present in 1813.

“But being mentioned in Lady Whistledown is how you know you’ve arrived,” he whispered conspiratorially, echoing Kathani Bridgerton née Sharma’s sentiments from 1814. “Doesn’t everyone want to see their name printed on her sheet?”

Penelope shook her head at the grin he flashed her, but allowed him to lead her to the floor for the gallopade. They were unable to speak much further as they danced, but Penelope didn’t mind. In 1813 she hadn’t been invited to dance a single time during her first ball, but now she had taken to the floor twice.

“A certain Mister Bridgerton isn’t going to cut in is he?” Michael teased her, referring to how Colin had interrupted her dance with Lord Debling in late 1814 on the night Penelope was meant to receive a proposal.

“No,” Penelope sighed forlornly. “He is currently being struck by my cousin’s beauty I’m sure.”

She would not regret interfering when she wrote a letter to Phillip Crane or even Sir George Crane in a week after she began helping Marina sneak her letters from the daily post, but it did not alleviate the ache in her chest at the fact that, once again, Penelope would be the cause of Colin’s heartbreak in 1813.

“Are you sure? The man that nauseatingly always refers to you as his wife whenever possible? Impossible to imagine him having an interest in anyone else.” Michael bowed at the end of the set, brow once again quirked as he frowned at her. “And he does appear to have been struck dumb by something, but I don’t believe it to be your cousin.”

Penelope did not have to search for him. As soon as she was willing to set her gaze upon him, her eyes knew where to find him. He stood across the room, taller than a majority of the crowd, watching where she stood with Michael Stirling taking her hand in his to kiss her knuckles once again.

Colin’s lips were parted and his brows drawn together in confusion. His green eyes shifted from Penelope to Michael and back, full of curiosity. Whatever it was that he saw, it had made him frown and begin to make his way through the crush of the ballroom.

“Do you already have a reputation, Mister Stirling?” Penelope drawled. “You may have triggered my friend’s protective instincts.”

Michael snickered into his gloved fist, shaking his head.

“What trouble could I have gotten into already at age nine and ten?”

“Enough,” Penelope deadpanned, earning herself another chuckle.

“Let’s meet out on the terrace in ten to fifteen minutes?” Michael suggested under his breath, leaning down. “I’ll collect Hastings now that Anthony has decided to conclude Miss Bridgerton’s night.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Michael straightened up and rolled his neck, wrinkling his nose at her.

“I don’t know how your husband does it. You are achingly small.”

“Hush you.” Her cheeks warmed at his comment and the innuendo that was surely intentional in order to elicit a response from her.

Penelope was the smallest girl at every social assembly and Colin was one of the tallest men, even taller than his brothers. She knew there were times they looked silly standing next to each other.

Michael had barely been swallowed up by the crush of the ballroom on his hunt for Simon when Penelope heard someone calling out for her. Even if she didn’t recognize his voice, only one man skirted propriety and called her not only by her Christian name, but by a nickname.

“Pen!”

Gracefully, Penelope curtsied and smiled fondly as Colin remembered himself and hastily bowed his head. They had been so clumsy with their formal greetings her first season, barely remembering how to behave themselves.

“Good evening, Colin.”

She could watch him all evening, just to see that excitable smile on his face.

“Have you been enjoying your first ever Danbury ball?”

“It’s been much more exciting than that dinner party my mama dragged me to the other night. The most exciting thing that happened was Cecil Tumbley knocking over the tower of champagne glasses by the dessert buffet when we were all meant to play parlor games.”

“I heard! Daphne was glad to not be in attendance,” Colin supplied, mirth in his eyes. “She has taken to reading that new pamphlet and loved how descriptive it was of the events. According to her assessment of what Lady Whistledown reported, our evening meal for Eloise and Francesca’s birthday had better fare than what was served.”

“And the food was more delightful than the company,” Penelope chirped, uncaring of the people milling around them. She was quite comfortable in her invisibility at the moment, especially because she needed to make an escape soon. “If only I were allowed to have imbibed on drinks as stiff as the conversation of some of the attendees.”

Colin chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back as he stepped closer into her space. It was so familiar an action her heart tugged at its strings and she smiled at him softly with all the fondness she would allow herself to reveal.

“Well,” Colin rocked back and forth on his heels, “you seem to be enjoying the company of the attendees tonight.”

There was something familiar about his tone and yet Penelope couldn't let the thought settle. She had to let it go, let it be dust in the wind.

“Do you…like him?”

“Well, I do like dancing.” Penelope clasped her hands in front of her and averted her gaze, scanning the crowd. She was looking around mindlessly until she spotted a blonde intricate updo atop a tall, elegant form headed in their direction. “Oh, dash it!”

Almost instantly, Colin was crowding even closer into her space, fingers brushing against her elbow in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been avoiding running into Lady Twom—Cressida Cowper all night, but she’s walking this way.” It was the perfect chance to make her way to the terrace and the perfect excuse to leave Colin’s side. “I should—“

“She can’t speak to you if you’re on the dance floor,” Colin cut her off, taking her hand and pulling her towards the center of the room.

There was no stopping Colin once he decided to be her champion. He didn’t leave her any room to decline, dragging her to join the other dancers seconds before the reel began.

It had been nice to start off her season with two dances under her belt that she hadn’t had in her 1813, but nothing compared to laughing and twirling around with Colin.

Their ridiculous height gap had never hindered them and they moved fluidly through the steps. Colin twisted his face humorously  as they braced their arms together and faced each other and spun. Penelope threw her head back, bursting into a peal of laughter.

“Well, that was fun,” Penelope giggled as they bowed to each other when the dance concluded. She held her hand to her chest, attempting to ease her breathing and will her heart rate to slow down.

“The best type of diversion,” Colin agreed, face flushed pink in glee.

She could have stayed there, right by his side all evening, but Michael had only given her enough time for a single dance. It had not escaped her notice when he set their rendezvous time that he had purposefully left her with an opportunity to dance with Colin before she made her escape to the terrace.

“I should go,” Penelope murmured, leaning close so only Colin could hear her and gave him a small conspiratorial grin. “Before I’m found.”

She left him before he could respond and moved through the throng of people, blending in as she always did before she reached the doors to the terrace that led to the garden.

Penelope found Michael and Simon in a corner of the terrace away from other guests that had gone outside for some respite and fresh air. There was unfortunately a chance that she would have to mention in Whistledown her interactions with them. Hopefully something more interesting happened that she wouldn’t need to list herself amongst the dances either of them shared.

Simon was far too big of a catch and she was surprised he had been able to escape the Matchmaking Mamas.

“I—“ Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat. The persistent ache of tears was back in her eyes and her throat as she looked up at her brother-in-laws. She gripped the diaphanous layer of her down, letting the crystal beaded butterflies dig into her hands to keep from throwing herself in their arms.

They were not her familial relations through marriage in this time.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Bridgerton,” Michael greeted her lowly.

“You cannot call me that,” Penelope scolded, lightly smacking his arm with her dance card as she swatted the air around him. “But it is good to see you both.”

“I—I did not…expect there to be anyone else,” Simon sighed. “One night I went to sleep alongside my wife…and then I woke up alone in Wales and it was 1813 all over again and I was making my way to London.”

“The same except I found myself outside of the Kilmartin estate.” Michael eyed the group of young men on the other side of the terrace warily. “When it became apparent this wasn’t a dream I set off to pay off my commission before I could be deployed to service. Coming to Mayfair seemed to be the right thing to do and I couldn’t stay when John—“

“I understand,” Penelope interrupted him, clapping a hand over his forearm and rubbing it soothingly. “I wasn’t particularly close with my father and then there is his supposed cousin as well and it has been difficult to see them in the flesh.”

“What do you think—?” Simon cut himself off when a trio of men walked past them to the steps that led to the garden. They nodded their heads in greeting and he and Michael nodded back. Penelope was grateful for her invisibility to others when they didn’t acknowledge her presence.

“It’s not possible for us to discuss any of this here,” Penelope warned them. “We are too out in the open and anyone can eavesdrop.”

“What do you suggest that we do?” Michael asked, covering her hand on his arm with his own. He had appeared so put together earlier, but Penelope could feel the slight tremble of his fingers. She felt the same, as if the two of them would disappear and she would be alone again in 1813.

“I am unsure but I will be courting my wife,” Simon stated as if it was the most obvious task at hand. “I do not need to pretend this time around and if we are to relive the past seven or so years then I would like to have my wife and family back.”

“I wish you luck, Your Grace.” Penelope smiled at him encouragingly. “I’ll assist in any way I can. I will need to find a way to put Berbrooke’s transgressions to paper as soon as possible to help clear Anthony from your way.”

“What do we do then?” Michael asked Penelope. It wasn’t lost on them that Simon would have an easier transition into being in the past considering the year they were dropped into. “Unlike the duke, we don’t—“

“Pen!”

Michael dropped her hand immediately at the call of her name and took two steps away from her. He had done it so smoothly, Penelope wouldn’t have believed they were so close before if it weren’t for the ghost of his warmth still lingering on her palm.

“I spoke too soon.” Penelope could hear the smile in Michael’s voice even as she screwed her eyes shut in frustration.

“Oh, no,” Penelope groaned, much to the amusement of Michael. Simon raised a brow but his face did not hint at finding the same delight as Michael did.

“Your Grace,” Colin greeted Simon with a bow of his head. This version of Colin knew of him through Anthony. Turning slightly, he focused on Michael. This Colin did not know Michael Stirling and none of them were supposed to yet.

“This is Colin Bridgerton, the younger brother of Lord Bridgerton,” Simon introduced them after a slight pause, realizing that formal introductions were needed. “Mr. Bridgerton, this is Michael Stirling.”

“Ah, the C in the alphabet.” Penelope shouldn’t have been surprised that Michael could so easily feign ignorance. It was surprising though that Michael had chosen to greet him in a way that he knew would irritate Colin. “The third son.”

Michael extended his hand out to him, but Colin simply nodded to him, smiling tightly. Michael nodded back, moving his hand so he could clasp his hands together behind his back. There were few times that Penelope could say she witnessed Colin behaving as he was and none of them were at this time in their lives.

Turning his back on the other gentlemen, Colin focused his attention on Penelope. Although his countenance was still amiable, she could not ignore the slight clench of his jaw.

What is going on?

“Your mama has been looking for you,” Colin lied. And Penelope knew it was a lie because her mother never looked for her at social assemblies until she was engaged to Colin.

But it would be odd if she didn’t look concerned and excuse herself to look for her mother. Penelope startled when Colin offered her his arm, looking between him and Simon and Michael. She was going to have to find another opportunity to speak with them about their situation.

“You shouldn’t be out here unchaperoned,” Colin scolded her, pulling her hand through the crook of his arm.

Penelope spluttered, confused as to what was happening. No one had bothered keeping such a close eye on her in 1813 and she most certainly did not have Colin Bridgerton chasing after her in Danbury House. Why hadn’t he gone home with his family? Or to White’s with his brothers?

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Michael look as if he was doing all he could to keep from laughing out loud and Simon with his arms crossed in front of his chest and eyes wide, still in shock over the interruption. Over Colin’s soft reprimand of where she was allowed to go and with whom, Penelope heard Simon chuckle and say:

“Well, isn’t that ironic.”

Were you at Lady Danbury’s ball last night? If not, shame on you. You missed witnessing the most remarkable coup of the season. It was clear to all partygoers, and especially to This Author that Miss Daphne Bridgerton has captured the interest of the newly returned to England Duke of Hastings.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

30 April 1813

Chapter Text

Empty. She always felt empty.

Penelope stared at the wall, unseeing as she stroked her lower stomach with a feather touch of her ring and middle finger.

Was it to be another boy? Or a girl? Colin loved both their children, but his affection for Agatha led her to believe that he was a father made for daughters. Would they have been another auburn haired child or would this one have inherited the dark locks of their father?

What happened to the life that was inside of her when she was thrust back in time?

“Miss?” Penelope turned her head at the sound of Rae’s voice. “Are you alright, miss? You have been in the bath a long time.”

“I am fine, Rae,” Penelope reassured her, closing her eyes and slipping lower into the bath water so her chin skimmed the surface.

“You have missed breakfast, miss.”

Penelope knew she shouldn’t worry her lady’s maid. Rae was the house servant that cared for her the most and while her loyalty was to Penelope more than the lord and lady she was in service to, Rae would not hesitate to reach out to Varley if she believed Penelope was ill even if Penelope didn’t want her to.

“I think I’ll just have peppermint tea, Rae.”

“You have missed breakfast for the third day in a row, miss.”

Sighing, Penelope pinched a rose petal from her bath and brought it to her nose. Her mother had insisted on a milk and honey bath to “smooth” her complexion. It never really did anything for her freckles, but Penelope did appreciate how soft her skin was left. Rae had included sprigs of lavender and rose petals.

Rae was concerned that Penelope wasn’t sleeping as much as she should. Portia was concerned that the bags under her eyes were unsightly. Something she couldn’t have after Penelope had danced with a duke the night before and even if she didn’t believe the Duke of Hastings would call on her, surely other men would come to get at least a look at her.

Penelope almost told her mother that the very same duke would be across the square calling on Daphne Bridgerton and where he went the other gentlemen would follow. But selfishly, a milk bath would be better than whatever mixture of oats and creams that was being slathered on her sisters’ faces.

Besides, that only worked for pretty girls like Daphne. Most would assume that any gentleman that danced with Penelope had done so at the behest of their mother—because they took pity on her. Even Lord Debling had only danced with her because it was the expected ritual of courtship as if they were one of the many birds he loved.

Only Colin danced with her for the joy of it.

“I guess a tray of toast and jam could be sent to my room.”

She knew that as soon as it was calling hours that her mother wouldn’t allow her to partake in any of the luncheon, but she was exhausted from the events of last night.

Penelope was reeling from the whiplash of discovering that both Simon Basset and Michael Stirling had joined her in a new 1813 and then from arguing with Colin after he had interrupted their rendezvous and brought her back inside under the premise that her mother had summoned her.

And then there was the longing. A longing that was not for her husband but for her dear friends. Penelope had already been missing Kate and Sophie—especially when she was used to seeing the former so often and how all the reverted changes screamed at Penelope that Kate was missing—but seeing Simon and Michael had made it worse.

Was Kate back in India bereft of her children and suffering the loss of them? Did Sophie wake up and find herself back in the nightmare life she had endured for so many years and yearning for Benedict and their children and the safety of My Cottage?

And then there was Sir Phillip. Would it be safe to send him a letter? Even if he were not residing in Romney Hall, the letter would be forwarded to his lodgings at Cambridge but what if it were intercepted?

Penelope spent most of the early morning hours oscillating between mourning her former life and planning.

After Rae helped her prepare for the day, Penelope had grabbed missives she had hidden in her floorboards and stuffed them down her bodice. After calling hours, she would have to find a way to Kilmartin House where Michael would be residing and give him all of the information she remembered from their original lives.

Colin once said she had the memory of an elephant and all the stories Sophie had told her had put her to the test last night when she returned from the ball. Penelope had a hard time imagining that Sophie would stay with her stepmother if she had returned to 1813. Only Posy would be motivation to stay and even then it was more likely that Sophie was now on the run and formulating a plan to be reunited with Benedict.

Simon’s connections would assist with reaching out to Kate Sharma and to look for Sir George Crane. His godmother, Lady Danbury, was a friend of Lady Mary and had sponsored the Sharma sisters when they arrived in London for their season—surely he could find some correspondence between them so they could contact Kate. Penelope did not wish to wait a whole year to be reunited with her if the Sharma family waited for Edwina to turn eight and ten for her debut.

It had been an entire month that Penelope was in this version of 1813. Sophie could be anywhere and Kate could very well be preparing her household to make their way to England.

“You look lovely.” Penelope startled at Marina’s soft murmur as they met each other in the hallway on their way down to the drawing room.

Once, long ago, Penelope didn’t hear the compliments for their sincerity. Now there was no niggling, the voice in her mind proclaiming them false was not as loud.

“I would return the sentiment, but it would be dishonest to suggest any equivalence.” Penelope returned the soft smile Marina graced her with. “You are radiant, Marina.”

And glowing. Marina would be missing a second one of her courses, but she did not know what that meant nor was anyone in the house aware except for Penelope who now knew the calculations from her original 1813. Marina would not panic until she missed the third and that would be when Varley would bring her suspicions to Portia.

“I would say you are too kind to me cousin, but the truth is that you are simply unkind to yourself.” Before Penelope could stop her, Marina looped their arms together as they stepped down the stairs. “Do not leave me alone with your sisters again. I do not wish to offend, but the only one that shares your amiable nature is the little one and your maturity surpasses your elder sisters despite the fact that Prudence is one and twenty.”

Penelope had to give herself some credit. It wasn’t just that she was in reality three years older than her sister’s current age, but Penelope had always been more level headed than her older sisters even when she had her childish moments.

“How shall we spend our time as we wait to receive guests?” Marina sighed when Penelope raised her borrowed copy of St. Irvyne . “I do not share your level of fancy for books so I do not carry them around with me and I do not relish the thought of walking all the way back upstairs to find one. Perhaps I shall work on my cross-stitch. I left it in the drawing room earlier while you were sequestering yourself in your room.”

Penelope bit down on a bittersweet smile. Marina would not have time for anything today when a barrage of suitors would come to call.

And yet the suitors did not cure the loneliness that Marina felt. She did not want them. She wanted her George. And Penelope.

When Penelope was seventeen she had been excited to have someone closer in age in the house that was friendlier than her older sisters. She had been proud that Marina preferred her company over Philippa’s despite the two of them being the same age. Marina had been a friend in Featherington House that Penelope had needed.

She had not realized that Marina had needed her just as much even before Portia kept her in isolation.

Penelope could not deny her. She had tried to avoid Marina when she first arrived, but she could not continue to ignore her. Not when Marina was desperate for a friend in a strange place after weeks without George and only her father for company in the country.

Prudence and Philippa were already seated at one of the sofas. They had sat in a way that left there to be no question that they had meant to leave no room for either Marina or Penelope to join them.

“Would you like to sit with me at my favorite spot?” Penelope asked Marina, still holding her hand. Marina nodded, grabbed her basket of thread spools, and let Penelope guide her to the window that faced Grosvenor Square, but more importantly—faced Bridgerton House.

“Did you enjoy the ball?” Marina asked her as she laid out her hoop on her lap. “I’ve never been to a private assembly at someone’s house before.”

“I was asked to dance.” There was only so much that Penelope could offer as part of the conversation. “I didn’t think I would be.”

“Dancing was fun,” Marina agreed, smiling wider. “My father rarely let me go to the assembly hall for the public dances. I was worried that I would step on someone’s feet, but I did well.”

“You were very graceful.”

“So were you.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Penelope’s mother. Portia was a flurry of skirts and orders as she got the room in order. Penelope almost missed her father slinking in behind her to take a seat at his chair. While her mother was loud, colorful, and boisterous, her father was small and insignificant, lost in her shadow.

Penelope was truly seeing her parents much more clearly now.

She must have grimaced when her father greeted them all and shook his newspaper open, because Marina cupped her knee to comfort her.

“I have noticed that you do not enjoy your father’s company when he joins us,” Marina whispered.

“You know how when you are a child, your father seems like the most important person in the household?”

If anyone would know how Penelope felt, Marina would. Her father was part of the reason that Marina and George’s love affair was in secret and he was the one that shipped her away to London.

“Yes.” Marina nodded, face set into an almost somber expression except for the edge of anger in her dark eyes.

“Well, I grew up.”

Penelope’s gaze shifted to her mother who was instructing the older girls in how to sit upright. Penelope knew her mother was scolding her for sitting at the window again, but she only watched her mother’s mouth as it moved and how the little divet between her scrunched together brows grew.

“I think when the callers come I will take to the garden,” Penelope muttered so only Marina could hear. “None of them shall be here for me.”

And it would be preferable to watching as Colin came to call on Marina all over again.

Penelope’s heart almost stopped when Rae came around the bend to the bench she was sitting on to read and informed her that she had a visitor.

For a moment she was confused and then hopeful. Perhaps Michael had come to call to continue the discussion from the night before?

But then confusion set in once again when Colin Bridgerton appeared behind Rae. Rae nodded at Penelope and went to stand an appropriate distance away to give them the illusion of privacy.

What?

Colin wasn’t supposed to be in her garden with her. He was supposed to be in the drawing room, calling on Marina. He had been smart about when he came to call last time to ensure that no one would interrupt and cut his time short. Portia eventually just allowed all of the suitors into the drawing room at the same time in the hopes that a few of them would switch their attentions to Prudence or Phillipa.

Colin stood in front of her, hands at his side with his fingers rubbing against each other. A nervous tick.

“I came to apologize.” Penelope blinked up at him owlishly, still confused. “For last night. It was expressed that I had overstepped.”

“Oh.”

“Believe it or not even Eloise joined in when Daphne was giving me a tongue lashing for my behavior last night.”

Colin looked just as chastened as he did when he had come to apologize to her in the very same spot for the words she had overheard. She should not find it endearing.

“And here I was thinking she would commend you for cutting into my conversation.” Penelope patted the bench next to her, gesturing for him to take a seat.

Colin took a seat, the tension leaving him. He turned to face her and opened his mouth, seemingly to continue the discussion of his behavior from the night before, but instead his mouth spread into a smile and his head tilted in confusion.

“That is my copy of St. Irvyne’s in your possession.”

Colin reached for the novel, but Penelope held it away from him. Her husband would have simply crowded into her space, uncaring of how they pressed together, but this Colin still had some boundaries. It was nice to know in case she would need to take advantage of it later.

“No.” Penelope giggled. “I believe it’s my copy.”

A couple of years early, but the copy was one of the many books that Penelope and Colin shared in their joint collection. It would be hers, just not yet.

“Penelope.”

“Colin.”

“I’m beginning to believe El and I chose wrong for your birthday present this year. Maybe we should have gifted you your own copy of St. Irvyne since you insist on having Eloise remove that old thing from my bedroom.”

“Yes, but my own copy wouldn’t contain your notes in the margins.”

“I thought you would have tired of my silly little thoughts,” Colin muttered, ears flushing a tint of red.

“Your thoughts are not little nor are they silly.” Penelope clutched the book to her chest. “I enjoy reading the notes you jotted down as you read…as an idea took shape or a connection was made.”

She enjoyed eliciting his bashful responses. Colin always looked so pleased when Penelope told him she enjoyed his comments and observations. He had a great eye for details.

“I didn’t expect you to be out here.” Colin looked over his shoulder in the direction of the house. “I’m glad that I didn’t need to compete for your attention so that I could apologize to you, but I assumed part of that crowd in the drawing room had to be for you.”

“Not at all.” Penelope snorted softly. “They are here for my cousin, Marina.”

“All of them?” Colin’s shock made Penelope wonder just how many men had come to call on Marina. She remembered there being many over the week, but hadn’t remembered how large of a turnout there had been on the first day.

“Yes. All of them. Did you not get a chance to speak with her before you came to apologize?”

“Apologizing to you was my priority.” Colin’s cheeks flushed pink. In a small voice he asked, “You noticed my interest?”

Penelope had not been watching Colin at the Danbury ball this time, but she knew about the events of the past and how Marina had caught the attention of many gentlemen at her first social assembly. Penelope nodded, smiling demurely.

“Well, she is beautiful.”

Colin frowned, seemingly unhappy with her remark the way he sat back, pulling away from their bubble.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Colin shifted on his side of the bench, clearly uncomfortable with how Penelope had tossed out the observation. “You make my interest in Miss Thompson sound so…shallow.”

“I do not mean to offend, Colin.” She had not intended for their conversation to take a sour turn. “But…you do not know her. None of those men in my family’s drawing room know her. All any of you know of her is that she is a pretty girl.”

Even in the original 1813 Colin and Marina’s courtship was a shallow thing. They enjoyed their light conversation, but Marina did not present herself as who she truly was as she seeked rescue in a marriage to Colin nor did she care to learn anything about Colin beyond his fortune, youth, and undeniably good character.

They had not even known each other’s favored foods and which they disliked and that was such a small detail that an acquaintance could make note of.

“Well that is what courtship is for,” Colin countered, tone defensive. “To get to know someone.”

“Do you not see some sort of irony?” Penelope drawled, slightly annoyed. Perhaps she actually was still upset with him because of last night. “Because you did prevent me from getting to know two gentlemen last night that you called strangers and now you are defending your own right to get to know Miss Thompson, a stranger.”

“It’s different. There are calling hours with chaperones and you—“

“And I was on a balcony full of other guests in direct view of the ballroom through multiple glass windows. Socializing. Something one must do before garnering interest from a potential suitor who may ask to call.”

“Did you not tell Eloise that you were not seeking a husband during your first season?”

“Am I not allowed to alter my decisions as different situations arise?”

“Yes, but…” Colin trailed off sheepishly. “Why are we arguing over this?”

“You are arguing. I am simply waiting to see whether you will lead yourself into a corner where you will be either adorably sheepish—or is it sheepishly adorable—or grateful that you are sitting because it would be difficult to continue standing with both feet in your mouth.”

Colin blinked owlishly at her, no doubt shocked at her uncensored speech. Then slowly, a grin overtook his face.

“Penelope Featherington, did you just call me adorable?”

“ That is what you latched onto?” Penelope burst into a peal of laughter and Colin joined her, the both of them leaning into the space between them.

Penelope had just caught her breath when Rae returned, followed closely behind by Michael Stirling holding a bouquet of pink gerbera daisies.

“Miss. You have another visitor.”

The silence between the four of them was thick. Rae’s eyes drifted between them all as she waited for Colin so she could escort him out of the garden.

Despite having more years of experience—although that was unknown to Rae and Colin—Penelope was also unsure of how to handle the situation they found themselves in. She never had a caller interrupt the visit of another caller. It didn’t matter that technically Colin and Michael were not her suitors. Penelope just never experienced a time in which she and Colin adhered to the rules of propriety in regards to calling hours. Or much of any rules until for some reason Colin had been concerned about her lack of a chaperone when he returned from his summer tour in 1814.

It wasn’t as if they weren’t aware of their existence. It was just that no one had cared to acknowledge that she and Colin needed to be held to the same standards as everyone else and they became comfortable with the treatment.

And then by the time they did it was too late, Penelope joked to herself. Colin was right. It was funnier in hindsight despite her finding it strange and at times annoying once everyone was keeping their eyes on them. Colin was a much more positive person than she was and had told her it was a good thing that everyone was finally taking her seriously and acknowledging how tempting she was.

A flirt. Always a flirt.

Colin reluctantly stood up and bowed his head towards Penelope, glancing at Michael out of the corner of his eye.

“I shall see you later, Miss Featherington.”

There was another pause before he hesitantly nodded towards Michael and took his leave.

“Well, that was odd.” Michael chuckled and practically glided into the seat that Colin had just been in. He brandished the bouquet with a flourish. “For you.”

“Are you finding entertainment in this?” Penelope took the bouquet and lightly swatted at Michael’s arm. Michael scoffed and brushed petals off of his suit jacket. “Need I remind you that he may not know it, but he is your friend.”

“The man smugly told me to just ask Francesca to marry me as if it was so easy when it took him weeks and you almost being engaged to someone else before he did anything about it and he did it in the most dramatic fashion. Sure, it was the most entertainment I had at a ball that season, but please let me have this.”

“Do not play with my husband’s feelings,” Penelope warned him, shooting him a glare. She shook her head and reached into her bodice to retrieve the notes she had compiled for him. “I’m assuming you spoke with Simon already.” 

Penelope looked up and shook the sheets of parchment in Michael’s face when he didn’t immediately take them from her. He continued to stare down at her bodice, dumbfounded, as he took the sheets and pocketed them.

“Yes, Hastings said he would investigate and look through his godmother’s correspondences to find our relatives in India—how did your husband not know about your other persona sooner if that’s where you keep your secret documents?”

“He wasn’t just reaching into my bodice at social events,” Penelope hissed, cheeks heating up.

“Now that I don’t believe.” Michael smirked.

“Enough of that. I gave you all the information I could about Araminta Gunningworth and the properties I remember belonging to the Earl of Penwood. Unfortunately you will need to do your own investigation because I don’t see Sophie staying with her stepmother ever again if she has returned to 1813 as well and it is difficult to travel as a woman with little means.” Sophie would have nothing to her name. This time around, perhaps she would be bolder and take something of more value to help fund her life until she could find the Bridgertons again. “I suspect she would either attempt to make her way to the village closest to My Cottage or to Mayfair where she could disappear as one of the many maids in any of the homes until she could reintroduce herself to Benedict.”

Michaels lips parted in shock. Penelope knew she had given him a lot to process but they couldn’t waste any more time. A month had already passed and Sophie was alone in the world.

“You want me to look for Sophie Bridgerton?” He asked her, face pinched in incredulity.

“You’re the only one who can, Michael,” Penelope implored him. “Despite not even being twenty yet, you are a man. You are not shackled due to your sex. You can go wherever you please and speak to whomever you please.”

Michael’s expression sobered up and he nodded in understanding.

“Francesca isn’t out in society yet and even if she was, John should get his chance to love her first.” Penelope took his hand in hers and squeezed it affectionately. “I will see to searching for the other Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Thank you. It would be the greatest favor even if Sophie didn’t return with us.” Penelope clasped his other hand and squeezed them in relief. “As soon as you find her, she could be installed at Kilmartin House as a maid, but I would prefer if you brought her to me.”

“You would make her your lady’s maid? Wasn’t she Eloise Bridgerton’s lady’s maid before?”

“No. Not a lady’s maid.” Penelope looked up towards her house and looked at the area in which Felicity should be attending her lessons. “A governess.”

Men are sheep. Where one goes, the rest will follow.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

30 April 1813

“He not only brought her tulips,” Eloise said thickly around a bite of lavender ice, “but he got some for Mama as well. And the rest of us. The whole drawing room was full of flowers from Holland. I wish I knew how much he spent on them, but of course we’re not allowed to ask about anything to do with money. Hyacinth was gushing. You would think the duke proposed marriage already the way Hyacinth talks about it.”

“But your older sister likes him?” Penelope asked, biting down on her spoon. She had invited Eloise to Gunter’s to belatedly celebrate Eloise’s birthday with just the two of them. Eloise and Francesca were close and the two of them didn’t mind, but Penelope knew Eloise appreciated it when she didn’t have to share the attention.

“She does!” Eloise exclaimed. “Daphne is so smitten she barely looked at her other callers, but Anthony was being a boor about it of course. Mama was furious when Anthony turned him out along with the other suitors. There was a whole argument and then Mama said the most curious thing about reformed rakes making the best husbands.”

Penelope had chosen the wrong moment to take a bite of her lemon ice. She began to choke, relief only coming when the bite melted to nothing.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better,” Penelope choked out, failing at not thinking about her best friend’s older brothers, especially not her own husband. He wasn’t at the moment a rake, but in her own timeline Penelope had experienced exactly what Violet Bridgerton had theorized.

Eloise sighed, stabbing at her ice with her spoon. She looked up at Penelope and sighed heavily again.

“Is there something you would like to tell me?” Penelope raised a brow at her friend’s strange behavior.

Eloise sighed once more and leaned back in her seat. She tossed her spoon into her bowl and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I heard you had a caller.”

“Your brother is such a gossip,” Penelope gasped, dropping her spoon into her bowl in a fit of annoyance. She never expected Colin to tell Eloise about Michael.

“I know. I swear Colin knows just about everything that happens in town. At least according to Benedict he does. If Lady Whistledown were not so obviously a woman, you could almost think she was him.”

Penelope hid her laugh as a cough. In one lifetime Colin accused Eloise of being Lady Whistledown and in this lifetime Eloise practically accused Colin. That was rich.

“I cannot believe your brother told you I had a caller.”

“He almost didn’t,” Eloise admitted. “I ferreted it out of him after he asked me if you told me about one Mr. Stirling. So tell me. Is he as handsome as Daphne says he is?”

Penelope smirked to herself. Even Eloise had thought Michael was handsome when she met him in 1814. Kate and Eloise had spent a good amount of time at a ball discussing it much to Anthony’s annoyance. And Colin’s. Penelope hadn’t known it at the time, but he was jealous and unhappy with Francesca for introducing John’s cousin to Penelope.

Not that anything came from it. Michael had fallen for Francesca at first sight, but she was already well into a speedy courtship and engagement with John Stirling.

“Very handsome, but he’s not for me.”

“I shall tell Colin that then.” Satisfied with what Penelope had told her, Eloise went back to eating her ice. “I was going to ask you anyway, but he promised me a new book if I reported back to him.”

“ Why would your brother want to know?”

“I don’t know.” Eloise shrugged. Penelope could already see how her mind was shifting away from the subject and about to move on to the next. “Because he makes it a point to be in everyone’s business? I don’t care for whatever Colin gets up to nowadays. I can’t believe he’s deciding not to go to university.”

It had always been something Eloise disparaged her own brother about. They had been close when they were younger and for the longest time Colin was her favorite brother, but as the both of them became adults with different expectations in society, their relationship changed.

When Colin finished with Eton, he had no plans to follow in his brother’s footsteps and become a university man. He was neither the heir nor the spare and while he did not want the title, he felt aimless but furthering his education wasn’t something that appealed to him.

And in his youth he yearned to travel.

“You know how he traveled to Wales and Scotland?”

Yes , Penelope mused inwardly as she nodded. I only received a couple of letters that trip and Colin said not to worry about returning his correspondence because he was already on his way home and would miss any letter.

“Now he wants to go to the Continent. And Greece. He won’t shut up about Greece.” Eloise scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It is absurdly unfair how he can just pack his things and go whenever it pleases him.”

“There’s actually a lot more work that goes into it, Eloise.” Not that Eloise ever experienced said planning when she went with Francesca to Scotland after the latter was married. All she had to do was make sure the maids packed everything she wanted to take with her. “The management of funds, the securing of a tutor, planning an itinerary for traveling between countries….”

Eloise wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes at Penelope.

“I sometimes forget how much you indulge Colin’s prattling on about whatever.”

“I genuinely enjoy listening to your brother, Eloise.” Penelope rolled her eyes at the way Eloise scrunched up her face in distaste.

“Well, that makes one of us.” Eloise took one last big bite of her ice cream. “You’re coming with us to Greenwich, right?”

In her previous 1813, Penelope had not gone to Greenwich with the Bridgertons. Eloise had begged and pleaded that Penelope be invited this time and Portia had been unable to invite all of the Featheringtons along.

Penelope was sure that Lady Bridgerton had purposefully delayed in inviting Penelope to make it more difficult for Portia to include herself and her other daughters.

“I am. Just me though. I’ll be leaving Rae behind for Marina.”

Marina would be going to Hyde Park with the rest of the Featherington girls, but Portia would be too busy with her own friends and attempting to show off Prudence and Philippa that she couldn’t be bothered with chaperoning Marina when Lord Lumley came to ask her to promenade. Penelope had to trail after her last time.

“Just you is all I need.” Eloise smiled fondly, scooting her chair back with a loud scrape. “Besides, you’ll be with my entire family. Let’s make our way back. I’m sure Sarah and Rae are tired of waiting for us and Mama has apparently invited the duke to dinner tonight so I must go make myself presentable .”

Eloise rolled her eyes and hooked her arm with Penelope’s as they made their way back home. While Eloise spoke about family gossip that Penelope was already aware of, Penelope was lost to her thoughts.

The matter of Sophie was an easy fix. Even if she hadn’t returned to the past, Penelope and Michael could save her. 

Penelope pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress her giggles. Colin had successfully maneuvered his siblings to ensure that Simon could escort Daphne off of the yacht and down the gangplank. It had earned him a glare from Anthony, but his troubles had been worth it to see Daphne beaming up at Simon as he held her hand in the crook of his elbow.

Lady Bridgerton flashed Colin a grateful smile as she guilted her eldest son into being her escort. Between Lady Bridgerton and Colin, Daphne and Simon had strong allies in the Bridgerton family in regards to their courtship.

“That was well done of you,” Penelope praised Colin as he walked up to her and Eloise. “Not that it was subtle.”

“It was, wasn’t it? And I don’t pretend to be.” He grinned, proud of himself. Colin exaggerated the bow of his head jokingly and offered her his arm as Benedict corralled Eloise and Hyacinth. “Miss Featherington.”

“I already asked Gregory to escort me.”

“What?” Colin’s eyes widened in shock, his grin slipping. “You cannot be serious. Gregory?”

“I wasn’t.” Penelope laughed and took his offered arm. “I would allow him elsewhere, but I’m afraid if I allowed him to escort me down the gangplank that we would both end up in the Thames.”

“Am I to be replaced by Gregory in your esteem?”

“Never.” Penelope couldn’t stop smiling. “Not when your younger brother needs to be threatened with the sale of his horse in order for him to behave.”

They watched as Hyacinth made her escape from Benedict and she chased after Gregory once they were safely ashore. Benedict called after them as Eloise hid her laughter behind a gloved fist.

“Children!” Violet Bridgerton called out to them, motioning for them to gather round. “Do we have everyone?”

“Is she going to make us line up by age again?” Penelope asked, laughing at the mental image of Anthony, Simon, and Benedict being corralled like the others had before Penelope and Daphne had made their debut into society.

She could see that going horribly. Anthony and Simon leading the pack at age eight and twenty, followed closely behind by Benedict at six and twenty, and then the closest child would be Colin at twenty with Daphne closing in at eight and ten, Penelope and Eloise at seven and ten, and lastly Gregory at two and ten and Hyacinth at ten.

It would separate Simon and Daphne and then have Simon in the company of Anthony and Benedict—one who was hostile towards him and the other who would follow his older brother’s lead. Colin would take Daphne’s side because she was his favorite sibling, which would be a great help to get Simon and Daphne on track to marriage in this version of 1813.

“Wouldn’t that be preferable? So we could be somewhere in the middle together?” Colin gave her a crooked grin, a sure sign that he was just about to tease her. “If she goes back to height order again you’ll find yourself in the back with the school room group.”

“How dare you!” Penelope feigned outrage. The effect failed because she couldn’t stop giggling at the image of them all lined up.

Colin would be at the front since he had shot past both of his elder brothers and was also taller than Simon. When Eloise stood straight you could see she was taller than Daphne. Penelope and Hyacinth were the same height and then poor Gregory would be last.

“Do you think your eldest brother knows that Simon is a couple of centimeters taller than he is?” Penelope whispered at the exact moment Anthony strolled up to Simon and Daphne, posturing and attempting to look intimidating.

“If Anthony could, he would turn height into a competition,” Colin whispered back. “Oh. Looks like Benedict has truly lost Gregory. Excuse me.”

As soon as Colin let go of her arm to go hunt down his younger brother who was running through the crowd, Hyacinth skipped up to her and latched onto her arm before Eloise could reach her.

“Will you be touring the Royal Observatory with Colin?” Hyacinth asked. Before Penelope could answer she added, “I shall be your chaperone.”

“You cannot be a chaperone.” Eloise rolled her eyes and took Penelope’s other arm. “You are ten. And since when do Colin and Penelope need a chaperone?”

Hyacinth blinked owlishly at her older sister.

“The duke said they should have one.”

Penelope halted midstep, causing the three girls to stumble into each other.

“The Duke of Hastings said what ?”

“I heard him whispering to Daphne while they were flirting.” Hyacinth smiled at Penelope like the cat that got the cream. “Something about you and Colin looking too… comfortable .”

Penelope was going to push the duke into the Thames River. Or get Gregory to do it.

When Daphne had expressed her delight over Colin and Penelope’s engagement in Penelope’s true timeline, she had said something along the lines of, “Finally! It’s finally happening. Oh, I’m so pleased. I knew Colin would figure it out eventually.”

Which Simon promptly responded to by saying, “Finally? Didn’t the two of them have an understanding this entire time? I thought they were just waiting until they were a bit older.”

Simon had apparently been so busy dealing with his new status as the Duke of Hastings and other concerns that he had missed out on the whole Marina Thompson debacle.

When they reached the observatory, Daphne had somehow manipulated the situation so that Colin was her chaperone. Out of her three older brothers, he was the better option, but at the same time his eagerness to talk to Simon about his travels and his time on ships interfered with Simon and Daphne’s time together.

Simon looked back at Penelope and gestured for help with a nod of his head towards Colin.

“Let us go rescue your sister from your brother,” Penelope suggested to Eloise. Eloise nodded and the both of them marched up to Colin, grabbing onto his arms and forcing him to walk fifteen paces behind Simon and Daphne.

“What is the point of you as a chaperone if you’re not going to give Daphne some space?” Eloise scolded Colin, smacking him with her fan. “We might as well let Anthony take over.”

“What was that?” Colin ignored Eloise and her fan in favor of narrowing his eyes at Penelope in suspicion.

“What was what?”

“The thing with Hastings.” Colin mimicked the way Simon had gestured for assistance. “That. He looked right at you.”

“He could have been looking at me, Colin.” Eloise defended Penelope, rolling her eyes.

“But he wasn’t.”

“He has asked me for assistance before,” Penelope explained. “It was a safe bet I would save him again.”

“Assistance?” This time it was Eloise interrogating her, yanking on her arm to move her between Eloise and Colin. Penelope had not told her that detail from the Danbury House ball. “With what?”

“Lady Danbury had him cornered—you know what that’s like.” Colin had the decency to look sheepish at her remark. He and both of his brothers had been spotted in a failure of an escape at the same ball. “And then my mama was on the attack and I was the safest option. No one expects anything to come out of dancing with me. I am a pity dance.”

That had been the story of Penelope Featherington’s life. She was the escape plan for Benedict Bridgerton whenever she was nearby and available. The chance to be the hero—although they were always kind—for both Anthony and Colin.

“Any of those toads should think themselves lucky to dance with you!” Eloise exclaimed, offended on her behalf despite the fact she had just been pleading with her weeks ago to decline dances. “You’ve always been so graceful during our lessons. The instructor always said so.”

“Yes.” Shockingly, Portia may have been forceful and overbearing with instructions, but under her watch Penelope had become a fine dancer. “All while he was also berating my short stature and lack of swan neck.”

Daphne had been the one to be flattered with compliments of her grace and figure. All deserved. If Penelope had been writing Whistledown when Daphne had debuted, she would have claimed her as the incomparable of the season and many would have agreed.

At least until Anthony turned beastly and prevented gentlemen from approaching her. There were many days that Eloise and Penelope would sit in the Bridgerton drawing room and watch Daphne pretend as if she wasn’t hurt over her lack of suitors. Until Simon had come back to England, Nigel Berbrooke was the only man interested and Anthony had promised Daphne to him.

Not this time.

Penelope exhaled heavily. She was just waiting for the right moment to bare her teeth and take to her quill. She was tempted to send Rae on an errand to have her cross paths with one of the Berbrooke maids to get the gossip rolling sooner.

“I have always liked dancing with you,” Colin argued against her self-deprecating remark. Penelope smiled at him, refraining from giving into temptation and lean into his arm to nuzzle her temple against his jacket sleeve.

“And I with you.” Penelope gently nudged Colin’s arm with her elbow.  “Just, maybe let him settle as your brother first before asking questions that relate to planning a tour? Daphne seems to adore him, but the real battle will be getting Anthony’s blessing.”

Colin looked over to his older brother who was busy staring daggers at Simon and winced.

“If one was to be fair to Anthony,” Colin chuckled to himself, “it must be difficult to see your best friend interested in making your sister his wife.”

Penelope stared blankly at him, but he was busy watching out for Daphne and if Anthony had managed to shake free of their mother. She could almost hear the ghost of an older Eloise shouting at Colin for having designs on her dearest friend in the world. 

“You were supposed to help her with finding a husband, not volunteer for the position!”

She shook her head, clearing the memory from her mind. Eloise’s annoyance had not lasted long, having decided that it was better for Penelope to be her sister in truth and for her favorite person to be married to her brother than someone that would take her far away from her forever.

“The only thing that should matter is Daphne and her feelings,” Eloise spat. “If for some miraculous reason I shall change my mind about marriage, I would sooner elope than have my chosen husband plead with my brother for permission to marry me.”

Penelope wished very much that she had her fan so she could hide her face as she laughed. It was dangerous for her health how often she would cease breathing from holding back her laughter whenever someone said something that alluded to their fate.

“He’ll find no better husband for Daphne.” Penelope nodded her head resolutely as Daphne gave an unladylike snort at something Simon had said. “Daphne will choose the man that feels like her dearest friend. It will not be the viscount’s pick.”

Penelope could feel Colin’s eyes on her. Friendship as the foundation for marriage wasn’t a concept her own mama believed in but she had also not believed in love matches until Penelope and Colin’s marriage and witnessed the happiness her daughters found in their marriages. Violet Bridgerton was the one that advised her children to seek out passion and friendship.

“I’m just happy to see that she is happy with her suitor,” Eloise mumbled. “Much better for her to have that stupid lovestruck expression on her face than to be stressed because it is her duty to marry and marry well. Daphne actually likes him. I don’t know what Anthony was thinking with Nigel Berbrooke.”

“He’s…titled.” Colin’s face twisted in discomfort as he attempted to explain Anthony’s reasoning which he clearly did not agree with. “And has no debts. Anthony doesn’t believe in romance. Besides, who would pick a baron over a duke?”

“Titles don’t mean anything,” Penelope insisted. “You are right though. It would be insanity to think a baron is a better choice than a duke, but it’s not his title that attracted Daphne.”

“No, it was his face,” Eloise snickered.

“Well—alright, yes, he is pleasant to gaze upon,” Penelope agreed. Eloise kept snickering as Colin cleared his throat.

“When you listen in on the gossip of ladies that’s something you may expect to hear, Colin.” Eloise smirked at him, enjoying his discomfort. She had complained most of their trip down the river that she wished to speak with Penelope alone whenever Colin escaped their other siblings to sit with them.

“And you are okay with him courting Daphne?” Colin asked, shooting a glare at Eloise from over Penelope’s head. Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes. Her eyes were going to get stuck in the back of her head with how often the younger versions of her husband and best friend were eliciting the action from her.

“I was never interested in the duke. Our conversation was about his interest in Daphne.” It wasn’t a lie. Simon did in fact talk to Penelope because he was interested in finding his wife.

“And Stirling?”

“Dead God, Colin,” Eloise interjected. She hooked her arm around Penelope and steered her in the direction of Lady Violet who was waving all of them over. “I think we interrogated Penelope enough about her interest or lack of interest in her handsome friend.”

Somehow, the way Eloise said “handsome” felt like a jab at her own brother.

“I’m not interrogating Penelope,” Colin grunted as he followed behind them towards the grassy bank of the river where Bridgerton footmen had laid out blankets and set up the luncheon their cook had prepared.

The three of them settled on a picnic blanket closest to Simon and Daphne. Eloise laid out on her back with her head in Penelope’s lap, taking up as much space as possible as she rested after Penelope made her help find and pick certain wildflowers. Lady Bridgerton wouldn’t allow Anthony to join Daphne and Simon, but she had difficulty preventing Hyacinth from sitting next to the duke.

Simon took it all in stride, earning even more besotted looks from Daphne with how well he handled Hyacinth.

Penelope was in the middle of slipping one of her smoked salmon sandwiches onto Colin’s plate when Eloise decided to ask about Marina.

“It has been pleasant to have someone else around my age at home to keep me company,” Penelope admitted. It was indeed nice to have Marina around during a time when her older sisters were unkind to her. “But it feels as if she is just going through the motions of being out in society. She doesn’t really want to be here and she’s asked me to keep an eye out for letters for her from anyone who doesn’t share her family name. I have my suspicions.”

A pit formed in her stomach from the guilt about her machinations. Penelope would have to be careful, but slowly over time she would continue to drop little remarks to dissuade Colin from courting Marina by alluding to Sir George Crane as someone Marina has an understanding with.

Penelope had been able to post a letter to Phillip Crane—all she needed now was to wait for a response. Because she was unsure if he had come back in time, Penelope had tried to be as vague as possible while stressing that Marina was going to need help from his family. There were multiple risks with sending the letter out, especially as soon as Penelope did. It would be a few more weeks until the maids began to gossip around the house about the lack of blood on Marina’s sheets. The timing would be off with the arrival of one of the Cranes and the house wide knowledge of Marina’s condition, but the quicker Phillip and George were made aware the better for everyone.

It could potentially save George. It could keep Marina from being locked away and then forced to make desperate decisions.

It could save Marina.

“For you.”

Penelope was startled out of her thoughts by Gregory who had stopped running around and was handing her a single stem of corn chamomile with three flower heads that he must have found and picked from the ground.

“Oh! Thank you, Gregory,” Penelope cooed. “Did these have a meaning in that book of yours?”

Gregory nodded bashfully, his cheeks a rosy pink. Eloise covered her face with her hands, but her body trembled from containing her laughter.

“Happiness. Peace.” Gregory swung his arms by his side, keeping his eyes on his feet. “Calmness.”

“Gregory Bridgerton!” Hyacinth scrambled from her seat by the duke and stomped her way over to Gregory. “I will be telling Felicity about what you are doing.”

“Tattle-tale!” Gregory shouted before taking off again.

“You would think,” Colin deadpanned, narrowing his eyes in the direction of his youngest siblings, “the first time he noticed a girl and became smitten over her, it would be someone more age appropriate.”

Penelope snickered to herself. The next person Gregory would find himself infatuated with would be Kate, who was even older than Penelope and his eldest brother’s wife. He would be crushed before his feelings could grow into anything, but he would become so fond of her.

Kate would have loved the trip to Greenwich. She would have loved distracting Anthony from Simon and Daphne’s courtship.

“He only really spends time with two girls that are not related to him,” Eloise pointed out. “Are we surprised that his affections are aimed at dear Penelope instead of her younger sister when Felicity is always teaming up with Hyacinth to vex him?”

“Oh, leave him be.” Penelope carefully broke off the flower heads. “It’s sweet.”

Penelope tucked a flower into one of her curls and she took one of the flowers and stuck it behind Colin’s ear. With the remaining flower she tickled Eloise’s chin until it was snatched out of her hands and Eloise stuck it behind her own ear.

“I think we’re heading back now,” Eloise sat up, using her hands to push herself up from the ground not at all gracefully. She dusted her hands and bottom happily, her smile only dropping when she noticed her mother frowning at her. “Oops.”

Penelope was just about to attempt the same when Colin offered his hands to her. She gripped them tightly and he helped pull her up.

“Thank you,” Penelope murmured, enjoying the warmth of his hands through the sheerness of her gauzy gloves.

“You can let go now.”

Penelope jumped, releasing Colin’s hands. She had not expected Eloise to still be standing next to them. She linked arms with Penelope, shoving their picked flowers into Penelope’s hands and shooting her brother a quizzical glare as she gestured for him to pick up the blanket they had been using.

“He is getting so odd as he gets older,” Eloise muttered. “I think I can take over escorting duties, right? Why does it need to be a man? Oh. What’s going on over there?”

They had reached the rest of the Bridgerton family just in time to watch Gregory cause an accident on the gangplank that resulted in Viscount Bridgerton and the Duke of Hastings falling into the river.

“Are we allowed to laugh?” Penelope asked despite the fact that she was already giggling and Eloise had doubled over in laughter.

“And the day was going swimmingly ,” Colin snickered as he caught up to Eloise and Penelope.

“Don’t you start now,” Eloise groaned.

“Oh, can’t you just go with the flow , El?” Penelope joined in with a teasing grin. “I’m shore you will have fun.”

“And now she’s doing it too!” While Penelope and Eloise dominated charades together as if they were in their own conversation, this type of wordplay was more Penelope and Colin’s rhythm.

“Yes, El. Why don’t you just dive right in? Have a laugh now that we have to fish our brother out. It should be reel fun.”

“I cannot be with you two when you carry on like that.” Eloise marched over to Benedict who was torn between helping his brother and laughing at his expense, falling somewhere in the middle and helping pull him out while laughing in his face.

While Anthony was upset, Simon was taking it in stride. Penelope remembered writing about how he and Anthony arrived back in London completely soaked in 1813. The event must have repeated and having already experienced it in the past, Simon was over his negative feelings over the encounter.

There was much to be said about him also being more mature in his mind than he had been in their original 1813 and thus much more mature than Anthony who was hissing threats.

“And that is what would have happened if you let Gregory escort you off of the yacht.” Penelope didn’t need to look at him to know that he was looking down at her with a teasing grin as he offered her his arm.

“Oh, he just wants to be taken seriously like his older brothers.” Taking his arm, she squeezed his bicep gently and rubbed the spot. “It’s not easy being the youngest and he cannot wait to be a proper gentleman like you.”

Colin was silent and it was once again another moment in which Penelope had forgotten to pull back on the amount of affection she displayed and how much she was allowed to get away with. She loosened her hold, only for Colin to adjust so that she couldn’t free her hand.

“If you take him any more seriously he will ask you to wait for him to be eligible.” Colin used his free hand to remove the chamomile flower from his ear and held it in front of her. “You do know it is the gentlemen that should be giving flowers and the ladies are to receive them, right?”

“Then perhaps,” Penelope grabbed the flower, letting it get lost in her bundle of campion, “it is all of you that should be learning from Gregory.”

“Oh, definitely let him hear you say that. He will be planning a wedding breakfast and demanding a tower of cinnamon biscuits and a wide assortment of sandwiches.”

“It’s good to know that Gregory would also select flowers with lovely sentiments as well for the arrangements,” Penelope muttered sarcastically, sighing into her wildflowers.

“Are you fond of those?” Colin asked as they made their way up the gangplank. He kept a strong hold, making sure she didn’t slip. “You were very particular about which flowers you and Eloise picked.”

“Oh.” Penelope wasn’t sure if she wanted to reveal the truth. How would the information be received? “These are for Marina. They are her favorite. She never said why they were, but I inquired if she knew of Greek mythology and she was indifferent when I attempted to discuss the connection to this flower.”

Marina had not liked it in the original 1813 whenever Penelope brought up Greece even when Colin wasn’t present. She had accused Penelope of attempting to guilt her for targeting Colin and told her that unfortunately her attempts did not have the power to sway her.

“Now I’m curious. What is the connection?” Colin plucked one of the campions from her bundle as he guided her towards the deck chairs Eloise and Benedict had claimed. “I know that in the Isle of Man it is known as a fairy flower and one shouldn’t go around picking them. There were many different tales in different villages in Wales. One place believed you would invite snakes into your home and another believed you would summon lightning and thunderstorms.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Does this mean I will be stolen away by the fae?” Penelope pouted playfully. “You wouldn’t let them steal me away would you?”

“Of course not.” Penelope wanted to pocket the smile Colin gave her. It wasn’t as if there was much of a difference between the older version of her husband’s smiles with the younger, but the rounder cheeks made them all the sweeter. “Tell me about red campions and their place in Greek mythology.”

“Well their genus is Silene which derives from Silenus, the name of the satyr teacher of the wine god Dionysus…”

Phillip had been the one who had explained the scientific classification of the flower before. He had used the classifications in his letters to Eloise, sure that she would like to learn them. Phillip would leave Eloise with just enough information to make her curious enough to ask him more questions or to search for the answers herself, encouraging her to broaden her mind the way no potential suitor Lady Bridgerton had attempted to introduce her to would.

“You used to read about the Greek Isles during Colin’s tour.” Eloise had fidgeted with a paperweight on Colin’s desk which sat right across from Penelope’s so they could write together. “And he used to write you those obnoxiously long letters…did he ever, I don’t know, talk to you about flowers?”

“Do you still plan on traveling to Greece?”

It was one of the reasons why Penelope didn’t want to attempt to alter her relationship with Colin so early despite Michael’s encouragement. Colin’s early books had been about his travels as a bachelor without a wife for a companion. How changed would the self reflection in his books be if Penelope made him a husband and then possibly a father before he could make his trips alone?

“If I can get Anthony to approve.” Colin scowled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “He did not mind the trips to Wales and Scotland, but he isn’t keen on allowing me to withdraw any of my own funds so I can, as he put it, gallivant across the Continent and other such places.”

Penelope took a seat on one of the available deck chairs, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as Benedict captured Eloise’s attention and made it so Colin was free to take the chair next to her.

“I believe he is still upset that I am not following in his and Benedict’s path and going to university,” Colin muttered, looking up to where Benedict was seated. Benedict was discussing something with Eloise while watching them from the corner of his eye. “I just do not see the point of attending when I have no interest.”

“At least he gets to go!” Eloise’s frustration swirled in her mind. The closest to university Eloise had ever gotten was being married to a professor of botany who brought her books and lesson plans from other professors.

“You don’t need to remind me that it is a privilege. Eloise has already said enough.” Colin exhaled heavily through his nose. “But I will not be satisfied doing things the way Anthony wants me to. I cannot be as Anthony.”

It was unfair. If it was all a dream, Penelope could reach out and hold his hand—comfort him and not care that she wasn’t supposed to do that.

“You can let go now.”

Leaving childhood behind made it so every touch had purpose, intention, and Penelope felt discombobulated needing to remember that, when it had been years since she could only touch or be touched by Colin when he was assisting her.

“You wouldn’t be Colin if you were like Anthony. And without bringing offense to your brothers, it is Colin who is my friend and I enjoy speaking with. Even when those discussions are only about his silly little thoughts.”

Smiling gently at him, Penelope dug through her wildflowers and found the corn chamomile and held it out for Colin to take again.

“A friend may give another friend flowers,” Penelope insisted. “Especially when they want to give them a bit of happiness. Remember what Gregory said about their meaning?”

“You know,” Colin tucked the flower back behind his ear, “the duke bought Daphne tulips. The expensive kind as she made sure we all knew. And here I’m getting second hand weeds. I see how much you value me.”

“My pin money does not stretch far enough for exports from Holland. Be reasonable.”

They stared at each other for a moment, narrowing their eyes at each other until they could no longer rein in their laughter. No longer able to contain her curiosity, Eloise managed to slip away from Benedict to join in on their conversation.

“Anyone want to wager when Daphne will be receiving a proposal?”

“Ooh!” Benedict perked up as soon as he heard the word wager . “Yes. It’s always fun when it is a sure thing.”

“You do not get to say that when you have been just as bad as Anthony,” Eloise scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I was not!”

Eloise, Penelope, and Colin looked at each other with disbelieving looks on all of their faces.

“Yes you were,” they chorused together.

“Why do you think we had Gregory and Hyacinth running around like little hellions?” Eloise quirked a brow. “We bribed Hyacinth with new ribbons to take off as soon as we arrived knowing you would have to chase after her and Daphne asked mama if Colin could be her chaperone for the day while she distracted Anthony. Today was planned by the minute, Benedict.”

Benedict frowned at the three of them, realizing how well they had all coordinated their family’s outing behind his and Anthony’s backs.

“Why would Daphne ask for Colin?”

“Because she likes me the best.” Colin puffed up his chest and smiled smugly. “Everyone knows that.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

Penelope and Eloise nodded in agreement, enjoying Benedict’s confusion far too much.

“It is alright, brother.” Colin stood up and clapped Benedict on the shoulder. “I shall like you best.”

Benedict looked at Eloise expectantly, but she was examining her nails, picking at the sticky residue from the red campion stems. Penelope elbowed her side and Eloise jumped, looking back and forth between her brothers.

“I shall hold my preference secret for another day.” Eloise beamed at her brothers’ disgruntled faces, falling back onto Colin’s abandoned seat. “But do know that I can be bought with chocolates.”

“All of our sisters are extortionists,” Benedict grumbled.

Penelope and Colin only laughed, knowing that within the week they would find Eloise in the Bridgerton drawing room stuffing chocolates in her mouth from a box she refused to share.

It has reached This Author’ ears that the entire Bridgerton family (plus one duke!) embarked upon a journey to Greenwich on Saturday.

It has also reached This Author’s ears that the aforementioned duke, along with a certain member of the Bridgerton family, returned to London very wet indeed.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

3 May 1813

Marina held her bedroom door open so Penelope could shuffle inside with Felicity in tow. Penelope held a tray with mugs of hot milk with dollops of honey and dashes of cinnamon while Felicity had a plate full of biscuits and cake. Marina took the plate from Felicity so she could clumsily climb up on her bed.

“I do not think I will get used to the daily schedule of the beau monde ,” Marina grumbled as she bit into a piece of cake. “It is no wonder I spotted Phillipa pulling out cubes of cheese from her reticule.”

“This is almost as good as drinking chocolate,” Felicity murmured into her cup. She had almost drunk half of her mug as soon as it was handed to her. “How did you think of this, Penelope?”

Colin .

Penelope only smiled around a bite of a biscuit. She dipped a sliver of cake in her milk and handed it to Felicity to eat.

The three of them were already dressed for bed with Marina’s hair securely wrapped in a silk scarf and Penelope and Felicity with their hair in braids. The maids would be upset to find crumbs in the sheets yet again, but it had become routine for the three of them to meet in Marina’s room and eat sweets while telling Felicity about their evenings.

“I do not like the Cowper girl,” Marina declared after Penelope regaled Felicity with a play by play of the events of the ball they had attended that evening. “She is false. I do not care for those that are kind only to those that may improve their status and not for the strength of their character. Has she always been like this?”

Marina had been the latest victim of Cressida Cowper. Cressida was sweet, inviting her to join her circle of friends when she noticed how popular Marina was with the bachelors until Marina told her that she was a Featherington cousin.

“Yes,” Penelope and Felicity chorused.

Despite the fact that Cressida Cowper had only just debuted this same year as Penelope, Portia and Lady Cowper were part of the same circle of acquaintances which resulted in many interactions with Cressida. Felicity had seen how Cressida was and Penelope already had one other lifetime of experience with being Cressida’s favorite victim.

Penelope did her best to avoid Cressida, but it seemed some events were meant to be repeated, just like Simon and falling into the Thames River. She endured the remarks of her weight and Cressida’s sickly saccharine tone as she loudly begged young bachelors to ask Penelope to dance.

There was nothing the Cressida of eight and ten could do to hurt Penelope. All of her barbs were dull and had no effect on a Penelope that had years to get over the hurt and many years of being loved and cared for by her husband and the Featherington-Bridgerton family.

“She reminds me of spider flowers.” Marina broke off a chunk of her cake to dip it in her milk as she saw Penelope do for Felicity. “Very pretty and could very well be one of the more visually striking blooms in a garden, but they have an unfortunate stench.”

“How fitting that her gowns share the same shades of pink as cleomes.”

Marina smiled slyly at Penelope’s acknowledgment of her comparison. She chewed thoughtfully and then drained her mug of the last dregs of milk.

“All blooms have their faults,” Marina said softly, eying the wilting bouquet of campions on her bedside table. “Some have thorns, some have staining pollen, and then others are…sticky.”

When Penelope came home, she had to toss out her gloves. The fabric was delicate and the red campion stems had a sticky residue that had damaged them. She had repeated the joke Colin had told her about how the genus sounded like the word for saliva in Greek. The joke did not land with Marina who only blinked at her and thanked her for the flowers.

Perhaps the joke only worked when it was someone like Colin making it? Penelope had just shrugged it off. She had found it funny enough.

It may not have been obvious to Felicity who was feeling drowsy after drinking the hot milk and the late hour, but it was clear to Penelope that something was bothering Marina.

She’s starting to become concerned , Penelope mused inwardly. Marina had been fortunate and did not suffer from the overwhelming nausea that Phillipa had in the early months of her pregnancy nor Prudence’s tenderness of breasts.

There was only so long before Marina’s secret would be revealed to the maids and then to Penelope’s mother. For now, all Penelope could do was be Marina’s friend and if Phillip or Sir George did not come rescue her soon, her ally.

There was always the option of approaching Lord Wetherby and forming an understanding like that of Sir Henry Granville and his wife, Lucy, before Portia could suggest someone like Lord Rutledge. It would be risky and Penelope did not want to worry Granville and Wetherby into thinking that their secret was so obvious to strangers or that it would be so readily revealed to society.

It also ran the risk of Marina’s fate remaining exactly the same as it was in the time that Penelope had come from. Then what would happen to her children? Wetherby would be glad for Oliver as his heir so he would not have to carry on with the farce with another young lady, but the twins deserved to be with their father’s family—with their Uncle Phillip. And Oliver deserved to inherit his father’s title and the Crane’s country seat of Romney Hall.

A backup plan I do not like, but a better backup plan than not having one at all of Sir Phillip is not with us and is unavailable to marry Marina out of duty.

Marina smiled softly up at her despite the confusion that caused her brows to furrow when Penelope tucked her into bed. She burrowed under the covers and let Penelope make sure that she was completely covered. Despite physically being older, this Marina felt more like the Felicity Penelope had left behind with the difference in age in her mind.

“Sleep well, Marina.”

“Sleep well, Pen.”

A week later there were two letters from the Crane gentlemen. One for Marina from her Sir George that Penelope had been looking for to remove it from the mail tray and another addressed to Penelope.

Penelope quickly stuffed the one addressed to her down her bodice and went upstairs, taking them two at a time to catch Marina before she headed down to break her fast with the family.

Marina pulled her into her room and they shut the door for privacy. Marina excitedly took her letter from Penelope and sat at her bed to read it while Penelope stood at the window furthest from the bed to read her own correspondence. Marina was happily distracted by her long awaited letter and had already gotten accustomed to seeing Penelope curl around her own missives and assumed it was from one of her friends across the square.

It was a short missive accompanied with a pressed red campion and a meadow cranesbill. The first flowers Phillip had ever sent Eloise.

Miss Penelope,

I’ve written to my brother and have begun preparations to leave to Dover where I have told him I would collect him after I have paid his commission. I shall send notice if I run into any complications.

It is my hope that time will be our friend.

Mister Phillip Crane

Chapter Text

Penelope scrunched up her nose when something wet touched her face. A moment later there was a hissing sound and a hand shaking her shoulder.

“Penelope!” Eloise hissed, waking her up.

Penelope lifted her cheek from where it laid on the top swell of her bosom and blinked up at her. Eloise’s face was twisted in a mixture of concern and humor.

There was a round of applause and it dawned on Penelope that she had fallen asleep behind the sofa Marina was seated at, sitting on the floor and playing with the terrier one of Marina’s suitors had brought. With all of the trouble Penelope had been having with sleeping at night and with the schedule of the fashionable set of London, she had fallen asleep where she sat in her family’s drawing room.

A drawing room full of her family, Marina’s suitors, and Eloise who had come to visit before they went for a walk to the shops.

“I know the sonnet was horrendous,” Eloise whispered, her eyes glinting with laughter as she helped Penelope stand up, “but for it to have put you to sleep?”

Penelope was saved from answering by her mother raising her voice to dismiss all of the callers. Penelope winced at the way her mother said her name in exasperation when she reminded the gentleman to say goodbye to the other ladies in the room.

Portia had been irritated when Michael Stirling didn’t come to call again. Her venting was equal measure of disparaging remarks against Michael and reprimands towards Penelope. She refused to let her sit out in the garden during calling hours again so she could keep an eye on Penelope and if she was reading around other gentlemen again and to listen in on any potential conversations.

And yet not a single comment about the fact that Colin had also come to call on her that day. Granted there were times he came over with Eloise before Penelope was out in society and Penelope was always over at Bridgerton House so Penelope couldn’t blame her mother for not thinking anything of it.

“Penelope,” Portia sighed, rubbing her temple with her index finger and thumb, “we are meant to promenade as a family—“

“So are we, Lady Featherington,” Eloise interjected before Penelope could stop her. “Penelope can come with my family and meet yours at Hyde Park. We will be setting up our family tent along the Serpentine. On the side of Rotten Row.”

Portia quirked her brow, looking Eloise over as she babbled. Penelope knew her mother was weighing the cost of losing control over Penelope for the day against the prospect of being seen associating with the Bridgerton family.

The social capital of being seen friendly with the Bridgertons won out.

“We shall see your family there. Don’t forget your bonnet, Penelope.”

Penelope handed Marina her puppy back and watched her struggle with it. Penelope spent more time with the terrier than Marina as she was of the mind that a dog that weighed the same as a cat was not really a dog. Penelope never understood the issue as she didn’t mind cats.

She watched as Marina and Eloise attempted to be courteous with one another. It was odd seeing them interact as they were both Lady Crane in Penelope’s original reality.

If things went as desired, Marina would still be Lady Crane and Eloise would only be a Missus when she married Phillip.

Penelope rushed to grab her reticule and her shawl before her mother could change her mind.

When she reached the foyer, she was surprised to see that Eloise was not alone. Eloise was watching as her older brother and Marina had a conversation, her eyes volleying between the both of them and her eyebrows rising higher and higher.

Colin had not come during the calling hour, which was a deviation from her previous experience of 1813. He hadn’t come to call at all despite signing his name on Marina’s dance card at the past few balls.

They could be spotted chatting as they danced, but Colin didn’t linger after returning her to the sidelines nor did he seek her out at other assemblies where dancing wasn’t on the agenda.

Eloise and Colin’s attentions were turned toward Penelope as her footsteps clicked against the marble of the foyer. Colin’s mouth shut tightly, the topic of discussion abandoned once he laid eyes on her.

“I just need to call for Rae,” Penelope informed Eloise as she adjusted her reticule on her wrist.

“Don’t bother. Colin is chaperoning today.” Eloise looked up at her brother expectantly. “He’s finally getting me that book he owes me.”

“She believes I was intentionally making myself unavailable.” Colin rolled his eyes affectionately, smiling sweetly at Penelope. “I was just reminding her that I have been busy helping Daphne with Anthony as much as possible.”

“And I was informing Mister Bridgerton that he is an inappropriate chaperone.” The smile on Marina’s face did not meet her eyes. “You are a lady, dear cousin. You’re no longer a child. Someone must remember that.”

Whatever Colin’s thoughts about Marina’s reminder, they were lost to Penelope. His expression could be claimed to be impassive if not for the slight clenching of his jaw.

This…is not how things are supposed to go…

Something had changed and Penelope was not sure what it was that she did to cause it. Yes, she had been making little remarks, but why should her words sway Colin’s actions when they had not before? And what of Marina? Her attitude towards Colin was more similar to how he had confessed she had behaved towards him when he had visited her in Romney Hall.

“We have always conducted ourselves this way,” Penelope explained. “We are friends. The three of us—ever since my family moved to Grosvenor Square.”

“I see.” Marina continued to stare Colin down. “Childhood playmates.”

“We have permission from Lady Featherington,” Eloise cut in, reaching out and grabbing Penelope’s hand. She pulled Penelope behind her and with her other hand grabbed at Colin’s forearm. “So we will be heading to the shops.”

“You could come with us,” Colin suggested, an obvious bid at some sort of truce. Eloise didn’t even make an attempt at subtlety when she swatted at his arm.

“As fun as that sounds, I have grown tired and would like to rest before the activities of this evening.”

“Did the poem recitation make you drowsy as well?” Eloise chuckled, trying her hand at levity. “The gentleman put poor Penelope to sleep.”

“How bad was it?” Colin asked, his attention swerving back to Penelope. Marina scowled at him, eying how closely he stood next to Penelope.

“Lord Byron he was not,” Penelope sighed. Despite herself, she couldn’t help the giggle she released at the mirth on Colin’s face.

“Glad to have missed it.”

“And I,” Eloise pointed at herself, “will be glad when we finally make it to the shops and then to Rotten Row on time so we can avoid a lecture from Anthony.”

Penelope did not need to dig deep into her memories to recall how Anthony was before he married Kate. She had found herself in the middle of those same lectures in her childhood, always standing between Colin and Eloise and on the rare occasion Daphne and Francesca would be lumped with them as well.

“I shall see you later, Marina,” Penelope expressed her goodbyes to her cousin. The smile she gave Penelope in return was more sincere than the one she had on her face earlier.

She was going to have to get to the bottom of Marina’s hostility towards Colin later.

Leaving Featherington House had improved the stifling energy surrounding them. Almost as soon as they reached the bottom step, Eloise linked her arm with Penelope’s and went into a long spiel, mocking all of Marina’s suitors for Penelope and Colin’s entertainment.

“I’m glad they were there for Marina and not you, Penelope.”

Eloise began to sway, crossing one leg in front of Penelope’s path so that Penelope would have to swing her leg around it to take a step and sway as well. They continued down the walking path that way, bumping each other’s hips. Penelope giggled, warmth flooding her chest with the nostalgia of the action. On occasion they would do the same when they went for walks in the gardens of Aubrey Hall or Romney Hall, but it was something that was mostly abandoned when they were no longer considered girls although on occasion they would walk together in that way while their husbands watched over their babes.

“None of them were very bright and I always imagined that in the absurd circumstance that we weren’t spinsters together that you would at least marry some sort of scholar, someone that would stimulate your mind.”

Not a scholar. A writer.

“Well, at least someone that won’t put her to sleep,” Colin teased, from behind them.

“Is it alright if we stop by the vendors to look for some hair combs?” Penelope asked Eloise as they neared the marketplace. In this time, Eloise mostly made use of hats to cover her head, not caring for styling her hair.

The complete opposite of Penelope who, despite steering away from the tacky accessories of her mother’s, enjoyed setting her hair.

“Will it take long?” Eloise asked, eyeing Penelope’s hair. “I noticed you didn’t wear the bonnet your mother said you should.”

“The ribbon chafes my chin and I wasn’t going to cover up Rae’s hard work with managing my hair.”

Penelope had Rae do something simple, taking advantage of her natural waves and curls and only setting a ribbon as a headband that tied her long hair together so it settled over her left shoulder and down in front. The ribbon was made of the same silk chiffon fabric that made up the sleeves of her dress and wrapped across her bodice. Penelope adored the cut and actually did like the pattern of butterflies made with sewn seed beads that her mother had demanded. The Featherington girls never were ones to wear simple or plain day dresses.

If only the dress wasn’t so yellow. The color of the fabric was called Summer Daffodil and all Penelope could think about was that she definitely looked like a flower, just not in bloom. Her mother would not hear about how she looked as if she was wilting.

“I just need to find something that would pair with my dress for the fête on Friday.” Eloise let go of Penelope’s arm and groaned as soon as they reached the marketplace and Penelope steered their trio towards a vendor that would have the combs or hair pins she was looking for. “The dress being delivered for the ball is in a color I actually chose myself.”

Penelope was excited for the expected delivery from the modiste. It had been weeks of suffering through yellow ball gowns, evening wear in her mother’s chosen colors of red and orange, or the white of debutantes that completely washed her out and finally at last Penelope was going to receive a ball gown made from the sage green fabric her mother let her select and a pink one that was remade from a combination of two of Prudence and Philippa’s old gowns from the previous season.

In her first season, the pink dress had been Penelope’s favorite dress despite it being a refurbished dress all because it wasn’t yellow. Unfortunately, the dress couldn’t be salvaged after Cressida had spilled her lemonade on her. There wasn’t a stain but the drink had ruined the fabric.

“What color did you land on?” Colin asked, looking through the wares with her. He lifted a comb with yellow jeweled flowers. Eloise shook her head at him, guiding his hand back down so he would let go of his selection.

“Green,” Penelope chirped happily, examining a set of green and silver combs that appeared to make the halves of a miniature laurel wreath. Colin took them from her and held them up to her auburn hair. “It’s my favorite color.”

“Is it now?” Colin tilted his head in the way he always did when he was looking down at her, his green eyes glittering more than the little stones on the hair combs. “The color suits you.”

“Yes it is,” Penelope answered, looking back down at the vendor’s stall and avoiding Colin’s eyes. She did not need to examine how the color had been a favorite of hers long before the change in her family’s colors. A pink gem butterfly hair pin set caught her eye and she lifted one to examine it.

“I thought you were trying to avoid your mother’s tastes?” Eloise raised a brow, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I thought they would suit Prudence. Besides, my mama is tolerable in moderation.”

The butterfly had become a symbol of the Featherington family over the years. Portia had used the insect in designs for all of her girls and had incorporated it in almost everything while she was head of their family. It was something new for their family made of women.

“A symbol of transformation and freedom,” Penelope’s mother had explained to them all when they returned to London for Penelope’s third season.

“You have two bugs!” Phillipa had squealed, the first one to acknowledge that Penelope as both a Featherington and a Bridgerton used both butterflies and bees as her symbols.

She had been the most excited to discover the little bee on Penelope’s wedding band and used both insects in her embroidery designs when she made gifts for the little Lord Featherington.

Elliot.

Penelope set the hair pin down and made her purchase of the laurel hair combs.

“I just don’t understand wasting your pin money on hair combs of all things.” Eloise’s mouth was a tight line as she watched Penelope pack away her wrapped purchase into her reticule. “For what? A single night of vapid socialization.”

“Eloise,” Colin scolded her, voice soft but stern.

“What?” Eloise threw her arms up. “I’m not wrong for simply stating my opinion, Colin. What is the point of  women trussing themselves up like cows at an auction?”

“I happen to enjoy the balls. And dressing up,” Penelope huffed. “Let us make our way to Hatchard’s. If we have time I would like to purchase a new quill and bottle of ink as well.”

Penelope did not need to worry about any lingering awkwardness. As soon as they entered the bookstore Eloise took off, muttering about wanting something about Philosophy.

“Do you think she would even notice if we left?” Colin asked as he followed behind Penelope as she walked in a different direction.

“We could probably go for tea and come back before she realized.” Penelope dragged her finger against the spines of the books on the shelf she was searching through. “The more she discovers in the pages of her books the more lost she becomes to the world around her. We will have to send out a search party if we are ever to get back on time. Ah! Here we go.”

Penelope pulled out from the shelf A Brief History of Greece, a book she owned in her own time but had only bought after Colin had left for his tour.

“Greece?” Colin took the book out of her hands. “Greek mythology…the hair combs that look like a laurel wreath…and now a book on the history of Greece.” Colin leaned against the bookshelves with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a crooked grin on his face. “Becoming a little obsessed are we? Should I be flattered?”

“I am not,” Penelope gasped in feigned offense. “Flattered? Whatever could you mean?”

“If I did not know better I would think this interest had something to do with my tour planning.”

“Do not overthink it. Remember, you’re the boy that was so excited to learn that the queen of Ithaca’s name was Penelope in Homer’s Odyssey that you nearly took your sister’s eye out with the text.”

“That was ages ago,” Colin groaned playfully. “Will you ever set me free of that?”

“Never.” Penelope giggled at his mock distress. It was one of her fondest memories.

Penelope’s family was back in Surrey at their country seat the summer after they first moved to Mayfair and she was sending letters back and forth with Eloise when Eloise wrote to her about her older brother shoving his copy of Odyssey under her nose to show her the name of their new friend. Colin had completely forgotten that he was translating from Greek under the instruction of his tutor and that Eloise did not understand what she was looking at.

A throat being cleared startled them out of the little moment they were in.

They straightened up and took a step back from each other. They had moved closer together without noticing. Eloise clutched her book to her chest, eyes narrowing suspiciously at her older brother.

“I’m ready to go.”

“Alright.”

Colin took Eloise’s book from her and headed to the clerk to make the purchase. Eloise took the chance while he was walking away to link her arm with Penelope and marched her out of the store.

“Let us go get your quill.”

“I didn’t pay for my—“

“Let Colin get it,” Eloise cut her off, jaw clenched. She held on tighter to Penelope’s arm, possessively. “He will owe me for something or other eventually, no doubt.”

When they reached a vendor selling writing tools, Eloise reached for a simple white feathered quill and examined the nub before deeming it strong enough for Penelope’s use.

“I will just pay him back,” Penelope murmured, lifting a bottle of red ink and opening the stopper to check the viscosity of the liquid. Satisfied, she made her purchase.

“You will do no such thing, Penelope Featherington.” Eloise gently gripped Penelope’s elbow and pulled her to the side so they were out of the way of foot traffic. “You..you would tell me, right?”

“Tell you what?” Penelope licked her lips, unsure of what to make of Eloise’s mood so far that day.

“If you…” Eloise rolled her eyes, sighing wearily. “If you change your mind about not seeking a husband this season?”

Penelope almost dropped her purchases.

“Where is this coming from?”

“It was just something your cousin said.”

“What did she say?” Licking her lips again, Penelope inhaled slowly to settle her nerves.

“It was more of a reprimand.” Eloise crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared into space thoughtfully. “Towards Colin that is. Apparently she is under the assumption that Colin scared your suitor off.”

“I do not have a suitor!” It had been weeks since Michael Stirling had come to call on her and it had only been once. How could he possibly be misconstrued as a suitor? “And how would Colin have scared a suitor off if I did have one?”

“You two are close.” Eloise hugged herself tighter, averting her gaze. “I know he is your friend and not just my older brother to you—and I’m glad you have him at social assemblies that I cannot attend because I am not out—but perhaps it’s…preventing men from approaching? And if you actually want them to—I’ll talk to Colin about it. He shouldn’t be a nuisance and stand in your way.”

“Colin could never be a nuisance to me.” Other than the time he had interrupted her dance with Lord Debling and interfered with her impending engagement, but that had been forgiven as soon as he had explained why he had done it. She could not have been more delighted by the results. “He is my friend. I enjoy our time together and our conversations.”

Eloise nodded at her, gray eyes wide in a way that made her look even younger than Penelope already saw her. Eloise grabbed Penelope’s free hand and squeezed it affectionately.

“But you would tell me first? If you changed your mind?” Eloise looked down at their hands and entwined their fingers. “It hurt to think you would go to your cousin before me about this.”

Penelope had met Colin first, but it had been Eloise that filled her heart and fended off the loneliness that brewed inside of her throughout her childhood. She was her sister long before Colin had made that true.

“You will be the first to know.” Penelope squeezed her hand back. Eloise was the first person Penelope told about her need to marry in her third season. She hadn’t been happy about it and they had been estranged for a time, but she stood by her as she struggled to navigate the marriage mart. “I promise. I did not lie to you about not seeking a husband this season. It’s too early.”

Colin still had things to do—still had to grow on his own—and she could not risk changing their timeline. She couldn’t afford it. Not if it meant missing out on their babies.

“Much too early!” Eloise laughed, a watery edge lacing it. “There’s still far too much for us to do first. I do not know what I’ll do without you next year once I’m forced to enter society if you’re not there.”

“You, my dear Eloise, will always have me.”

They were still holding hands and beaming at each other when Colin met them with their new books. Eloise made him hold their purchases so she could cling to Penelope the whole way to the park.

Penelope, Eloise, and Colin saw the Featherington tent first. Without saying anything to their mother, Felicity scrambled up from her seat on a cushion and ran towards them.

“You are late,” Felicity sang as she grabbed Penelope’s hand and swung it between them. “Can we go play now?”

“You already know what mama will say.”

“Ladies do not play, Penelope,” Penelope, Felicity, and Eloise chorused together.

Penelope looked over her shoulder at the Featherington tent but didn’t spot the head of dark curls she was looking for. The only ones under the tent were her mother and older sisters.

“Did Marina not come?”

“She was not feeling well so she stayed home.”

Penelope’s breath hitched and she halted her steps. Eloise whined when she was yanked back because she was still attached to Penelope’s arm. Colin had been following close behind and Eloise smacked his arm as she flailed.

Using the chaos, Penelope detached herself from Eloise and pulled Felicity aside.

“Did mama tell you that?”

“No.” Felicity shook her head, pigtails smacking her cheeks from the intensity. “Marina told me to tell you that she wished not to be disturbed tonight.”

Penelope exhaled a sigh of relief. Marina was most likely tired which could be a symptom of her condition. With the changes that were occurring to the past, Penelope was unsure of when Marina would be found out. She knew that her mama claimed that Marina did not feel well the day of the fête at the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens and she stayed home with her.

“Penelope?”

Eloise had returned to her side. It appeared that she and Colin had a quick discussion for he was walking towards the rest of their family, occasionally looking back at them over his shoulder.

“Apologies. I was just hoping that Marina would join us after what happened after calling hours.”

“Oh.” Eloise frowned, chewing on her lower lip in thought. “I would not go to such lengths to see your cousin and my brother as friends. I do not think they were meant to be.”

Colin not being able to make friends with someone was absurd to even think about. He was always able to charm his way into the good opinion of others.

“Was there more to their discussion?”

There was a part of Penelope, deep within her, that could not help but be satisfied that Colin Bridgerton did not seem to have feelings for Marina Thompson. It was a petty feeling, but it brought her a small bit of happiness that the two were not courting or in any position that could lead to a courtship.

“No,” Eloise's voice trailed off and she looked back at her family instead of at Penelope. “Nothing worth repeating at least.”

Penelope knew her well enough to know that Eloise was not being truthful, but she also knew it wasn’t something that was worth badgering her over. Eloise wasn’t good at censoring herself so if she truly felt as if it wasn't worth sharing with Penelope, she would keep it to herself.

“I think I’ll read my new book.” Eloise eyed the shade of her family’s tent with longing. “I’ve done enough walking today. Join me?”

“Felicity!” Hyacinth tossed the hoop with its decorative ribbons she was playing with at her friend. Felicity fumbled, but caught it and skipped over to where Hyacinth was standing with the younger two of her older brothers.

The two girls drew Colin and Gregory into their game—the former coming along because he was responsible for watching over the children.

“I think I’ll keep our siblings company. Hyacinth on her own is bad enough, but with Felicity around they are sure to overpower your brother.”

“In that case I will sit under the tent and claim plausible deniability when their mischief gets you and Colin in hot water.”

The Bridgerton family always painted a pretty portrait wherever they went. A large and happy family with their handsome sons and beautiful daughters that enjoyed their time together.

While in contrast, Penelope could not tell anyone where her father was. Maybe he was at a horse race or boxing match? He could have been in some dim and smoke filled room at a card table.

His need to gamble outweighed his responsibility to his family.

Taking a deep breath, Penelope centered herself. It would not do to react so strongly to her father’s behavior. It had been so normal when she and her sisters were younger to accept her father’s absence from their lives. It was the norm for a majority of families in the ton. Even after she had mourned him, his absence was not truly felt in their day to day lives except for when they were reminded of their lack of financial security.

She had moments of missing his presence—to miss seeing him in his study or in a corner of a room with a newspaper shielding his face. Her papa was as if a piece of furniture that she could rely on taking space in Featherington House.

And then there was the anger. Anger that she could not process for he was already gone when it hit her. Archibald Featherington had left them destitute and had forced them to split their family and under the mercy of whatever male heir could be found. The Whistledown savings Penelope was so sure she would have to rely on when she was a spinster went to securing her eldest sister’s dowry and the return of Felicity to their home and to aid her mother in restoring the estate.

How did one mourn and yet feel so much anger?

It had been Colin who she had been able to express those feelings to. He was still haunted by the memory of the summer in which he was so upset with his father for horsewhipping him after he had slapped Eloise, only for his father to die days later. Colin had to deal with the whiplash, the chaos of feeling one strong emotion and then before being able to fully process and move on to be forced to suffer a loss.

And if that wasn’t enough, at the heels of his father’s death, his relationship with his eldest brother shifted. It was already difficult to have a brother that much older than he was, to chase after someone that was more adult than child that was away at school for a majority of his life and then that same sibling attempted to be a father figure when Colin had no need of that. He had wanted his brother, not a replacement for the father he already knew.

A brother taking the role of father that could not—would not—see things from his perspective. Colin wasn’t like Benedict who was only two years younger than Anthony and had been his playmate. Colin to Anthony was more like Gregory to Colin, only Colin had the opportunity to be older brother to Gregory and Gregory did not have the memories of their true father, mostly experiencing Anthony in the role.

Penelope could not imagine a world where Prudence was almost a decade older than her and had to take on the responsibilities of their mama when it came to guiding her into society.

She would have probably run away to live with one of their aunts or been caught in a practical match situation a lot sooner than when she was courted by Lord Debling just to escape.

Was it any wonder that the Colin of twenty had sought refuge in either a hasty marriage or travels?

Penelope wondered where the older two of the Bridgerton brothers were. It was too early in the day for one of the parties Benedict was always attending and she couldn’t see Anthony being with his mistress, Sienna Rosso, when Simon and Daphne were out for a promenade. Anthony had taken all opportunities to be as intrusive as possible.

Simon was a much stronger and patient man than Penelope expected him to be. He kept bouncing back no matter what Anthony did and it helped that Lady Bridgerton was joined in her efforts to marry Daphne to him by Lady Danbury.

She could see the both of them with their heads bent together as they chaperoned Simon and Daphne from a safe but appropriate distance.

A few yards away, the Finches approached the Featherington tent. Penelope twisted her lips together to keep from laughing out loud at how Albion sneezed, almost right in Philippa’s face, out of nervousness.

Portia spoke to Mister and Mrs. Finch and then craned her neck towards the Bridgerton tent. Penelope immediately leaped behind Colin to avoid catching her eye. Once Portia saw that Felicity was with the Bridgertons and playing with Hyacinth, she would move on.

Penelope watched as her family joined the Finches for a walk, her mother still craning her neck around subtly to look for her. That was an easy thing to avoid.

“Hide me?” Penelope grinned up at Colin as she stood shoulder to shoulder with him on the opposite side of the walking path.

“Hide you?” Colin straightened, smiling down at her with a befuddled expression on his face.

“From my mama.”

At that moment Philippa and Albion were walking arm and arm down the path past the Bridgerton tent, followed close behind by Portia and the Finches. Prudence was forced to trail behind them as their mother chatted away, a forceful smile on her face. It wasn’t that it was a false smile, but Penelope’s mother tried too hard to be accepted by others.

“Are you using me as a wall?” Colin asked as she slowly circled around him, making sure he was always between her and her mother’s line of sight.

“And what a lovely wall you make.” Penelope stood in front of him, leaning to her left so she could watch her family stroll away.

“It feels as if I should be charging you for my services.”

“You may name your price,” Penelope watched as her family walked further and further away until the only way to recognize them was the vibrant color of their dresses, “but do not think that I won’t negotiate.”

Colin looked off to the side thoughtfully, a small smile forming as he made his decision. Clasping his hands behind his back, he sidestepped to block Penelope’s view of the road.

“Dance with me on Friday?”

Penelope remembered every dance with Colin. She loved every single one. She was full of many memories of many dances. And still the eager grin on his face as he asked her had her twisting her fingers around the ends of her shawl, flustered.

“That’s too much of a bargain,” she muttered, averting her gaze as her cheeks warmed. “Not exactly a sacrifice when you’re a wonderful dancer.”

“Then it should be easy payment.” Penelope looked up at his soft voice. The tilt of his head ever familiar. “Reserve one of your dances for me.”

Before Penelope could answer, she was hit in the back by something. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was startling enough to make her flinch and gasp.

Turning around, Penelope found the hoop from earlier in the grass by her feet.

Hyacinth and Felicity both pointed at Gregory and Gregory pointed at Felicity, his jaw dropped in offense.

“Liars!”

“Felicity Featherington,” Penelope huffed out her reprimand. “Do we need to return to our tent and find you something placid to occupy your time?”

“You’re as strict as a Mama,” Felicity grumbled, kicking at the grass. Hyacinth nodded, hiding her snickers behind one hand and grabbing at Felicity’s forearm with the other.

They were much too old, but their coloring reminded her so much of Aggie and Eloise’s Penny. The girls were only one in Penelope’s timeline, but she and Eloise had already had many shared daydreams of their two daughters being the bestest of friends amongst all of their cousins.

Baby Agatha was still only babbling, but her husband tried so hard to get her to start saying “mama” and “papa.” He was determined that she would be able to say one or the other by the time their third child was born.

Would she ever start talking? Or would she be lost to Penelope forever?

Penelope sniffled, eyes aching from trying to hold back her tears. She blinked rapidly but the tears still rolled down her cheeks, the soot that darkened her lashes stinging her eyes.

“I didn’t mean for it to hurt!” Felicity rushed to apologize, dashing over to her sister and wrapping her arms around Penelope’s waist.

Penelope hooked her chin over Felicity’s shoulder, resting it there. It had been a long time since she was able to do so.

“I’m fine,” Penelope mumbled into Felicity’s hair. “I’m fine.”

I’m fine. It will all be fine.

Penelope had told her mama she wasn’t feeling well and had stayed in bed instead of attending the opera. It had lined up well with Marina claiming illness as well and Portia allowed the two of them to stay confined in their rooms.

Writing about the opera for Lady Whistledown was simple to do. Unless she or Simon were directly involved, most events of the fashionable set were repeated the way they had before. It made it easier when Penelope did not feel up to attending something her family was invited to.

Eloise had come over the following day during calling hours. It didn’t matter that Penelope wasn’t set to accept callers that day, Briarly, the butler, and Varley always let Eloise go straight up to her room unless Penelope said she was too sick for Bridgerton guests.

It was difficult to convince Eloise that she was fine. Eloise had practically shoved Colin to the ground and out of her way in order to check on her when she realized Penelope was crying in the middle of Hyde Park.

“My brothers C and G are wondering if you’re feeling better.” Eloise had rolled her eyes and handed Penelope her purchases from the day before. “The older one left you a note and asked me to wait for you to write him back if you wanted to.”

Attached to the wrapped book Colin had bought for her and she had forgotten was a short letter repeating what Eloise had told her. He had also told her how he had gone drinking after the opera with Anthony, Benedict, and Simon and that Anthony wasn’t as antagonistic as he usually was. Colin did say that it was possible that the pleasant attitudes could be attributed to the bottle of brandy Simon had gifted Anthony. He continued on to laugh at his brothers because they were suffering from after effects that morning. They had glared at him over their toast as he piled food on his plate because alcohol never affected him the same way the morning after.

Eloise had scrunched up her face in distaste as Penelope finished reading the note, a smile on her face, but only shrugged when Penelope asked over her countenance.

Penelope was glad that Eloise had visited her and returned her purchases to her. Especially now that she decided to sneak into Marina’s room to check on her before their family woke up for the day.

“Pen,” Marina sobbed in relief when she realized who had entered her room, clutching her bedsheets to her chest.

Hastily, Penelope locked the door behind her before scrambling onto Marina’s bed and wrapping her arms around her.

“Are you hurt?”

Marina shook her head, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes.

“My courses. They haven’t come. It’s been so long since I’ve bled.”

“Do you…?” Penelope licked her lips. “Do you know what that means?”

Marina dropped her hands from her face and frowned at her, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Do you?”

“Maids can be bribed when you’re curious,” Penelope replied, hastily.

It was what Francesca and Eloise attempted to do before asking Penelope about marital relations. Neither one of them wanted to ask her because of her involvement with their brother and Daphne wasn’t available to be asked. Eventually they did come to Penelope for further answers to their questions, pleading with her to not mention Colin’s name.

“A maid? I thought perhaps…” Marina trailed off, glancing towards her window. She chewed her lip in thought and nodded slowly. “Yes…maids can be quite informative.”

They sat in silence as Marina attempted to slow her breathing. Once her breath no longer stuttered she asked Penelope why she was in her room.

“I bought you some ink for your letters the other day.” Penelope revealed the bottle of red ink she had brought with her. “You said red was your favorite color.”

“Red ink?” Marina snatched the bottle from her. She opened the stopper and stuck her finger inside. Pulling her finger out, she examined the color on her skin.

It looked like blood. Penelope had hoped it would.

“No one can know,” Marina whispered, a shaking hand covering her stomach. “Your mama would have Lord Featherington tell my papa.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Penelope promised. “But you should inform the father or his family…”

Marina had not told her exactly who George Crane was. She was grateful that Penelope took her letters out of the mail tray before anyone else could see them, but she hadn’t explained the relationship between her and the person sending the letters to her.

Penelope could only hope that Phillip had been successful in interfering with George’s fate. Could only hope that he was already on his journey home.

“I will write to him, but I don’t know what he can do about it at the moment…he’s…he’s abroad…”

He loves you, Penelope wanted to tell her. He loves you and wanted to marry you and come rescue you from this situation he put you in.

“We will write to him.” Penelope took the bottle of ink back. “But perhaps…we should use this for something else.”

Penelope’s mother wouldn’t stop frowning at her the whole way to Vauxhall Gardens. She wasn’t satisfied with Penelope’s sage green gown or the way she let her loose curls tumble around her shoulders, pulled away from her face except for a few shorter waves because her laurel hair combs pinned half of her hair back. It was all too simple in Portia’s opinion despite the design of gardenias that covered her puffed short sleeves and the front panel of her skirt as well as the tulle sash that emphasized her hourglass figure. Penelope had to sit in the carriage in a way that didn’t crush the perfect bow Rae had created with her sash behind her back.

Marina held onto Penelope’s hand as they were rowed to the site of the fête, dressed in a dusky pink gown, red rose buds woven into her pinned up curls.

Penelope wasn’t sure what she had changed by helping Marina cover for her missing courses by staining her bedsheets and nightgown with the red ink. In 1813, Marina had been confined to her room in Featherington House due to feeling unwell and Penelope’s mother had stayed behind while her father chaperoned.

Now, Marina was free to walk with Penelope around the perimeter of the dance floor of the Vauxhall ball. She had to be encouraged by Penelope to accept requests to dance, although Marina expressed that she had no desire to leave her side. Even if Marina was still feeling fatigued, it was better for her to not draw attention to herself by staying home for every assembly. Penelope promised her that they could go home after the rumored surprise even if her mother wanted to stay longer with her sisters.

“Pen!”

“Colin!” Penelope chirped as soon as she heard Colin’s voice, turning towards him as he approached her. Despite the informal way they addressed each other he still bowed his head as she returned it with a curtsy.

“I was right.” Colin smiled fondly as he looked her over. “Green suits you.”

“And the hair combs?” Penelope fluttered her lashes, turning her head so he could see that she had in fact used her purchase from their trip to the market with Eloise.

“Lovely,” Colin complimented her hair. “They really do look like a laurel wreath.”

Penelope could not help the way her eyes dragged over his form. Now that he was standing in front of her, Penelope could not recall what he had worn for their dance at Vauxhall but she was sure that his waistcoat was not green with silver and white vines nor was his cravat silver.

We almost match…

“I have yet to receive payment for services rendered. You have slipped away before I could reach you at every turn.”

She had been so distracted by Marina that Penelope had not noticed Colin searching for her.

“You were looking…for me?”

In the original 1813 in the timeline she had come from, Colin Bridgerton had greeted her at Vauxhall and then asked her for Marina Thompson. Here, he was looking for Penelope Featherington and asking for a dance as if there were any universe that he would expect her to deny him.

“I have. Not the whole time. I did in fact speak with my friend, Macclesfield, for a good portion of the evening, though I must confess that I have been wary of approaching as your cousin has been guarding your company most jealously.”

“Yes, she…” Penelope was not sure what to say about Marina’s behavior. She had been quite cold in demeanor towards Colin the last she saw them interact with one another. “She did not want to come. We may depart early.”

“Oh.” The smile on his face slipped for a moment, but he visibly shook it back on. “Then we should—“

“Mister Bridgerton!” The nauseatingly saccharine voice of Cressida Cowper rang out. She approached from the refreshments table with a posse of three other debutants. “I believe you owe me a dance this evening.”

It was not a scene that Penelope wished to repeat, especially not when she was wearing a dress she had picked for herself that was exactly like the dresses she wore in her own time. She had been doing so well with avoiding having anything spilled on her by Cressida at all of the events so far.

“Then it is a shame that Mister Bridgerton was just about to escort my cousin to the floor upon your arrival.” Marina had just been returned to where Penelope stood by her dance partner, Macclesfield—the very friend Colin claimed to have been speaking with most of the evening. She sneered at Cressida, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Were you not, Mister Bridgerton?”

“I was,” Colin agreed, nodding his head. Penelope had barely lifted her arm to offer her hand when Colin was pulling her onto the dance floor that was erected for the outdoor festivity.

It was yet another lively dance and soon enough they were a whirl of green, laughing as they spun around the floor.

Penelope’s world was spinning, spinning and her ears were full of not just music but laughter and cheer from the crush of Vauxhall. The wide twirling of skirts and the feel of Colin’s gloved fingers shielding her from her worries, centering her for short blissful minutes in that moment.

But it all had to end. As quickly as it began, the jig concluded and she was left panting and giggling—Colin’s hand completely enveloping her own as he made to escort her off the floor.

“Ladies and gentlemen, a most extraordinary event is about to take place!” Their host for the evening called out from the dais where the ensemble had been playing. “It is with great privilege that I present to you, Vauxhall’s newest spectacle of Illumination!”

It was one of those moments Penelope loved so much when she was younger. She did not need to be included in the conversations or asked to dance to be part of it.

The crescendo of awe in the crowd matched the quick pace of her heartbeat as the empty glass fixtures suspended in the air across the dance floor lit up, brightening the night sky.

“How do you think they did it?” Colin asked, eyes dancing from light fixture to light fixture. “We could probably look for Hawkins and ask him for more details. He  always has his nose in these things. What do you—Pen?”

While Colin was distracted by the illumination, Penelope had been watching the crowd. Something felt peculiar and unbalanced as if there was something calling out to her to remind her that not all was right.

What did I write about tonight…?

It was when she spotted Simon arguing with Anthony—the former attempting to escape the conversation—in the far off edges of the venue that Penelope realized that she had asked herself the wrong question.

The proper question asked what did she not write about that night in Vauxhall in 1813. An event that she did not know of until much later, after she had already exposed the villain for a different crime.

“Excuse me.” Penelope dropped Colin’s hand, suddenly aware that she had been holding onto it the whole time.

It was always easy for Penelope to slip through crowds. No one ever noticed her when she weaved her way through the throngs—she was too insignificant to the rest of society.

The further away from the dance floor she walked, the darker and colder the night became. Turning into an archway made from the hedges of the gardens, Penelope searched for the Bridgerton she could not account for.

“Penelope?”

Penelope jumped at the sound of a male voice so close behind her. How had she not noticed Colin following her? How had she forgotten that she was invisible to all but one? Especially when he had just told her earlier that he had only been unable to approach her because of Marina not because he had not spotted her?

Her movements caused a tug at her back. Her sash had gotten caught on something, but when she looked towards the hedges, her bow was not stuck in the leaves. The end of her bow was in Colin’s hand.

He was holding the tail of her sash so gently, if she was not looking at him she would not have known that he was the cause for the pull, not a branch from the hedge.

“Colin?” Penelope turned fully so she was facing him.

“Why did you run in here?” He whispered, crowding into her space, the warmth his body radiated bringing her comfort against the chill. He surveyed the area and then grabbed onto her hand once more. “You shouldn’t be here. Let us go back.”

“I will.” Penelope took a step back, uncomfortable with the way her body was responding to his low voice and proximity. It was a familiar feeling. A pleasant feeling. But not one that she could afford to give into. “In a moment.”

“No.” Colin shook his head, pulling gently on her hand, his thumb lightly rubbing against her knuckles. “Now.”

It was an odd position to be in. While this version of Colin had the knowledge, he only had less than a quarter of the experience of her husband. It was she that had all of the practical experience even if it was not in this body.

But the memories of all that experience warmed her, heat pooling at her chest and below her navel. It would be so easy to let herself be distracted, to indulge in the feel of Colin’s fingers against her in such an innocent manner.

Colin wasn’t even trying to do anything. The green of his eyes were dark due to the darkness of the garden and he was only talking in a low voice because he knew better than to draw attention to themselves.

Logic. Penelope had to focus on logic.

And the young woman alone by the Dark Walk.

“Colin. We need to—“

“Let go of me!” A young woman cried out into the night.

“Is that Daphne?” Colin forgot about whispering and straightened up, searching for his younger sister.

Penelope picked up her skirts and followed after him, struggling to keep up with his longer legs.

Ducking under another hedge archway, Daphne was found safe in Simon’s arm as he comforted her. Simon cradled her face in his hands, murmuring soft words to her.

“What are you—?” Colin, outraged by the scene in front of him, attempted to cry out to them. Penelope wrapped her arms around Colin’s torso and yanked him back with all the strength she could muster.

“Stop!”

“Penelope!” Colin’s voice cracked on the reprimand as he was distracted by the press of her body. “Wh-what—what are you doing!?”

“The duke wasn’t her assailant,” Penelope hissed, trying to pull him back through the archway. Colin stumbled back, forcing her to let go of him in order to not be knocked over. “Look at the ground. Daphne took care of him.”

Colin craned his neck and squinted. His eyes widened when he recognized the body at Daphne and Simon’s feet.

“Damn!” Colin cursed, raising his fists up and shadowboxed. “She knocked the climp out.”

Penelope shot him an unimpressed frown and quirked a brow at his antics. Colin lowered his hands and cleared his throat.

“My apologies. I shouldn’t have used such language.”

“Never mind that!” Penelope looked around him so she could get a good look at Daphne and Simon. The duke was escorting Daphne back out of the garden through an archway on the opposite side, away from where Colin and Penelope were hidden. “You need to tell your brother about Lord Berbrooke.”

Anthony was still under the mistaken impression that Nigel Berbrooke was a good option for Daphne to marry despite Simon’s honest intentions.

“Yes, I will be having a word with him.” Colin glared in the direction of Lord Berbrooke. Penelope grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket, tugging him back towards her before he did anything impulsive.

Or worse. Something entirely thought out.

“Did you come here for Daphne?” Colin’s head snapped towards her, his voice low again. “Is that why you left the safety of the venue?” Penelope nodded, causing Colin to frown even more deeply. “Penelope…that was so utterly foolish.”

Penelope scoffed. Not this again. It wasn’t as if she could explain to the younger version of her husband that he was the only person who was ever in her business and would have noticed her leaving the safety of the venue.

“I was fine. I was only concerned for Daphne.” And what could have been her possible course of action had Simon not arrived and she was left alone with the unconscious body of Nigel Berbrooke. “I only meant to help.”

“I was standing right next to you.” Colin emphasized his statement by stepping closer to Penelope, the tips of his fingers grazing the top of her hand. “You could have told me. Asked me for help.”

“I’m sorry,” Penelope exhaled, her breath stuttering. “I was in a hurry to follow after her and wasn’t thinking.”

“Of course you were not thinking.” Colin rolled his eyes. Penelope was beginning to feel ancient. She couldn’t believe she was being reprimanded by someone younger than her even if he didn’t know she was older at the moment. “If you had been, you wouldn’t have put yourself in danger going anywhere near the Dark Walk.”

“Believe me, I have no reason to fear the Dark Walk.” Penelope rolled her eyes. It wasn’t as if she could tell him that he was the only person that ever entertained the idea. Her husband could be so impatient depending on whatever fête they chose to attend. “No one would think that I was coming from the Dark Walk, let alone with a man.”

No one would see her coming and going at all except for Colin

“Pen, you are being so obtuse. How could you think—?“

“What,” a voice hissed out, interrupting whatever it was that Colin was going to say, “are you doing with my cousin?”

An explosion of color lit up the sky accompanied by the whizzing and bangs of the Vauxhall fireworks that were set off. Lights in various colors flashed and faded, casting shadows all around them.

Lit up with every flash of a firework, Marina stood in the archway of the hedges wall, staring daggers at Colin. Her eyes drifted down to where the back of Colin’s hand laid against the back of Penelope’s hand before drifting back up to his face and then down to Penelope, assessing their closeness.

Penelope was wrong. Someone else had noticed that she left the ball.

“Only once more shall I ask, Mister Bridgerton.” Marina’s voice was cold, her brown eyes—the only feature one could attempt to claim she shared with Penelope—dark and full of ice. “What are you doing with my cousin alone in the gardens?”

This Author could not name a more besotted pair than the Duke of Hastings and one young Miss Daphne Bridgerton.

The shine of their beatific countenances during their second waltz of the evening could not be rivaled, not even by the brilliance of the new Illumination at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

14 May 1813

Chapter Text

Wearily, Penelope observed the paintings of Somerset House. She had been looking forward to the opening of the new wing as it would have given her a chance to speak with Simon without raising questions. The Duke of Hastings had donated and loaned many paintings for the new wing and it would not be suspicious for any of the guests to approach him for details.

But then the night at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens happened and now Penelope was exhausted.

Marina cared for Penelope too much to inform her mother of where she had found her and with whom, but she did not hesitate to tear her away from Colin.

“You play too fast and too loose with my cousin’s reputation,” Marina had hissed at him as she examined Penelope for anything that may have been out of place, cupping her face in her hands. “What conclusion do you think these people with their superior attitudes would reach if someone else were to have found you two? And with the reputation of your brothers? What kind of rake would they make of you ?”

Marina hadn’t waited for any excuses. She stormed away, holding onto Penelope’s hand and dragged her back to the festivities, refusing to listen to anything Penelope said to reassure that nothing had happened between her and Colin.

She had marched right up to Portia and the other Mamas and told her that she and Penelope were going home. Portia had not even been able to respond back when Marina had whirled them back around and led them to the boats to be rowed back to the other side. Penelope barely caught sight of Simon and Daphne sharing a waltz when Marina ushered her into the boat.

The two of them argued all the way home in their carriage and again when Rae and Jennie, Marina’s lady’s maid, were preparing them for bed.

It was unfortunate but Marina had made several good points that Penelope was forced to consider about her closeness with Colin.

She did not blame Colin for seeking her out at every social assembly. It was simply how things were between them. What was she supposed to do? Make herself lesser to deter his attention?

“I know you will lift my spirits…you are clever…and warm…”

And she would not withhold her words or her affections more than she already was. She was born for that man. She could not—would not—deny him.

So perhaps Penelope needed Marina’s interference to rein her in before she allowed Colin more of her than she should.

He couldn’t kiss Marina at this age and he had been courting her, surely he would resist kissing me? Penelope sighed as she shuffled to the next portrait. I would not be in need of such a favor this time. I have no reason to ask Colin Bridgerton to kiss me other than because I want him to.

“Your friend approaches,” Marina murmured, cocking her head to the side as she examined the painting. “I do not believe she would have any kind remarks for this one.”

“It is because it is all so repetitive,” Penelope agreed.

“What is so repetitive?” Eloise asked in lieu of a greeting, attaching herself to Penelope’s side, she hooked their arms together, sliding a folded piece of parchment into Penelope’s hand as she did so. Eloise kept her gaze fixed on the painting in front of them, avoiding Penelope’s questioning glance. “Ah. I see, yes. Yet another painting by a man that sees women as objects.”

“Where is the rest of your family, Miss Bridgerton?” Marina asked, craning her neck to find them.

“Gregory and Hyacinth went dashing off somewhere, probably to find Felicity and find some reason to cause our dear brother to make a generous donation.” Eloise waved her hand dismissively. “Daphne is surely looking for the duke which means she is attempting to ditch Anthony which means my mama has probably taken out her list again in order to distract him.”

“List?”

“Yes, list.” Eloise clucked her tongue. “I fear the day she has such a list drawn up for me.”

At the look of confusion on Marina’s face, Eloise exhaled, blowing her bangs away from her face.

“My mama creates a list for all of her children once they are eligible. Daphne had one before the duke and Anthony currently has one. I believe she has been compiling lists for Benedict and Colin as well but the eldest two are the priority considering the viscount is eight and twenty and Benedict is two years his junior.”

Penelope knew of the lists. Shockingly, Philippa had been on Anthony’s list. Penelope wondered why exactly Lady Bridgerton would put her sister anywhere on the list even if it was at the bottom. She knew her sister could be a beauty as long as she kept silent, but she would never wish for their union even before the introduction of Kathani Sharma.

Despite everything, Penelope loved her sisters. It did not matter how much they hurt her, she still cared for them. And as much as she loved the Bridgerton family, it had hurt to hear the two eldest boys and Daphne gossip over her and Anthony’s lists and label Philippa “as dumb as a post” when they wrote off every one of their mother’s suggestions for Anthony.

It was the comment that led to the very first mention of Anthony as a total rake in Lady Whistledown, calling him and men like him out for their many mistresses and raucous behavior while shirking their responsibilities.

Anthony Bridgerton’s focus on his family did shift in the few years before Daphne’s debut and he spent more time with his family, narrowing the amount of his mistresses to one. But the hypocrisy made Penelope’s chest burn with anger at how he wrote off Colin’s longing for travel as a desire to gallivant and a refusal to grow up when Anthony had spent most of his university years and beyond drinking and horse racing in between dalliances with actresses, opera singers, and widows.

The Penelope of age seven and ten was not brave enough to speak up, to let them know she had been there and that she had heard what they had said. So she took to her quill and let her vindictiveness spill onto parchment.

She was fully aware of what people thought about her family and usually shared the same ugly thoughts. But it was something else to hear the thoughts expressed from a family she cherished and also acted as if they were above it all.

Like in the case of Violet Bridgerton. Penelope loved her—adored her and could often speak to her of things she could never speak to her mother about. But she also had heard about her disbelief and shock that the Duke of Hastings would dance with Penelope Featherington.

In her time as Lady Whistledown, Penelope discovered that even the loveliest of people could have something rotten to say.

“None of your brothers are ready to be married,” Penelope muttered, rubbing her thumb against the parchment Eloise snuck into her hand. “It won’t matter if your mother praises Miss Anna Vaughan for her proficiency with languages or tells them how Miss Mary Egglesfield is quite the reader.”

“Although,” Marina smirked at her, “ you are quite the reader and we have been working on your French.”

Marina tugged at one of Penelope’s curls affectionately. It was strange the relationship she now had with Marina. It was like having an older sister she supposed, just not like having one of Penelope’s older sisters. Not even Daphne and Eloise were like this. Perhaps Eloise and Francesca were more similar.

“Colin Bridgerton can walk through the front door and leave a calling card,” Marina had said sternly as Jennie scrubbed her cheeks clean, “like suitors are supposed to do.”

“Miss Thompson?” One of Marina’s many suitors made a bid for her attention. The three of them blinked up at the man with straw colored hair and Penelope knew from their trio’s silence that not a single one of them could place his name.

Marina released Penelope’s arm and clasped her hands in front of her, twisting her fingers together nervously, struggling to remember him. Eloise whispered names into Penelope’s ear but none of the suggestions sounded correct.

“Good day…?”

“Mister Albert York,” the plain-faced man supplied weakly. Penelope felt sorry for him, empathizing with him and his lack of presence to make him memorable.

“Oh, yes! Mister York!”

“Quickly, while she’s distracted,” Eloise whispered, tapping Penelope’s hand that was holding the parchment. Penelope took the chance to slip it into her reticule.

“What did he bribe you with this time?” Penelope teased, nudging her gently with her shoulder.

“With far more than I was ready to ask for if I’m being honest.” Eloise shot her a proud grin. “Do not tell him, but I was prepared to do it for nothing. Except maybe for him to leave my biscuits alone when I set them aside for a moment.”

Penelope observed her friend as she scanned the paintings, unimpressed. If Penelope had been distracted, she wouldn’t have noticed how Eloise slowly walked them away from Marina as she criticized every painting.

In fact, Eloise was guiding her slowly in the direction of where Lady Bridgerton was talking with Lady Danbury and Sir Henry Granville, Colin attached to their mother’s arm and making no pains to contribute to the conversation. Instead he was watching her and Eloise as they made their way closer.

“And if I ever dreamed the two of you were inclined in that direction, I’m sure I would have meddled horribly…I’m not known for minding my own business.”

Lady Danbury strolled away with Granville, telling him that there were some artists that she wanted to introduce him to. Eloise took that chance to move even more quickly to her family members.

“Mama,” Eloise cleared her throat to get her mother’s attention. “Do you think it’s been too quiet for too long for us to not have heard from Gregory or Hyacinth?”

“Oh dear,” Penelope murmured demurely, a hand to her cheek. “I haven’t seen Felicity for a while as well, but I do know she is not with my mama.”

Lady Bridgerton’s face paled and she began to look around, most likely remembering the last time the three of them had been left alone.

“We should probably look for them,” Colin suggested, realizing what his sister and Penelope were attempting to do.

“Yes, dearest.” Violet patted Colin’s cheek absentmindedly. “You’re right.”

Only Lady Bridgerton could quickly walk away, eyes frantically searching for her children, and still look elegant and composed.

“We probably should help,” Penelope sighed, resigned to not being able to speak to Colin despite Eloise’s machinations. “The last thing we need is to find out there has been a set of frogs released in Somerset House.”

Colin made to follow her, but she halted his actions with a hand on his upper arm.

“It is best that we separate. You are so tall that they will see you approaching and scatter.”

Penelope walked away, the last thing she heard was Eloise cackling at Colin’s misfortune and mocking him for being a giant.

As much as she would have liked to stay with Colin and discuss what had happened between them and Marina at Vauxhall if they could, there were other things that she needed to prioritize.

There were only a few minutes that she had before Daphne found Simon and made it impossible for her to ask him about what he found about the Sharma family.

Penelope found him away from the crowd, in a lonely room and staring at a beautiful painting. The only painting with gentle colors and radiating warmth and comfort from the canvas amongst the many dark and solemn paintings in the room.

“I looked into my godmother’s correspondences,” Simon whispered, foregoing a greeting. “The dates between letters are far and with the length of travel from here to India and back, it makes it impossible for there to be a back and forth. It’s possible that Kate won’t receive my letter for another four months. A letter she may very well miss if she has already rerouted her plans to get here in the Fall rather than the Spring.”

It was as Penelope expected. The route to India was different than the Continent. The travel distance made it near impossible to get to Kate.

“There are already four of us here. I am sure Kate has joined us and is making her way from India as we speak.”

“Four?”

“Phillip Crane has replied to my correspondence and tipped me off so I would know he knew who I was. Have you heard from Michael?”

“He is not faring well. Despite Sophie’s distinct physical features, she has disappeared. She’s untraceable.” How could an almond eyed beauty with long, silky black hair simply vanish? “But he has been able to confirm that she has not been at any of the Penwood properties since the beginning of April.”

“She could be lost to us.” Penelope’s lower lip wobbled. While it was good that she was not with her stepmother, it didn’t mean that Sophie was safe. She could be in the Americas for all they knew.

“We must have faith in Stirling.”

Penelope wanted to—she did have faith in Michael. But it was difficult to stand on the sidelines and do nothing but wait when they didn’t even know why or how they were sent back in time.

“I should thank you,” Simon muttered, brushing past her as if to examine the painting more closely. “If you had not lured your Bridgerton out to the gardens, the next course of action would have been to abscond to Gretna Green if Anthony kept being such a cantankerous bother.”

“No matter how much she loves you, Daphne would not have rained scandal on her family in such a way.” Penelope sighed, eyeing the doorway to the chamber they were in. She stepped closer to examine the painting. She was sure that she had seen it before. Maybe at Clyvedon when she and Colin were visiting Daphne? “And I didn’t lure him in there. He just happened to follow me.”

Simon chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back.

“That sounds like him.”

“Sometimes I severely miscalculate what he may or may not do.”

“Daphne always said he strikes when you least suspect it so always suspect it.”

“That is regarding Pall Mall, Your Grace.” Penelope rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t refer to any—“

Except it did. Penelope’s eyes widened at the realization of what she had been neglecting. It had been like that for their entire childhood, but there had been multiple moments before they were married and afterwards when he would do something unexpected. It wasn’t always mischievous and crafty to pull one over on his siblings, but there were times when it was sweet—when he wanted to surprise her.

“Daphne has been gossiping about you two,” Simon confessed, giving her a knowing smirk. “She’s waiting for it all to click. She apparently got into an argument with Anthony about how sharing a few dances does not signify and compared our dances to the ones you share with Colin. Little does Anthony know how wrong he is.”

“It’s too soon.” Penelope took in a fortifying breath. “There’s still so much for him to experience and then there’s the children. I can’t—“

She cut herself off with another deep inhale, closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly and repeated until her heartbeat slowed.

“I understand,” Simon grumbled. He sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration. “It’s the only reason why I’m dragging this courtship. To attempt to time things so it matches up with when we would have conceived Amelia.”

“I do not know how long I can hold out,” Penelope confessed. “It was one thing to love him in secret before I knew what it was for us to be in love. But now…”

Penelope knew she had Colin’s love even if it was only as his friend. She always had his kindness and she loved him for every moment he freely gave it to her, unconditionally. It was just so cruel to not be able to love him as thoroughly as she did—to let him know how loved he was.

“This painting is so familiar,” Penelope said just to fill the air with something more than the dull chatter of the crowds in the adjacent rooms.

“This painting is only on loan,” Simon explained. “Daphne loved this one so I shall see it returned to Clyvedon.”

The tapping of footsteps caught their attention. Daphne had just entered the room, looking puzzled but still beaming at the both of them.

“His Grace was just telling me about this painting,” Penelope explained, sidestepping away and pointing at the canvas. “Is it not lovely?”

Daphne nodded in agreement, a serene smile on her face.

“It reminds me of the country.”

Daphne spoke eloquently of what the painting made her feel, unaware of how Simon looked at her as she spoke. Simon kept watching her with fondness, forgetting that Penelope was in the room with them.

While the both of them were caught up in the moment, Penelope departed the room knowing they would not notice that she had slipped away.

Pen,

I apologize if my actions have made you feel uncomfortable. I do not mean to cause you distress whenever we find ourselves alone nor do I wish for our friendship to besmirch your name and standing. Your cousin is right. I have been careless.

I have spoken to Anthony about the incident with Lord Berbrooke—do not fret, I did not mention your involvement. I said that I simply wandered into the gardens and witnessed Berbrooke attempting to force himself on our sister after claiming that he was entitled to her. There are many things I wish to say on the matter, that I did say, but cannot repeat. Young ladies should not hear—or read—such words.

See? I am doing better.

Daphne was grateful, but also upset that it had taken a man for Anthony to finally listen to reason.

I must apologize once more—Daphne does not believe I was alone in the gardens. She has not outright said that she had seen me with anyone and with whom, but it was definitely implied. Unfortunately, if she confronts me I will have to at least tell her about your involvement. Please believe me when I say that nothing will come of it except for her extending her gratitude to you as well.

I had intended to ask you for another dance, but when I looked for you later I could not find you which was quite surprising. I feel as if normally I could find you anywhere. I had to assume that you left early along with Miss Thompson.

I shall simply have to ask you to reserve two dances for me at the next ball to make up for it. I do not count the last one as payment for my services as it was your cousin that orchestrated that and you were forced to accept to escape Miss Cowper once again. If this continues you may accrue interest and owe me many more dances.

Colin

P.S. I have asked Eloise to pass along this missive to ensure secrecy and she promised not to read it. Do inform me if she lets slip to you that she has. It will cost her the bribe I had to pay.

Penelope hiccupped, caught off guard by the flirtatious nature of the end of Colin’s letter. After the seriousness of the first few paragraphs, she had not expected the redirection. It was as Simon had said: Colin would strike when least expected.

The question now was if it was intentional. After an examination of their relationship when they were in the honeymoon phase as newlyweds—according to Eloise they never left the honeymoon phase and it was nauseating—they had realized that there were many moments in which they flirted with each other. It had been so casual and unintended that it was no wonder they had not noticed the feelings the other had.

A knock on the door had her folding the letter and shutting it into the drawer of her escritoire.

“Come in?” She called out, expecting it to be one of two people.

Penelope was correct in her assumption when Marina came in, followed by Darcy the Yorkshire Terrier, and shut the door behind her. Without saying a word, she shuffled to Penelope’s bed and collapsed on it, face down.

The price of knowing Marina’s secret and being the only one privy to it, was knowing a side of Marina that Penelope had not known before.

There was more freedom in Marina letting loose her complaints because she had no reason to hold them in, no reason to force herself to be strong. Not in Penelope’s presence.

Turning her head so her cheek was squished against a pillow, Marina sniffled and looked at Penelope with teary eyes.

“My dresses are becoming snug. I can feel it around my waist.”

“We will go to the modiste and if anyone raises questions we shall say you have been over indulging on rich food and that you are used to more exercise in the country.”

“Your mama will put me on a reducing diet.”

“She is petty.” Penelope winced at the apt descriptor for her mother. “She will indulge you in overeating habits if it will deter all of your suitors. My mama is very jealous that her own daughters are not getting as much attention as you.”

Marina sniffled again, Penelope’s statement not reassuring her. Sighing, Penelope tucked the sheets and coverlet around Marina and then climbed into bed.

“We will see if we can go to the modiste on our own.”

And if need be, Penelope would slip into her Lady Whistledown savings. There had been an issue in 1813 with the Featherington coffers and Marina had blackmailed Madame Delacroix. Penelope would prefer to avoid that at all costs.

“You say that, but you will abandon me to run off with your Bridgertons again.” Marina began to weep, lifting the coverlet to hide her face.

Oh, no.

Penelope wiggled closer and wrapped an arm around Marina, rubbing her back in soothing circles. Marina had reached the point where she could not control how sensitive she was.

“I’m sorry, Marina. I did not mean to leave you alone with Mister York. Eloise and I were talking and then we realized that no one had seen Felicity and the little Bridgertons.”

“I know Miss Eloise was dragging you over to Mister Bridgerton. She was not as inconspicuous as she believed she was.”

Ah. There it was. Penelope was sure Marina would bring up Colin again.

“Why do you take issue with Colin?”

“The tale is eerily familiar,” Marina groused, fluffing the pillow under her head with aggression. “A neighbor boy taking liberties. There are of course the differences, but at first sight the story is an echo. But due to recent circumstances I do have to acknowledge that you know far more than young ladies of your standing. You do not have my former ignorance.”

She did at one point. Even when Marina was revealed to be with child when Penelope really was seven and ten, Penelope did not know how it happened. She had been kept woefully ignorant of it all until Colin explained it to her and then her mother again in an excruciatingly embarrassing way the morning of her wedding to Colin.

Penelope had almost told her that Colin had already explained the process to her just to get her mother to stop talking.

“Colin’s feelings for me are not of a romantic nature.” They were only friends at this point and that was fine. It was the foundation of their relationship. Their relationship developed naturally with a love that was always there just transformed. “There is no need to worry that he will take those kinds of liberties with me. We are friends. You are only witnessing his fondness for me as a friend.”

“Perhaps it is because I am viewing it from the outside that I have a much more discerning eye, but I do not believe what Mister Bridgerton feels is only fondness for you.” And then in a sarcastic mutter she added, “He has plenty of fondness for your form.”

Penelope snorted and the both of them fell into a peal of giggles. She could not argue with Marina. Penelope had caught Colin’s eyes drifting often when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

She sighed to herself, forced to come to terms with the fact that she had noticed the way his eyes lingered on the loose tendrils of her hair that weren’t secured by pins or the flourishes of her gowns like the gossamer bow of her sage green dress with its long tails that framed her bottom.

“Colin is a gentleman,” Penelope insisted even as her cheeks flushed with warmth that swirled down to her chest.

“All men consider themselves gentlemen until they find themselves in love.” Marina sighed, turning onto her back and likely thinking about Sir George. “How long have you known Colin Bridgerton?”

“I met him a few days before my tenth birthday. He was back home from Eton for the Easter holiday.”

It had been his first year at Eton and almost three years since the death of the late Lord Edmund Bridgerton.

“Do not leave me on tenterhooks.” Marina smiled softly. “There must be more details. Did you meet in the square? Did Eloise invite you for tea?”

“I actually met Colin first of all of the Bridgertons.”

Penelope had never been able to share the story like this. Eloise was her dearest friend in the world but she would not want the romantic details, not when they involved her brother. Edwina Bagwell née Sharma was a friend as well, but there had never been an opportunity to discuss such a thing, not when Penelope kept her feelings secret and then Colin had been overly excited to share the tale himself when they were asked.

But this moment was for her. She could gush in delight and share her feelings. It was so much different and so much better than when she had to hide her feelings when she was actually a seventeen year old debutant.

“That’s interesting. I had assumed with your closeness with Eloise Bridgerton that she had made the introduction. How did you meet him first?”

“A loosely tied yellow bonnet and a windy day. It was the first clear day after a week of rain and my mama was desperate to go out especially because we had just moved to Mayfair.” Penelope sighed dreamily, turning onto her back. “I heard the thunder of hooves and then there was a gust of wind and my bonnet flew clear off my head and into the face of a rider. The poor boy of only three and ten fell right off of his horse into a puddle of mud.”

“Well that wasn’t very well done of me.”

“Not unless your intention was to be knocked off your horse—then no it most certainly was not well done of you, sir.”

“And that is how you met?” Marina laughed incredulously. She sniffled, but her tears were subsiding.

“Yes,” Penelope giggled. “I was so afraid that he would be angry with me. I was never really good with speaking to anyone and not even my own sisters wanted to be my friend. I ran over to apologize expecting his ire, but he laughed. And it was a kind laugh. Such an inviting laugh. I could not help but laugh along with such laughter. And want to hear it again.”

“You have loved him for such a long time.”

“An embarrassingly long time.” Penelope huffed out a small laugh. Marina would never know exactly how long. She turned back on her side facing Marina. “And you? How did you meet your Sir George?”

Penelope already knew the story, but Marina’s eyes lit up, warmth filling her teary gaze as she turned back on her side as well.

“It started with cake.”

The Featherington family found themselves out for promenade again. It was one of Portia Featherington’s favorite pastimes. It allowed her to show off the family and meet up with her friends and acquaintances to gossip.

Prudence and Penelope didn’t have any suitors and Albion Finch wasn’t titled, but it was always beneficial to Portia to let everyone see that one of her daughters was being properly courted and on her way to marriage.

Penelope enjoyed having Albion around, even if it was still early on in their acquaintance and he did not know her. He was a Lady Whistledown fan, mostly for all of the clever turn of phrases and puns and he could be counted on to chuckle whenever he heard Penelope make a joke.

It helped that he was also sweet to Felicity, always bringing her a single flower or a treat to eat when he called on Philippa knowing she felt left out considering she was always occupied with her lessons when suitors came to call at Featherington House or in bed sleeping when the rest of the family was out for one of the various social affairs.

It very much helped him have Philippa fawn over him, praising him for what a good father he would make.

In an event that could only have been perfectly coordinated by a very determined Bridgerton, the Featherington and Finch families came upon an intersection where from one direction strolled Lord Macclesfield and from the other came Eloise, Hyacinth, and Gregory.

“It will show your papa that you are taking this seriously,” Penelope whispered to Marina who looked set to refuse when Macclesfield asked her to walk with him. “Even though we both know you are not.”

Looking over Penelope’s shoulder to Lord Featherington, Marina sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Have him drop you off at the Bridgerton tent when you are done,” Penelope suggested with a shrug. As Marina took Macclesfield’s arm, Felicity grabbed Penelope’s wrist with both hands, forcing her to come along with her.

“We are going to feed the ducks!” Felicity called out to their mother as she pulled Penelope down the path.

Eloise did nothing to hide the satisfied grin on her face at how easily the situation had been manipulated.

“How are you benefiting from this?” Penelope asked her as their younger siblings took off in a sprint towards the Bridgerton tent.

“Entertainment?” Eloise shrugged, smiling slyly. “My letters to Francesca are most amusing. I take pride that they contain much more gossip from home than the ones she receives from Daphne considering I’m in the center of it all.”

“It is always a competition with you Bridgertons.”

“Yes, it is.”

Penelope allowed Eloise to steer her off the path and towards the river where their siblings had run back with grapes and a napkin of peas that Gregory no doubt had saved from dinner the night before.

“I do not only mean amongst your siblings, Eloise.” Penelope placed a comforting hand on Eloise’s shoulder. “You are going about this as if Marina is your competitor.”

Eloise kicked her toe at the grass, not caring that she was covering her shoe with dirt.

“Perhaps I am,” Eloise admitted. “But she has made herself an enemy of my favorite brother so she is mine as well. Do not tell him I called him that.”

Penelope laughed, bracing herself against Eloise’s arm. She always found it amusing how Eloise kept it secret which of her brothers was her favorite considering she made it clear that Francesca was her favorite sister.

“What has Eloise said to make you laugh so?” Colin asked as he strolled up to them from where he abandoned Benedict under the Bridgerton tent. Penelope could see Benedict shaking his head and collecting Colin’s hand of cards to reshuffle his deck.

“I was just informing Penelope that you spent almost half an hour after breakfast with jam on your face.”

Colin’s eyes widened in horror, looking back and forth between Penelope and Eloise. Penelope subtly shook her head, mouthing, No she did not.

It was just like Eloise to reveal how much she loved him and then in the next moment target him for embarrassment.

“Well,” Eloise clapped Colin on his shoulder as she brushed past him, “I will go make sure the girls do not try to feed Gregory to the ducks.”

They watched as she walked away from them, Colin edging closer to stand next to Penelope.

“Is my sister not most sweet?” Colin shook his head, gracing Penelope with one of his gentle smiles. “Good day, Pen.”

Colin nudged his shoulder against hers and then pulled back. Someone had to have been watching them closely to notice the familiarity in his action.

“Good day, Colin.” Penelope wrung her hands in the ends of her shawl. “I received your letter.”

“I’m assuming Eloise hasn’t read it or asked you about its contents because she hasn’t ambushed me about what happened with Daphne.”

“She has not. But I am pleased to hear that Lord Bridgerton will not be forcing Daphne to marry that man.”

“Yes. Daphne and my mother were most delighted to hear the news. Daphne is demanding that he consider Hastings as an actual prospect. She doesn’t care for any of the other men that come to call.”

“Daphne has found her love match,” Penelope murmured, watching Eloise teach Felicity how to properly skip a rock. “No one else will compare.”

“Hastings cares for her a great deal,” Colin agreed. “Who else would butt heads with Anthony for this long if not a man in love?”

They stood there, enjoying the companionable silence as they watched their siblings argue over who could have the last grape to feed a duck.

The last time Penelope could recall them watching such a scene together, it was at the lake at Aubrey Hall and Gregory and Hyacinth were fighting over who got to hold Elliot as they fed the ducks.

“Marina has already discovered your ruse, Colin.” Penelope chose to break the silence. He was going to have know sooner or later, preferably before Marina appeared. “You have already distracted her with Lord Macclesfield before.”

“Yes, but there was no one else I could trust to distract her that wouldn’t ask so many questions. Macclesfield also witnessed me following you into the gardens as he was standing with Miss Thompson when we walked past them.”

Penelope gaped at him. He chanced a glance at her from the corner of his eye and then laughed through an exhale. Penelope rolled her eyes, scoffing out a laugh.

“We are so careless,” Penelope sighed. “In all honesty, I did not think anyone would take notice of us. If they did, I would assume that your older brother would correct our behavior and be just as strict as he is with Simon and Daphne.”

“As I stated in my letter, I do not wish to bring you harm.” Colin clasped his hands behind his back, swallowing heavily. “Perhaps it is better if I conduct myself differently.”

“I do not wish for you to change at all.” Penelope stepped closer, urging him to turn and face her head on. “There is nowhere I would rather be than in our corners laughing together.”

“Just in our corners?”

Penelope recognized that expression on his face. She had not expected it, but she knew it. The insecurity and the longing for affirmation.

Before Penelope could give him a proper response, a figure storming to the Bridgerton tent caught her attention.

“Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Colin turned and his face paled, mouth tightening into a straight line.

“What is going on?” Eloise asked as she approached them, but neither Colin or Penelope answered her. Colin marched back to his family’s tent, forcing Penelope and Eloise to run in order to follow behind him.

Nigel Berbrooke was waving an eerily familiar certificate around, threatening Anthony, Daphne, and Lady Bridgerton. Simon stood between Berbrooke and the ladies, nostrils flaring in anger as Benedict held Anthony back.

“What happened to his eye?” Eloise asked, much louder than she should have. “And his nose? He looks horrid.”

“Daphne,” Colin and Penelope chorused together as they joined the rest of the Bridgerton family.

They had missed a majority of Berbrooke’s tirade, but Penelope caught the insinuation that he had compromised Daphne and informed them all that in three days he would have his Bridgerton bride or else he would tell everyone what had happened at Vauxhall.

“What shall Lady Whistledown do with such unseemly information?” Berbrooke threatened, a slimy smile slinking on his face before he stormed off.

Nothing. Penelope scowled, face flushed with anger. My pen is not for the likes of you to manipulate. Not back then and not now.

Over Daphne’s shoulder, Simon glanced at Penelope, his jaw clenched tightly. He didn't need to say anything. Penelope was already formulating plans to send Rae off to an errand at the same time as Rose, Daphne’s lady’s maid, and constructing a plan very similar to the one Colin had when he had Macclesfield and his siblings coincidentally run into the Featherington family.

The more maids listening in on the gossip Lady Bridgerton attempted to spread in the next few days the better. Their network was much more successful with the spreading of information. All Lady Whistledown had to do was put it into print to share it with the fashionable set and it would be seen as true.

The faster Berbrooke’s transgressions spread the better for everyone and Penelope would relish ousting him from society.

If there was anything Penelope despised, it was a bully.

It has come to This Author’s attention that the ton is abuzz with the most sordid tale. It is said that one cannot judge a book by its cover. But in the case of the bumbling Baron Berbrooke, it seems his displeasing appearance is quite an apt metaphor for the state of affairs in his household. I would not be surprised if Lord Berbrooke were called away to the country on alleged business…business which perhaps might involve sending some much overdue funds to one former maid and one young boy that we can only hope takes after his mother.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

19 May 1813

While waiting for Eloise to come from wherever it was that she wandered off to, Penelope sat at the pianoforte in the Bridgerton drawing room.

She and Felicity had walked over for afternoon tea, but when they arrived Eloise wasn’t present. Felicity and Hyacinth had encouraged her to play—the former wanting to listen without their eldest sister attempting to sing along and the latter wanting to avoid Daphne’s attempts at practice.

It was a relatively peaceful afternoon with only Anthony and Eloise missing when Eloise stormed inside and demanded, “How does a lady come to be with child?”

Penelope’s hands slipped and she slammed on the keys.

Why would she be asking that!?

“El-Eloise!” Lady Bridgerton admonished. “What a question.”

“I thought one had to be married.” Eloise waved her hands around as she spoke.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Daphne asked, turning away from Penelope.

“Apparently it’s not even a requirement,” Eloise informed them, shock dripping in every word.

“Eloise,” Violet snapped. “That is more than enough.”

Eloise glanced over at Penelope and nodded her head towards the sofas on the other side of the room, requesting that she follow her. Penelope shook her head, not liking the direction the afternoon was headed.

“Daphne dear, I believe it is time for you to practice.” Under her breath she added, “Lord give me strength.”

Eloise snatched Penelope’s hand and dragged her to the sofas. She sat on the sofa across from her older brothers, arms crossed and glaring at them.

“I take it the two of you know.”

“Do not look at me,” Benedict was quick to evade.

“Have you ever visited a farm, El?” Colin asked with mock seriousness, earning himself a slap to the back of his head from Benedict.

Penelope snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles. Colin cocked his head towards her, puzzled. Eloise turned slowly towards her, eyes wide in astonishment.

“You know,” Eloise accused her lowly, looking towards her mother and back to ensure that she had not overheard. “You know .”

Penelope slapped at Eloise’s arms as she grabbed at her wrists in an attempt to drag her off of the sofa and away from the drawing room.

“Eloise this behavior is inappropriate.” Penelope grabbed Eloise’s wrists and held them together. “You cannot manhandle me!”

“You must tell me how it happens!”

“Why does Miss Featherington know how it happens?” Benedict made his presence known again to the two of them. Subtly he turned his head towards Colin. Colin blinked at him and then realization dawned on his face, eyes widening.

“Not from me!” Colin hissed, looking towards his mother and back the same as Eloise.

Penelope snorted again, unable to resist the urge to laugh. Benedict was correct that it had been Colin, just not this Colin.

“Well, that wasn’t reassuring.”

“It was not I!” Colin slapped Benedict’s arms with the back of his hand. Benedict kept snickering into his fist, enjoying riling up his younger brother.

“I will tell you,” Penelope’s voice dropped to a whisper as she turned back to Eloise, “if you tell me where you heard of such a thing first.”

“Oh, but then you could avoid telling me.” Eloise unfortunately did not lower her voice. “You tell me what you know first.”

“Again,” Benedict quirked an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Penelope and Colin, “how does she know?”

“We don’t know if what she thinks she knows is what she knows,” Colin hissed back at his brother. “And whatever she knows it was not from me!”

“I do hope the two of you are not encouraging improper topics of conversation,” Violet warned her sons, attempting to distract the younger children who were seated at the small round table, enjoying the chaos of the drawing room.

“Not at all mother,” Benedict responded quickly, his mood immediately sobering up.

“In fact,” Colin stood up, ready to run away from the situation, “we were just about to take our sticks out.”

“COLIN BRIDGERTON!” Violet turned around in a flurry of skirts, cheeks flushing pink.

“For a round of fencing!”

Oh, Lord help him, Penelope sighed inwardly, watching Colin and Benedict scramble to exit the drawing room. Even now he’s making a joke to divert attention.

“You must tell me, Penelope,” Eloise pleaded, squeezing Penelope’s fingers. “How else am I to avoid coming to be with child?”

“Fine” Penelope huffed, eyeing Lady Bridgerton who was rubbing at her temple, wincing when Daphne fumbled at the keys. “But later, so Daphne can know as well since she is about to be proposed to soon.”

Penelope remembered how Eloise had told her that Daphne had received the worst instruction about the wedding night from Lady Bridgerton. The two of them had commiserated together after Eloise had gotten married, but at least Eloise had been informed about marital relations before her mother could attempt to talk to her about it.

“Now, why are you asking in the first place?”

Eloise looked back at her mother and then crouched closer to Penelope.

“I was listening to the maids again and—“

“You really should leave the maids alone, Eloise.”

“Shhh!” Eloise flapped her hands, gesturing for Penelope to stop interrupting. “Listen. Apparently they heard from a maid from another house that a young unmarried lady could have been with child but it was fortunate that her courses came although they were rather late. What do our courses have to do with bearing children?”

Penelope sighed, relieved that the rumor did not mention which family and also included the discovery of stained sheets. She hadn’t expected Eloise to hear of it without Penelope bringing it up to her due to curiosity. She had underestimated the servants, but it did mean that Marina was possibly suspected before Varley had informed Penelope’s mother.

“Follow my lead,” she told Eloise, who was looking at her expectantly. “Daphne?”

Daphne faltered on her last note, turning around to face them. Her brows were pinched together in confusion at the interruption.

“Eloise just told me that you had a delivery from the modiste with your dress for Lady Danbury’s Garden Soirée. I would very much like to see it.”

“You—?” Daphne tilted her head, her mouth pursing at her stilted question. “You would?”

“Very much so!” Penelope insisted, keeping her voice light and cheery. “Your gowns are always so beautiful. I just wanted to get a look at it before tomorrow.”

Daphne brightened at the compliment and closed her booklet of music, dusting off her skirts as she rose from the piano bench to join them.

“You will adore my diamond parure as well, Penelope. The tiara is quite brilliant and Rose has a lovely idea of how to set my hair.”

“Finally,” Eloise whispered, rushing excitedly to the door, dragging Penelope by the arm. “ We will get to know something only our older brothers are allowed to know. I can’t wait to tell Francesca.”

Unlike certain siblings of his, Colin did not have an overwhelming desire to be correct at every turn. If he was wrong, he had no shame in declaring it so even if he did feel shame in being incorrect in the first place.

“You get this stupid look on your face,” Eloise had pointed out during afternoon tea earlier in the month causing Benedict to laugh into his sketchbook.

“I do not make a stupid face,” he had retorted hotly, annoyed with the conversation, wanting to avoid the conversation.

“Well, as long as you remember,” Eloise had cracked open her book and fell back into her se at, “that she was my friend first. So do not do anything without thinking it over first because I will cut you down. Stupid face or not.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” Colin had grumbled, moving his biscuits around on his plate but not lifting a single one to his mouth.

“Because nothing is secret in this family,” Benedict had gleefully supplied with a playful shrug. “And as Eloise so eloquently described, you make a stupid face whenever you see your precious friend these days.”

And as much as he was loath to admit it, Colin was in fact unable to control the way the corners of his lips lifted into a smile whenever he spotted Penelope Featherington standing along the sidelines.

Colin had always known that Penelope had a sweetness to her smile that urged him to summon more onto her round, pretty face. He had not always known that those same lips that formed her smile also looked very kissable. Not until she had swiped at his own lower lip and sucked the very same thumb into her mouth, licking crumbs and wrapping her lips around the digit.

His brain had then been more than happy to store away the knowledge that Penelope had a wide mouth with plush lips meant for kissing. It was not a thought he was meant to have about a genteel lady, but especially not about his childhood friend.

There was something… familiar about the feeling—about the action that elicited the feeling, but he couldn’t place it. Like a ghost of a memory turning to the white smoke of Benedict’s cheroots and blending into a cloudy London sky.

And then there were the smaller details and the not so smaller details.

Colin had always known she had brown eyes—plenty of people had brown eyes, just like Anthony and Daphne—but since when did they have a ring of gold near the middle?

And he had always been aware that Penelope was not willowy like other girls of his acquaintance but never had he been so singularly focused on the fact that she looked soft and lush.

He has caught himself pouting whenever his sisters hugged Penelope, all of them looking so pleased in enjoying her softness.

There was an odd sensation, something that niggled in his brain that whispered to him that he had every right to do the same, but that voice was wrong. Colin was not allowed to embrace Penelope in such a way.

He had never embraced Penelope in such a way. And yet there was something in the shadows of his mind insisting that he had and that he had more right to her affections.

It was a peculiar feeling and unwelcome when he was still trying to figure out the enjoyment he had in being around Penelope. Was it new? Or was it something that was always there that he could finally separate from the walls of Bridgerton House?

“If we stand at the angle of one of those hedges,” he began as he approached a familiar, yellow dressed figure, “would it count as one of our corners?”

“Hello, Colin,” Penelope greeted him, her smile sparkling more than the glittering yellow stars clipped through her loose curls tumbling over her shoulders and down her back.

As was becoming more and more common, having Penelope’s singular attention made him giddy, a small fluttering filling his stomach.

Another odd thought—since when did he consider butterflies as something that belonged to Penelope Featherington?

Unfortunately, the garden party was open to more than just those that were out in society.

“I have procured the chocolates!” Eloise cheered, strolling over to them from one of the refreshments tables. “Oh. You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?”

The whole family was at the garden party. Their mother had been positively giddy to accept the invitation despite how late the event had been prepared. Lady Danbury didn’t usually arrange fêtes without weeks notice, but there was cause for celebration.

Supposedly, a very important question was to be asked that day and the asker was someone very close and very dear to Lady Danbury.

“You have other friends.” Eloise waved around. “Go find them.”

But Colin did not want to. He very much wanted to take advantage of the lack of Miss Thompson’s presence. He had searched for her first before approaching, not wanting her to ambush him the moment he reached Penelope.

“Marina wasn’t feeling well,” Penelope told him, reading his question in the way he scanned the crowd. “But she knew Eloise would be here.”

“What do you two even talk about when I’m not around?” Eloise popped a chocolate into her mouth.

“Plenty,” Colin growled under his breath. Was it really that difficult to imagine that he and Penelope enjoyed their own conversations, their own bond separate from her?

Miss Thompson had even called him out for his liberal use of Penelope’s Christian name and that the only reason Miss Thompson referred to her own cousin as “Pen,” was because of how often she heard him use the shortened name.

Colin and Penelope were friends without Eloise sticking herself in the middle. They wrote letters to each other during the summer the same as Eloise and Penelope and he knew just about as much about her as Eloise.

Granted most of the information came secondhand from Eloise who wouldn’t stop talking about her best friend. Most of her letters to him while he was away at Eton were riddled with mentions of Penelope.

“We talk about you,” Penelope winked at Colin before turning back to Eloise, “and how you’re at home in bed while we get to eat all of these treats.”

Penelope snatched two shortbread biscuits from Eloise’s plate and bit into one while handing the other to Colin.

“Why am I not surprised that food is your favorite topic of discussion,” Eloise snorted, slapping Colin’s hand when he reached for one of her chocolates.

While her attention was elsewhere, Penelope snuck Colin a chocolate from Eloise’s plate. She had an impish smile on her face as she did so. Penelope was much better at evading Eloise’s attention and moving more stealthily. By the time Eloise noticed how light her plate was, Colin already ate two biscuits and three chocolates.

“You,” Eloise jabbed a finger at Colin’s chest, “are a savage, Colin Bridgerton.”

Eloise stormed off in a fit of annoyance, back to the refreshments. She was barely a yard away when Penelope burst into a fit of giggles.

“You were just as much involved and yet only I got the blame, you little thief.” Colin narrowed his eyes at Penelope playfully.

“I did not eat any of them.” Penelope stuck her pert nose up in the air, placing her hands on her hips. “And you cannot prove I stole any. Not when there’s chocolate on your face.”

Colin’s hand immediately flew to the right side of his face and he knuckled at the corner of his mouth. Penelope giggled again, shaking her head. She pointed at her right side, mirroring his left. With her thumb she wiped at her lower lip, bringing the pout of her mouth to attention.

Absentmindedly, he wiped at his mouth where she was gesturing, watching as her mouth formed words, unhearing.

“Colin?” Penelope’s brows pinched together, frowning.

“Hm?” He snapped back to focus, his eyes drifting back to hers. “Yes, you were saying?”

“I was saying—“

“It’s happening!” Eloise rushed back to them, wrapping her arms around one of Penelope’s. “The Duke of Hastings and Daphne have an announcement. Let’s go!”

Eloise didn’t even check to see if Colin was following behind as she dragged Penelope into the crowd forming around Lady Danbury.

Colin sighed through his nose. Closing his eyes, he looked upwards, taking slow breaths to calm himself.

It was fortunate that Eloise was debuting when she was eighteen. Perhaps he could help convince their mother to delay her another year. It was what she wanted.

It’s marriage for the Duke of Hastings and Miss Bridgerton!

This Author must take this opportunity to remind you, dear reader, that the forthcoming nuptials were predicted in this very column. It has not escaped the note of This Author that when this newspaper reports a new attachment between an eligible gentleman and an unmarried lady, the odds in the betting books at gentlemen’s clubs change within hours, and always in favor of marriage.

Although This Author is not allowed in White’s, she has reason to believe that the official odds concerning the marriage of the duke and Miss Bridgerton were 2-1 for.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

21 May 1813

It was one of those odd days when Penelope felt up to having breakfast with her family that mail came for Marina and she hadn’t been able to retrieve it before the tray made it to the breakfast room for mail call.

Penelope’s father eyed the letter Briarly handed to Marina suspiciously from over his newspaper, but it was too late as it already made it to Marina’s hands and she used her unused butter knife to break the familiar seal.

She watched as Marina’s eyes quickly roamed the page, her mouth falling gently the further she read.

Marina stood up, gasping, a hand to her mouth as she abandoned her breakfast. She grabbed Penelope’s hand and pulled her away from the rest of their family and out into the hall.

“Pen!” Marina’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but the smile on her face was great and beautiful. “He’s coming for me. George says he loves me and our child and he wants to marry me.”

Marina wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, releasing a sob of relief. She twirled in place, giggling in delight.

“Does he say when he will come?”

“He needs to stop at Romney Hall in Kent first.” Marina straightened the parchment, fixing the creases and crouching closer to show Penelope the paragraph with Sir George’s plans. “He says that he and his brother will need to get some things in the estate in order and he will attempt to speak with my papa, but that they will ride straight to London regardless if he gives his blessing or not. Perhaps a week at the earliest but two to be safe?”

“You will be Lady Crane soon,” Penelope cheered, blinking back tears of her own.

“I do not care for the station,” Marina laughed. She grabbed Penelope’s hands and spun her around like the child’s game round-the-rosie. “I will be George’s and he will be mine!”

Marina pulled Penelope into an embrace, holding her tight.

“He loves me, he loves me,” Marina sang into Penelope’s hair. “He wants me for his wife.”

Penelope held Marina just as tightly, burying her face into her shoulder. It did not escape her note that Sir George mentioned that Phillip would be joining him to collect Marina from the Featheringtons.

Chapter Text

A fine mist settled over Grosvenor Square. It was one of those rainy days where there was no downpour and the drizzle did not come down as drops but more like a fine layer, a whisper of moisture falling on the skin.

A fine layer coating him as armor as fragile as crystal ready to crack.

Colin had inherited his grandfather’s need to ramble according to his mother. Lord Ledger went on rambles every day and was a very contemplative man.

When his family was at their Grosvenor Square residency, Colin was likely to forgo carriages and just walk.

There was a boisterous atmosphere at home now that Daphne was engaged and wedding preparations were underway. Daphne was walking on air and so elated with her engagement, her bliss made her even more lovelier as the days passed. The whole family swung between indulging her and teasing her as she got caught up in planning her and Hastings’s wedding breakfast.

Colin was happy for her—he was. With only a year between them, Daphne was his nursery room companion, his first friend. They stood together as the first siblings after years of it only being Anthony and Benedict.

And now she was getting married and that made it even more startling clear that they were no longer children, even more so than her debut into society and his exit from Eton.

Colin adjusted his grip on the leather tubes protecting his new maps from the cartographer. As soon as Anthony spotted them, he would know what they were and it would be yet again another argument.

Out of the corner of his eye, something pink was approaching perpendicular to him. Turning, he felt the smile form on his face before the figure completely came to focus.

“Pen!” He greeted as Penelope approached, a smile bright on her face.

“Let me guess,” she twirled the handle of her umbrella in between her gloved hands, “it wasn’t raining when you first headed out?”

It was another day that Penelope went without a hat or bonnet and Colin was glad for it. She no longer wore the tight curls of her childhood and the loose waves made her look all the softer.

Her loose curls tumbled around her shoulders, multiple tiny pale pink, pale orange, and pale blue ribbons tied throughout her hair to match her pale pink day dress and the organza layer made up of pink, orange, and blue flowers.

Colin knew she had a preference for shades of green, but he thought cheerful floral colors suited Penelope, especially with the typical Featherington flair for the dramatic with her two florets made of her own hair that could be found on either side of her head.

“I was walking for so long the weather shifted as I rambled, lost in my thoughts.”

“Lost in your thoughts but found here in Grosvenor Square.” Penelope raised her umbrella over Colin’s head and with her free hand reached for his maps. “Trade with me.”

Puzzled, Colin took hold of her umbrella and watched as she tucked his maps under her arm as she wrapped the other around his arm holding the umbrella above them.

“Shall we continue to ramble about the square?”

It wasn’t so much the feel of her arm—and the subsequential press of her torso—or the way she smiled at him while looking up from underneath her lashes that had enticed him. Those were simply bonuses. He was lured by the promise of delaying the inevitable confrontation he would have with his older brother while enjoying Penelope's company without any interruption.

“We’ve officially been campaigning at the Featherington House to be allowed to wear shades of blue for Daphne’s wedding to the duke,” Penelope started as they made their way back down the walkway and away from Bridgerton House. “We have been putting up a strong fight, but no doubt you shall see me in a shade more commonly found in lemons or oranges.”

“At least it will be different. There’s so much blue and white in the decor. Any guests going for the obvious colors will blend in with the arrangements and plate settings.”

“And yet, you will wear something leaning towards those softer colors all because it would be what Daphne wants.”

He thought about the powder blue waistcoat with its silver and white floral designs and blue silk cravat that he and all of his brothers would be wearing paired with a deep blue, almost black, suit jacket and pants set. He could not deny that his kit indeed had light colors, but he was glad that Hastings had suggested the darker suit. It would have to do despite Colin’s interest in a waistcoat of a darker shade of blue.

“Of course. I know better than not to let my dear younger sister have her way for her wedding.”

Penelope hummed, nodding her head. She had been witness enough to him indulging Daphne’s whims. Daphne had taken charge most of their childhood when it came to what games they played. Eloise always wanted them to be knights to Daphne’s princess, while Daphne liked to play family or perform fake wedding ceremonies, alternating between her being wed to an imaginary groom or playing the officiant to his and Penelope’s wedding.

They would always use abandoned embroidery projects for veils, stealing flowers from arrangements in the halls for bouquets. Gregory, Hyacinth, and Felicity would act as guests, properly behaved until they started demanding cake that didn’t exist.

“Where were you headed?” Colin asked, shaking the memory out of the forefront of his mind.

“Colin. It is Monday. Where do I go on Mondays at four?”

To Bridgerton House. Where Penelope had been going for afternoon tea for years. He had missed many of those teas because of the years he was away at Eton, but Pen was usually there and when he was sick with the longing for home and picturing his family in that drawing room, he always imagined them on a Monday.

“Well, then. You are decidedly late.”

Colin turned on his heel, turning himself and Penelope back around to walk right back up the path. The move was similar to one they had learned during dance practice, only altered for their need of an umbrella, and Penelope giggled at the way they slid on the wet stone of the walkway.

“It feels as if I haven’t seen you at Bridgerton House since last Monday.”

Penelope had been absent during tea times and calling hours. Other than the long standing appointment on Mondays, she did come over on other days but she wasn’t always expected. It didn’t stop Colin from looking out the drawing room window to see if she was making her way across the square.

Eloise had been disgruntled all week, forced to accompany their mother and Daphne as they made all of the arrangements for the wedding. Her mood suffered even more when she had made an escape to call on Penelope only to discover that she was running an errand with Miss Thompson.

“It really has been that long, hasn’t it?” Penelope tilted her chin up and her mouth moved slightly as she mentally counted the days. “I’ve been so busy helping Marina prepare for Sir George’s arrival.”

The previous week had been the week for engagements for the residents of Grosvenor Square it seemed. Colin had just finished washing up after a round of fencing with his brothers and strolled into the drawing room only to find his sisters, Penelope, and Felicity squealing over and congratulating Marina Thompson as she gushed over her betrothal to Sir George Crane, a first son and baronet that Marina’s family was neighbors with in Kent.

Sir George was not a member of the peerage but Romney Hall was rich in the acres of land that made up its property, making him an ideal  match. Not that Marina seemed to care. She had declined offers from lords, an unimpressed glaze over her eyes even if she offered them polite smiles.

Colin had never seen Marina Thompson as animated as she was when she spoke of her intended. He had not even seen Penelope as a recipient of the new, glowing smile that Miss Thompson unleashed whenever she spoke of her Sir George Crane.

It suited Miss Thompson. She seemed to carry some deep rooted melancholy that shadowed every interaction of hers.

“Marina’s fiancé will arrive soon and it has been decided that they will take up residency in their London property for the rest of the season. It has been essentially abandoned, so I’ve been helping her get things in order as she waits for Sir George.”

“I thought she would prefer to leave the city as soon as possible.”

When Penelope had first said that Miss Thompson had not wanted to come to Mayfair, Colin had thought that after spending time with the Featheringtons—well, Penelope—and enjoying the festivities of a London season that she would become more amenable to the idea. From the few conversations they shared it was clear that Miss Thompson did enjoy attending the assemblies, but did not care much for a majority of the people and she longed to return to the country.

“She wants me to get to know Sir George and his brother, Mister Phillip Crane because we will be family and she wishes for me to visit her at Romney Hall during the summer.”

“Miss Thompson wants you to meet her future brother-in-law?” Colin looked down at Penelope but could only see the top of her head as she was looking straight ahead, unaware of how he had been affected by what she had said.

The phrasing made it clear that Miss Thompson had singled Penelope out of her whole family. It made sense that Miss Thompson would want her family to get along with her intended, but there was something that unsettled him about Miss Thompson’s desire for Penelope to be integrated into the family she was marrying into.

“Yes. She does not know the younger brother well, just that he is around your age and attends Cambridge. He has an interest in the study of plants.”

“I always imagined that in the absurd circumstance that we weren’t spinsters together that you would at least marry some sort of scholar.”

A scholar. Was that not who Eloise had deigned worthy of Penelope?

Heavy as a stone, his stomach cramped and his throat tightened uncomfortably. First Daphne and now Penelope could potentially marry in the off season if Miss Thompson’s matchmaking designs yielded the results she wanted.

Colin had known long before she debuted that Daphne planned to marry her first season out and longed to start her own family. Her favorite doll growing up had always been a baby doll that slept by her bedside in a real bassinet their father had commissioned for her when she was seven.

But Penelope had said that she wasn’t seeking a husband her first season out. She had said so, days before her debut into society, and Colin had believed it even with how worried Eloise had been.

Penelope had scoffed and dismissed Eloise’s concerns, but had never denied a desire to be married someday. Only that she wouldn’t entertain offers of marriage in her first season.

Marriage was such an adult concept and Colin would have to shamefully admit that he had not considered Penelope as an adult because he associated her so much with Eloise and they were the same age. Adulthood felt so far off for the both of them.

Just that past summer—before Colin took a tour of Wales—the three of them were at Aubrey Hall for Penelope’s annual week-long visit and tracking mud and pond water through the estate because they had been hunting for frogs to let loose in the shed Benedict used as his art studio.

But now Penelope was a proper lady with fluttery, darkened lashes and she smelled of oranges, lemons, and honey mixed with something floral  more often than the warm biscuits, sugar, and grass scent that followed them throughout their childhood.

“Colin?”

Penelope’s fingers squeezed his arm gently and Colin came back to focus, realizing that he had stopped walking.

“Are you well?” She asked and then she did something curious.

Penelope curled closer into him and rubbed her hand up and down his arm in a soothing motion. They had already been too close, but the action brought her even closer. It wasn’t something Colin should encourage, but the tilt of her head as she looked up at him had him clenching his fist tightly to tighten the muscle of his arm and pulling her even closer towards him, keeping her attached to his side.

“I am fine,” he murmured, uncaring that they were in the middle of Grosvenor Square. It wasn’t some dark corner of a ballroom. It was the middle of the day and anyone could see them if they looked out their windows.

They were both safe and being reckless simultaneously, but their closeness could be excused to his family by their shared umbrella.

“So…” Penelope began as she turned them back up the walkway. “To what far off lands did you procure maps for?”

Sheepishly, Colin smiled and prepared himself for her reaction to his answer.

“Would it even surprise you that I plan to go to Greece?”

Penelope’s smile was knowing, but unlike the squirm that made his stomach clench from Benedict’s knowing smirks, it made him feel lighter, an airy sensation swooping in his stomach.

Pleasant.

“So we are back on track with planning your tour?”

Penelope was the only one that indulged Colin when it came to his desire to travel. The only one that seemed to really pay attention when he spoke about it.

“My mother has been more encouraging now,” Colin admitted, a faint warmth filling him at the reminder of his conversation with her. “She is grateful for all the help I have provided with Daphne and her courtship.”

“You have been a wonderful brother.” Somehow the compliment made him feel even warmer falling from Penelope’s mouth. “I am sure Daphne is most appreciative of all of your kindness.”

“I should hope so,” Colin laughed. “I have had to endure so many horse rides and boxing matches with those two making eyes at each other and flirting.”

Colin had spent less time with his older brothers than he had with Daphne and Hastings it seemed. He and Daphne would leave Bridgerton House in the morning hours long before Benedict would rise from his bed or Anthony could make his way from his bachelor’s lodgings.

The hours were unusual, but he and Daphne would make it back home by the time the rest of the household was preparing for the day or for any of her appointments. Colin would miss their mischief and sneaking about once she was a married woman and busy with managing her own household.

“Would you show me your itinerary?” Penelope’s question was asked with a voice so soft, Colin had to look back down at her to make sure he had heard it. She looked up at him hopefully, chin tilted up, all warm brown eyes and soft curls framing her freckled cheeks. “I would like to see where you plan to travel.”

Her voice was sweet. Her smile was sweet. And yet Colin’s thoughts were not sweet.

Unbidden, an image of charting a course on creamy skin and mapping out freckles crossed his mind. It had struck him so quickly that it threw him off of his axis.

“I am not entirely sure of my travel plans.” Colin looked away sharply, swallowing heavily. “My old plans were based on old interests and an outdated map I obtained when I was still in Eton years ago. There are new roads and accessible regions now.”

The feelings Colin was experiencing were tumultuous and so absurdly and painfully obvious to his siblings. Well, obvious to Daphne and Benedict. He wasn’t sure if Eloise was quite aware of his confusing feelings or if she was acting out of loyalty to him and using his conflict with Marina Thompson as an excuse because of her own personal feelings towards the young lady.

Daphne had been understanding although disappointed. She had been excited at the prospect of both her and Colin getting married within the same season and entering the next chapter of their lives together. She had stifled her disappointment and listened to his refusal to press forward when there was more at stake than if he had attempted to press his suit when he felt the minimal flutters of interest in Miss Thompson when she had arrived to town.

Penelope had been correct. Colin did not know Miss Thompson and once that had settled in his mind and he had focused on attempting to get to know her under friendly terms without the pressure of courtship and other suitors to compete with…he shamefully realized that a pretty face and a charming smile did not feed love.

And then there were…the stirrings.

Jealousy was an ugly feeling and yet it was born in his belly and clawed its way up his ribs and roared in his chest.

But not for Marina Thompson and her armada of callers.

For Penelope and his missed chance to be the first caller to bring her flowers. He had not even known that he wanted to.

For Penelope and the time he claimed as his that Miss Thompson had secured for her own at assemblies. Time he had apparently grown to expect to be his alone, free of Eloise’s influence.

For Penelope and the way she made Lord Remington laugh at Somerset House before Hyacinth and Felicity dragged her away and returned her to his and Eloise’s side where she was meant to be.

“You cannot have a dalliance with a young lady,” Benedict had warned him, only half serious. “I know you have yet to wet your wick despite your forays during your travels. If there is a preference for a lady instead of brothels, I can always steer you towards some of the more amenable widows.”

It had been after Eloise had burst into the informal drawing room and asked how children occurred. Penelope had been shocked by the outburst, but not by the revelation that a lady could come to be with child out of wedlock.

The amount of time it took to convince Benedict that Colin had nothing to do with Penelope’s supposed knowledge was irritating. In the end, Colin was not convinced that Benedict was truly assured of the nature of his and Penelope’s relationship.

Maybe there would be a day in which he stopped having hope that his brothers actually listened to him in full. At least Benedict didn’t bring up the subject when Anthony was around.

Penelope was his friend, a gently bred young lady. She wasn’t a barmaid in a Scottish tavern that fell upon his lap, easily charmed into bringing him larger portions and stealing kisses from him.

Penelope would fit perfectly in his lap. It would bring them at eye level and he could count the freckles that scattered across the bridge of her nose.

Friend. She was his friend.

“Would you share it with me when you are done? Please?” Penelope asked, an extra flutter to her lashes. It was odd. Colin was sure when her lashes were their natural brown that he hadn’t noticed the movements of her lashes as much. “I would very much like to see the plans and hear your reasoning for your course.”

“Sure,” Colin responded, unsure if it was more that he was distracted by her big brown eyes or that he was excited at the prospect of discussing his tour with someone that had actual interest in it.

Either way, he didn’t think he cared to make a distinction in how they both made him feel.

With the way she was pacing on the rug, Marina was going to wear out a path.

Lord Featherington had received a missive during breakfast that Sir George Crane would be calling upon the Featheringtons. Marina had snatched the note from Penelope’s father, eyes scanning the penmanship to ensure that it was reality.

“You are making me dizzy!” Prudence whined as Marina passed by her again.

“Marina,” Penelope called out from where she sat at the drawing room window. “Calling hours have just begun. He’ll be here any moment.”

Penelope had spent the past two weeks assisting Marina in preparing Crane House for the arrival of the Crane brothers. The minimal staff sent ahead knew to expect Marina, but she had limited experience in the running of a townhome. Penelope hadn’t realized how much Marina had relied on the housekeeper of Romney Hall back in the original 1813.

Penelope knew that Marina didn’t want her mother involved and had gone to help her instruct the staff on what was needed to be done. Due to her nerves and her new bout with nausea, Marina didn’t question why Penelope was so knowledgeable about the management of the household. If she asked, Penelope would just tell her that Portia had been preparing her daughters for when they had their own home.

Mrs. Varley had come into the room panting, most likely to beat out Briarly in announcing their guests.

Penelope had never seen Sir George outside of portraits before. He looked similar enough to Phillip that it would be impossible for one to not see that they were brothers, but he carried himself the way soldiers did, stiffly.

But Penelope’s eyes were on her brother by law. He followed behind Sir George, quietly and unassuming despite his bulk. Unlike Simon who was already so much older than them and Michael who she had not seen so young before, it was startling to see a younger Phillip without the haunted look of a man who had recently lost his brother and inherited his estate. A hint of a smile pulled at his lips when he caught Penelope’s eye.

Varley had barely announced Sir George and Phillip when Marina went flying across the room, throwing her arms around Sir George’s neck. Anticipating her action, George wrapped his arms around her, swinging her in a circle as he held her close.

“My word!” Portia gasped at the impropriety. Philippa, Penelope, and Felicity giggled at Marina and her betrothed's antics.

“Good day,” Phillip greeted them all on behalf of himself and his brother. “I am sure Mister Thompson has forewarned you of our arrival. I am Mister Phillip Crane and this is my brother Sir George Crane—Miss Thompson’s fiancé.”

“Mister Thompson did not give his blessing,” Lord Featherington grunted. He drummed his fingers on the tea table nervously. “He only mentioned that the neighbor his land was abut with would be making a visit.”

“It does not matter,” Marina snarled. “Blessing or not I will marry none but George.”

“I have already procured a special license.” George’s voice was rougher than Phillip’s, tone more cocksure. “We will wed in three days.”

“We were not—“

“Does it matter?” Portia interrupted her husband. “We were to be responsible for the girl until she found a husband and she has found a husband!”

They had reached the moment that Portia was feeling the strain of their lack of funds. Their coffers at the modiste were empty and Madame Delacroix was no longer taking slips they could not fill. Portia was stretching coins to refurbish old ball gowns for Prudence and leaving it up to the lady’s maids to make repairs to the dresses of the younger girls so they would appear different.

Felicity’s governess had already been dismissed, informed that her services would no longer be required after the end of the season.

And Marina was one more mouth to feed and a distraction, keeping suitors away from her girls. Girls who Portia would discover had no dowries after Lord Featherington passed away.

But Marina had already been loudly making plans for Penelope to visit her in Romney Hall. She had estimated that all of July would be dedicated to the honeymoon and becoming acquainted with the staff of Romney Hall and her new duties as lady of the house and that Penelope could stay with her in August or September and had promised that Eloise could come to spend the day whenever she pleased when she discovered that Aubrey Hall was the country seat of the Bridgerton family.

Penelope could see the calculations in her mother’s eyes as she watched Marina interact with Penelope, biting down on her thumbnail. She knew that her mother had allowed Penelope the freedom to spend so much time outside of the house with Marina to encourage their friendship and thus earn Marina’s good will.

It would not be strange to offer support to a favorite cousin once married.

Marina drew herself up, standing tall and imposing. Coolly, she stared down her nose at Lord Featherington.

“I am getting married in three days,” she declared, voice firm. “You may join your family when they come to the ceremony and wedding breakfast at the Crane residency or you may stay here in your study alone as you always are. I do not care which you decide.” Marina turned to the ladies in the room. “Shall we have tea in the garden so we can all get to know one another? My husband-to-be wishes to thank my cousins for offering me their hospitality.”

Without waiting for any of them to speak up, she grabbed Sir George’s hand and vacated the room. Phillip stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. Nodding his head quickly at the Featheringtons, he followed after his brother and future sister.

It should have been expected that the weather would turn. A sun shower started halfway through tea right in the middle of Portia meddling into Marina and George’s wedding breakfast plans.

Besides the two Crane brothers and the Featheringtons, the only guests that would be attending were the Bridgertons if they accepted the invitation as a family. Marina did not expect them to want to attend, but she had hoped that Eloise and Colin would. Marina hadn’t made any friends outside of Penelope during her stay with the Featheringtons, but she wanted to deepen her acquaintance with Penelope’s friends because they were important to her.

When they came back inside because of the quick rain shower, Penelope’s father had locked himself away in his study. She was neither surprised nor disappointed that he wasn’t participating in discussions over Marina’s upcoming nuptials.

Portia had taken charge and was invested in preparing for Marina’s move. She had many questions for Sir George—questions Marina’s papa should have asked—and had made her own suggestions for when it would be best for them to leave to their home in the country and how there were things Marina would need and how it would be best to order them in the city before they left.

Prudence and Philippa had lost interest and went off to their rooms to prepare for the dinner party they were to attend and Felicity went to work on her watercolors at Penelope’s encouragement.

Penelope sat at her window seat with a book, pretending as if she was absorbed in the literature. She was actually sneaking peeks at Phillip Crane who was standing at the drawing room window, looking out to Bridgerton House with longing.

“What is she reading nowadays?” Phillip whispered.

“John Galt’s Cursory Reflections on Political and Commercial Topics ,” Penelope supplied with a soft smile. “Colin got it for her when he picked up Galt’s Voyages and Travels . It is a secret though. No one is supposed to know that she has it and that he bought it for her.”

“Brilliant,” he murmured, still looking out of the window. “She spoke of Galt often whenever she was in Scotland visiting Francesca.”

Phillip continued to stare across the square. Penelope could almost hear his thoughts.

Which room in Bridgerton House was Eloise? What was she doing? Was she reading or fighting with Colin over biscuits? Was she plucking at the pianoforte keys while Anthony sat there, unflinching, and pretending that she had improved?

“Mama?” Penelope interrupted whatever it was that her mother was saying to make Marina smile at her falsely, politely waiting for the conversation to end. “Mister Crane would like to visit the garden. He noticed your Japanese maple and wanted another look.”

Portia blinked owlishly, looking back and forth between Penelope and Phillip. Her mouth shut tightly and she made a face as if she were in the process of solving a complex sum.

It never boded well when she looked like that.

Luckily, Rae had come in to ask Penelope a question about her attire for the evening and was readily available to switch on for chaperoning duties.

Despite using it only as an excuse, Phillip was in fact intrigued by the Japanese maple tree and had asked several questions that Penelope was unable to answer. She was sure her mother had received it as a gift and had only cared that it was a unique addition and that the leaves were of a purple hue.

“I do not wish to speak of my arrival in 1813.” Phillip was firm in his resolve and Penelope did not wish to push him. The extent of their knowledge so far was just going to bed and having troubled sleep and then waking up to over seven years in the past.

She knew that out of all of the known travelers that she fared the best, then Simon. Simon at least arrived in the Spring of the year he was wed to his Bridgerton. And Penelope lived across the square and was friends with the family.

Michael was years away from his elopement with Francesca and they still had no word from Kate and Sophie was missing. The only positive was that if Sophie was not with her stepfamily, then surely she was also from their future.

“I do not wish to belittle Simon’s pain,” Penelope sighed, brows furrowing in disappointment with herself, “but you men will not understand the loss I or Kate or Sophie feel because our children were once part of us, growing inside of us. But I do acknowledge that you are now losing children you were father to. They were your son and daughter. You cared for them and raised them as if they were your own—they were your own. And now you must watch as someone else claims them.”

“What right to a feeling of loss do I have when I have saved my brother?” Phillip shrugged his shoulders causing his cloak to flutter about him. “He shall live and Marina will not fall to melancholy.”

Penelope did not have the heart to mention that there had been many bouts of melancholy in Marina. She hid it well, but if someone were paying close enough attention they could see it. It was Penelope’s hopes that Sir George would be the bit of happiness that could keep Marina from being adrift.

“At least you can still be uncle to them,” Penelope kept her tone light. “Spoil them and never be the villain that parents must be at times.”

Phillip huffed out a laugh as he plucked a leaf off of the maple tree and pulled out the journal he kept in his jacket pocket.

“There is that.”

“And you will be better with them,” Penelope continued. “You will know in advance how to soothe them and cheer them. You could still be the favorite of them.”

“Oh, that was most definitely Eloise.”

“Well then,” Penelope laughed softly, “you will be their favorite once you make her their auntie.”

Phillip nodded, looking down at the ground bashfully. Penelope wondered if it were too early to start scheming for Eloise. Phillip would be in town for a few more weeks with Marina and Sir George, it wouldn’t be completely out of the question for Phillip and Eloise to happen upon each other at some point. Who was to say that a friendship could not form?

“You don’t suppose your mother would mind if I started digging around the roots for a sample?”

Penelope should never have underestimated Eloise’s ability to find gossip. It was surprising that she wasn’t the first person to find out that she was Lady Whistledown back in her original timeline with the way she was able to root out information.

She and Felicity had barely stepped foot into the informal drawing room of Bridgerton House when Penelope was accosted by her best friend.

“You have a suitor!?”

“El—“ Penelope couldn’t even get her name out with the way Eloise rattled her around.

“Eloise you’ll break her!” Hyacinth cried out, yanking at Eloise’s arm. Gregory and Felicity joined her in attempting to free her from Eloise’s clutches. “Then we’ll never find out if it’s serious!”

“What suitor?” Penelope gasped out.

“You tell me!” Eloise threw her hands up in the air before crossing them in front of her chest, pouting petulantly. “We saw you come out of your house with a man yesterday.”

“What? I don’t know what—what?” Penelope stammered, confused.

“It was when my carriage pulled up to the house,” Francesca spoke up from her seat. She had been so quiet as she watched that Penelope didn’t notice that she was in the room.

“Oh, Francesca. Welcome back. How was Bath?”

“It was lovely.” Francesca’s cheeks flushed a pleasant pink and she smiled sweetly. “I cannot wait to show you what I learned from—“

“We are straying from the subject at hand,” Eloise snapped. “We were outside welcoming Francesca back home and saw you being escorted home by a bear of a man.”

“Eloise, it is rude to describe someone that way,” Lady Bridgerton scolded her from where she was seated across from Francesca.

Bear of a man? Who—?

“Oh. Mister Crane.” Penelope nodded, finally putting it together who the Bridgerton youngest children were talking about.

They looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell them more.

“He’s not a suitor,” Felicity huffed, fists on her hips and rolling her eyes.

The sigh of relief in the room  was concerning, especially because Violet had joined them, a hand over her heart.

“He is the younger brother of Marina’s husband. The four of us had gone to the shops,” Penelope explained. “Marina wanted me to meet her new family, remember?”

“ That’s the scholar obsessed with plants?” Eloise’s jaw dropped. “You jest.”

Penelope and Felicity had come over to tell their friends about how Marina’s wedding went. With Daphne’s wedding approaching and the commitments they already had for the social calendar, it was impossible for the Bridgertons to add another event. Eloise had wanted to attend to escape the wedding planning, but Violet wouldn’t let her skip out.

“They’re kind of burly are they not? The Cranes?” Hyacinth sighed in disappointment. Penelope giggled into her cup of tea. Hyacinth was such a flirt for a ten year old, already deciding on a preference for what kind of handsome men she enjoyed looking at. “I have decided. Mister Crane is not for Penelope.”

Hyacinth patted Penelope’s knee to punctuate her statement as if that had resolved everything.

“Oh?” Penelope teased her. “And who should I be looking for?”

“No one,” Eloise cut in quickly.

“You could always wait six more years,” Gregory mumbled to himself but not quietly enough not to be heard. Felicity scowled at him, but thankfully didn’t make any incriminating remarks about where Penelope’s affections laid.

“You could marry one of my brothers and become my sister,” Hyacinth declared. “I have three you can choose from.”

Penelope had to set her tea down before she dropped the teacup due to her trembling hands. Hyacinth was always oddly intuitive.

“You have four brothers,” Gregory sneered.

“You’re more like a pet.”

“That’s an idea,” Eloise scoffed, slumping into the sofa and nudging Penelope with her elbow. “You could marry into our family and then we could just keep you. Anthony and Benedict are much too old and Benedict is also…Benedict. But there is always Colin if you don’t mind living with a long legged creature that will eat you out of house and home.

Eloise laughed to herself as if she had made a particularly funny joke. Penelope wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be outwardly offended for Colin when it came to the idea of marriage.

Felicity perked up from her spot on the floor where she was playing with marbles. Penelope glared at her, warning her without words to keep her mouth shut.

“That’s enough girls,” Lady Bridgerton put a halt to any further discussion, much to Penelope’s relief.

They all enjoyed a relative peace until the youngest could no longer handle being idle and begged the older girls to play a game with them.

Somehow, Hyacinth convinced them all to play hide and seek, including Francesca. Francesca had missed her family and was willing to join in their shenanigans for at least an hour.

As soon as Eloise was selected as the seeker, the little ones took off giggling. Francesca smirked at her and waited for her to cover her eyes before tiptoeing away as quickly and quietly as she could. Penelope waited for everyone to take off before she shuffled out of the drawing room.

Hyacinth and Felicity were predictable in the sense that while they were good at hiding, as soon as you found one of them you found the other because they didn’t separate to hide.

Gregory liked to be near the kitchens so he could sneak a snack.

Francesca would find a room to sit in, not really hide, but she was so quiet that sometimes one forgot that she was in the room if she was still. Eloise would look for Hyacinth and Felicity first because they were the most difficult, constantly moving. Penelope chose to duck into a place that none of them would enter first: the second floor study that Colin had commandeered for his own use.

She opened the door and closed it behind her with a soft click. The room was so close to the drawing room that Penelope knew Eloise would completely bypass it for its nearness.

Colin looked up from the table in the center of the room where he was leaning over an open map from where he was perched in his seat. Penelope pressed her back to the door, hands flat on the wood behind her back and cocked her head at him. He mirrored her movement, smiling at her.

“Hide me?” Penelope asked, making sure to keep her voice low.

“From who now?” Colin questioned, his grin turning mischievous. “From your mother again?” His grin faltered. “Your mother isn’t in my family’s house is she?”

Penelope shook her head, biting her lip to suppress her giggles at the wary look on his face. She had almost forgotten that fearful look Colin had around Matchmaking Mamas and Lady Danbury.

“Everyone is playing hide and seek.”

“And no one came to get me?” Colin slumped back in his chair feigning hurt.

“They all said you were busy.” Penelope rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “So? Will you give me quarter?”

Nodding his head, Colin waved his hand to gesture for her to come deeper into the room.

“You know my price.” Penelope adored his playful smirk.

Penelope crept closer, avoiding the spare chairs and making her way around to stand behind him. She felt oddly shy in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

She and her husband shared study space in the antechamber of their rooms, not for lack of rooms but because they preferred to be in each other’s space even if they weren’t interacting with each other directly. It also helped when they needed to look at each other’s manuscripts.

It wasn’t until Penelope published her first novel that she truly understood Colin’s dilemma with using his name when publishing.

She knew she had a talent for writing, but how many people only bought her novel because it was written by Lady Whistledown?

Colin had helped alleviate her nerves just as she had helped him when he was worried the only reason anyone would be interested in his novel was because of his family name.

“Have I finally stumbled upon your plans?” Penelope asked, eyes roving over the map on the table. There were some familiar markings and a journal opened with some notes written in Colin’s flicky penmanship.

“Ah.” Colin leaned over and shut his journal closed with a casual flip of its cover. “Yes. I thought if—“

Colin cut himself off and slumped back in his chair. With the pads of his fingers he played with his journal by sliding it back and forth. Penelope rubbed his upper back, sliding her hand up to his opposite shoulder and cupped where his shoulder met his neck.

“What did you think?” She asked, murmuring softly. With him sitting and her standing, they were closer in height. “What do all of these marks mean?”

“I thought…” Colin sighed, tilting his head back to look at her. He narrowed his eyes and then snapped his head forward, opening his journal and flipping to the page he originally had opened. “I thought if I planned out an itinerary with a full schedule and a plan for fund management that Anthony would take me seriously.”

Colin explained all of the marks on his map, all locations that Penelope knew he had visited in the Summer of 1813 and beyond. Colin’s tour had been extensive and thorough like his tours of Scotland and Wales, and unlike his tour during the off season of 1814 where he had visited more cities and countries but spent less time in them.

Everything that Colin was explaining to her, Penelope already knew. She focused on the rise and fall of his voice, a gentle thrum running through her brain as he spoke. She felt herself getting drowsy until an unexpected groan fell from Colin’s mouth.

Penelope stiffened and then felt Colin tense up as well from under her hand. Her hand that was in his hair, scratching gentle curlicues along his scalp. He hiked his shoulders up to his ears which had turned red. Penelope snatched her hand back as if she had been burned, mentally cursing herself for her slip.

“I am sorry. I—“

“It is fine,” Colin’s voice cracked. He coughed to clear his throat and smoothed his hand down the front of his waistcoat. “Just…unexpected.”

Penelope bit down on her thumbnail—an action, one of many, that she had only realized at age twenty that she had adopted from her mother—and took a step back. It had been another moment alone in Colin’s presence that she forgot herself.

Keeping busy with Marina had helped, especially when she had realized a week back that she was once again flirting with her husband’s younger self. One of these days Colin was going to confront her about all of their little interactions.

“I do not mind it,” Colin confessed, voice soft—just a whisper, “when you touch me.”

“Colin…”

The door opened and the relief Penelope felt was short lived. It wasn’t Eloise finding her and rescuing her from her and Colin’s moment in the study.

“Col, are you—?”

Benedict stopped short, hand still on the door to the study, his sketchbook under his armpit. He looked at the two of them and then at the door and then back at them and then back to the door.

Penelope knew what was swirling in his mind, what portrait they painted. The door had been shut. She and Colin were alone behind closed doors and were standing much too close with flushed cheeks.

The last time they were in a similar position in Penelope’s memories, Benedict had come searching for her husband only to find him in the Featherington study with his hand up her skirts instead of looking over the ledgers like they were supposed to have been doing.

But that was years into Penelope’s future when she and Colin were married. Here they were an unmarried lady and an eligible gentleman.

“Have you seen Eloise?” Penelope asked, hands clasped tightly behind her back. “I fear I have hidden too well for she has yet to find me. I was sure I would be found first in our game.”

Benedict quirked an eyebrow as he straightened, attempting to read her. Because of their large age difference and his absence due to his preference for socializing with his own peers, she and Benedict were never close enough when she was younger for him to be able to do so.

But he could read his younger brother well enough, especially when his blush was still prominent on his face.

“She was chasing Hyacinth and Miss Felicity around the garden last I saw.”

“Oh, those little cheats,” Penelope huffed, putting her hands on her hips. It was the perfect segue way into her departure from the study. That and she was going to have to save the little ones from Eloise’s wrath. “Excuse me.”

Quickly, Penelope brushed past Benedict, taking her chance to escape.

“We were only talking,” she heard Colin groaning at some inaudible quip from Benedict. Penelope grimaced, knowing she was a coward for leaving Colin to deal with his older brother alone.

At least it wasn’t Anthony.

Sorry, Colin .

The musicale was as bad as it always was. And as always, Penelope sat in the front, dead center, where no one else could sit and show every bit of what they truly felt listening to the Smythe-Smith girls.

Penelope was so grateful that her mother never had the audacity to attempt to make her and her sisters perform. Philippa was aware that she had no musical talent and had given up years ago, but Prudence still sang warbly, off pitch notes with an unnerving confidence.

Marina wasn’t one to stay indoors and learn an instrument, but she had taken to the pianoforte under Penelope’s instruction as they traded music lessons for French tutoring. She was lucky to be married and not need to put up with being put on display anymore now that she was Lady Crane.

And Penelope would probably freeze up, unable to play a single note if she had so many eyes on her. It didn’t matter that she was accomplished, the ton would not hear her playing. It was why her writing was so much easier to share with everyone. They all saw the result, not the performance.

Lady Danbury had kept Penelope company which suited her fine. Penelope had always liked Lady Danbury—had named her first daughter after her—even before she had attempted to make Penelope her little project. Lady Danbury’s presence kept the unsavory sorts like Cressida Cowper and Mister Basil Grimston away.

Mister Grimston thought twice about calling her fat to her face when Lady Danbury’s cane was only a quick swing away from whacking him below the knees or she was set to cut him down to size and remind him that only one of the two was the child of a titled man. There was no need to discuss how unpopular Lord Featherington was and that he was only a baron. He was still a lord and better a baron than nothing at all.

Nights after social assemblies were different without Marina in Featherington House. Her room was empty, set back to how it was before her arrival. She sent missives to Penelope, but there were to be no visits so soon after the wedding. It was to be Marina and Sir George’s honeymoon period and they wouldn’t be accepting visitors for some time.

Marina was happy to have her George back, but there was a loneliness in her missives that Penelope empathized with. She had felt that same loneliness when she woke up back in 1813 and her older sisters were not the ones she had left behind.

“I have something for us,” Penelope whispered to Philippa before they crept across to Prudence’s bedroom long after they were meant to be sleeping.

Philippa knocked a five knock pattern on the door—a special knock meant just for her and Prudence. Prudence opened the door, curls wrapped in papers swinging from the haste. She glared down at Penelope’s presence, but rolled her eyes in resignation and let the two of them in.

“What do you two want?” She asked, exasperated.

“Penelope has chocolates!” Philippa squealed, hopping from one foot to the other.

“Chocolates?” Prudence gasped, eyes widening. “From where?”

Penelope had bought the box of chocolates with her Whistledown funds. It was the smallest dip, completely negligible. But it was still something that she had to excuse away, especially now that small treats such as candies were a luxury not afforded to the Featherington girls.

“Where else from?” Philippa giggled, dropping a bonbon into her mouth. “Probably her Bridgerton boy.”

“Or Eloise more likely,” Prudence scoffed, rifling through the box for one with nougat.

“Does it matter? Chocolates are chocolates.” Penelope tried for nonchalant. Better for the box to be seen as a gift than for them to question where the money came from when they were no longer being given pin money, their parents coming up with excuses at every turn.

But Philippa gave Penelope an odd look. She didn’t believe Eloise would have given her the box of chocolates. Penelope did not believe her sister was smart enough to know better, that Eloise would share the candies in the walls of Bridgerton House to make sure Penelope was the only one that enjoyed them. Her thoughts were more fanciful, especially now that she was in love. Her suspicion would still lead her to Colin Bridgerton.

The three of them continued gossiping as they ate. It was mostly things that Penelope had already been privy to herself, but it was always interesting to hear it from the point of view of others and how they responded to it.

Philippa was more prone to discussing food and had an oddly great understanding of the state of affairs in a household depending on the fare served at dinners or balls even if she couldn’t articulate it. It was enough information for Penelope to dissect and come to the right conclusions from her remarks.

While Prudence could be mean, she was not clever. Not in the way Cressida was. Prudence could never be a ringleader. Most of what she said were things she was repeating from what she heard from others—like the insults she threw Penelope’s way that originated from Cressida and her posse. Her frustration at being out in gowns in violent shades of magenta and not being asked to dance was unleashed at the only ones she had any sort of power to speak to in such a way: her younger sisters.

But here, protected by the walls of her room, Prudence was free to make jibes at the poor fashion or clumsy dancing of gentlemen that would never ask her to dance but embarrassed themselves in front of more popular ladies. She was free to insult the men of the ton where their mama wouldn’t hear of it and admonish her for talking about eligible men when she wasn’t ripe for choices.

The happiest gossip came from Philippa who was sure Albion Finch was the husband for her. Giggles filled the room, moods dancing high from all of the sugar when Philippa said she had a secret.

Philippa’s face turned an alarming shade of red and then she buried her head under the coverlet.

“I kissed Mister Finch!” Came her muffled squeal. Prudence’s eyes widened, bugging out and Penelope’s mouth dropped. They stared at each other incredulously and then burst out into laughter.

Prudence slapped at the lump Philippa made under the covers, attempting to draw her out from underneath.

“When did that happen?”

Penelope did not know of such a thing happening back in 1813. So much was different in little ways, but none of it consequential.

“At the musicale before Lydia’s bow string snapped.” Philippa fell back against Prudence’s pillows and played with the tassels on her dressing gown.

“What was it like?” Prudence asked, lying back. Penelope followed suit, the three of them lying shoulder to shoulder, cramped.

“It was…kind of wet.”

“Wet!?” Prudence sat up, jostling the bed. “And we’re meant to like that?”

“I’m sure it gets better over time,” Penelope tried to reassure her older sisters. Prudence was always awkward with affection, not enjoying being touched.

“He was gentle,” Philippa sighed adoringly. “So sweet. Mister Finch said that he would speak to Papa soon to ask for me.”

“He’s going to propose?” Prudence lied back down, turning to face Philippa and Penelope mirrored her.

“Yes,” Philippa whispered, smiling softly to herself. “He wants me to be his wife.”

“I’m happy for you, Philippa.” Penelope wrapped her arms around Philippa’s arm and laid her head on her shoulder.

The both of them looked at Prudence expectantly. Prudence rolled her eyes and snuggled into Philippa as well.

“I am happy for you as well.”

It was how their maids found them in the morning, curled together with wrappers surrounding them.

It was their last happy morning before Archibald Featherington did what he did best and shattered Philippa’s dream.

Penelope was sure her mother was given daughters instead of sons so she could have reflections of parts of herself instead of a copy of Archibald Featherington to be tormented by.

It had been so long for Penelope, but it was new for her sisters who were kept ignorant of what was happening between their parents.

While Penelope had been able to change the course of Marina’s life, she had only been able to delay the inevitable when it came to Philippa and Albion’s courtship.

Lord Featherington had interfered and Albion Finch was no longer calling on Philippa or finding her at social assemblies.

Philippa stood on the sidelines with her sisters, dry tear marks on her cheeks. She didn’t know what she had done to dissuade Albion and cause him to lose interest, but Penelope knew that it had nothing to do with her.

“Mama?” Penelope curled her fingers around the doorframe of her mother’s chambers.

Portia sat straight, pulling away from her vanity mirror. She had been examining her face closely for wrinkles, dissatisfied with the signs of age on her face. She was rationing her creams, the coins better used for refurbishing gowns.

“Yes, Penelope?”

“What…?” Penelope had always been curious about the state of affairs before her father passed away. Portia had talked of how her husband was a cruel man but never went into specifics.

And Penelope could not ask her mother of them. Not when she was free of them and enjoying being a grandmother, enjoying the happiness of having her adult daughters married and the security of the family estate so she didn’t have to worry about her youngest. Felicity would never have the experience of having no dowry or to hear of the need to marry for security.

“What happens to you?” Penelope asked, drumming her fingers on the doorway. “Without sons to care for you?”

Sighing, Portia rose from her stool and sauntered over to the doorway. She wrapped her fingers in Penelope’s loose curls.

“I have my girls.” Portia beamed. It was the smile she often wore—her mask. “And they shall be married and give me sons.”

Penelope didn’t actually believe that her mother would open up to her. She had only wanted to see if her mother’s mask could slip.

“Yes.” Penelope nodded. “We will.”

Her mother would not tell her, but the answer was clear.

Archibald Featherington had left nothing with his solicitor in the event of his passing for his wife. The only money Portia Featherington would have to fall back on is what Penelope left for her in a falsified inheritance. It was no wonder they had nothing until Cousin Jack arrived and took mercy on them to cover his own dealings.

“Go on now,” Portia dismissed her. “You need your sleep. Can’t have those unseemly bags under your eyes.”

There was a deadline approaching. Penelope only knew that one day her mother would take them to the modiste for a final fitting of gowns they were previously unable to pay for and then after the Hastings Ball, the Bow Street Runners would inform her mother of her father’s death.

It wasn’t something Penelope could stop. They were never told how he died, just that he was found dead. It was the kind of thing no one thought young ladies should hear and it was one of those things Portia never discussed no matter how much time went by.

Penelope couldn’t prevent the event from happening. It was one of those fixed points that she wasn’t sure could be avoided.

And after all of these weeks in the past…Penelope could still not answer herself if she would prevent it.

The solution was always to promenade whenever things were bad. Portia’s method was to show that the family was a united front and that nothing was wrong by carrying a nonchalant attitude. Anything to keep up appearances.

The Cranes joined them for promenade and it was good to see Marina again. Philippa ignored her, upset that things had gone well for her while she had lost her beloved suitor, but Portia needed Marina around to show off the success of having one of the girls in the family married.

Penelope and Phillip had fallen to the back of the pack with Marina and George. It suited them fine as they were the only four other than Rae—who had helped dispose of chamber pots full of regurgitation and prepared tea trays suited for expectant mothers—that knew about Marina’s condition.

Rae had accepted the small bribe to keep it secret, but only after Penelope had reassured her that the father was on his way to collect Marina. Her lady’s maid warned her that it would be the only time she would accept such a bribe. Penelope knew she was not safe from a lecture about herself not allowing a man to take such liberties.

As they rambled about the park, Phillip took stock of the fauna in his little journal, purposely slowing down so that Marina and George could pull ahead of them. Penelope fell into step with him, matching his pace as they created more of a buffer between them and their families.

“I saw Colin the other day,” Phillip began, snapping his journal shut and pocketing it. “At White’s when I tried to approach Hastings. Such a strange experience to not have one’s friend happy to see you.”

“It is my fault.” Penelope sighed, tilting her chin up to the sky. “I have not been careful with my affections and he believed you were a suitor. I am coming off as an incorrigible flirt.”

“How did he make that mistake?” Phillip asked, horrified.

“It was nothing you did,” Penelope reassured him. “Eloise has taken to assuming any man within a meter of me is a suitor and immediately jumping on the attack.”

Phillip’s face paled at the news and Penelope could not help but pity him. His wife wasn’t his wife yet and had been under the impression that he was interested in her best friend.

“I corrected her assumptions.”

“This experience has been taxing.” Phillip took a deep breath and turned his attention back to his older brother and Marina. “It is difficult to be assured that any action we take is the correct one and if what we are actually doing is correct.”

Penelope had the same dilemma as her family was struggling with their finances. One more season would give her enough savings to assist her family and properly manage their finances until her mother could manage the estate under the guise of waiting for the newest Lord Featherington to be born.

But there was a faster way to ensure her family’s security. A faster method that involved an inheritance much heftier than her Lady Whistledown savings could ever be unless she had more than a decade to save up and never touched a shilling.

Colin was far richer than third sons were meant to be and his wealth grew even more once he began managing his own inherited property and publishing his journals.

She wouldn’t do it. Penelope would sooner ask Simon for a loan—which she could not without raising suspicions—than alter Colin’s future in such a way, to take away his experiences and rob him of his literary career.

“I’m sacrificing my family for Colin again.”

Penelope didn’t need to say the words aloud. Phillip knew what sacrifice she was speaking of: choosing Colin over Marina and letting her family fall to scandal and ruin.

“That was never yours or Marina’s burden to bear.” Phillip’s voice was soft but cracked roughly on the word burden . “I will never understand my brother’s decisions. Even asking him now, I cannot make sense of his reasons.”

Penelope turned her attention back to Marina. She was glowing, even lovelier than when she had arrived, now that she was reunited with Sir George. George wasn’t what Penelope had expected. He was a kind man, but there was an air about him that Penelope could not help but feel did not match his age. Penelope had to remind herself that he was older than her both physically and mentally.

Even so, Penelope could not forget Marina’s cries or the haunted look upon her face when Phillip took her away from Featherington House in his curricle.

“She loves him.”

“But does he love her?” Phillip asked, halting his steps and watching Marina and Sir George walk further and further ahead of them. “Love her as he should? Even his initial plan of running away with her was naive and riddled with immaturity. I had to convince him to keep to his estate so that he can do better for Marina and the children they will have.”

Phillip was not the man she loved, but the man Marina needed. He had done all he could for her despite how young he was and it hadn’t been enough.

“There is so much that I know that I cannot share because why would George listen to his twenty year old brother who escaped to school this whole time?” Phillip huffed, jaw clenched. “I can help with the crops and the land as much as I can, but he has never managed the estate, never wanted to. And he doesn’t know that I have all the experience that I do.”

It was the struggle Penelope had as well. She was working on her manuscript whenever she could, debating whether it was possible to publish and earn funds even without the clout of Lady Whistledown or the claim to experiences that inspired some of the scenes of her romance novel.

And she wasn’t sure how her mother would react to her desire to publish. It was different in the future when it was already revealed that she was a writer. Portia now would probably go on a tirade about how she was ruining her chances to find a husband.

It would also feel weird to publish as Penelope Featherington instead of Penelope Bridgerton, to see the wrong name printed on the spines.

“Penelope!”

They both turned around and spotted Eloise running up to them. Penelope could see Phillip freeze from the corner of her eye. This was to be his first encounter with Eloise after being returned to 1813.

So far, only Simon and Penelope had to interact with their future spouse and Simon had the luck of beginning their courtship. Despite marrying quite young, Penelope and Colin still needed a bit more time. She was lucky that she was friends with Colin and that she was able to flirt as much as she wanted as it was happily received and she and Colin had always bantered that way even if she was more touchy as of late.

Eloise was likely to throw her book at Phillip’s head if he tried to do the same with the seventeen year old version of his wife.

Eloise immediately wrapped her arm around Penelope, hooking their arms together when she reached them, pulling Penelope to her side.

“My mama took me to the modiste,” Eloise started without care for their company. “She has started the process of lowering my hems. I am to attend the ball Daphne is hosting to mark the end of the season and to celebrate her marriage. It is all happening so quickly.”

Penelope remembered when she panicked the same way throughout winter when her mama was getting her ready to enter society. Eloise was at least fortunate that her first event would be at the end of the season and hosted by her own family.

“Eloise,” Penelope smiled and spoke through gritted teeth. Eloise was always cutting into whatever conversation she was having without care. “This is Mister Phillip Crane, the brother by law of Marina. Mister Crane, Miss Eloise Bridgerton.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bridgerton.” Phillip extended his hand to greet her. Narrowing her eyes at him, Eloise took his hand and shook it. Penelope looked around as nonchalantly as she could to make sure none of their family members were watching the exchange.

“Likewise,” Eloise returned, but remained wary. She seemed pleased that he hadn’t bowed and expected her to curtsy back.

Penelope had to subtly clear her throat when Phillip’s hand lingered. It was one thing when she did the same with Colin who was her friend and because no one seemed to notice when they skirted the rules of propriety. It was a completely different thing when Phillip was a stranger and even if Eloise hadn’t taken up boxing from her brothers like Daphne, she was loud and vicious with her words and they were in the middle of a park where her brothers were likely to pop out from wherever they were.

Better to avoid a repeat of when Eloise had run away to Romney Hall before she married Phillip. The Bridgerton brothers stressed Penelope out when they decided to march on Romney Hall.

“I was just informing Miss Featherington that I will be returning to university in the Fall,” Phillip hurriedly explained while pulling his hand back and clasping his hands safely behind his back. “Now that everything is in order with my brother and my new sister.”

“Well.” Eloise crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded approvingly. “It’s good that someone is taking the opportunity granted to them due to their sex instead of withdrawing and seeking never to return.”

“Eloise…” Penelope admonished her under her breath. There was no need to throw a dig at Colin to whom was still a stranger to Eloise in Eloise’s mind.

“Yes. I was saying that despite withdrawing due to a family matter, that I should not let it put an end to what it is that I desire for myself.”

“How fortunate for you,” Eloise drawled.

“I am very fortunate. It took a very smart woman to remind me of that. And now I get to thank her personally. Miss Featherington has mentioned that you wished you had the same opportunity to go to university—a privilege denied to you—and I realized that I was squandering the opportunity.”

Penelope had done no such thing, but she kept silent. She wouldn’t contradict Phillip when it was a harmless lie. It had been something that Eloise had written about to Phillip in the time Penelope and Phillip had come from.

When Phillip had done his duty and married Marina, it had put a halt on his education. Marina hadn’t wanted to move to Cambridge during the academic year and so Phillip stayed in Kent to support her as she raised the twins. Eloise had encouraged him to return to academia, even if it would be slow and more work on top of his responsibilities to Romney Hall and Amanda and Oliver.

Eloise’s mouth parted indelicately, shocked. “Me? You wished to thank me?”

“Yes,” Phillip answered with a gentle smile. It gave Penelope the strange feeling that she was intruding.

“Where is your family, Eloise?” Penelope asked, searching for the Bridgerton tent.

“Oh,” Eloise rolled her eyes, “the real reason that I am here. Please come with me to save my brother before he accidentally has me swept up in whatever conversation the debutants have trapped him in.”

“You wish to rescue your brother?” Eloise rolled her eyes again at the teasing nature of Penelope’s voice. “How kind of you, El.”

“I need to start campaigning for my own swift rescues once I debut,” Eloise explained. “So better to start piling the favors now. And if  I have to hear about how pretty my brother is one more time, I may walk right into the river.”

Penelope knew she could be biased, but Colin had been blessed with green eyes that even Kate herself had commented on how they were “devastating” and Daphne had always said they were “wasted on a man.” He had no title, but he had a large inheritance and was the best looking of an attractive set of brothers. With his charm attached, was it any wonder he found himself surrounded by young ladies of the ton? His only flaw in the eyes of Matchmaking Mamas was his age, much too young to consider marriage.

“Alright, let us go save your brother.”

Phillip had no choice but to follow behind them, his own brother and sister-in-law no longer in sight. The closer they got to where Colin and his friends, Lord Macclesfield and Lord Cho, were standing with a group of young ladies—most of which Penelope knew would get married either during the offseason or when they returned after Michaelmas—the more Phillip fidgeted.

Phillip didn’t like the city and wasn’t one for large gatherings. According to Eloise of the future, the most he ever subjected himself to were pubs near Romney Hall whenever he wanted to escape the suffocating atmosphere of married life with Marina and then after when the silence of his country seat was too much to bear without Marina’s soft footfalls.

Penelope breathed easily that at least the friends Colin was with were Macclesfield and Lord Charles Cho. Cho still had his moments of immaturity within this time period, but he also took the marriage mart seriously when he interacted with the young ladies. He danced with many young ladies and had even tried his hat at wooing Eloise, but he wouldn’t find his wife until a love match with Miss Emma Kenworthy, one of the debutants that had originally trailed after Colin.

Safer men to drag Phillip towards thankfully. Macclesfield was an amiable man usually when he wasn’t being odd about his eventual wife and would be very polite and not as concerned if Phillip was a quieter gentleman than he was used to.

Colin was surrounded, yes, but he was also in good company and didn’t look uncomfortable in the slightest. In fact, he was gracing his company with his usual charming smile and pleasant attitude, looking very much at ease as he bantered with his friends in front of the debutants.

“Your brother doesn’t look as if he needs saving.” Penelope raised an eyebrow suspiciously at Eloise who was looking a bit guilty. Eloise’s eyes shifted to Phillip and then straight ahead. “Oh, Eloise…”

It was one of those moments that Penelope wished she could do more to reassure Eloise that she would not lose her when Penelope married, that just because they grew and their lives changed that it didn’t mean that Penelope would stop loving her.

How easy it would make everything if Penelope could tell her the truth about what their future was to be. Eloise would be in disbelief that she eventually chose to get married and have a child let alone have a second. Would be even more surprised that the man she married was the one she was mistakenly attempting to make sure didn’t have designs on Penelope.

The soft upturning of her lips was something that happened before her mind could even comprehend that she was smiling. It was just what she did the moment her and Colin’s eyes met when he noticed them approaching. Colin’s smile faltered when he noticed who approached with her and Eloise. He barely made his excuses and walked over to them to meet them halfway.

“Eloise,” Colin greeted his sister with a nod. “You just took off earlier, but I see you’ve found our friend.”

“It was that or talk to the ducks while you were flirting,” Eloise snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest, clutching her book. “Mister Crane had to chaperone us as you were too busy.”

Penelope frowned, but kept her mouth shut. That was not what had happened, but it was interesting how Eloise manipulated the situation so that Phillip was her chaperone and not an eligible gentleman. Phillip furrowed his brows together, confused, but didn’t refute her claim.

Colin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed and in a deadpanned tone asked, “Where is your actual chaperone?”

Penelope blinked up at him innocently. She knew this wasn’t her husband so she couldn’t make the comment she would have, laughing about the irony in which Colin remembered the rules of propriety when it was convenient for him.

“We were having family time, but Mister Crane was getting distracted by the flora,” Penelope teased Phillip, while also bringing up his favorite subject. “I’ve been learning a lot about the usually negligible aspects of Hyde Park from my new cousin.”

Eloise’s head snapped to look at her, eyes wide but a smile on her face. A line was drawn clearly with claiming Phillip as a familial relation. She squeezed Penelope’s hand affectionately, her mood instantly lifted.

“It is not often I find those amenable to listening to me prattle on about plants,” Phillip muttered bashfully.

“Is that what you were doing with that journal?” Eloise blurted out, revealing that she had been watching him and Penelope for longer than when she approached them.

Startled, Phillip nodded and slipped his journal out of his pocket. He quickly flipped to a page to show something to Eloise and then pointed off to the distance.

“Did we interrupt?” Penelope murmured to Colin. He had been observing Phillip with his brows furrowed. His head snapped towards her at her inquiry, face smoothing.

“No.” Colin shook his head. “Not at all. Macclesfield was expressing his regrets because he will be missing Daphne and Hastings’ wedding and I got caught up with him and Cho when Eloise ditched me.”

“Did you even notice that she was missing?”

“I did in fact notice a suspicious silence.”

Penelope attempted to give him a disapproving look, but Colin looked at her expectantly and the way he pursed his lips to contain his laughter at his own joke had her lips twitching into a smile.

“Should we rescue your cousin?” Colin asked, nodding his chin towards Eloise and Phillip who were walking away from them. At some point, Eloise had snatched away Phillip’s field journal and was using it to identify Phillip’s observations on her own.

Penelope had to look away to hide her face. She should not have found it amusing how readily Colin latched on to Phillip being her cousin.

“I think Mr. Crane can handle Eloise.”

Currently, if Penelope didn’t already know how much he was enjoying himself, she would describe it more as allowing himself to be manhandled than to actually have a handle on Eloise. Penelope had drowned out their conversation when Eloise demanded Phillip explain to her what was so fascinating about the crossbreeding of flowers in the park and how he could even tell when the variations looked the same to her.

At one point it looked like Eloise had made it her goal to decipher Phillip’s notes and make identifications on her own.

“Should you have left Lord Macclesfield like that?”

“What? Oh.” Colin waved a hand behind him dismissively. “Robert will be fine. He was heading back home soon anyway.”

Penelope turned to look over her shoulder. Macclesfield was looking over at them, baffled. He looked between the two of them and looked affronted at his abandonment. Turning back around she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from giggling and giving away that she caught Colin in his white lie.

“Are you sure your cousin doesn’t need rescuing?” Colin asked again, face scrunched up in concern.

Eloise was talking animatedly and had slapped Phillip’s arm with the back of her hand on accident in the middle of what was sure to be a long winded rant about whatever book on philosophy she had brought to the park. She kept talking, completely unaware of how Phillip was watching her, besotted.

“I think he is exactly where he wants to be.” Penelope chuckled to herself, enjoying the view. It was the closest to what Penelope considered normal that she was going to get in this version of 1813.

Sighing to herself, Penelope played with the drawstring of her reticule to keep from reaching out for Colin. With Eloise and Phillip standing together, she had to remind herself yet again that there were some lines she could not cross.

She was sure Colin was dealing with enough confusion as it was with how differently she carried herself and the sureness in how she spoke with him. They still hadn’t discussed what had happened in his study and Penelope hadn’t allowed them to be anywhere where they could discuss it.

There was absolutely nothing she could come up with to excuse the liberties she had taken with Colin.

“Well, he seems to have Eloise’s approval.”

“Oh, because she hasn’t stomped on his foot?”

“Precisely.”

“Although, if he doesn’t take three steps back he is surely to end up with a bruised arm.”

Eloise threw her arms up and Phillip had to tilt his head back before her book knocked into his chin. Penelope burst out into a peal of laughter before she could help herself, capturing Eloise’s attention. Eloise came stomping over and grabbed onto Penelope’s arm and began to drag her over to where she left Phillip.

“Can you believe this man? He doesn’t care for the Humanities!” Eloise huffed out an exhale, blowing her forelocks out of her face. “There’s a whole library at Romney Hall and it is wasted on him.”

Penelope laughed even harder, knowing that Eloise would take the first opportunity she could to visit her and Marina just to scour the library and judge Phillip for the stock of books in Romney Hall. If there was anything to entice Eloise with, it was the freedom to sit for hours reading while she enjoyed the country air.

“I am more interested in the sciences than history and literature,” Phillip defended himself.

“At least there’s that!” Eloise shook her head, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. “And at least you can say that you read. I don’t believe my older brothers would read at all if it wasn’t required for school or to look over the accounts.”

“I read,” Colin assured Phillip, affronted by Eloise’s claims. “Maybe not as much as Eloise, but I do enjoy literature.”

“I have the feeling that Eloise did not mean to include you in that statement,” Penelope continued to giggle.

“No,” Phillip smirked, “I think she did. It is the duty of a younger sibling to be impertinent when it comes to their older siblings.”

Eloise grinned smugly, content with Phillip swiftly taking her side.

Perhaps Phillip wouldn’t have as much trouble with courting Eloise when she debuted as Penelope originally thought.

His mother was in her element. Radiant smiles, joyful outbursts, delighted sighs.

One of eight children was now married. Only seven more to go.

Anthony and Benedict were in luck that their mother wasn’t up to her schemes, much too busy ensuring that Daphne had the perfect wedding breakfast. And since they were free, it meant Colin wasn’t required to be the distraction.

Colin was too young to be pushed into marriage when he still had two older brothers nearing thirty that were bachelors. Still, he was the one of the three of them that indulged his mother and danced with the new debutants, making sure they didn’t stand on the sidelines all night. His older brothers couldn’t be caught dead on the dance floor.

The front hall was a field of white and blue flowers—roses, hyacinths, and ribbons encasing the guests.

Colin hadn’t been wrong when he said that the Featherington family would stand out. Even the new Lady Crane had worn yellow rose buds throughout her curls, her cream gown designed with them as she came with her family. It was very much in the style of all the gowns she favored, but it was still new. Unlike the gowns of the Featherington sisters.

He was sure he had seen Penelope in the yellow gown she was wearing at a ball over a month ago. It looked as if it had been altered so that white flowers that decorated her bodice were shifted into a new pattern. There were no new hair pins in her curls, but white daisies that Felicity must have picked for her from the Bridgerton garden with Hyacinth.

Felicity took off before Penelope could stop her, rushing past Colin in her pursuit of Hyacinth. Penelope shot him a look, daring him to laugh at her as she lost her sister.

“That must be a new record,” Colin teased. “You barely contained her past the door.”

“You laugh, but I see that you are missing your shadows as well.”

Colin had given up on watching over Hyacinth and Gregory the moment they arrived back home from church. As long as he stayed by the banquet table and kept an eye on the sweets, he was sure to keep them from taking bites out of the cake.

“Are you to keep me company or will Eloise be coming any moment to steal you away?”

Colin should have been kinder. Eloise didn’t have many friends, mostly choosing to spend time with their sisters and Penelope. Lady Crane was a friendly enough acquaintance and it seemed as if Phillip Crane had promoted himself to the same status recently.

The man had been excited about Colin’s plans to tour Greece and had even loaned him his copy of Flora Graeca , making recommendations on places to visit. Eloise had been oddly reluctant in sharing her new acquaintance with him, pushing herself in the midst of their discussion and asking questions of her own.

Colin had been tempted to tell her to find her own friends—the very same way that she always snarked at him when it came to Penelope, but Phillip Crane was gentle and indulgent in a way he hadn’t observed in most men of the ton. He encouraged Eloise to ask more questions and despite never taking interest in the sciences before, Eloise asked about books that Phillip recommended.

If Colin were more like his older brothers he would have been wary of the burgeoning friendship between them, but he knew it would make him a hypocrite considering his friendship with Penelope—something Eloise had been quick to point out before Colin could warn her.

“She has probably sensed my presence in your home already so your time is limited.”

Penelope was most likely right. Eloise seemed to always know when Penelope was near, sitting up straight at random when they were all in the drawing room, ears perking up for the sound of her footsteps.

“Ah.” Colin sidestepped closer to her, hands clasped behind his back as he watched his sister and Simon greeting guests. “So you will be making your escape to a quiet room as well?”

“Yes,” Penelope laughed softly, standing on her toes to search the crowd. “It is very likely that Eloise and Francesca are either in the informal drawing room or in the library.”

She scanned the room again on the off chance that Eloise and Francesca hadn’t been able to sneak away. Colin caught her gaze still over the banquet table before moving on. It wasn’t the first time she had eyed the table of food, eyes settling over the sweets.

It never made sense to Colin all of the rules placed on young ladies. There was always a spread at gatherings, but only the men and women no longer on the marriage mart touched any of the food. Penelope always looked over at the sweets wistfully, but even if she ignored the expectations of her and grabbed something to nibble on, Colin wouldn’t doubt it that if Portia Featherington caught her that she would saunter over and slap Penelope’s hand to force her to drop whatever she chose to eat.

“Wait one moment,” he told her. Penelope had barely cocked her head in confusion and he was walking away.

Quickly he piled one plate full of eclairs, biscuits, and bonbons and another plate full of sandwiches. Walking back towards Penelope he nodded his head towards one of the alcoves. Eyes wide, she followed behind him.

They waited until it was clear and with quick steps made their way to the staircase. Colin was balancing two plates, but Penelope had to lift her skirts in order not to trip on them as they ran up. It always amused him how long her hems were now considering her small stature. They somehow made her look even smaller with the extra fabric.

As they rounded to the next set of steps, they looked over the railing but no one seemed to notice their flight. Colin half expected to find Benedict shooting him an unimpressed look or to face one of Lady Crane’s glares.

Any thought of their family members was drowned out by their shared giggles and shushing as they finally reached the landing for the second floor, ducking down a hallway before his mother and Lady Danbury could spot them from the balcony that overlooked the grand hall.

Colin followed her into the drawing room, reaching his leg out behind him to use his foot to close the door but thought better of it. He didn’t need a repeat of Benedict walking in on them.

He was aware that they shouldn’t be alone. It was one of those things that had slowly been enforced in small ways as they got older. It had come to a head when Colin turned eighteen and Anthony and Benedict began to invite him to spend time with them, pulling him away from the younger crowd. It wasn’t subtle that they did it most often whenever Penelope was present, drawing a line that had not been there before.

“Hmm…looks like they’re not here.” Penelope moved her head side to side as she looked up and down the room. One particularly long curl swayed across the back of her dress with the movement, loose from the bundle of curls tossed over her right shoulder.

Fortunately for Colin his hands were full, keeping them occupied and unable to reach out and tuck the curl back with its sisters. Taking the time to set the plates down on the table in front of the sofa did nothing to alleviate the desire to reach out. Rubbing his thumb across his finger pads, Colin swallowed heavily as a stray strand of hair got stuck to a button.

It would just be to assist her if he reached out to touch her. It wouldn’t have to be seen as more. Just a friend helping another friend.

Friends.

“ I do not mind it when you touch me.”

What had he been thinking when he said that? How had he expected her to respond to that?

It was good that Benedict had interrupted. It was terrible that Benedict had interrupted. It was for the best that Benedict had interrupted.

“Contemplating where to start?” Penelope broke him from his thoughts, another one of her teasing smiles on her sweet face. “I shall go for instant gratification.”

Penelope plucked up an eclair, not minding her sheer gloves as her fingers were exposed, and bit into it with a happy hum. Her tongue poked out, lapping at a droplet of cream at the corner of her mouth.

That tongue could do more than just lap at pastry cream. Unbidden, yet again, came a thought he shouldn’t have. The thought of a small tongue dragging up his neck and over his chin, tracing at the scar of his childhood injury.

“Do I have sugar on my face?”

“What?” Colin asked, heart thumping hard against his ribs.

“You were…” Penelope pointed at her face with a limp finger. “I asked if I had any chocolate or cream on my face.”

“N-no.” Colin shook his head and attempted to smile reassuringly, the muscles of his face feeling tight.

Penelope nodded, smiling happily as she picked through the plate of sweets for a lemon macaron he had selected for her. She nibbled on it, ignorant to the heat coursing through Colin, a syrupy warmth pooling in his stomach and lower—lower—below his navel.

They knew they weren’t supposed to be alone, but often found themselves alone. There was a sense of comfort he could not shake off when he was with Penelope that was of a certain kind that felt more than it should be.

One that had him longing for the peace he felt in the study from a touch that wasn’t supposed to be his.

“Pen, I wanted to ask about—“

“There you are!”

What exactly is it with this family and their timing?

Colin inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through his nose as Eloise and Francesca shuffled into the room.

Eloise and Francesca had hid away as soon as it had been possible while Colin had been greeting the guests with the rest of their family. Benedict was off doing whatever Benedict did and Anthony was fulfilling his role as head of their family and intermingling with other families either for political connections or because there was a chance that one day one of his siblings could marry into any of the families attending the breakfast.

Because of their ages, Eloise and Francesca would have eyes on them as they would be entering the marriage mart in the next couple of years. Eloise would be more reluctant, not wanting the kind of marriage or life that was expected of her. She was already hostile towards people that looked at her in hopes of her being a copy of their sister Daphne.

Colin had attempted to console her—remind her that Daphne wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought she was, but Eloise had dismissed him.

It did not matter what they knew of their sister. It wasn’t how Daphne presented herself, playing the game of society. Eloise could never do that, pretend to be anything but sharp edges and harsh lines where people expected her to be soft and blurred, like the mess of her attempt at watercolors.

Much like the very same watercolors Daphne struggled with but no one would ever know about.

Colin and Eloise were not the first—not the first to be born, not the first son or first daughter. The four of them, children letters C through F were so close until it was time for them to start playing their parts.

“What did you pick out today, Eloise?” He asked, finally picking a smoked salmon sandwich to eat.

“In honor of our dear sister and it being her wedding,” Eloise held out the book she brought in from the library, “a favorite of hers: Ballad Romances and Other Poems .”

Penelope and Colin cooed teasingly at Eloise and she scrunched up her nose in annoyance.

“Do not ruin this,” Eloise huffed, glaring at them as she opened up the book and took a seat on the opposite sofa.

“I think it is sweet,” Francesca defended, plopping down next to her. “Now if only she could actually be this sweet in front of Daphne.”

Eloise laughed sardonically as she flipped the pages. She was in the middle of reciting a third poem for their entertainment when their mother strolled in and scolded them all for leaving the party.

“This is why we are supposed to hide in shifts,” Eloise muttered under her breath as they were marched back downstairs. “Too many of us were missing at a time. We need to plan better.”

Colin frowned as Francesca nodded her agreement, grabbing Eloise’s hand and swinging their arms as they pulled ahead.

“You’re the one that left me,” Colin grumbled, knowing that the two of them would plan another escape without him.

There weren’t many people in attendance that Colin cared to socialize with. Colin had enjoyed talking to Will Mondrich, Simon’s friend, but the man made himself scarce around the time Penelope and her family had arrived. The man had invited Colin for proper boxing lessons when Simon introduced them weeks back and Colin had taken him up on it considering he was a fan ever since he had seen him fight. Gregory appreciated when Colin would come home, exhausted, and share what he had learned.

Unfortunately, Colin couldn’t spend the whole breakfast with Penelope. As part of the family hosting, he would be expected to talk to more than just his friends and also intercept relatives like their Aunt Georgie. They all had parts to play and he played his well with charming smiles for everyone as the more approachable sibling.

It was all part of paying his dues after Benedict had helped him convince Anthony to let him travel once more and for longer than his past trips. Lord knows what Benedict told him to finally get their older brother to agree. Benedict was keeping quiet about the conversation he had with him. It was always like that with the two eldest.

Colin knew that Simon had gotten involved because he was meeting with Anthony at the time, but Colin almost wished he hadn’t. Simon’s tour of the Mediterranean did not consist of museums, landmarks, and historical sites that Colin was excited to visit.

It didn’t help that Anthony and Benedict had tried to encourage him to visit some of Simon’s old stops. And it wasn’t the gambling halls that they were referring to.

A soft touch at his hand jolted him out of his disgruntled thoughts. Penelope’s small fingers grazed his fingers before pulling back.

“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling sweetly up at him with her head tilted back. Her neck stretched when she did that, revealing more smooth skin, practically presenting her décolletage when she did so. “For the pastries.”

Colin curled his fingers, but it was too late. Penelope slipped away and only air filled his hold. She practically skipped up to Eloise and hooked their arms together so that she and his sisters were linked together in a row.

A horrifying thought passed through Colin’s mind—one he had surely never considered before in regards to anyone.

But as Penelope walked ahead, joining his sisters in making a chain of three, his eyes that had been so focused on whether her hair was still caught on a button had drifted lower and trained on flared hips and what his brain had declared for him as the most perfect bottom and that it was fit for cupping and spanking.

Colin couldn’t deny having a wandering hand with light skirted tavern girls when he kissed them, but he usually wasn’t cognizant of the fact that he was doing it nor did he think of flattening his palm and swatting them.

The thought felt so foreign, as if it couldn’t be his.

Although, as he watched the sway of Penelope’s hips he had to acknowledge that while he preferred to stand face to face with her, that trailing behind her was not a large sacrifice when that was the view.

Perfect bottom indeed.

It wasn’t until recently that he had considered the fact that Penelope could be more than just his friend that lived across the square. She no longer ducked her head when their eyes met for seconds too long nor did she change subjects, face tomato red and stammering, when they began to toe the line from friendly banter to flirty.

Flirty. Like the way all debutants became.

Except Penelope did not flirt the way other debutants did, spreading around honey to lure gentlemen in like flies. She had already told Eloise that she would not be seeking out a husband in her first season, but it wouldn’t have been unusual to start the process of making herself more noticeable to the men of the ton. It would make it easier when she was ready to be married if she made a favorable impression on everyone.

Colin still found it odd that Penelope wasn’t asked to dance more often. Other than himself, his own brothers, and Hastings, no one escorted Penelope to the dance floor. She was a graceful dancer—quite excellent at dancing—and yet only a few were able to claim to know that about her.

It was bizarre how unnoticed Penelope was to others. She was the first person Colin could pick out of a crowd and yet at the last garden party when they were interrupted by Stanton in the middle of their conversation, Stanton had claimed to not even notice that she had been standing there when he approached them. Colin had quickly removed himself and Penelope before it could become awkward or he said something that Anthony would lecture him for later.

Instead of getting offended or despondent, Penelope was oddly accepting of the fact that she was invisible to others. She simply brushed it off and carried on.

Colin couldn’t say that he enjoyed the fact that most of the attention he got was because of the family he came from first before anyone got to know him, but he knew it was better to be popular than not to be. And unfortunately the Featheringtons were an unpopular family and Penelope paid for it.

Penelope paid for it and Colin benefited from it. As horrible as it was to think so, he didn’t have to share any of her attention and when it came to attention Colin was beginning to realize that if he were getting it from anywhere he preferred it from Penelope. She enjoyed his humor and they volleyed back and forth with great pleasure.

Colin didn’t subscribe to what was deemed popular in society. He had heard Penelope’s claims of how unpopular her red-brown hair was and that brown eyes were not beloved like blues or greens like his, but all Colin saw was warmth and kindness when she looked up at him. And was her hair really an unpopular shade or was it just that when someone saw the red highlights of her hair it tied her to the Featherington name on sight? The uncommon coloring was unique and was useful for picking her out of a crowd.

The way her hair gleamed under light was appealing when she spun on the dance floor, especially with how she wore it loosely against the rules of fashion and what was expected of young ladies.

Penelope was the same as she always was, kind and funny, but she was also different in a pleasant way. Colin very much enjoyed having her company at balls. Her debut gave them a chance to put all of their time practicing together to use. It had been fun dancing in the Bridgerton drawing room even as they goaded Eloise to join them and Eloise made fun of how much Colin enjoyed assisting in dance lessons, but it was nice to have Penelope to himself without his sisters as part of the equation.

And she liked him.

Penelope always made him feel sure in the fact that she enjoyed his company because he was Colin, simply Colin. They had met before she even knew his name and even after knowing which family he was part of, Penelope’s friendship was something he earned by being himself which wasn’t something he was completely confident about with other members of the ton.

Which was what made it so difficult with the new feelings fluttering inside of him whenever Penelope smiled at him or when she laughed at a joke he shared, hair gleaming under candlelight and rivaling the sparkle of jewels adorned by other ladies.

Sometimes there was a look in her eyes, confoundingly familiar and unfamiliar to him at the same time, that caused heat to crawl up his neck and travel to his cheeks. It was a look that if he were interpreting it properly and not just as he wished to, excited him.

How odd to be excited by the idea of being wanted by Penelope Featherington. Odd, but pleasurable all the same. She was his friend and there was something about being wanted by someone that knew him so well already that brought him undeniable comfort. She saw him as he was, not just his name or the shallow presentation he donned for society, and she found whatever she was looking at pleasing.

That was if he was interpreting all the flirtations and looks properly. How terrible it would be to read all of their exchanges incorrectly and lose Penelope as his friend if the feelings he considered exploring made her uncomfortable with him.

Perhaps…it would be better not to do anything. Perhaps he would go on his Grand Tour and when he came back those feelings would have been nothing but small sparks towards something new, something different.

And everything would reset itself to the way it should be.

Marina had hugs for all of them as she said  her goodbyes in the new 1813. She was beaming at all of them and even expressed her thanks to Penelope’s mother for her assistance in ordering things she would need for her new home.

Portia had sniffed her nose, still irritated upon the discovery that Marina had been with child the entire time she had been staying with them. It was fortunate that Marina wasn’t really showing, her growing stomach easily hidden at most angles and that she was already married. Penelope’s mother had become much colder towards Marina, but in order to keep up appearances she kept as polite as required when they were in public and didn’t ostracize her in case people began to talk about a drift in the family.

“You must come visit me, Pen,” Marina murmured into Penelope’s hair as she embraced her tighter than she had Penelope’s sisters. “Will you write to me?”

Penelope nodded her head, unable to speak because her throat was aching from the tears she held back. Only she and Phillip were aware of how different this send off was. Marina was not a shell of who she was and this time she was leaving with Sir George. Phillip was to stay behind until after the Hastings Ball that would mark the end of the season to allow the newlyweds some time alone at Romney Hall before he joined them in the country.

“I expect a letter every week. You must tell me when things change between you and your Mister Bridgerton,” Marina whispered conspiratorially, smirking down at her cousin. “No eloping, Penelope. I expect an invitation to the wedding.”

“And I keep telling you that we are only friends.”

Marina rolled her eyes, but kept smiling sweetly. It had become a joke between the two of them where Penelope would refute any accusations of any romantic interest between her and Colin despite Marina knowing her feelings.

“He will see soon.” Marina squeezed Penelope’s fingers in her hands. “One can only be so blind to their own behavior for so long.”

The Featherington girls waved goodbye to their cousin as the carriage pulled away. They could see Marina’s face in the back window as she kept waving until the carriage turned a corner.

“Well, girls,” Portia cut into the moment with a relieved exhale, “we can’t be late for our appointment at the modiste.”

Penelope’s stomach churned at the reminder of where they were headed after they gave Marina their well wishes.

She knew that this trip to the modiste meant that there would only be a few days left in the life of Lord Archibald Featherington.

Out of all of the travelers, only Simon and Phillip had known Penelope’s father. Phillip had met him when he came to offer for Marina and Simon had known him from Parliament and through a story from Will Mondrich.

Simon had put more pieces from the puzzle together for Penelope. He had offered to attempt to alter the timeline for her and speak to Mondrich about working with her father to rig the fight that led to his death.

So many years and Penelope had never known what had been the cause of her father’s death. To think it had all been because he had been dishonorable and played with another man’s honor.

Marina had been desperate and drowning in melancholy, sent to them because her father didn’t want her at home anymore and needed her to debut into society so she could be married off. Penelope had jumped at the chance to give this version of her cousin another chance at life. She and Phillip knew there was a chance that there could be consequences and that he could change his future by saving the lives of George and Marina, but they did what they could.

But Archibald Featherington wasn’t a desperate nineteen year old girl subject to the whims of the men in her life, including the whims of the man she loved. He was a baron overloaded with debts that he racked because of his own vices. Even in the case of George, Penelope had only wanted to change his fate to give him to Marina. She wasn’t so kind as to have mercy on him based on his own merit. He was still a man that took liberties with a young lady and threw her to the wolves when he became a soldier to spite his father.

There were cruelties Penelope’s mother did not speak about but Penelope had caught her many times over the years with a faraway look in her eyes when she believed no one was paying attention. The very first of the furniture to be used as kindling in the winter when they were desperate for firewood was her father’s old bedroom furnishings.

Archibald Featherington had broken the hearts of all of his daughters. First, Philippa whose only crime in life was that she was dimwitted, head too vacant to form a mean opinion of her own. All she had wanted was to be a wife to someone who didn’t try to escape conversation with her. Second, Prudence who had long ago lost faith that her father would put any work into securing her a match but had relied on him for her dowry that he had gambled away. Thirdly, poor Felicity who was sent to live with their maternal great-aunt for a year, alone and away from her friends and her family until their mother could bring her home.

Felicity who had been one of the reasons Penelope had been desperate to marry in her third season and to join the efforts of securing the Featherington barony. Penelope hadn’t actually cared about trumping her older sisters in the heir race, but three marriages upped their chances of producing an heir and a third husband for the Featherington girls meant more support for the unmarried daughter.

There was nothing Penelope could do to fix her father’s errors. She was currently a girl of seven and ten in her first season out, anything she said held no power to sway her father and curb his behavior. Even if she were her older self there was nothing she could do.

The trip to the modiste went as it always did. Despite her own ample chest and generous hips, Portia was dissatisfied with how Penelope’s figure was displayed in comparison to her slimmer sisters. Portia tutted and pursed her lips at how Penelope’s breasts were so pronounced. It didn’t help that the yellow flower embellishment that Portia had adored drew the eye to Penelope’s chest and then lower to the gentle slope of her stomach as it curved more pronounced in the more fitted gown.

“A tiara,” Portia murmured, Penelope’s chin pinched between her thumb and forefinger to lift her face up. “And you must wear your hair pulled away from your face. The sparkle of jewels in your hair should bring the focus back to your face.” Portia clucked her tongue. “If only you remembered to use your bonnet. You have so many freckles, Penelope.”

Penelope was already used to the way her mother threw criticisms so the comments rolled off of her. She was more concerned with how she was to wear a tiara when she wanted her hair to be loose from pins. Rae would have to find something that worked without the tight curls Portia preferred for her girls.

In the end it wouldn’t matter. A more flattering cut and less ridiculous hairstyle did not change the fact that her dress was an eye watering bright yellow that washed her out. Yet another column where she would list herself of the worst dressed of the worst dressed. Of all of her dresses, why had Cressida never tried to rip or stain this one?

The only good thing to come about from their father’s fraudulent dealings was that Philippa and Albion’s courtship had commenced once again. The dowry would disappear again when her mother couldn’t find her father’s winnings, but without Lord Featherington to say anything to interfere again, their mother was able to delay providing the dowry as long as possible.

Penelope and Felicity crossed the square as soon as their carriage returned home. They were expected for tea with the Bridgertons and were taking any opportunity to spend time with their friends that they could before everyone headed to their country homes.

Tea with the ladies—and Gregory—of Bridgerton House would no longer be the same. Daphne was now married and would no longer be at every tea.

It was still odd not having Kate around. The drawing room was missing the warm, spiced scent of the tea she had imported from India and every time Penelope entered she expected to find her sitting poised and elegant at the table, soulful eyes twinkling.

It was easier to miss Edwina who was away with her husband most of the time and even Sophie who spent most of her time at My Cottage with Benedict. But Kate was always present, had been a friend to her before she married Anthony and they spent so much time together because their first sons were so close in age.

And because of her role as viscountess, Kate was usually the one pulled away when it came to the management of Bridgerton House. When maids other than Mrs. Wilson came to inform Violet of an issue or to bring her missives as lady of the house, Penelope still had to resist the urge to look for Kate in her usual seat.

As it wasn’t a Monday and it was an informal tea, Violet excused herself to her study to gather any last minute notes for Daphne who was preparing to host her first ball. In Penelope’s time, Daphne didn’t host many but they were always elegant and lovely affairs.

The youngest of them had decided to start a game without the three older girls and were constantly in and out of the drawing room to come back for something to eat, but weren’t interested in inviting anyone else into whatever it was they were doing. It suited the older girls fine as they took advantage of the relative quiet to read or play the pianoforte in Francesca’s case. 

“What is that?” Penelope asked Eloise once they were able to get a semblance of privacy and curiosity got the better of her. Eloise had been busy writing in a small, familiar looking field journal as she read.

Eloise cleared her throat and snapped the journal shut, tucking it behind her in her seat and grabbing the embroidery hoop she was practicing her stitches on.

“I have taken to writing down some notions and observations as they come to me.”

“That’s all well and good, but I meant that. ” Penelope pointed at a potted plant on the small table by the sofa Eloise usually chose to sit on. The stem was tall and the flowers were a mixture of a lovely shade of pale pink and pale purple. “It’s such a lovely bloom.”

“Oh. That.” Eloise stabbed at her cloth, poorly feigning nonchalance. “It’s a Dendrobium moniliforme .”

“And for those of us too simple to know what is clearly a scientific classification?”

“It is a dendrobium orchid.” Eloise averted her gaze, continuing to stab at her hoop. In a low voice so her family couldn’t hear her she added, “An import from Mister Crane.”

“From Mister Crane?” Penelope was baffled. She hadn’t known that Phillip would call on the Bridgertons and she was surprised that Eloise would accept what could very well be taken as a courting gift.

Phillip, she’s not even out yet!

“When we were discussing his field journal the other day, Mister Crane told me about plants that grow in different environments like this orchid. It’s not potted in soil but in rocks to mimic the habitat they are native to,” Eloise explained, tossing her embroidery hoop aside and pulling out her journal. “He came to loan Colin another book or something and he brought me some books on the subject and a plant of my own. Lady Crane was right about his obsession with botany. He had so many recommendations on the subject.”

Eloise spent the next quarter hour explaining her notes in her field journal and how she had taken to rotating her orchid’s location in the house to ensure that it received adequate sunlight—not too much nor too little. Phillip seemed to have engaged Eloise’s competitive spirit that she shared with her siblings and she had taken his gift as a challenge to keep the orchid alive.

Penelope was sure that Eloise didn’t even consider that Phillip had given her what could be considered a courting gift and that her plant could have a meaning behind just like any flower a suitor would give a young lady they were interested in courting. She wondered if they could find what the orchid symbolized in Gregory’s book on flower language.

Eloise was busy with her research, concerned with how she was to travel to Aubrey Hall the following week with her plant when she realized she could send Phillip a missive to ask him how he was going to safely transport his own potted plants.

Smirking to herself, Penelope crossed the drawing room to the pianoforte and sat down to play. Francesca was pleased with the company and was excited to share what she had learned while in Bath. Penelope was in the middle of playing Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique for Francesca’s entertainment when Felicity and Hyacinth came stumbling into the room, crying.

“What have you two done?” Penelope cried out, fingers slipping on the keys when she turned her head and saw the two girls with their heads pressed together.

Penelope groaned in frustration at the mess that was the back of the two girls’ heads. Auburn and chestnut locks were braided together, attaching the girls to one another. The braid was poorly done and a knot was forming where the girls had attempted to pull apart from each other.

“I have a feeling it was Gregory,” Francesca muttered, standing to assist Penelope. “I’ll get a hair brush.”

Penelope carefully maneuvered the girls so they were sitting on the piano bench side by side. Carefully she untied their ribbons and used her fingers to gently comb through their hair as much as she could.

“I’m putting a fish in his bed,” Hyacinth mumbled through her sobs. She winced whenever Penelope had to tug on her hair a little tighter.

“I do not understand how he did this without you two noticing.” Penelope had the sneaking suspicion that the two had given Gregory permission to braid their hair and conjoin them until everything went sideways.

Francesca must have told Eloise what had happened because she had not returned from writing her missive. Francesca admitted that Eloise had gone hunting for Gregory who had gone into hiding when the girls realized that they were tangled together.

Working in tandem, Penelope and Francesca brushed through the knots in their sisters’ hair. Penelope thought Hyacinth should consider herself lucky that it was Francesca with the hairbrush and not Eloise or she would have lost a few strands from rough brushing as punishment.

“Mama will not be happy,” Penelope scolded Felicity. “She will consider this a strike against wearing your hair so loosely.”

Felicity sniffed, not having said a word since Penelope had freed her. Felicity was going to need a thorough washing and oils to repair the damage to her curls.

“We won’t need to cut it, will we?” Felicity asked forlornly.

“No, my sweet.” Penelope pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “But Rae will have her work cut out for her this evening.”

“Where is my kiss?” Hyacinth demanded. Francesca rolled her eyes and continued brushing her hair.

“I have the feeling that you were the mastermind behind the joined braid fiasco.” Francesca pursed her lips and quirked a brow knowingly.

“Penelope?” Hyacinth turned her head as much as she could and pouted up at Penelope. Out of all of Colin’s siblings, Hyacinth was the most like him and had just enough green in her eyes to make Penelope melt a little.

Leaning over, Penelope pressed a kiss to Hyacinth’s forehead with a loud smack.

“Better now?”

“Loads!” Hyacinth chirped, kicking her feet happily as Francesca continued to disentangle her knots.

“Why are we spoiling Hyacinth?”

Colin strolled in, a hand wrapped around Gregory’s elbow. Eloise followed behind them, nose in the air and her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Just kissing the pain away,” Penelope explained as she mulled over the idea of braiding Felicity’s hair again. There was a part of her hair where the natural curls broke that was concerning.

“I have a bruise. Do I get a kiss?” Gregory asked, ripping his arm out of Colin’s hold.

“Gregory,” Colin scolded, glaring at his younger brother.

“For what?” Eloise snorted. “It is your own fault you slipped trying to climb up the tree to get away. Oh, don’t worry,” she added at the horrified look on Francesca’s face. “Colin caught him in time so he only banged his knee on the trunk on his way down.”

Gregory shot Eloise a glare that reminded Penelope a little of baby Edmund with his puffed out cheeks. Crossing the room she placed a kiss on his forehead that had Felicity and Hyacinth protesting as he looked up at her in awe.

“Thank you, Penelope,” Eloise said sarcastically as Gregory sauntered off to eat whatever biscuits remained from the tea tray. “He is never going to shut up about this now.”

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. Gregory was sweet, but his harmless bit of affection for her would only last until the arrival of Kate Sharma. Not that anyone but Penelope knew that. The Bridgertons were ignorant of the existence of someone they were going to love and cherish.

“You shouldn’t reward him for his bad behavior.” As much as Colin had tried to make it sound like a reprimand, Penelope could tell that he was sulking.

Oh, dear…

Of all things to deal with that afternoon, a jealous younger version of her husband was not what she had expected. Especially not over his twelve year old younger brother.

“I doubt it was his idea to braid their hair together and it was their mistake to trust Gregory in the first place.”

She watched as Felicity and Hyacinth argued with Gregory for the last of the biscuits. Gregory immediately stuffed two cinnamon biscuits into his mouth before the girls could grab them. The three of them were so small, nothing like their sizes in the time Penelope left them behind. Gregory was still the shortest of his brothers, but it was nothing compared to seeing him at almost only half of Colin’s height.

“Speaking of their hair…we should get going now so our lady’s maid can take care of Felicity’s hair.” At the sound of her name, Felicity shuffled back to Penelope, eyes cast towards the floor in shame. “May you give your mother our regards?”

Penelope and Felicity said their goodbyes. Eloise was reluctant to let them leave as the next time they would see each other would be at Hastings Ball in a couple of days and Eloise was still feeling anxious about attending. Penelope assured her that she would be fine and that there were plenty of places to hide in her sister’s home should she need to escape. That and Eloise had earned herself a favor from Benedict the other week and he would most likely attempt his own escape to avoid the mamas.

“Pen.”

Penelope was in the middle of adjusting Felicity’s bonnet in an attempt to disguise the loss of the hairstyle their mother had last seen her in, when Colin called out to her, coming down the stairs.

“One moment,” Penelope said, securing the bow under Felicity’s chin. Felicity raised a brow, an impish grin on her face. “Do not start, Felicity Featherington.”

Wiping her hands down her skirts, Penelope met Colin halfway through the grand hall. She furrowed her brows quizzically at the unsure way Colin held himself. In his hands was a familiar box, the kind Penelope usually brought back home with her when she was able to buy parchment paper.

Colin held the box, knocking the top with his knuckles. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then snapped it shut at the sound of Felicity’s giggling from the alcove that led to the front door. Penelope snapped her head back to her and tilted her head in warning. Felicity covered her mouth with both of her gloved hands and ducked back behind the wall.

Sighing to herself, Penelope shook her head and turned back to Colin who looked better composed now without her younger sister for an audience.

“Did you need something?” She asked gently, playing with the edges of her shawl.

“I wanted to give you this before your family left to the country, but I never seemed to have the opportunity until now.”

“Paper?” Penelope laughed softly as she took the box from Colin’s outstretched hands.

“I figured it may be useful for all of your many letters.” Colin returned her smile with a playful smirk. “Eloise will no doubt be expecting them weekly.”

Penelope hummed, nodding softly and clutching the box to her chest. In the original 1813 she had sent more letters to Colin than Eloise, but she had used her own savings to procure parchment for all of those letters. Parchment, even if it wasn’t the highest quality, could be expensive. She had loved Colin’s letters and would often write letters back that were just as lengthy, needing to use the margins of the blank page used for the receiver’s address of her folded quarto sheet to add extra lines where she knew the sheet would be folded inward.

The box was heavy enough so she knew without opening it that there would be plenty of paper for more than just the letters that she would send to Eloise through the off season. The gift of them would help her keep more of her Whistledown savings now that it was all the money she would see until Cousin Jack claimed his inheritance.

The letters had been Penelope’s more selfish decision when Colin was on his tour. She had already set aside what she would need for Whistledown, but all of her letters were costly not just because of the paper but because of the cost of posting said letters. Penelope had been able to get away with them because her mother wanted to keep up appearances and if Penelope stopped writing to Eloise there was sure to be an inquiry from Lady Bridgerton. But other than impropriety, Penelope hid the letters to and from Colin because of how suspicious it would be that Penelope had money to be sending so many letters abroad.

“And I wanted to ask if you would be amenable to receiving letters from me,” Colin lowered his voice as he shrugged a shoulder and he tilted his head towards her. “I leave for my tour the morning after Daphne’s ball. I am to start in the Mediterranean.”

Despite knowing that Colin would be going on tour and encouraging it, an ache settled itself in Penelope’s chest. Even though she woke every day without him, the way she had been so accustomed to, he was still only across the square and it was easy to see him when she missed him.

“That’s wonderful, Colin!” Even as her heart ached, she beamed up at him with excitement. There was a part of her that wondered how much differently his tour would be now that he would be traveling without the heartbreak of Marina’s deception. “And of course I would love to receive letters from you. As long as you are prepared to receive a letter back for every single one you send me.”

Cheeks dusted with pink, Colin’s smile softened, pleased with her answer. Penelope very much wanted to kiss him when he looked like that.

“I do have to go now.” Penelope stepped back, creating space between them. “Thank you again for the parchment. I will see you at your sister’s ball.”

“You are very welcome.” Colin’s grin became lopsided and flirtatious in a way Penelope was very accustomed to being on the receiving end of in their marriage. “I plan on collecting the rest of the dances you owe me. We might need to roll over to next season in order to clear your debt.”

Penelope giggled, unable to help herself. She waved at him as she turned away, wiggling her fingers. Walking into the alcove that led to the front entrance, Penelope was met with the impish smile of her younger sister. As quietly as she could, Felicity puckered her lips at Penelope with her eyes closed and made kissing sounds.

“Oh, hush you.” Penelope narrowed her eyes in warning.

Felicity only snickered to herself, whistling what suspiciously sounded like a bridal march as she followed her down the steps of Bridgerton House and they made their way across the square.

Phillip fidgeted, tugging at the sleeves of his evening kit. Penelope had lost track of how many times she had to speak up and tell him to stay still and to stop messing with his attire.

“Why am I here again?”

“You wanted to speak with the duke,” Penelope replied absentmindedly. She had answered the same question three times already in the past quarter hour. “To gather more information about how we all ended up here.”

It was decided that Phillip would be the best choice for gathering information. Once Michael was free of his current task of locating Sophie, he could assist him as they were the two privileged enough to roam as they pleased without the responsibility of tending to any estates.

There had to be a catalyst for why they had traveled back in time and why them specifically. The only thing that truly connected all of them was that they were married to a Bridgerton.

It was even more confusing considering they were all far apart, in different parts of the country, before they slipped back in time. Kate and Penelope were the only two that were near each other. Bridgerton House was only a short carriage drive away from her and Colin’s residency in Bloomsbury.

“And it will be another opportunity for you to speak to Eloise before we all head to the country for the summer,” Penelope reminded him.

“Yes.” Phillip nodded, ears reddening at the reminder. “There is that.”

Standing at the edge of the dance floor, other than the different cut of her dress, the only difference for Penelope between the Hastings Ball of the original 1813 and the current one was that she wasn’t alone. Phillip stood with her as a wallflower himself.

Some ladies had walked by, fluttering their lashes and giggling at him and he would avert his gaze. At one point, Penelope was sure that he would attempt to jump behind her and use her as a shield.

“You could always retreat to a card room, Phillip,” Penelope muttered, growing irritated at his fidgeting. There were no real expectations of him and she could always send Simon his way.

“You know I do not attend balls,” Phillip grumbled back. “There are so many people here.”

“Go.” Penelope sighed, shooing him with her hand as inconspicuously as she could. “Go away. There should be stronger spirits in the card room. Take a fortifying drink.”

It was as he excused himself that Penelope felt that pull that she always did whenever Colin was near. Across the dance floor, Colin had spotted her. He didn’t even turn back to Benedict to excuse himself before making his way towards her with long purposeful strides around the perimeter of the dance floor.

Colin approached her, smiling as brightly as the yellow of her dress. A shade of yellow he did not quite match with his waistcoat, but yellow he wore. He was dressed in a soft yellow with gold patterns of flowers and butterflies, a gold cravat around his neck. Penelope’s cheeks flushed with warmth, pleased despite the fact she disliked her own gown.

In their married life they usually wore matching gowns and evening kits. Penelope compromised and they occasionally wore outfits with yellow accents, but never anything as obnoxious as the garish gown she wore now that made her feel as if she looked a little gray.

It was still sweet that Colin had once again worn something complementary to what she wore. She so often wore yellow it wouldn’t have been hard to figure out how to match.

“Enjoying your evening?”

“I was admiring the architecture,” Penelope answered, no longer feeling she needed to lie about dancing like she had when she was seventeen.

“The architecture?” Colin glanced around. Despite it being his sister’s home, only Violet had visited Hastings House since Daphne was married and that had been to help Daphne oversee the preparations for the ball.

“Does the ballroom of Hastings House not remind you of the style of the wealthier homes of Ancient Greece?”

It had been a comment Colin had made in a letter he had written after exploring some ruins. Penelope had to wait until she visited Eloise so that they could borrow some of Colin’s history books so they could look up his descriptions of the structure.

He had explained the layout was to help the residents keep cool during the warmer months, but at Hastings House, instead of a courtyard for a middle passage, the designated hall had an open roof. On clear nights when there was a full moon, the effect was wondrous.

“Yes, it does,” Colin agreed with a tilt of his head and furrowing of his brows. “Especially with all of the columns.”

“How is Eloise faring?” Penelope asked. She had yet to see her best friend and the last time she had attended this ball, it was only when Penelope was rushing out of the ball in tears that she had run into Eloise.

Colin sighed, shooting Penelope a look as if to say she already knew the answer. “As well as expected. She was hoping for Anthony to behave as he did with Daphne, but I do not believe we will see him tonight.”

Unfortunately for Eloise, Anthony had learned to curb his abhorrent behavior after a dressing down by the eldest Bridgerton daughter and his mother. The Lord Berbrooke fiasco had been a learning experience for him that had almost cost him the family’s reputation and Daphne’s happiness.

When Eloise debuted, Anthony was also busy attempting to find his future viscountess. He had met with all of the eligible young ladies until he focused on courting the season’s incomparable, Edwina Sharma, which resulted in him marrying the elder sister instead.

Because he was busy juggling courtship with the sister he did not love and his feelings for the sister that he did, Violet took charge of Eloise’s first season. Not that Eloise made it easy for Violet, finding any reason she could to avoid suitors and rejecting any offers of marriage.

Penelope’s favorite rejection throughout Eloise’s seasons was when she had abandoned Lord Morrison on the dance floor at Lady Bridgerton’s Hearts and Flowers ball held at Aubrey Hall in the Spring of 1814. After Eloise had explained what had happened, Penelope was in agreement that Lord Morrison had deserved the ridicule.

“How long do you think until she finds some way to bow out?”

Penelope had been upset in the original 1813 and missed a majority of the ball. She had returned just in time to witness Daphne and Simon dancing under the rain and Lady Danbury ending the ball. Eloise had never told her how her night had gone because Penelope and her family had gone into mourning.

“Eloise will probably find comfort in you being here.” Colin held out his hand and tilted his head towards her like he always did, smiling mischievously. “So you must dance with me before she finds you and steals you away from me.”

Something fluttered in her stomach as she placed her hand in his. Penelope wondered if Colin was aware of how he worded things when he spoke to her. It was the kind of thing her husband would say in jest, only a tint of possessiveness, when it came to letting her go so she may spend time with her dear friend.

They stood on the edge of the dance floor, waiting for the previous set to clear out. Hastings Ball of 1813 was another ball in which Penelope had not previously danced at that she was having a changed experience.

Colin had completely disregarded her dance card, not signing it for the current set and not even bothering to secure another dance by signing it. Instead, he kept to her side and even secured them lemonade. It was only when Benedict passed by and practically pleaded for Penelope to join him on the floor as a group of ladies trailed after him that they separated.

When Benedict returned Penelope to Colin’s side, he shot his crooked grin at Colin in what Colin had once adequately called “shit-eating” when he and Penelope were discussing descriptions and how they were easily identified when going through his journals.

“Shit-eating, ” Penelope had repeated, making her husband laugh hard enough that he doubled over.  It had amused him to hear foul language in her prim and proper accent of a lady of the bon ton .

Narrowing his eyes at his brother’s self satisfied grin, Colin took hold of Penelope’s hand and led her away again. Walking past Daphne and Simon, Penelope watched as Simon quirked an eyebrow in amusement at the pair of them and Daphne repeatedly tapped at his forearm as she beamed at Colin and Penelope.

“It is good to see Daphne so happy,” Penelope commented as she matched her steps with Colin’s as they stepped forward and back, moving around the circle the dancers created.

There were two rings of dancers and Colin and she were on the outer ring which she preferred. While she grew more confident over the years, she still did not quite enjoy being in the spotlight or anywhere near it.

“It is.” Colin beamed as they drew closer together after they spun. “We are all so glad that everything turned out so well for her despite the rocky start to her first season.”

They spun away from each other again and when they were back to facing each other, a sad smile lingered on Colin’s face.

“I shall miss her though. I have been missing her.”

“One of the things I adore about your family,” Colin pulled Penelope closer than necessary as Penelope slid her hand onto his shoulder, arm stretched to reach, “is how much you all love each other and how close you all are. Daphne may be starting a new family and moving away, but the bond between you will always be there.”

Colin smiled sweetly at her and then twirled her. Penelope giggled as she spun, only realizing when Colin tucked her close to him that it wasn’t just not part of the steps, but something the Colin of 1813 shouldn’t have done because it was something reserved for the Colin that she was engaged to and then married. He had first twirled her as such in the church that the banns had been read for their wedding—an event that had not happened in this time.

Confusion filled his eyes even as Colin kept smiling down at her. “That was fun. Again?”

Penelope nodded and let herself be twirled perfectly under Colin’s arm again. She heard some scandalized whispers from the partners dancing nearby, but the actual words weren’t clear to her as she was struck by the adoration on Colin’s face as he guided her through the last steps of the set.

Colin held onto her hands, thumbs rubbing against her fingers. It was fortunate that they were not in the center of the dance floor or they would have been in the way of dancers preparing for the next set. He opened his mouth, but shut it when something behind her caught his eye over her head.

“Colin?”

“This way.” Colin tugged on her hands and guided her under a curtain of hanging ivy and into the covered walkway.

“What is going on?” Penelope asked. Colin ducked his head around a column and then pulled back, gesturing for Penelope to peek around the column as well.

Eloise was standing across the hall with Phillip Crane, talking about something. Eloise had her field journal out again as Phillip pointed at the ivy clinging to the columns and balconies of the second floor. The both of them were completely focused on the decor while Lady Bridgerton stood three paces back, befuddled by what she was witnessing.

“It seems like Eloise found company,” Colin chuckled into his gloved fist.

“I am glad.” Penelope ducked back behind the pillar and narrowed her eyes at Colin in thought. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? “Mister Crane is smitten with your sister.”

It wasn’t the true extent of Phillip’s feelings, but it wasn’t as if she could tell Colin that Phillip was in love with Eloise and was his sister’s husband in the future.

“You are joking.” A broad grin spread across Colin’s face as he quickly peeked around the pillar again, lifting a vine so he could spy on Eloise and Phillip. “That poor sap. That does explain some things.”

“Like what?” Penelope asked excitedly. Colin could share a different perspective of the budding friendship between Eloise and Phillip.

“Do not pretend that there are not times that you allow Eloise to carry on while you only pretend you are fully engaged in the conversation,” Colin accused good heartedly. “Mister Crane doesn’t do that. He hangs on to her every word, no matter the topic.”

And it seemed that Eloise hung onto his words as well from what Penelope was witnessing. If only Phillip would look away from the plants and look at Eloise and how he had all of her focus.

“I do not know what you mean,” Penelope feigned ignorance. “I am always fully invested in everything Eloise has to say. She is my best friend.”

“Your eyes were completely glazed over when Eloise was ranting about the injustice of young ladies needing to be accomplished in various subjects such as languages when suitors inevitably do not care for the brilliance of the woman they plan to court.”

“Oh, you and I both know that Eloise was simply excusing her low proficiency in French.”

The both of them laughed, covering their mouths to muffle the sound. Colin usually corrected Eloise’s attempts in her workbooks, but he could not help her with practical instructions with the French tutor. Even Marina had given up when Eloise joined her and Penelope when they exchanged lessons.

“It is too bad that he will be away at Cambridge when Eloise properly debuts.”

It was the only downside to Phillip returning to university. Penelope did not doubt that Eloise would start writing letters to Phillip somehow. Phillip had already handed her the perfect excuse with the potted orchid he had gifted her and all of the books on botany he had given her as well.

“If his feelings are true, he will come back to Mayfair.”

“That and Marina has already said I could invite Eloise to Romney Hall.” Penelope smiled slyly, batting her lashes. “Romney Hall is in fact only a few hours by carriage from Aubrey Hall.”

Colin crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head, but the smile never left his face.

“You have been scheming. Why?”

“I believe that they suit.”

Many callers and five rejections of offers and Eloise had finally met her match in Phillip Crane. It was reasonable to believe that Eloise would still take a few years before she was prepared to consider marriage, but it didn’t mean that the two of them couldn’t be friends first.

It was Violet Bridgerton’s belief that friendship was the best foundation for great love.

“And to think that Eloise believed Mister Crane was your suitor.”

“I did say he was not.” Penelope stepped closer, tilting her chin back to properly look Colin in the eye. “I would have rejected him even if he was.”

Green eyes widened, a slight tremble to them as they roved over her face, searching.

“And if Michael Stirling returned?”

Penelope snorted. Michael as her suitor was even more of an improbability. And if she had to pick one over the other as a pretend suitor she would pick Phillip if it wouldn’t complicate things for him and Eloise.

“That was only ever a friendly visit,” Penelope explained when Colin kept looking at her expectantly. “If you had asked Daphne about the bouquet he brought me instead of sending Eloise to ask me questions you would have known it was the kind you give to a friend .”

“Oh.”

“And before you ask, I would have rejected his suit as well if that was why he was calling on me.”

“Because you were not seeking a husband in your first season out?”

Properly looking at Colin, Penelope saw the way he rubbed his fingers with his thumb—his usual nervous tick. Penelope quickly reached out and grabbed his hand to stop him, holding his fingers in both of her hands.

“Something like that.” Penelope swallowed convulsively as she watched Colin nod his head in a jerky fashion. “Colin, I should tell you something.”

She had uttered the words without thinking them through. When she had planned out how she would spend her time in the past she had not planned to reveal her feelings for Colin so soon, but that was the problem with being Penelope Featherington—Penelope Bridgerton.

To be Penelope was to love Colin Bridgerton. She was born for him and it was only going to be harder and harder to hold herself back the more she interacted with him.

“Come with me?” Penelope whispered, gesturing with her head down an empty hallway. She knew which rooms the hall led to, only because she had been a guest at Hastings House many times.

Colin nodded and despite it being Penelope’s request, he led her by the hand. Unlike Penelope, he still didn’t know which rooms were which. Penelope steered him away from Simon’s study and into what would be the sitting room Daphne would entertain her informal guests like her family.

Colin closed the door behind them and Penelope laughed through her nose, a breathy sound. It was something no matter how old and what year that Colin did without thought of the potential consequences.

“Are you alright?” Colin asked, crossing the room to where she stood. “This is usually around the time I notice you duck out.”

Penelope startled, gaping at him. Colin had already begun to notice when she would disappear from balls?

“N-no, I mean, yes. I am alright.” Colin took both of her hands in his at her nervous stammer and squeezed them affectionately. Penelope smiled fondly up at him. Her kind man. Her always kind man. “I wished to tell you something.”

“You could tell me anything,” Colin said, softly, his thumbs rubbing against the tops of her hands.

“I do not expect you to respond or return my feelings,” Penelope began, heart thumping hard against her chest. With every breath, she felt her corset tighten against her skin when she exhaled heavily. “But the reason I did not plan to seek a husband is because it would be unfair of me to marry someone when my feelings lay elsewhere.”

Colin looked at her impassively, his face unfortunately unreadable. Back when she was truly seventeen, she had almost confessed her feelings until Colin had told her that he was leaving on his tour. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks afterward that Penelope had the clarity to understand that Colin was not in a position to hear about her feelings. She hid her cowardice behind that as an excuse to protect herself, choosing to remain only as Colin’s friend.

Perhaps it was still too soon to reveal herself. Her husband had said that he wished that he had seen her sooner, but that did not mean that he actually would.

“I understand if you only see me as a friend. I do not wish to make you feel uncomf─”

With the muffled sounds of the music and chatter of the ballroom in the background, hiding out in one of the Hastings’ drawing rooms and, once again, not even courting, Penelope shared her second first kiss with Colin Bridgerton.

Colin held her face gently in his hands as his lips ghosted over hers when he released her for air. His face was so close that Penelope could see where his long eyelashes meshed together at the corners.

Sighing happily, Penelope leaned into Colin’s kiss, her hands wrapped around his wrists to keep him close as he continued to cradle her cheeks.

Colin sank his teeth into her lower lip and pulled slightly before letting go and resting his forehead against hers. Penelope barely had a moment to breathe before he was slanting his mouth over hers once more. She could feel his lips quirking upwards into a smile as he kissed her and a giggle burst out of her, rolling into his mouth.

“Now what has you laughing?” Colin asked, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I am just so happy.”

Colin gave her a loopy smile and she giggled again, cupping the back of his neck to guide him back to her lips. His knees knocked into her legs as he bent down to meet her and she shook her head at the absurdity of their height difference even as she stood on her toes.

“I think you should sit,” Penelope suggested with a peck to his chin.

“Sit?”

Penelope pulled away from him and his hands chased after her, gripping at the fabric of her dress around her hips.

“On the sofa,” Penelope explained as she pulled away again to guide him to the lilac and cream damask sofa. With her hands on his shoulders she gestured for him to take a seat. Once he was sat, she settled sideways on his lap.

Caught off guard, Colin fidgeted as he attempted to adjust to their new position. Penelope smirked at him, settling herself once more on his lap, rubbing against his hardening member as she looped her arms around his neck. Colin scooted back and held her at bay, attempting to keep her on his knees instead of his lap.

“You do not need to hide from me. I know what that is, Colin.”

“And how exactly do you know what that is?” Colin looked down at her, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“Gossiping maids and a married cousin, of course.”

Marina had been more open this time with her knowledge, but only to warn Penelope and make her aware so that she wouldn’t fall into the same trap as her and end up with child before a promise of marriage was made. So it wasn’t necessarily a lie that Penelope told Colin despite her true experience being the Colin she married.

“Right,” Colin drawled, nodding his head slowly.

“Would you like to stop?” Penelope asked. Perhaps everything was too fast for him? It was a rather new experience for him to kiss her and for her to know him so intimately.

“No!” Colin shook his head, lifting her chin up to him with two fingers. “No…”

“It is alright if you do.” Penelope reached up and brushed his hair back from where it got mussed up pressed against the crown of her head. “We can return to the ball.”

“I want to be here.” Colin pressed a kiss to the apple of her cheek. “With you.”

Penelope hummed, pleased when he leaned back against the sofa and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. “I like being here with you.”

With a dimpled smile, Colin nudged her nose with his own and laid a languid kiss on her lips.

It had been months that Penelope had to keep her hands and her love to herself. Every moan and happy sigh she released was rewarded with an insistent press of Colin’s mouth or his hands on her back. Hesitantly, Colin splayed his fingers apart and slid it lower until his palm lay flat on her bottom. He squeezed her through her dress in an almost a questioning manner.

“Yes,” Penelope breathed out as she tugged on the bow of his cravat. “You can touch me.”

Permission was all Colin needed to touch her more purposefully. It was still humorous to Penelope that his chosen path was downwards instead of up to her breasts where she had expected him to attempt to touch her first.

“Buttons.” Penelope sucked on Colin’s tongue and he moaned, vibrations rolling against her mouth. “Colin, get my buttons.”

Colin frowned at her, confused yet again. Penelope took one of his hands and set it against her back, right where the closures to her gown could be found.

“Unless you do not want to─”

“Are you sure?” Colin interrupted, fingers lightly tracing over the buttons of her gown.

Penelope nodded, smiling encouragingly. “If I want you to stop at any point, I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Colin exhaled his reassurance. Penelope cupped his jaw, rubbing her thumb along the scar on his chin. That was never something she ever had to worry about.

“I know you would.”

Colin’s hands slid across her back. Penelope shivered at the sensation as his large hands covered the expanse of her back. He always made her feel as if she were completely engulfed in his hold. He unsnapped enough buttons for her bodice to loosen and her sleeves to slip off of her shoulders. Penelope wasn’t bare, but it was still a lot more of her than this version of her husband had ever seen.

“Penelope…”

Despite her being on display for his viewing pleasure, Colin did not touch her breasts. Instead he curled his fingers in her hair, avoiding the pins that kept her loose curls away from her face and neck.

“Did your father come to the ball tonight?” Colin panted as he kissed up her shoulder and neck. Penelope shook her head, blinking owlishly at him. “No matter. I will call on you tomorrow and speak to him then.”

Oh. Oh . Penelope had messed everything up. Colin was supposed to leave for his ship in the morning, long before calling hours. That and he was more likely to stay once it was discovered that her father had passed away.

“Why would you need to speak to my father?” Penelope asked dumbly. She winced at how dimwitted she sounded asking the question. Colin’s eyes widened in incredulity, straightening up and shifting Penelope in his lap.

“To ask for his blessing and to offer for you of course.”

“You will not be speaking to my parents. My mother will demand that you abandon your tour, Colin.”

Colin flinched, pulling away from her.

“You still wish for me to leave?” Hurt laced his tone.

Sighing, Penelope cupped his jaw in her hands. “I wish for you to go and experience your Grand Tour as you have planned it in such excruciating detail. I do not wish to impede your journey. You have been wanting to travel to more lands for years and your ship leaves tomorrow .”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t be so ready to send me off if you were aware of what men do on these tours,” Colin muttered under his breath.

Penelope pulled back, gritting her teeth. For a moment she had forgotten that this was still a Colin that had not completely grown with her and was prone to lashing out when hurt.

“I am so ready to send you off as you put it, because I know you are not a man that would need me hovering over him in order to not forsake me,” Penelope snapped. Colin winced, realization that she had heard him clearly and understood what he had meant dawning in his eyes.

“I would never.” Colin looked affronted at the mere idea of it.

“I know you wouldn’t.” Penelope pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You are a good man, Colin Bridgerton.”

Colin exhaled deeply, his breath fanning over Penelope’s cheeks. He rubbed his thumb along her jaw, nuzzling their noses together. “Am I?”

Penelope nodded, rubbing her cheek alongside his as they were so attached to each other. Anything Colin did, Penelope welcomed. She had encouraged him because she had grown tired of wanting him.

“It’s not as if you will be traveling for ten years,” Penelope murmured against his mouth. “And you will write to me while you are away. Right?”

“I do not plan on making you a Penelope of Ithaca.” Colin sighed, resigning himself to not getting his way. He no longer looked at her, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

Penelope had been so stupid. How had she expected for this to play out? Colin was a good and honorable man and she had played loosely with his sensibilities.

Now that their breathing had slowed and they sat in silence, Penelope could hear something other than the octet beyond the room they were in.

“Oh, it is raining.” Penelope slid off of Colin’s lap and adjusted her gown so that she was covered again. “Can you get my buttons again?”

Colin stood up and buttoned her up slowly. As he reached the top, Penelope felt him press his lips to the back of her nape and then lightly scrape his teeth against her skin.

“Colin…”

“I won’t mark you,” Colin grumbled. Bitterly. Frustrated, he worked on fixing his cravat, fumbling with the knot. Penelope batted his hands away and helped him. His eyes narrowed at her as she adjusted the bow.

“There. Presentable,” Penelope murmured, smoothing her hands down Colin’s waistcoat.

“I do not understand.” Tears welled up in his eyes and Penelope couldn’t hold back the strangled cry that caught in her throat.

“I just wish for you to do this one thing for yourself, Colin,” Penelope insisted. “I want you to explore and learn and see new sights. And then tell me all about it.”

“You could come with me.”

“You did not plan for a wife to join you,” Penelope huffed. Dejected, Colin nodded his head sharply. Her expression softening at his low mood, Penelope wrapped her arms around his waist. “You could always take me next time.”

“Next time?” Colin asked in a deadpan.

“Yes.” Penelope gave him a quick nod. “When you actually return my feelings.”

Colin’s mouth parted open and he stared at her blankly.

“You never actually said that you did,” Penelope reminded him. “And that is fine.”

“Penelope─”

“We should go.” Penelope stepped back, her arms dropping to her sides. “My mama will be looking for me so we may leave.”

Quickly, Penelope exited the drawing room and headed down the corridor and back to the great hall. She could hear Colin’s footsteps tapping on the marble tile behind her. Upon entering the hall, she saw that everyone was taking shelter in the alcoves, filing one after the other in pairs to exit. Rain poured down over the dance floor, where Simon guided Daphne in a waltz using the pitter patter of the raindrops for music.

“Penelope.” Colin cleared his throat behind her, shuffling until he was right at her elbow. “May we please discuss what just─?”

“Where have you two been?” Eloise demanded, strolling up to them with her hands on her hips. Phillip followed close behind her, eyes wide as he looked between the two of them. He caught Penelope’s eye and then quickly looked away. Great. “One moment I saw you dancing and then you disappeared.”

“We were walking around the perimeter,” Colin lied. Eloise arched a brow, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Your hair is in a disarray, Pen,” Eloise noted. “As if you just rolled out of bed.”

Phillip choked on a breath of air, keeping his eyes averted.

“The rain,” Penelope grasped for an excuse. “You know my curls get frizzy when it rains.”

Eloise looked back and forth between Penelope and Colin, continuing to glare at the both of them. Penelope could practically see the cogs in her brain working as if they were a sum to be solved. The moment she was able to piece together what had occurred between her best friend and her older brother was the moment that Penelope and Colin’s secret would be known to all of the Bridgertons.

Anthony would wring Colin’s neck and keep him grounded in London. They would definitely have to say goodbye to his Grand Tour then.

“I believe Lady Featherington is looking for you Miss Featherington,” Phillip spoke up, cutting through the tension. “She had just called for your family’s carriage and I said I would look for you.”

“Why you?” Colin asked darkly.

“Because he is her relation even if it is through marriage, Colin,” Eloise snapped. “You are being very rude to Mister Crane.”

“It is okay, Miss Eloise.”

“No, it is not!” Eloise argued.

“Eloise is right, Colin.” Penelope exhaled heavily through her nose. This was not how she expected the ball to end for her. “You are being unfair to Mister Crane. We have already discussed that he is my cousin by law, nothing more.”

“Right,” Colin agreed through gritted teeth. “I will go see to the Bridgerton carriage then.”

They watched as Colin briskly walked away, not even bothering to escort Eloise back to their mother.

“Penelope?” Eloise laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

Penelope swallowed thickly. No, everything was not alright.

“Splendid,” she answered. Looking at Eloise and Phillip she knew that neither one of them believed her. “Everything is fine .”

“Let’s get you to your mother,” Phillip suggested with a soft voice. Penelope nodded, letting Eloise hook their arms together. They walked towards the main hall together, Eloise chattering away about the good fortune about the rain as she was ready to go home.

The rain had indeed been fortunate. It was only unfortunate that it could not cleanse Penelope of her mistakes and wipe the slate blank so that she may start over with Colin.

What had Penelope changed now?

Penelope plucked at the skirts of her yellow day dress. Soon they would all be wearing black for the mourning period, but not a single one of them had dresses in such dark colors because her mother would not have borne it. Portia had never considered planning ahead for such an event when it came to her daughters.

Her mother was dressed in black, already in possession of some mourning attire. Portia had looked composed all morning as the servants began the required preparations for their departure to the Featherington Estate in Surrey. They would be stuck in Mayfair until everything with the death of Lord Featherington was put to order, but her mother wanted to be ready to leave as soon as it was possible.

Penelope sat at her seat at the window of the drawing room, looking across Grosvenor Square. There was a flurry of activity outside of Bridgerton House as the family gathered to say goodbye to Colin.

Eloise had snuck over earlier to check on Penelope after the way they had parted the night before. She was the first one to find out about Penelope’s father and Penelope made her promise not to tell anyone until Colin departed.

Eloise had been kind and promised her steadfast support, but Penelope did not have the heart to tell her that her tears were not for her dead father. They were not the same, the two of them. Eloise had a kind and loving father and had witnessed his sudden death right in front of her at the age of seven.

No. Penelope’s tears were for her mother’s wails the night before and the fright on Felicity’s face as she sat on the stairs in her nightgown, waiting for them to come home.

Could she have prevented her father’s death? Would it have been worth it to let Simon intervene? There was nothing Penelope could do about it now. She had been so busy getting caught up with Colin, all while her father was losing his life somewhere in Convent Garden.

“Penelope,” her mother groaned, exasperated. “Shut the curtains. We cannot have anyone looking into our windows.”

“Yes, mama.”

Penelope tugged on the rope that held the curtain back, watching as Colin trotted away from Bridgerton House on his horse. She let the curtain fall slowly, watching as he disappeared into the traffic of the square and away from Mayfair.

And away from her.

Chapter Text

Traveling as a family had never been enjoyable. Usually Penelope had to be squashed into the bench with her older sisters while her mother, father, and Felicity sat across from them in the carriage.

Now, Prudence and Philippa claimed a bench for themselves while Penelope sat across from them with their mother and youngest sister.

Penelope was used to this arrangement, but it was new for the rest of her family.

Penelope molded herself into a corner of the carriage as Felicity laid so her head was in their mother’s lap. Portia stared blankly out the window as she stroked Felicity’s hair.

The journey to their country seat in Surrey wasn’t long. It was always longer to travel to Kent to visit Aubrey Hall from the Featherington estate than it was to visit from Mayfair. Penelope always found it poetic how Mayfair laid between them and that the home they stayed in for the majority of the year was where they met in the middle.

Eloise just found it irritating.

The Bridgertons minus Colin had been at Aubrey Hall for two weeks already. Eloise had already sent Penelope five letters in the time they were apart. Whenever Eloise actually cared to write letters, she was a steadfast correspondent.

Penelope had smiled, sobs mixing with her laugh when she received her first letter from Eloise only two days after the Bridgertons had left for the country. It was one of those precious things about Eloise she loved. Eloise refused to ever let her feel lonely and had kept true to her promise to Penelope about being there for her after her papa had died.

Eloise was quick to confess to her crimes. In the same letter she admitted that she had not told her family about Archibald Featherington until Colin departed, but that she had slipped Colin a note and asked him to wait until his ship was out of port before reading it.

Penelope was not sure how Colin would respond to receiving that information considering how the two of them had left things after their tryst. She hoped that all he did was send her his condolences. It would be a lot harder to send him back on his tour if he decided to make his way back to England when his ship stopped at its first destination to replenish supplies.

She could envision him making his way by horseback down the long drive leading to Meadow Park that was flanked by acres of woodland and dismounting, hastily handing over the reins of his horse to a footman before bursting through the front door.

If it wasn’t an actual concern of hers, Penelope would giggle at the image of his curls flopping out of its perfect coiffure in his haste to reach her and demand her hand so that he could take care of her.

Sighing to herself, Penelope settled at her escritoire and picked up her quill, ignoring the maids that assisted Rae in unpacking her things. She needed to inform Eloise that her family had made it to Meadow Park and she also needed to ask Phillip for assistance with the care of the land of the estate.

Phillip had helped Colin by visiting the Featherington country seat when Colin informed him that he was taking over the duties for their son. He couldn’t visit now, not when Penelope’s mother was in charge, but Penelope could still ask for all of the help he could provide over letters.

Then there was the issue of Colin. Penelope knew his itinerary and also could vaguely recall all of the boarding houses he had used so she could send him a letter in advance, but that would be too suspicious and she wasn’t sure if he would even want to hear from her.

Expect the unexpected…

Penelope sighed, laying her arms on the top of her desk and then burying her face in them. She had never been good with mysteries, always wanting to head straight to the end.

If only she could speed up time so she knew what to expect: Colin’s arrival, a letter, or his silence.

A man could go mad staring at the pitch black nothingness. There was nothing but the dark and the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of the ship.

It was safe to say that Colin was already half-mad himself—or it felt that way as of late—so perhaps it was a mistake to be out on the deck instead of in his quarters.

He had only wanted to go for a walk to clear his head. The breeze through his hair and the salt in the air would have done the trick if he hadn’t looked towards the sea. Leaning against the railing, Colin closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the breeze and the salt spray as seawater slapped against the ship.

Holding his arms extended out in front of him, even with the shadows casted by the clouds drifting across the moon, he could see how ghostly his pale hands glowed.

Something about the bareness of his hands befuddled Colin. He examined his fingers and could not help but notice how awkward it was not to have a signet ring.

Which was awkward as a thought in itself. Colin did own a signet ring, but that ring was back home in Bridgerton House. It was an heirloom that always felt too large and he claimed it was cumbersome to deflect from the fact that he felt like a child at play when he slipped it on his finger.

Crossing his arms and resting on the railing, Colin sighed to himself. There weren’t many people milling around now that it was the witching hour. In a few hours, daylight would break and he wouldn’t be so alone on the deck anymore.

Colin listened to the rhythmic sound of the sea as it pushed and pulled against the ship, choosing to focus on how it matched the beating of his heart.

Better to be lulled by the sea than to recall the soft sighs and moans of his dreams.

While Colin had been subject to dreams with Penelope before, it had been easy to excuse them the same way they all excused Gregory’s infatuation with her. She was one of the only girls of his acquaintance that he spent a good amount of time with that was not related to him.

Those dreams came in flashes, blurs from lack of known details.

His recent dreams were much different now that he knew how Penelope felt under his hands, how she shuddered in his hold when his hands spread across her back and the way she moaned when he groped at her plush bottom.

Colin regretted not pulling down on her bodice like he had itched to. He sank his fingers into her curls to not only feel the softness of her hair, but to keep them occupied. The ribbons of her corset framing the upper swells of her breasts had been so tempting. He had gone too far when he unbuttoned her gown and let it slip from her shoulders.

How he had wanted to sink his teeth into the delicate rounds of her shoulders.

As predictable as those dreams were, there were some details that confused Colin. He considered that perhaps there was a part of his subconscious that was pulling from his more romantic desires.

The first night on board the ship to Greece, Colin had dreamt of an empty church, light filtering in golden rays through the windows. He and Penelope were dancing and she giggled as he twirled her under his arm and pulled her close, holding their joined hands to his heart. They swayed together and she looked up at him with adoring eyes.

Colin had never seen Penelope wear blue before. In all of the years that they had known each other she had never worn anything in colors that were not yellow, orange, lime, or pink. When she debuted she had worn the white of all young debutants on occasion and the one red gown he could have sworn she had allowed Cressida Cowper to drop a chocolate cake down the front of the bodice.

In his dream Penelope wore a blue dress with a matching wrap in the style she had favored since her entrance into society. Her hair was fashioned in the way she had taken to wearing it, loose curls pinned at the base of her nape with flirty tendrils framing her round cheeks. It was a darker shade, but Colin could not help but think of how his dreams had claimed her as his in the blue of his family.

It was one of his more innocent dreams and yet one of the dreams that disturbed him more than the ones of a more lascivious nature.

If he had stayed behind, would they have been his reality?

Nausea settled in his stomach. Penelope had been so insistent that he go on his tour and that she didn’t want him to abandon his plans for her.

It was why he had balled up the note that Eloise had handed to him before he departed and threw it at a random wall of his cabin.

Lord Featherington was dead.

At first, Colin had not known how to react. Archibald Featherington was their neighbor in Mayfair and he would occasionally see him at White’s or the few times the man joined his family at church. Colin knew of his proclivity for gambling and brothels, but he had no real opinion of the man except for the disbelief that any of his daughters could have come from a man like him.

Penelope had never been particularly close with her father, although Colin did note that she had stopped referring to him as her papa and called him father once she had entered society. He wasn’t sure what had caused the change. Her older sisters still called him by the affectionate term, but the only parent Penelope used any endearment with was Lady Featherington.

“We rarely dined as a family,” an odd whisper of Penelope’s voice came to mind. The voice was a bit deeper, but definitely hers, although it was not a conversation Colin remembered ever having. “On special occasions we would, but until we debuted we all ate dinner at a table in the kitchen with Felicity on the nights our father dined at home. We all sat at the table together when it was just my mama.”

Colin knew his family was the outlier when it came to the role of the father in a family. His own father was more than just the figure that sat at the head of the table and provided pin money. Edmund Bridgerton inserted himself in the lives of his children because he wanted to be there for every moment. It was the example that Anthony had followed, more successfully with the youngest two of his siblings.

Other than his distaste for the activities that Lord Featherington enjoyed partaking in, Colin didn’t think much of the man other than he was the father of his dear friend and the man Colin was supposed to speak with when he wanted to ask for Penelope’s hand in marriage.

Dear God. Colin had had his hands all over Penelope while her father was somewhere taking his final breath.

Colin had laughed nervously into his hands at the realization before muttering a string of curses.

Penelope had lost her father, the man responsible for her wellbeing and protection, and Colin was on a boat in the middle of the ocean embarking on his Grand Tour to take in the sights and explore the cultures of the Mediterranean.

He considered finding a boat heading back to England when they reached their first port to replenish supplies. He had. But when he allowed himself time to think about everything, Colin knew it was a bad idea.

Colin couldn’t just show up to Meadow Park while the Featheringtons were in mourning and ask Penelope to marry him.

He could already hear the lectures from Anthony about his rash decision making and how irresponsible he was for abandoning his tour, the same way he had withdrawn from Oxford, and his complete disregard for mourning customs.

Worse, he could picture perfectly how Penelope would look up at him with her big, brown eyes full of disappointment when he came home without even having touched down on Grecian soil.

Penelope had wanted him to go on his Grand Tour━had been insistent that he go.

The night of Hastings Ball, Colin had stormed into Bridgerton House and locked himself away in his room. He ignored the knocks on his door, refusing to answer Benedict’s calls through the wood inviting him for a last drink before his departure the next day. Eventually it was the threat of calling their mother that had Colin leaving the safety of his bedroom.

Luck had been on Colin’s side and Anthony was nowhere to be found. Benedict had shrugged his shoulders and pulled out Anthony’s brandy from its hiding place, pouring a generous three fingers into both his and Colin’s glasses and immediately pouring another three when the glasses were empty.

Benedict loved to indulge, but he was always ill due to the after effects the morning after. No matter how much Colin warned him, Benedict never slowed down. His remedy was to keep drinking from a flask the following day to fight the after effects.

It was as he was indulging that Benedict had brought up Penelope.

Colin had not wanted to speak of what had occurred that night and gratefully, Benedict had not badgered him about anything beyond asking if Colin had a good evening before the rain had sent everyone home.

His brother had commented on how Penelope had changed since her entrance into society and Colin could not help the way he frowned into his glass.

“Penelope hasn’t changed. She is still the same as she has always been,” Colin had muttered, turning his frown towards his older brother.

But that hadn’t been exactly true. Penelope wouldn’t have been as open with him before. Not in person. Their occasional letters during the off season and his time in Eton were free of the mumbled quips and averted looks.

It wasn’t the change from the over embellished and fussy dresses and hair ornaments that made her look like one of those dolls Daphne used to collect and then handed off to Hyacinth when she decided she was too old for them.

Penelope didn’t look away from him when they spoke and because she was out in society and attending social events, she no longer was distracted by Eloise when they were together.

She had always been his friend and Colin had always taken pleasure in collecting moments that were his own. Every laugh, every smile that he could produce was a point in his favor as he held onto their friendship despite the distance being wedged between them due to their sexes.

But then Penelope touched him one day and it felt different than usual. And her smiles came in different flavors. The bitterness of when it was flashed at someone else. The sweetness of when it was his, all his.

Then there was her confession that he had interrupted and the way she bloomed under his kisses. Colin could taste the words she hadn’t said and now he was starved for them. Penelope had grabbed onto his wrists, keeping him as close as possible, and leaned into his touch, granting him as much access to herself as she could—encouraging him to go further.

Like she wanted him to explore her like she was one of his maps.

Always more affectionate when inebriated, Benedict had planted a smack of his lips on Colin’s head when they had called it a night. He had not asked Colin to reveal his inner turmoil, only sat with him in companionable silence. Colin had seen Benedict do the same for Eloise on occasion. As the spare, Benedict was used to being known more for being Number Two

While he knew where he stood, he understood the plight of his younger siblings that craved purpose beyond what was expected of them. It made him much more approachable than their older brother and for Eloise on occasion, even more than Daphne.

“In my heart I’m one and ten,” Eloise had told them one night as they laid by the swings and stared at the stars. “And I’m at Aubrey Hall buzzing with anticipation for my next letter from Penelope. No one has told me yet that I cannot go to Eton with Colin the following year and I’m making plans with Penelope to request fencing lessons.”

Always reaching for something that she could not grasp, Eloise dreaded getting older and entering the world that would make everything lost to her more permanent without even the escape of dreaming.

The opposite of Colin who wanted to get older and away from his youth, reaching towards the world that he would enter without the guidance of his father and feeling as if he didn’t belong when he couldn’t fit himself into the entryways shaped like his older brothers.

There had been moments within the past few months where he hadn’t felt like he was putting more effort into existing in the ton.

Those moments were full of smiles and unrestrained laughter that had Matchmaking Mamas scowling in his and Penelope’s direction. They were full of one dance too many that had added flourishes as they broke through the rigid pegs, refusing to be notched into place along with everyone else and their timed steps.

And then Penelope settled herself into his lap as naturally as if she had been doing it for years—as if she belonged there. And Colin felt that he belonged to something too, made for something.

The feeling fluttered in his chest, winged creatures beating against the confines of  his rib cage. Every soft sigh and gasp feeding them—only for the same warm brown eyes that stirred them to life to halt their flight.

Penelope had looked so confused that he would want to offer for her. Colin had thought that she knew him better than that, that he wouldn’t behave like he had with a woman of her background without rendering an offer of marriage.

Or perhaps she did know him so well and would refuse to be married to him because of that. She had reminded him that while she was attempting to confess her feelings he had never stated that he had returned them. Penelope hadn’t even considered that he did.

And why should she? The first time he came to call on her when she was out in society and without Eloise, he had only come to apologize to her and then she had called him out for his infatuation with her cousin for simply being struck by her beauty. Colin spent plenty of time with Penelope but despite some of their behavior, none of it was officially courting.

Colin had taken advantage of their friendship and her friendship with his sisters—the love his family had for Penelope—in order to secure time with her in his own home. He was going to have to do better to convince her that they were more than just a series of dalliances.

He could not discuss any of their last night together with anyone, not even Daphne or Benedict. Their moment was something that felt solely his. Theirs. Telling anyone else about how she delicately cradled his jaw in her fingers and breathed her feelings into him felt like it could crush what had happened between them—taint it.

So now he was hundreds of miles from home, cradled by waves and unsure of what to make of the path ahead. 

No answers would be found in the dark, vast sea. Perhaps they would surface during the light of day. With that final thought, Colin pushed off the railing and headed back to his quarters.

Dearest Penelope,

Is it approaching Autumn yet? Do not tell me that it has only been a month that we have parted. I do not think I could bear any more weeks away from your company if they are to be like this one.

You would not believe who has come to visit: The Cowpers. I do not know why—I did not wish to know why—but I have been subject to the attentions of one Miss Cressida Cowper. What an absolute viper that woman is.

Benedict had taken off to My Cottage, but did not have the foresight to invite me to go stay with him. He is always ready to make a swift escape. Colin would not have left me to this torment, but I would not have wanted him to have to smile and be polite to that wretched girl.

My brothers are…my brothers. I love them all even when they vex me (see above mention of one brother’s abandonment of me), but I do wish that they were less popular. I did not know it was this bad, Penelope! Were they hounded like this at social assemblies?

Miss C is on the hunt. She has been attempting to win me over with empty flattery and backhanded comments that she believes are compliments so that I may aid her in securing a match with one of my brothers.

How wonderful that Anthony has been so busy during this country visit. I am sure she would love to be viscountess, but it is fortunate that Anthony has that unblinking stare that unsettles people in his pocket to dissuade her flirtations. Other than title she does not really have much to say about my eldest brother.

It is odd, truly. My brothers are some of the best of men, I believe this to be fact. I know of their best and worst qualities, because as humans they do have their flaws. But perhaps it is because they are my brothers that I do not understand the fanfare? I guess the issue will always be that what I believe makes them exceptional, is not what a lady on the hunt seeks from them?

Benedict is best described with Daphne’s favorite adjective for him: dreamy. He gets into his own thoughts, but should an artist not be dreamy? His drawings are improving, but I do hate when he asks me to sit still and pose. It makes me itch to be in one spot for long.

And then he is fluent in French. The language escapes me, but he makes it seem so easy with how it flows from his tongue and although I cannot understand it, it warms me like a cup of drinking chocolate.

On the subject of languages—Colin is masterful of them. I hope someone fixes his pronunciations and accent on his travels, but of all of us he knows the most languages. You would think he was the young lady soon to be thrust into the marriage mart the way he took to learning so many.

And then of all of my brothers he is the most kind and most charming.

(We shall wait and see which way the wind blows Gregory.)

As long as I am not the target of his jokes, Colin is exceedingly kind and the most indulgent of my brothers. Anthony tries as busy as he is with his own affairs, but Colin is the one that genuinely enjoys being with us especially compared to Benedict. Maybe it is because of their ages? I do wish he did not indulge as much on food. You know I do not like sharing, but Colin makes it impossible to avoid as he inhales everything in sight.

I do not wish to wax poetic about them, but allow me to play the Mama flaunting her sons for a moment.

You know my brothers. You have known my family for seven years. You would know all that could possibly make them interesting.

So why is it that Cressida Cowper only interrogates me about their inheritances and interest in marriage?

I would not wish her on any of my brothers, but I kept mum about anything to do with Colin. Brother C is too gentle for the likes of Cressida, although B insists that C has a hidden temper. I asked Daphne and Francesca and they had not seen this supposed temper. C has always been teeth achingly sweet with all of us letters D to H.

He is only twenty and Cressida does not need to know of the existence of Holly Hill, the property Colin is to inherit when he marries or turns five and twenty. Whichever comes first. It is already distasteful that anyone knows of his inheritance.

(It is distasteful that anyone knows of my dowry as if the number for the sum dangles about my neck.)

I wish you were here, Penelope. I do not want to take part in sewing circles nor do I care to discuss fashion and the trends making their way from the Continent. Mama insists that you cannot travel to Aubrey Hall until you are at least in half-mourning. At that time it will almost be time to make our way to Mayfair!

Hopefully the Cowpers leave soon. If they are still here by the time it takes me to finish reading the letter Colin sent me, I will take his horse and make my way to you regardless of my lack of skills in horsemanship. I do not know how Colin found time to write such a lengthy letter. I do not recall his letters from his time in Eton to have been so verbose.

In other news, my orchid is thriving! Not that I expected anything less. I cannot wait to rub its progress in Mister Crane’s nose. If she (how does the man know my orchid is a female of its species?) continues her progress, I may ask him about how one breeds flowers.

Between you and Mister Crane, there is at least some intelligent conversation this week.

With all of my love,

Eloise Bridgerton

Eloise always found a way to warm her spirit with her correspondence. She and Colin had always been the most excellent letter writers. Penelope missed the both of them dearly, the mourning attire Rae had dyed and overlaid with removable layers of black tulle and organza was more for the absence of her best friend and the man she loved than for the death of her father.

Not that she could share that sentiment with anyone in her home. They would all be affronted and not understand that Penelope had gotten over the death of their father so many years ago.

Penelope had taken to sneaking into her father’s study at night when her mother and sisters were sleeping and beginning the plans of course correcting what needed to be. She would see her mother’s plans and nod in approval of the improvements that could be implemented and scratch out and replace the ideas that Penelope knew had not worked for Portia when it came to the estate.

The issue that Penelope kept running into was that this version of her mother was not the version of her mother that had  plotted behind Cousin Jack’s back to take back the barony for a son of her own daughters. Her mother was brilliant and knew the estate from over twenty-two years of helping to manage it, but she was a woman and thus powerless.

She could see the cracks in her mother’s confidence as she went through the copies of the ledgers and her mother’s own scratched out ideas. There were many things that Penelope understood would only work if her mother had been Lord Featherington instead of Lady Featherington.

“Your father was cruel.”

“Ladies do not have dreams. They have husbands.”

Penelope wondered how often her father must have reminded her mother of her place in life. The lesson had been taught in her maiden home, but carried on into a marriage she had only accepted for security and to have the babies she was promised would make her marriage worth all of it.

The babies she had adored despite the fact they were not born males, but had no idea what to do with as they grew older. How could Portia Featherington show her hand and love something that would leave her? Her babies were hers—only hers—while they stumbled on their little legs and gripped at her skirts with pudgy fingers.

But eventually babies grew up and became little girls. Little girls that would become little ladies and then eventually would become young women that were paraded around for a man to snatch up and then it would be as if they were never Portia’s to begin with.

Tears welled in Penelope’s eyes as she found the stack of notes and miniatures her mother had tossed into the bottom drawer of the desk. Lists, just like the lists that Violet Bridgerton made for her own eligible children.

Prudence - proud child; perfect for a gentleman that cares for appearances, a wife to look good on his arm

Philippa - beautiful if not bright, cheerful countenance courted by Mr. Albion Finch; small yearly sum but enough for comfort; seems to adore her

Penelope - sensible child, good at arithmetic and has a head that would suit house management; birthing hips; skilled at pianoforte but unfortunately cannot perform in front of others

Underneath the small descriptions were lists of eligible gentlemen that were years each of her sisters and her senior but by no more than ten years. Only Philippa’s list was crossed out and replaced in a hasty, excited scrawl by minimal details about Albion Finch.

Penelope was not surprised to see that Colin was not listed as a possibility under her own name, but the dull ache in her chest still made itself known. Instead there were lords and misters around Anthony Bridgerton’s age that her mother had even noted would not likely wish to settle for a few years.

There were harshly scratched out names and Penelope couldn’t help the watery chuckle that escaped her mouth. She knew her mother was a huge gossip, but she hadn’t realized how low to the ground her mother’s ear was. In Portia’s experience, mistresses and rakes for husbands were to be expected, but she refused to throw her daughters at unworthy men riddled with scandals or rumors of abuse.

Penelope traced words under her name that she had not expected to see. She had always assumed that it had been her mother’s decision to have her debut early.

Too soon, too young, TOO FANCIFUL - Lord F insists; won’t listen to reason

Knowing what she did now, Penelope knew that it must have been due to their finances that her father had insisted that Penelope debut when she turned seventeen despite the fact the older girls didn’t debut until they were eighteen.

Did her mother see herself in each of them as they donned the white gowns of debutantes? Her mother was harsh, believing love was for fairytales. Doing the math, she was eight and ten when she first had Prudence. Did Portia see herself in her youngest daughter and remember not being ready to sacrifice her life for security?

It was no wonder she dressed Penelope in fussy garments in cuts meant for a younger girl despite highlighting the smaller curves Prudence had. Why she had insisted to Lady Cowper that Penelope was nervous and not ready for the marriage mart.

“I take comfort in knowing you will always be there to take care of me.”

What once had been such a daunting statement, was something Penelope realized she had already been doing regardless. She was the one that set up the entail for her mother. She was the one by chance that gave birth to their family’s heir.

Her mother was silly and critical, but Penelope loved her. Oh, how she loved her and her sisters. From Prudence’s pouts, to Philippa’s dreamy glazed over eyes, to Felicity’s graceful steps. She loved them all.

It was time to get to work.

Dearest Marina…

Dear Pen,

I must first express my deepest condolences over the loss of your father.

This was not meant to be said in a letter. I should be by your side when I say these words and yet I was robbed of the chance because of the choice of someone else.

You, Pen. You decided that you did not want me there to console you, because you knew that I would, didn’t you? You knew I would not leave you and so I had to learn of such a tragic event in your life through a slip of paper Eloise had told me to only read once I was out at sea.

How very clever of the two of you to manage to keep me in the dark…

Penelope raised a brow as she read through the missive. Colin was quite open about his feelings about her and Eloise’s deception. It wasn’t the carefully crafted first letter of the summer that Penelope had originally received in 1813. Colin had allowed himself to write what he was feeling and although she did not wish for him to hurt, it pleased her greatly that she was still the person that Colin opened up to and said things that when he was twenty would have embarrassed him to say to anyone else.

And it was followed immediately by a second letter, one that Colin had written as soon as he had handed off the first letter.

Dear Pen,

How have you been in the country? I assume the country is treating you well and that the condolences of the tenants have been easier to wade through than the attention of the gossips of the ton.

I hope you are reading this letter. As soon as I sent off the last letter, I regretted it immensely. Your father had just passed away and I allowed my feelings of insignificance to paint my writing. I hope my words have not put you off from our promised correspondence.

I wanted to tell you of the red of dawn and how vivid the color was and how it reflected on the sea in a brilliant splash.

I now have firsthand experience with what it means when sailor’s say “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning!” The storm that came rolling in tossed us all about. It reminded me of the day Eloise was upset with Daphne because she wouldn’t share her macarons that were gifted to her for her birthday, so she shook the tin furiously to break the treats inside.

Luckily the furnishings in my cabin were bolted down. I, unfortunately, was not bolted down and a massive wave tossed me out of my bed and I rolled to the opposite wall.

The night sky with its stars makes one aware of how vast the universe must be, but the sea reminds one of how small and inconsequential a person could be. The tales of the mighty stormbringer Poseidon were more than just thrilling stories for us to pass the time, Pen…

She giggled at the passages about his time aboard the ship, warmth flooding her chest at his recalling of the times he spent reading with her and Eloise. Younger Colin would wave his arms dramatically for their entertainment as he deepened his voice and spoke of Poseidon’s temper, teasing that only Eloise was more tempestuous than the Olympian god. Penelope knew from Eloise back in her original 1813 that poor Colin had spent most of the storm casting up his accounts because of how violently he was tossed around in his cabin.

She hid his letter away with all of the correspondence he used to send her from Eton and the one letter he had sent her from Oxford before he returned home in which he had hinted at his withdrawal.

Colin had not outright admitted that he was going to withdraw from university, but rereading the letter had made it clear that it was his intention.

Sighing to herself, Penelope went to look for her family. She couldn’t keep herself locked away, reading her letters from Colin and Eloise.

Her mother was locked away in her father’s old study. Penelope could hear the rustling of paper and the slamming of something heavy hitting the floor as if it was pushed off of the desk. She pressed her ear to the door, only pulling away when it was clear that her mother had not been injured.

Prudence was lounging in the drawing room alone, fanning herself out of boredom. Even in the future where everything was pleasant amongst all of them, Prudence continued to be her least favorite sister to spend time alone in her company. Prudence never stopped being rude and snappish when she was bored and irritated.

Penelope skipped past the drawing room to the open doors that led to the gardens outside where she found Philippa and Felicity with a book.

“Good day,” she murmured, taking a seat next to Philippa.

“Penelope can help you!” Felicity grumbled, pushing up from her seat and skipping away.

“What was that about?”

Philippa rolled her eyes, fiddling with the embroidery hoop in her hands.

“We saw a butterfly neither of us could name and have been trying to find it in this book.” Philippa shot the book a dirty look. “I don’t believe that is a recent edition. How does one tell again?”

Penelope grabbed the book, noting that it was in fact an old copy. She asked Philippa to describe the butterfly and Felicity interjected with her own observations as she skipped around them.

It was odd to see Philippa alone without Albion with her. When the two of them married they were attached at the hip and Penelope rarely saw them apart. She was so used to seeing her older sister giggling with her husband as he drowned her in his adoration.

Penelope had spent the off season after their father’s death with Felicity and writing to Eloise and Colin in the time she had originally come from. She had never noticed how lonely her older sisters had been.

“I miss Mister Finch,” Philippa sighed, not having made a single stitch the entire time they sat in the garden. It was strange not seeing her embroidering little gowns for future babies.

“Have you considered writing him a letter?”

Penelope looked up from the naturalist book her sisters found in their dusty library. She was sure she could find the butterfly Philippa and Felicity had insisted they had spotted in their gardens. Philippa looked at her with her icy blue eyes wide and her mouth opened into a perfect ‘O.’

“You are engaged, Philippa.” Penelope rolled her eyes and flipped the page when the drawing looked nothing like the description her sisters had given her. “You’re allowed to write to him.”

They sat together in silence, watching Felicity cartwheel despite it being something their mother had scolded her for earlier. Without a governess, Felicity was enjoying a small sense of freedom.

“I don’t think I’ve written a letter since our old governess made me write one to Aunt Petunia.”

Penelope blinked rapidly. She had forgotten about that. It wasn’t until she had revealed herself as Lady Whistledown that Philippa had taken up writing correspondences and reading. Philippa had found the book of fairy tales that they all had read when they were younger and took to reading out loud to her baby while she was pregnant, moving on to other books, resting them on her bump as she finally realized why her younger sister loved the stories in them so much.

“I can help you,” Penelope offered softly. Philippa gave her a wary smile, but nodded in acceptance.

“I can tell him about the bugs in Meadow Park,” Philippa chirped, turning her attention back to her embroidery hoop. “There’s tons here we don’t see in any of the gardens when we are back in London.”

Frowning, Penelope slumped back in her seat. That was true. There were various species of critters that were localized to certain areas. She had learned of that from discussions with Lord Debling during their courtship.

“That’s a fascinating observation, Philippa.”

“I notice things.” Philippa waved her hand dismissively as she threaded a new color onto her needle. “I am brilliant too.”

“Yes.” Penelope smiled at the nineteen year old version of her sister—dismissed by the ton for being loud and because they thought her head was full of fluff—fondly. “Yes, you are.”

Philippa beamed, pleased with herself, and turned back to her needlework, humming not so softly under her breath.

Dear Colin,

How are you? I hope the weather has been treating you well. You must be enjoying all of the sun even if it comes with much more heat than you are accustomed to.

I expected your ire, so I was not surprised by the contents of your first letter. I in fact welcome your ire. Unburden yourself of those feelings you bottle up.

I adore you for your kindness and the way you care for others. That has not—will not—change, Colin. So, yes I did know you would have abandoned your tour if your feet were still planted on land when you discovered the news of my father’s passing.

Do not view my refusal to marry you when you implied a proposal as me believing you were not up to the task or that you were incapable of being the most wonderful husband.

It is not your youth or character that deterred me at that moment. Years of being privy to your longing for travel stayed my hand for I would have preferred to have told you myself, but I would not have been able to let go if you offered me comfort.

I could not be so selfish.

Eloise has been impatient as always for my visit to Aubrey Hall. I had hoped Felicity would be able to go with me this summer, but those plans had been discussed prior to my father’s passing. I don’t believe my mama will allow her to join me even when she and I reach half mourning. I know Hyacinth and Gregory would enjoy having another companion around their age.

I know Felicity would appreciate it. She has far too much energy for her older sisters. Prudence had snapped at her and somehow Prudence's braid ended up in an inkwell. In her sleep.

I wonder how that could have occurred.

Will you tell me more about the cliffs? How do they compare to the ones you visited in Wales and Scotland?

Yours affectionately,

Penelope Featherington

Horsemanship wasn’t something that had appealed to Penelope when she was younger and her mother didn’t care to encourage it, preferring that Penelope stayed indoors when they were in the country to keep from freckling.

There were many factors that kept her from riding when she was younger and one of them had been her height in comparison to such great beasts, but Kate had been the one to point out that the Featherington Estate was her home and her land. A horse would make it easier for her to reach all of its corners and help manage it.

Unlike Prudence who detested riding anyway, Penelope did not own a riding habit or boots. Her feet were much smaller than Prudence’s and it was unlikely that a pair from childhood would be found.

Penelope wished her mother had been more agreeable when Daphne offered to take her riding before she was married. She would have had the proper attire available.

Her mother would kill her if she discovered that she had not only gone horseback riding but had been riding astride instead of side saddle.

But that was a problem for the future. Not for now as Penelope took her father’s horse in the early hours of the morning and took off in a random direction that she knew no one in her household could follow her.

Taking a deep breath, Penelope screamed into her hands.

Her screams turned into sobs that she could not restrain and needed to be unleashed before she broke down in front of her family.

It was easier when she was in Mayfair. So much easier when she could cross the square and find her husband in his family’s drawing room and take comfort that she had his love even if it was only as his friend.

But here at her family’s country seat she was forced to wake up alone in her bed. There was no comfort in his arms and her children were not in the nursery. She would not find him in the gardens with them. She wouldn’t hear him tell stories of how he once had to paint a picture of their home in his mind just from descriptions their mama wrote to him in letters.

Penelope’s heart broke every morning when she rose from her bed. Her heart broke when she broke her fast and there was no playful fight over the last of the raspberry jam. Her heart broke when there was no laughter, loud yet gentle ringing through the halls with the giggling of children accompanying it.

Placing a hand on her stomach, Penelope wept for the little life she had loved and lost before she could meet them.

She cried until her throat ached and her head throbbed with a headache from all of the tears she had shed. And when she was done, she took a shuddering breath and climbed back on her horse. She grunted from the strain of using muscles she did not have in the summer of 1813 and made her way back home to where no one would have noticed her absence.

Because the only people that would have did not yet exist or were hundreds and hundreds of miles away.

Dearest Cousin,

Can anyone truly be so happy? It still feels as though a dream that my George is with me. If it be a dream, I do not wish to wake.

I once again express my condolences for the loss of your father. I cannot imagine what fate would have befell me if I did not have my George and my new brother Phillip and it was my father that had passed. Even if there was no affection after the passing of my mama, there was security.

You must send word posthaste if the new Lord Featherington that is found is the type of man that does not do his duty to his familial relations and decides to throw you from your home. George and I have no need for our London residence—nor does Phillip as he will be attending Cambridge—and I am sure I could convince him to let it to your family during the next London Season. I do not imagine you to be on the Mart long. Your Mister Bridgerton seems the eager sort and I expect great news once he returns from that tour you were telling me about before I left London.

Phillip seems to enjoy their correspondence and discussing Greece with Mister Bridgerton. His hands are either covered in dirt or ink these days when he isn’t fussing over how I am faring with my morning sickness. He always has cups of tea ready before I can make a complaint. How pleasant it is to have an older brother.

Speaking of my dear new brother. I am sending him to Meadow Park to personally deliver the books you requested on irrigation and crop cultivation. He shall be there in a few weeks. I am sure you can convince Lady Featherington to allow him as a guest within that time. Phillip is quite knowledgeable and will be a formidable ally to your family.

Then he may escort you and Felicity with your chaperone to Romney Hall for a visit here before I am forced into my confinement, perhaps?

Sincerely,

Lady Marina Crane

“Well aren’t you a pretty one?”

Colin’s jaw clenched as he held himself back from scowling. It wasn’t the first time someone had described him as such. He was used to hearing it from his brothers’ friends and even some of the men at the club closer in age to him like Cho, Stanton, and Wilding especially when he was being compared to his older brothers with their sharper features and chiseled jaws.

It was one of the things that made him so popular when he was a few years into Eton, especially with the older boys. Colin had always been rather picky with his partners and withheld his attention when it came to petulant classmates that couldn’t comprehend that he didn’t handle rapiers other than his own.

“You look good all cleaned up, boy.”

“I wish I could offer the same compliments,” Colin drawled, narrowing his eyes at the plain-faced man from the ship. “I will say that your countenance is vastly improved by the lack of green.”

“I do much better atop a horse,” Murray agreed, collapsing into his seat with a groan.

“So you keep telling me.” Murray shot him a glare and Colin barked out a laugh.

Murray was a Scot that he had met on board the ship leaving Portugal playing cards with a few of the sailors that Colin had convinced to teach him the knots they worked with. They had made fast friends, but Colin never really did have difficulty with making friends. It was why his siblings taunted him for being such a charmer.

The two of them had decided to become companions of sorts while their itineraries matched up. Murray only had a couple of days for pleasure in between meeting with his father’s contacts for his trading company.

“A letter from your sweetheart?” Murray nodded his head towards the letter in Colin’s hand.

Colin’s cheeks flushed with heat at the descriptor. He enjoyed it far much more than he should have been allowed. Colin rolled his eyes and folded  the letter from Penelope causing Murray to snicker. Colin didn’t need to confirm or deny it, Murray would assume what he liked about their relationship no matter Colin’s answer.

Penelope was his dearest friend, one of his oldest friends, and yet reflecting back on the years and the past Season, there had always been something coloring every smile and every laugh in warm hues of rose. Something had been blooming, slowly unfurling like the buds in his mother’s gardens.

Colin didn’t think Penelope would respond to him after the first letter he had penned while inebriated and angry and yet there was a letter waiting for him at the lodgings he had told her he would be staying at after he docked in Italy. She must have written as soon as she received his letter and sent it out at the soonest opportunity.

I would not have been able to let you go…

Warmth blossomed, slow and soothing starting somewhere in the middle of his chest.

Dearest friend.

Sweetheart.

Oldest friend.

Sweetheart.

Perhaps something he didn’t have to try and name when he was oceans away.

Miss Penelope knew Rae was shuffling around her room, but she didn’t acknowledge her presence. Rae could tell by the way her young lady’s gaze would occasionally drift to where she couldn’t help but make a sound as she went about her tasks.

Working as a lady’s maid suited Rae. She had always been the quiet sort, but also steely. She had to be in order to survive in the world.

The Featherington family didn’t pay as well as other families, but accepting the low pay made it easier to be hired and find a position upstairs even without a letter of reference from her previous employer.

Rae had only been with her young Miss for a couple of years before she debuted in society and while the Lord of the house left much to be desired and the Lady was on the higher end of ridiculous when it came to Ambitious Mamas, Rae could say she liked her charge.

She placed a bladder on Miss Penelope’s lower back to help with the pains from her courses. Miss Penelope always felt discomfort in her back and legs and some headaches that would make her more irritable than usual even if she was more quiet about it than her older sisters, but the melancholy was new.

Every month since April, Miss Penelope would fall into a deep sorrow when the symptoms started and she would withdraw into herself as soon as the maids needed to wash out the blood from her sheets and Rae had to fetch her rags.

The first time Miss Penelope became distraught at the sight of the blood on her sheets, Rae had been confused and worried. Miss Penelope had wailed into her hands in such a disconcerting manner that Rae could do nothing but embrace her, stroking her hair until she settled.

She didn’t want to assume that Miss Penelope was doing something more than traveling to St. Bride’s Church to drop off those papers of hers, but it made her wonder sometimes if perhaps she should stop taking the extra coins Miss Penelope gave her for assisting her and keeping her secret.

If Miss Penelope missed a single course when they returned to Mayfair, Rae would march right across the square to speak with Lady Bridgerton. Some secrets were not worth the extra coins in her purse

For now, she would fetch her peppermint tea for her stomach and wait for Miss Penelope to come back to herself.

A memory like an elephant her husband had claimed.

Penelope remembered the years living in the country despite her mother’s love of societal affairs. Years with just her mother and her sisters and Archibald Featherington only spending time with them during the off season.

All until Portia Featherington had gathered herself and demanded that the whole family  move into their Mayfair house.

“My daughters require language tutors and dance instructors,” her mother had snapped at their father. “A proper art tutor. We shall all be moving to London in preparation for Prudence’s entrance into society in a few years.”

Penelope had thought nothing of it at the time, but now it was all she could think about.

My daughters. Not ‘ours,’ but mine. How often had Penelope heard her mother refer to them as “my girls?”

There were many lessons under the instruction of Portia Featherington.

1. Security over fancy
2. One must not let potential husbands know that they are smarter than them
3. A beguiling smile was as important of an accessory as a diamond parure
4. Tiny neat stitches in embroidery and bites just as small when eating
5. Love is for your babies

Portia Featherington did not just love her babies, but guarded them jealously. Penelope and her sisters belonged to Archibald Featherington when it came to duty and responsibility. The Featherington girls were only Portia’s when they passed milestones or racked up accomplishments.

Prudence. Philippa. Penelope. The first three girls in the set of four were named in the theme of the letter P after their mother. They would always be Featherington and have what little  protection the name offered them, but the P made them belong to Portia.

And then came Felicity. The only girl that did not follow the pattern and came several years after the first three. A baby that should not have happened, but regardless of how she came to be, Portia would not be robbed of her happiness. So the fourth and last daughter was named Felicity so that she would always know that she was beloved despite not being born a son.

A happy name for a happy child.

A lesson Portia had been teaching Penelope her whole life without letting the words fall out of her mouth in the proper order was how the world would demand her to be loud and small at the same time.

Penelope had to remind herself that her mother that was in front of her wasn’t used to her speaking up as often as she did. Portia Featherington of 1813 was used to Penelope hiding away in her books or getting lost in her thoughts, “thinking too much.”

“Lady Crane has done what ?” Portia huffed, eyes wide as she processed what Penelope had just told her. “She has invited Mister Crane into our home without my permission?”

“Mister Crane is a botanist that has used his studies to improve the yield of crops and the profitability of the lands owned by the Crane family,” Penelope explained. It wasn’t completely accurate as they had only started implementing the use of his studies in the last couple of years after his father had died. But her mother wouldn’t know that or be able to look into it. “Our Cousin Marina believes that he can help us here and make improvements for our tenants.”

Portia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her mother’s hair was loose, tumbling down her back instead of in her usual perfectly pinned style. She was never so lax, not even in the country, but the stress of their missing funds and the mourning period keeping her from receiving guests kept her from primping as she typically would.

So odd not to see her mother unburdened, living the life of a doting grandmother and always bringing all of her granddaughters frilly little gowns and bows that Penelope could now acknowledge are quite darling when they were not on her own much too grown person. Despite having already lived this summer, Penelope was taken aback every morning she came down to break her fast with the family and her mother was her version of frumpy.

“I know,” Penelope kept her voice soft in an attempt to placate her mother, “that you believe it is in our best interest to keep it secret from everyone what is happening, but they are our family and they are here. They care for us more than some distant relation in the Americas.”

It did not matter that they never quite knew if the Featherington family was actually related to the Thompson family. It did  not seem to matter after Phillip married Marina and took her away from Mayfair. Especially when the closest living relation that was found to them was Jack Featherington and he was a third cousin. If Mister Thompson really were related to the Featheringtons, there was nothing tying him to the widow and daughters of the late baron that was indebted to him.

But in this world─this timeline─Lady Marina Crane was a dear friend to Penelope and believed that she was the cousin of the Featherington girls. And most importantly, she loved them.

“The new Lord Featherington will have more incentive to keep us around.”

Her mother cocked her head, quirking an eyebrow at her statement. Her eyes roamed across her face, searching for something.

Whatever it was that she was looking for, Penelope did not know and did not get an answer for. Her older sisters had chosen that moment to shuffle into the dining room and with a tilt of her head Portia gestured for Penelope to eat her breakfast, ending the conversation.

The next time Penelope was able to find her mother alone, the sour notes of wine wafted about what used to be her father’s study and everyone in the house had long gone to bed. Everyone but her and her mother who appeared to have decided to fill her stomach with the contents of the wine cellar now that their food stores were not as full as they usually were.

Penelope was sure she had seen Varley taking up the role of the gamekeeper and was hunting and butchering the wild ducks on their lands on her own. It wouldn’t be as easy to feed the family when they returned to Mayfair.

“First came Prudence and she wasn’t a disappointment. No. Not to me,” Portia slurred. “The disappointment was that I would have to go to my husband again until I was with child again as soon as I was able to because there was no heir. I knew I would need to provide a spare, but there wouldn’t have been that much of a hurry if there was already a son to care for.”

Penelope attempted to take the goblet in Portia’s hand from her, but her mother pulled her hand towards her chest, curling her arm defensively to keep Penelope from trying again.

The same goblet in her mother’s hand was never seen again after this Summer. It was one of the many items that Portia had Mrs. Varley discreetly sell when it was time for the Featherington women to return from the country.

“I’m not sure what went wrong with Philippa,” Portia narrowed her eyes as she stared off into space. “Another girl, but surely she would marry well. Yet, only Mister Finch came calling. No title…”

If Philippa—beautiful, beautiful Philippa—had been from a different family and if she kept her thoughts to herself, perhaps she would have had better luck in the Marriage Market. Better luck according to Matchmaking Mamas hunting for titled men. Philippa was luckier than most girls. Her husband-to-be adored her and was completely besotted with her. Philippa may not be rich in wealth, but she was richer in her married life than many women in the ton could say they were. Albion had gone almost a  whole year without consummating their marriage back in Penelope’s original timeline. All he wanted was Philippa and to be happy with her.

“One married daughter, but her husband will not have the income to support us if need be.” Portia took a swig of wine, sloshing a bit over her wrist as she pulled the cup away from her mouth.

Guilt wormed its way into Penelope’s stomach. She could not tell her mother that help was coming in the form of a fake entail nor could she bring any attention to an extremely possible marriage with a gentleman with practically unlimited income. Not that her mother would believe it with Colin traveling around the mediterranean. If they were not in mourning and the dowries weren’t missing, Prudence could have been introduced to Harry Dankworth sooner.

“Mayhaps my aunt can take Felicity,” Portia murmured, speaking more to herself than to Penelope. “But funds for a Season…the grocer…more than the butcher…”

Potatoes. The cook had to be let go and Varley—loyal Varley—cooked up meals that she had eaten herself growing up with whatever could be bought from the grocer. Potatoes made the bulk and on the rare occasion, butter could be spared. Penelope had paid bills in secret, her mother believing that they had run into a stroke of luck to be forgotten on those occasions. They had bacon with their potatoes on those days.

“—and that is if we get a Season. Lord Featherington will no doubt be arriving before my girls can attend a single ball…we’ll be on the streets…destitute…the home of my daughters taken from them and—“

“ You are Lady Featherington,” Penelope raised her voice and interrupted her mother to stop her downward spiral. Portia’s mouth clamped shut at the outburst. Penelope swallowed convulsively as she stared her mother down.

“Penelope Anne Feather—“

“You are Lady Featherington,” Penelope interrupted her again. “You. You are the one that plans the dinner parties and invites the vicar and the tenants of most import to dine. You are the one that makes sure there are gifts from our own gardens sent, even if you do not personally attend to the task. You know how to balance books and make arrangements. You are Baroness Featherington and you are the face and voice the estate knows. Not some uncle or cousin from the Americas whose only accomplishments are being born male and by happenstance had the right relative die.”

Penelope needed her mother, the one that declared that no man would run their household and tell them what to do. Not the one that was too scared to make any move for fear of what the next heir could possibly do with them.

Penelope needed her mother that took the name Featherington from meaning obnoxious, vibrant colored, squawking birds to meaning wings for flight—for freedom.

“What happened to my little dormouse?” Portia asked, voice soft, unbelieving.

“She grew up, Mama.”

Because as much as she looked like she was seventeen, Penelope was not that awkward and quiet girl anymore that mumbled under her breath. She had lived that life and she would not go back.

This version of her mother wasn’t used to affection—giving and receiving. It did not stop Penelope from brushing her knuckles against her mother’s cheek. Startled, Portia flinched but Penelope did not remove her hand. Lower lip trembling, her mother leaned into her touch, wrapping her fingers around Penelope’s wrist.

“This has been your home longer than the one of your birth,” Penelope murmured, taking her mother’s goblet from her and placing it on her father’s old desk. “We must do something to keep it from falling further into disarray.”

Portia nodded. Closing her eyes did not keep the tears at bay. Penelope used her thumb to wipe at the tears that slipped down her mother’s cheeks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in your cups, Mama.”

“Do not be impertinent, Penelope Anne,” Portia sniped, but nuzzled her cheek against Penelope’s hand. “I am still your mother.”

… Prudence has been on a rampage. She finally realized that she had left her flute in our country home and had taken to playing it at all hours of the day.

You will notice that I said “had.”

She has been complaining that it has gone missing until she’s blue in the face and insisting that it was either Felicity or I that took it.

Oh, how outraged she will be if she discovers that it was in fact her favorite sister, Philippa, who hid it!

Yours affectionately,

Penelope Featherington

The Featherington women lined up outside as Phillip Crane’s carriage made its way to the manor. The minimal staff still on retainer lined up on the other side.

Mrs. Varley, Rae, a scullery maid,  two footmen, the groundskeeper, and the steward that was waiting to assist Mister Crane. The cook was in the kitchen. They had lost the lady’s maids of the older girls a couple of weeks ago and Briarly kept to the London residence.

For the first time since they had arrived in their Surrey home, Portia was impeccably dressed and her hair immaculate, even if she was in a dreary mourning gown.

Penelope gripped the skirts of her gown tightly as Phillip stepped out of his carriage. He wasn’t Eloise, but he felt very much a part of her, an extension of her best friend and the sister of her heart.

“Welcome, Mister Crane,” Portia greeted him, voice sweet as she flashed her society smile for him. Her mask was back up and she was even more like the mother they were all used to. “I do hope the trip wasn’t too strenuous. Please, come inside and Mrs. Varley will show you to your room so you may refresh yourself.”

Phillip greeted them all, making sure not to keep his gaze too long on any of the girls. Penelope had warned him when they were in Mayfair that if he paid any significant amount of attention to any of them that her mother would latch onto that and pester him, forcing him into spending more time with one of her sisters. Penelope could only hope that her mother still found her as hopeless as she had back in her original 1813. Despite the few changes after her debut, she still finished the London Season without a single suitor.

She did not count Colin. Portia was not privy to anything between her and Colin but if she knew what had happened in the Hastings’ drawing room, Penelope would have found herself married, mourning period and lack of dowry or not.

Colin had always danced with Penelope when they attended the same balls. Despite the fact that they never followed the rules and danced more than allowed and could always be found in each other’s company, it did not signify. No one paid any mind or thought anything of it. Well, no one other than Simon who had commented the last time that they spoke that it was even more baffling now that they were repeating the past that Penelope and Colin were not a courting couple with an understanding, especially now that Colin had never turned his attention to Marina.

It wasn’t until Phillip was readying himself to walk the grounds and inspect the fields the following day that Penelope had found a moment to speak with him without anyone else present.

“I’m not one for metaphysical science,” Phillip muttered. “Once I leave for university, there will be more opportunities to research our predicament.

Penelope nodded in acceptance. She didn’t have much hope on that front during the off season. She was using all of her energy and prayers in the hope of Sophie’s discovery. Michael had written to Phillip that there was a lead, but when he had visited the country house, he had missed the maid with a similar description to  Sophie by weeks. The search continued.

“How is Marina? And Sir George?”

Phillip’s jaw clenched as he stared at a spot above her shoulder.

“It is difficult to describe, seeing them alive and well.” Penelope understood that. She had the same difficulty when Marina had arrived during Spring. “I am elated that they are healthy and with us, but there is a fear that I will wake up and I will be alone in Romney Hall. No George. No Marina. No Amanda. No Oliver. And no Eloise and no Penny. They are happy, but I still worry for Marina.”

“It’s not melancholy is it?” Penelope covered her mouth with both hands, closing her eyes in distress. “But Sir George is alive!”

“I believe that Marina had always dealt with it, but the loss of George had made it worse.” Phillip twisted his leather work gloves in his hands. “It is not as severe as before, but she has moments. George is keeping a close eye on her, tending to her.”

Penelope bit at the nail of her thumb. All of Marina’s letters were so joyous in nature, she hadn’t considered what Marina could be feeling in between each post. There were still weeks before her visit to Romney Hall.

Phillip cleared his throat, pulling Penelope from her thoughts.

“May I say something without it being misconstrued as an insult?”

“What is it?”

“You have lost weight Penelope.” Phillip swallowed, averting his gaze. “More than would be expected simply due to losing some puppy fat.”

“Phillip!” Penelope gasped, affronted. It was the most polite way anyone had taken note of her weight loss in any time, but she was still taken aback that Phillip would bring it up at all.

“The same happened with Marina, Penelope,” Phillip murmured. “And your mother kept insisting on helpings of cake at tea. Eloise has told me enough about Lady Featherington to know that is out of the ordinary.”

It wasn’t that her mother was practically strict about food when it was just them, but she would never insist on more helpings when they had guests. It went along with her rule about small bites, to look as prim and demure as possible. Until they were wed, the Featherington girls were meant to seem as if they survived on air. When they were married they could eat as much as they liked without care.

“You look gaunt. Tired. You have a gray pallor even without the yellow dresses.”

Penelope gaped at him, affronted. How dare he━

“Eloise would have me by the throat if she knew that I have witnessed you like this and did nothing about it.” Phillip opened his satchel for field work and dug around for tea sachets. “It’s an herbal blend that should help with energy and focus. Chamomile. Chamomile will help with your appetite as well as sleep.”

Penelope looked at the sachets in her hands as Phillip explained the benefits of all of the herbs and the different blends in each sachet. Phillip already had them on hand.

“You’ve been using it yourself,” Penelope said softly, not a question. Phillip gave her a short, curt nod.

“And with Marina,” Phillip confessed.

Penelope exhaled, slow and stuttering. She should have known better. It wouldn’t be simple, no nothing could be so simple. They would need to keep an eye on her after the birth of the twins.

Phillip gave her a nod goodbye and took off to work, leaving Penelope standing in the hall on her own, picking at her nails. She would have to make sure to keep up with her correspondence with Marina.

There was something about lying on the ground that made feelings seem so much louder, made Colin more contemplative.

Or perhaps it was the effects of the tea he had consumed. While spirits drowned his thoughts, the powder for his tea made him more introspective.

 When he was traveling, Colin always felt melancholy around the same week without fail. It did not matter how far he was from Aubrey Hall nor how distracted he became and forgot the dates. The sorrow would settle in his bones and demand to be acknowledged.

He remembered the day.

Anthony and Benedict being so much older than the rest were off doing things the eldest brothers did without their siblings or their parents. Colin being third after them was still too young to be part of their secrets and activities meant for just them.

Colin remembered that they had used his still recovering back as an excuse as to why he couldn’t go riding with them. Not that they would have wanted to watch over him, make sure that their ten year old brother could manage his horse. He remembered staying out of his father’s way as his back continued to sting, the twinges that lingered reminding him of the lesson his father attempted to instill in him with each crack of the whip on his back.

The lesson—the reprimand—buzzing on his skin like the very bee that Eloise had told them had stung their father before he collapsed, twitched as he scratched at his throat, and then stopped moving altogether.

He could still feel those hours in which his younger siblings had no one but him to turn to. The glazed over look as Eloise continued to mutter to herself the events of what happened as if she were attempting to complete a puzzle. The vacant way Daphne sat in the main hall as if she expected their father to walk in through the doors as if they hadn’t just watched the footmen carry his body up to his chambers. Always quiet Francesca hadn’t spoken a word and somehow that was louder than if she had been sobbing.

Gregory remained in the nursery, unaware of what had happened.

Their mother was beyond their reach. Mrs. Wilson had to direct the servants and contact the doctor that confirmed the death.  Their father’s  secretary only cared to wait for Anthony to return home and inform him that he was the new viscount.

Colin had rounded up their siblings into the nursery, attempting to settle Eloise who was in shock. After a while Daphne stopped  singing with Colin and went to the front hall and waited for their older brothers so that the first person to let them know about their father wouldn’t be the steward. Later she confessed that every time she heard footsteps she had turned to the sound, hoping to see their father turning the corner. Seeing Benedict had almost broken her because he looked so much like their father.

It was Benedict at last that had found him. Anthony was holding vigil in the room that held their father’s body, but as soon as Benedict had confirmed what they had been told he found Colin.

“You did good, Col,” Benedict murmured into Colin’s hair as he pulled him into his arms. Colin slumped into his arms and just breathed for a moment.

Benedict had been a safe place to simply exist around again when they thought there was a chance they might lose their mother as well. Daphne had sung to Eloise and Francesca to try and distract them from their mother’s screams. Sixteen year old Benedict had hidden away behind his sketchbook and Colin sat by his feet, comforted with the knowledge that he could say he was fine and no one would be concerned to inquire further.

Colin knew he could be evasive. His aunt had always said—almost accusingly—that he was quite the charmer, flashing the most disarming of smiles.

“I think you could get away with murder if you so choose.”

Shaking the random thought that sounded oddly like Penelope speaking to him, he sat up and swept his arms over the grass, running his fingers through the blades.

He had told Benedict that he would go to Italy. It was the only country outside of England that Benedict had ever visited. He wasn’t fond of traveling, but he had enjoyed the sunshine. It was the only letter Benedict had responded to, short and with less enthusiasm than Colin had hoped.

Benedict was his favorite brother, but Colin found himself wearing his mask around him often and he would just accept it. It was why he wished more than ever for Daphne’s words. His sister was born a year after him and although they were not the accidental twins that Eloise and Francesca were, she was the closest sibling he had. Daphne knew him best, but he could not bother her with his letters.

Daphne was enjoying her life as a newlywed and by the time Colin returned home there would be a niece or nephew to meet.

Everyone else seemed too busy—even Eloise who was perhaps the best correspondent in the family had forgotten about him.

Despite the distance and the first letter, Penelope replied often. She sometimes sent multiple letters after one of his so that he would receive one a couple days after the last one. He was always eager to respond so there were times he had already dispatched his response before he could read the following letter.

Colin would  skim through his journal when he got the extra letters to find an anecdote that would amuse Penelope. He had to edit the stories when there was coarse language or details that he knew Anthony would grow apoplectic if he knew Colin shared with Penelope and Eloise.

He had attempted to wait once so that he could respond to all of her letters of one week in a single letter, but there was so much he wished to share and didn’t want to lose his thoughts.

And the sooner he sent a letter, the sooner he would get one back.

Penelope wanted nothing more than the safety of her bed. Ever since Phillip had pointed out that she was suffering bouts of melancholy and that there were visible physical changes, Penelope was trying to catch the unsettling behaviors. It was when her mother was having tea trays with extra slices of cake sent to her that Penelope could not contain her tears and realized that she had to do better.

“If…if Felicity must be sent away,” Penelope asked as Rae pulled gowns out to pack for her visit to Romney Hall, “will you go with her?”

Rae stared at her blankly, processing what she said.

“If it is what you ask of me, Miss.”

“I would supplement your pay.” It was what Penelope had offered in the original Summer of 1813, the week that it was decided that Felicity would be sent to Bath to stay with their maternal great aunt.

Rae didn’t always accept payment from Lady Whistledown for anything she did for Penelope because of Whistledown. Only when she made the rare drops at St. Bride’s for her during hours her absence could be noted, like she did at the end of the season when the Featherington women were confined to their home after the death of Penelope’s father.

There was a bond between the lady’s maids and their charges that was severely underestimated. Especially by the men in the lady’s life. A mistake her own cousin, Jack Featherington, had made. Mrs. Varley was more Portia’s housekeeper than she was a Featherington maid and for all of her tackiness and criticism, Portia Featherington was not a cruel employer, only a poor one that could not pay well enough on her own.

When they all began to lose staff because of the ruin of the reveal of Marina’s secret in the original 1813, Rae was one of the few loyal staff that stayed with the Featheringtons despite the scandal. When the Featheringtons had to cut their staff, Rae was one of the few that requested to remain in their service even if it meant a cut in pay. The only thing that had separated her and Penelope for a year was because she went to Bath with Felicity under Penelope’s instruction.

Rae always had the subtlest of expressions. The slightest of swallows and tremble of her fingers that were hooked together was the only sign that she was upset with the idea.

“If my Miss requires it of me, I shall follow Miss Felicity until the moment when I am called back to your service.”

Not if she was called back, but when .

Penelope had appreciated it back when she was seventeen, but it was only now with the memories of years with Rae that she could truly see the blessing.

She had never meant to eavesdrop on Rae when she was younger. It was yet another one of those moments that Penelope was invisible even to those that were meant to make themselves invisible. She had just wanted to tell Rae that she had wanted to return home when she heard other maids Rae was acquainted with gossiping about their employers.

“You can’t possibly not have a single complaint.” A maid in the Gunningworth colors scoffed as a maid in the gray of the Cowpers’ uniforms snickered. “My own chit is spoiled rotten to the core. She’s turning out to be as much of a witch as her mother.”

Rae shook her head and as quiet as she always was said, “Just for the ink stains. My Miss loves to read and to write. A quiet and kind young lady.”

“What? That’s it?” The Gunningworth maid scoffed. “I’ve seen the chit and we all know her mama. No more promotions coming that way. No callers grace that drawing room.”

“I do not care to be promoted,” Rae had responded softly. “I will be fine as long as her mama keeps me in her employ. I like my Miss.”

“Oh, Maggie let it go,” the Cowper maid had waved her hand dismissively. “Rae here was a scullery maid for the Cavender home a couple years back and then moved to work as a maid for the upper floor. She only stayed there for a week after her promotion.”

That had been the end of the conversation because Rae had noticed Penelope’s presence. Rae was only a little older than Prudence and quiet, much quieter than Daphne’s lady’s maid, Rose, who loved to gossip with her and took pride in not being a Bridgerton maid, but Daphne’s maid and was her friend. Another lady’s maid that would do anything for her lady.

At the time Penelope knew nothing of the Cavender family, only that they were not titled and there was only one son. When asked, Rae only said that she wished to work for a young lady so she left to seek employment elsewhere. Later, Penelope wrote about Phillip Cavender and his fruitless pursuit of Cressida Cowper.

It had been Sophie that revealed what Rae had possibly experienced. Sophie who would not wish Phillip Cavender on anyone, even Cressida.

“My Mama’s aunt can be…difficult,” Penelope explained. “And my cousins are no better. I do not wish for her to be lonely.”

Rae stared at her in that way that made Penelope always feel as if her lady’s maid could see right into her soul, much too knowing.

“Will you not be lonely, Miss?”

Penelope considered for a moment what would have been an appropriate response, unsure if this was how the conversation had occurred in the original summer of 1813.

Rae had been the second face she saw when she woke up again in 1813 and the most constant. Her presence was always there, silent but comforting as she had been as her lady’s maid and then her housekeeper and even as the person that took over nursemaid duties.

For years, Rae had been the presence in the corner of a room attending to her mending as Penelope worked on her embroidery, read, or practiced her skills on the pianoforte—clapping when Penelope finished a song.

“Very,” Penelope decided to answer. “I shall be very lonely. And I do not wish that for Felicity.”

Rae bowed her head in acknowledgement, accepting her potential new task.

“I shall miss you,” Penelope blurted out loud, unable to contain the words. Rae’s eyes widened, lips parting at the outburst. “I-if you must go. I shall miss you as well.”

Rae smiled softly, lower lip trembling. It was easy to forget that Rae was also so young in this time, just a girl of two and twenty with no home but the one that employed her.

“And I shall miss you as well, Miss Penelope.”

… I should have joined you on your tour. Nothing good comes from visiting my father’s estate.

I have made my way back to London and never shall I step foot on those lands again…

Colin frowned as he read over Robert’s letter once more. He leaned back in his chair and wondered what could have possibly happened for his friend to swear off from romantic pursuits. Robert Kemble had always been a flirt—it was something they had in common—but to Colin’s knowledge, Robert wasn’t looking to marry anytime soon despite the insistence from his father to get a move on with producing heirs.

Robert had been the one to take him to his first brothel. Colin hadn’t wanted to go through the embarrassment his older brothers would have put him through if they had dragged him to an establishment. On his eighteenth birthday, Robert had been the one to steer him inside with a firm grip on his shoulders.

While the evening had been pleasurable, it had left something to be desired. Perhaps it was because it was all so transactional? Colin preferred flirtation where it was clear that both parties were enjoying themselves without expectation.

Colin had enjoyed himself. It was just fact. Colin had really enjoyed himself. Physically at least. But the idea of going back and starting over with a new woman left a sour taste in his mouth and made his stomach churn. The idea of keeping a mistress or two like his older brothers didn’t appeal to him as well. Colin didn’t want a relationship that was just the exchange of temporary pleasure meant for the shadows.

It was why his mind kept replaying the brief moment with Penelope in one of the drawing rooms in Hastings House. It wasn’t just pleasurable to feel her lush body against him, in his hands. There was the way Penelope looked at him as if his kisses and his touch were feeding her very soul. The same wide mouth that was perfect for kissing was the one that made him laugh when she shared her wit.

Soft smiles from across crowded rooms that guided his feet, pulling him home.

Colin folded Robert’s letter and tossed it on the meager pile of correspondence from home. As he was becoming prone to doing, he grabbed Penelope’s letter as the last of his new letters to read, saving it for last so that he could end the day with her words.

Falling asleep after one of Penelope’s letters usually meant that his dreams would be sweet and filled with moments with her.

He thought of kissing her more often than he thought possible. He always thought back to the night of Hastings Ball and her little sighs and the way she pressed kisses to his top lip and then the bottom. The way her tiny fingers cradled his jaw.

Colin’s dreams had become more vivid and detailed the further he sailed away from home. He had never been so imaginative when he visualized images to take himself in hand, but his mind supplied visions of ways he had never considered proper wives could be taken.

There was something appealing about the idea of spreading his large hands wide on Penelope’s plush thighs and gripping her hips to guide her into a pleasing rhythm as she rode atop of him, breasts bouncing in his face. His mind at least had the decency of keeping her in her nightgown in his dreams, even if some of the nightgowns were little but sheer lace and silk Colin could only imagine would belong in the trousseau of a newlywed.

As much as he tried to tell himself that he should not long for nights to come so he could dream of a different world, he craved for the periods he could enter the land of dreams. Colin would enjoy his days, making new connections and having new experiences, it did not keep him from craving Penelope’s thoughts and her presence. It was hunger and it was hunger that hurt.

His journal was filling up with letters he could never send.

The more I experience the more I have to reluctantly agree that you were right to send me off before I could drag you to the altar.

I would have seen the walls of our boarding house more than the landscapes.

I do not feel very much like being a gentleman with you Penelope Featherington.

When Colin wrote Penelope’s name in full, her family name always gave him pause. It felt…wrong when he stared at it and it unsettled him at times. He would say her name aloud until his mind remembered what her name was, but he would catch himself whispering her name with a different surname.

There was nothing wrong with Penelope Featherington but it held nothing against how Penelope Bridgerton tasted in his mouth.

Penelope groaned into one of the cushions of her bedroom settee, muffling the sound of her scream.

It was one of those days that Penelope was forced to remind herself that her sisters were not the same sisters she had left behind in 1820.

The Featheringtons arrived back in Mayfair long before the fashionable set was to return. It would still be a couple of months before the early arrivals would be returning to their London residences to beat winter travel.

Penelope was due to leave for Romney Hall  in a week. Phillip did not bother to stop in London, heading straight home. It was safer for him to do so now that Portia Featherington was back to form and ready for husband hunting for her daughters.

And with Portia back to being the Ambitious Mama that she was, Penelope was no longer safe from the usual criticisms.

Penelope was absolutely covered in freckles from spending so much time outside without a parasol or a bonnet. They had fought the last few days in Meadow Park because Portia had sent the horse Penelope claimed  away to be sold.

The horse had made her feel closer to Colin and even Kate, but her mother had misconstrued her sorrow for grief over the loss of a connection to her father.

Frankly, Penelope had practically forgotten that the horse originally belonged to Archibald Featherington.

Penelope had locked herself away in her room, sitting at the seat at her window and looking out her bedroom window. Rae had been by with tea trays and had reluctantly informed her that her mother had said that if she was going to continue to act like a child that she would be punished like a child. Prudence and Philippa had stood in the doorway and pantomimed their mother spanking her.

Penelope picked at her tea trays, taking singular bites of everything just to spite her mother. She would make sure Rae took a few biscuits for herself before she did so. There would be little to eat soon and while the staff were more accustomed to less food and food that wasn’t as rich and decadent, they would be feeling the shift in diet as well when biscuits and other sweets would have to be saved for calling hours.

A gentle knock on her bedroom door broke her out of her trance. Penelope turned away from the view of the tree outside of her window, shaking off the memory of Colin making a jest that he could climb it so they could elope instead of going through her mother’s lavish wedding plan.

“Penelope?” Felicity, already dressed for bed, stood in the doorway, looking at her expectantly.

“Come in, my sweet.” Penelope waved her inside and Felicity hurried inside and curled up next to her on the settee. It was such a small space that Felicity was pressed close to her, her head on Penelope’s shoulder. “Difficulty sleeping?”

Felicity nodded her head, snuggling impossibly closer.

It had been like that since they returned to London and the closer it got to Penelope’s departure date to Romney Hall to visit Marina. Felicity would not be joining Penelope as originally planned and she had been throwing tantrums, giving everyone in the household the silent treatment except when she came to Penelope’s room after one of her nightmares.

“Sing to me?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to ask, Prudence?” Penelope teased.

Felicity shook her head, eyes wide in horror. “Heaven’s no!”

Penelope giggled and began to hum, stroking Felicity’s back to comfort her.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly,” Penelope sang, brushing a curl away from Felicity’s face, “lavender’s green.”

“When I am king, dilly, dilly,” Felicity joined her, smiling softly, “you shall be my queen.”

“…call up your men, dilly, dilly,” Colin sang under his breath as he twirled his most recent gift from home between his thumb and forefinger, “set them to work.”

He continued to hum the ditty as he played with his watch fob. Unlike Anthony, Colin’s use of his watch fob was purely decorative. Colin rarely looked at the pocket watch that Anthony had gifted him for his birthday with the hopes that it meant he would be on time instead of on his own schedule.

When he was out hunting for gifts for home before he departed to his next destination, he had come across a locket that would work for his purposes. It was simple, a rather plain round disc, but perfect to keep a lock of auburn hair safe.

Colin held the lock of hair under his nose, but the distance it traveled in folded parchment had robbed it of its scent. Closing his eyes he could almost trick himself into believing he could smell something floral mixed with honey and citrus. Rubbing the pale pink organza ribbon with his thumb he could almost summon the scent of incoming rain in his boarding house room.

Had it really been more than five months since that day he and Penelope strolled around Grosvenors Square sharing her umbrella?

Storing the lock of hair away, Colin returned to the letter on the desk waiting to be folded and sealed. Pressed buttercups that he had picked when hiking lay scattered over his words. The color of the petals had reminded him of Penelope’s gowns and he had plucked them without another thought.

“...whilst you and I, dilly, dilly, keep ourselves warm.”

… please come back for the season. I know some young men will continue traveling for years without returning home if funds allow it.

It is boring when you are away! I almost forgot what it was like when you were at school. I have been making good use of your old telescope. Gregory has been ripe with jealousy that you gave it to me so Mama has been making me share with him while we are in the country. Knowing him he will get bored of it soon anyway when I start rambling about the myths that belong to the constellations.

You already know how our brothers are. Anthony will be busy navigating the marriage mart himself. Benedict I’ve heard escapes as soon as possible from every ball and barely attends any other function on Mama’s perfectly curated social calendar.

I’m going to need both you and Penelope when I debut. It is only fair that I warn you now, I will be taking full advantage and using you to get out of dancing with any potential suitors that repulse me.

It will probably be simpler to assume they all will. Repulse me that is.

I will take that as your punishment for not telling me about whatever it was that occurred at Daphne’s ball. We both know I’m a horrible dance partner. Any stomped on toes will be casualties of my lack of talent on the dance floor, nothing more. I cannot believe you two have secrets between each other now that I’m not privy to.

Mister Crane has mentioned that you have been working on an olive orchard. Whatever would you want to do that for? You are so odd, Brother.

You should bring him a sapling. With the way he carried on about the harvest season, you would think he was obsessed with olive trees. But do not tell him that you will bring him one. I think leaving it as a surprise would be best.

I have been writing to Aunt Georgie and have requested some books that I am sure Mother will be receiving a letter about. I have been reading about the medicinal benefits of plants and I’m sure she and Uncle Nicholas may have something on the subject.

Have I hinted enough about what I would like as a gift from your travels?

Affectionately,

Eloise Bridgerton

 

“It’s a perfectly practical match,” Eloise insisted.

“Practical?” Colin scoffed. “He would be leaving her alone for years. Debling is just not right for her, Eloise.”

“You knew what Penelope was looking for when you volunteered to help her gain confidence in the marriage mart, Colin.”

“How can you accept that Penelope will—“

“Because I must!” Eloise cut him off, tears brimming in her eyes. “It is what Penelope wants. We are just women, Colin. In this society, I do not have the power to do anything but be supportive because Penelope must marry. Do you think I am truly happy that the person I favor most in this world outside of our family may not know what it is to be loved by the man she may marry?”

Colin had not seen Eloise cry, not truly, since she was a child.

“Just because I seek more than marriage, it does not mean that I do not believe in love, Colin.” Eloise scoffed, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. “I wish very much that if I am to be left behind that it would be to someone worthy of my dear friend. And if not worthy because he will shower her with all of the love and devotion she deserves at least I can be content that she will at least have the security she desires for her mother and Felicity.”

“Eloise…”

“It is not our place.” Eloise looked down at her hands. “It has never been my place to dictate what Penelope should do with her life.”

All of the plans for spinsterhood. All of the decrying of balls and dances—of courtly love.

“It breaks my heart, brother. I wish the world for Penelope but we must settle for less. I wish the greatest happiness for the person who has chosen to love me—not by circumstance of birth and familial ties, but for me—and she only aims to be content.”

Eloise crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned against the edge of the table in the center of his study, paying no mind to the map she was creasing against the corner.

“We had fought about it,” Eloise confessed after a pregnant silence. “That is why we were at odds when you came home. I was busy making plans, fantasizing about the two of us together as spinsters in some cottage and it was quite literally a last resort for Penelope. She never wished to be a spinster with me, but resigned herself to that life and only saw my companionship as a boon of that nightmare scenario.”

Eloise tended to steam ahead without properly listening at times, without being aware of others. Penelope had to have told her at least once in all of their years of friendship that she wanted to be married.

“I understand that marriage does not have to come from love,” Eloise sighed, holding herself tighter, “that there are things she may gain through marriage. Even if it’s not something I would seek out in marriage, I cannot fault her.”

“You wish for love, Eloise?”

Eloise rolled her eyes and chuckled, the sound thick from her tears. Her eyes reminded him of the horizon line, the way a gray sky preparing to storm blended into the sea.

“I wish that if love were to make me its target that Cupid grants me mercy when he aims. That love will not mean sacrificing everything that I am and that I am loved for every part of me. That it allows me to be loud and imperfect and just utterly me .”

Colin woke slowly, blinking up at the ceiling of his lodgings. He stretched his legs and his arms over his head, before releasing the tension of his muscles with a soft grunt.

The dreams were getting more and more bizarre.

Eloise had sent him another letter after months of silence. She had been busy back home in their family’s country seat of Aubrey Hall, reading through books they both knew that Anthony would have a conniption over if he knew who had given them to her.

His sister had been performing her own experiments in their orangery, bothering the groundskeeper with her questions and suggestions. He knew all of this because she had finally picked up her quill again to write to him as it was getting closer to the time for her to return to London. Travel was difficult during winter so the Bridgertons returned before any snowfall.

Returning to Mayfair meant that Eloise’s entrance into society was approaching. The reminder had prompted her to write to him. She had been a much more faithful correspondent when he had been a student. Eloise had made up for the silence with a thick letter with weeks worth of updates.

Colin had found a book that Eloise would enjoy, but he did not mind finding her another, especially when the first book was more suited to Penelope’s tastes. For every gift that Colin bought for one of his relatives, he had found another for Penelope.

It had started small with a scallop shell from one of the beaches he had visited. Colin had many shells and specimens of his own, but a smile would bloom on his face when he imagined the look of wonder on Penelope’s face, round cheeks rosy as she cradled the shell in her small hands.

He had picked up music sheets for Francesca and could not help but procure some for Penelope. A paint kit for Benedict led him to a set of watercolors for Felicity who was mentioned in every one of Penelope’s letters from home. A stall with filigree hair combs that he purchased for Daphne also had a lovely standing mirror that could sit on Penelope’s desk, gold butterflies making the frame. He found a pocket knife for Gregory while buying a knife that when closed looked like a simple trinket in the shape of a butterfly that he believed she could use as a letter opener.

It was when he was packing away a set of hair pins made with freshwater pearls that he finally realized what he had been doing.

When he returned home in the Spring, he would have a gift for every city that he visited—for every place in the world that he explored just as Penelope wished for him to do. A gift for every moment he spent thinking of Penelope Featherington back home instead of the fresh new sight in front of him.

The oceans were not vast enough to keep the name of what was brewing from making itself known.

“Penelope!”

Penelope opened her arms wide and braced herself as Eloise came barreling towards her as soon as her feet touched the ground. She closed her eyes and let herself be held. It had been so long since she had last seen Eloise and the weekly letters had not been enough to quell the ache of missing her.

She had no idea how it was that Phillip could stand to the side and not reach out for Eloise. He was a strong man. If Colin had decided to return home early and appeared in front of her, Penelope was sure to gather him into an embrace as soon as she saw him.

“Welcome to Romney Hall, Miss Bridgerton,” Phillip greeted her with a bow of his head. Eloise frowned at him, scrunching up her nose in distaste. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Footman John who was holding her thriving potted orchid.

“I am here for my progress report,” Eloise joked, taking hold of the pot and presenting the plant to Phillip. She dumped it in his waiting hands and hooked her arm through Penelope’s. “Come on, let us not keep your Cousin Marina waiting, Pen. I only have four hours before I have to make my way back to Aubrey Hall.”

Penelope had to keep from laughing at the joy in Phillip’s face when Eloise turned back to him and told him that he was invited to tea with them as well.

It should have been difficult to feel homesick when Penelope sent him pieces of home with every letter.

Colin spun slowly in  between the olive trees in the grove, breathing in the fresh scent of the air and feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. He was becoming quite tan from being out of doors all of the time, especially working in the orchard.

During a lull in work, when the farmer and his family had called for a break, Colin had pulled out his bundle of letters from his satchel and reread the latest correspondence from Penelope.

She was assisting in giving Felicity dancing lessons to pass the time as it rained and rained in the country. Felicity was still young enough that sitting still to read or paint her watercolors wasn’t enough for all of the energy she had bottled up inside. All of the sisters ended up dancing, taking turns being the lead. Colin had laughed at the image conjured in his mind of Penelope taking the role of the man and attempting to lead her much taller older sisters.

Despite their lack of talent elsewhere, the older Featherington girls were graceful dancers just like Penelope. It was a shame no one knew it, because they were asked to dance even less than Penelope who was rarely asked herself.

And he knew how Penelope loved to dance. She always looked her happiest when spun across the dance floor. It was a pity she wasn’t asked to dance as often as she should have been, but Colin wasn’t sure he would have been comfortable if she left his side for too long.

Benedict used her to escape debutants and Anthony took a turn with her as if she were one of their sisters needing to be displayed, a sentinel glaring at gentlemen that weren’t polite enough to sign her card and ask her to dance.

Then there was Simon who never failed to ask her for one of her sets even when he was deep into courting Daphne. He would smile down at Penelope fondly, reminiscent of how Anthony and Benedict smiled down at their younger sisters during dance instruction.

It was much, much different than how Colin felt when dancing with her. There were times that it was exhilarating, simply joyful to dance with Penelope. And then there were times that holding her close caused a different kind of warmth to settle inside of him. Something warm and syrupy sweet.

Thick and sweet like honey dripping from the little wand he dipped into the pot before slathering it on his scones.

“You want to…let Meadow Park?” Penelope’s mother looked at her in disbelief.

Penelope had been from Romney Hall for a couple of weeks and had decided that it was time to discuss with her one of the ideas she had been looking into to bring in more money into the estate.

“Just in the Spring in the period of time that we are in Mayfair for the London season,” Penelope explained as she flipped through her notes and the ledgers. “I got the idea from Philippa that—“

“From Philippa ?” Portia screeched. She clutched her chest and fell back on the wing back chair.

“Yes, Mama,” Penelope sighed. She could not help but feel sorry for her poor sister. She knew Philippa was simple, but she did not deserve such utter disbelief that she could have any thoughts in that pretty head of hers. “You know how she adores insects and—“

“The most troubling trait. I do not know where she got such a disgusting hobby.”

“Mama!”  Penelope snapped, slamming the scientific journal shut hard enough to make Portia flinch. “Will you listen for once without interrupting?”

“Penelope Featherington do not dare speak to your mother in such a way.”

“I shall when you criticize my sisters or myself,” Penelope countered, standing up to her full height. She knew it was an unimpressive stature, but it helped her feel better to be on her feet. “Philippa has brought to my attention that there are many assortments of butterflies on our grounds and I have read—“

“Of course you were reading.”

“—that there are numerous species that are under observation by naturalists. Species that they may find there .”

“I cannot believe that you want to turn your ancestral home into a public house,” Portia scoffed, disgust brimming in her eyes.

Penelope opened her mouth and then shut it. She had spent months researching when she could in order to find something that could help her family. She had not expected her mother to be so against the idea.

“I spent so much time—”

“Time wasted,” Portia snapped, shoving the scientific journal across the study’s desk, scattering the notes and documents. “You expect me to advertise that we are so desperately in need of funds that we are offering boarding to naturalists in our own home?”

“I expected you to do what’s best for our family despite your pride,” Penelope mumbled, shooting her mother a wounded look. “I—”

Penelope swallowed convulsively and stared at the mess of papers on the desk. All of that time wasted, because she forgot who her mother was in 1813.

“I did it all for Felicity,” Penelope sniffed, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand. “To keep Felicity here if we could. I could have spent that time with Felicity.”

“Well,” Portia stood from her seat, bracing one hand on the back of the chair and holding her stomach with the other, “this was clearly a lesson on managing your time and to keep your nose out of books when you could have been doing something more productive, Penelope! Between this useless research and those letters—”

“What about my letters?” Penelope raised her chin in defiance. She already had one lifetime where her mother dismissed her relationship with Colin Bridgerton, belittling the significance of what they shared. She did not want to hear it again.

“Do not raise your voice at me, Penelope Anne.” Portia took a threatening step towards her before catching herself and taking a deep breath. “You are wasting ink and paper on the neighbor boy. Do not let this—this dalliance distract you from what is important.”

Portia turned away from her, skirts twirling around her as she paced back and forth.

“Whatever you believe this is, will come to nothing, Penelope,” her mother hissed at her. “He is a boy of twenty amusing himself. Do not let a pretty set of eyes and a charming smile blind you.”

“Colin Bridgerton is more than that,” Penelope stood firm in her defense. “He is a kind, good-hearted man and—”

“And he is not here!” Portia stormed across the room to her and clapped her hands in front of Penelope’s face. “Wake up! Colin Bridgerton  is doing what all young gentlemen do. He is off on his tour and he will be back and, yes, he will share dances with you—plenty of dances, but then he will be off again because he has the luxury of waiting before setting down roots unlike young ladies like yourself.”

“You do not know him as I do.” Penelope shook her head, laughing softly, something breathy and sad. “Colin is my friend.” He was her husband in another time. “And I will not have you disparage him or our friendship.”

Portia straightened her back, rolling her shoulders back as she raised her brows and flashed Penelope a mocking smile as she nodded her head.

“You’re supposed to be my smart one.” Portia shook her head and headed towards the door. She paused at the door and turned back to Penelope. “That boy is not your friend, Penelope. Young ladies and eligible gentlemen cannot be friends.”

She turned back again and left in a flurry of skirts, leaving Penelope alone.

A feeling that Penelope had not wanted to get reacquainted with, but there she stood in the study that was supposed to belong to her son in the future, unmarried and never having given birth, stuck with the family that did not yet appreciate her.

…I do not believe I want to continue my tour beyond my last stop in Cyprus, but the only reason to return home is who sent me off in the first place.

Based on the responses from my family, it seems only Eloise has truly noticed my absence and even her pleas for me to return home have more to do with her nerves for the upcoming Season. I know she doesn’t see eye to eye with Daphne, but surely our sister would be of better help than I? And she will have Penelope.

Penelope whose last few letters were not as cheerful as the ones from earlier months.

When I ask her how she is faring, Penelope always  dismisses my concerns. I am beginning to feel guilty when I catch myself enjoying my tour. It is what she wanted for me, but now more than ever do I wish that I had not been so caught up in my frustration with her and had delayed my tour and spoke with her once more before leaving.

Perhaps if I had taken the time to think things through more, Penelope would be here─with me. And then I would not have to simply trust that she is telling me the truth when she says that she is well.

If she were standing in front of me, it would be easier to read what she is feeling and do something so that she may feel better.

An excerpt from the journal of Colin Bridgerton

Penelope practically stumbled down the steps as her mother left the study off of the main hall, giving Mrs. Varley instructions for the new staff they had hired.

The Featherington family had to let go of most of their staff. They were holding on to a few servants with money that Portia had squirreled away or had received from selling jewels she reluctantly parted with. Penelope had slipped as much as she could where her mother or Varley could find it without raising suspicions until there was a chance that she could speak to her solicitor about setting up an entail.

No one would ask for an interview to work for the Featherington family, not when there were rumors  of the cut downs in staff and the poor offers of pay.

No one except a lovely young woman that had insisted that she had received information from the employment house that there was an opening for the position of governess.

Penelope’s breath hitched and she held her stomach with one hand, the other clutching the fabric of her dress. In a simple woolen day dress of a muted green, a bonnet in her hand so her cropped ebony locks were on display, stood a woman that Penelope had dearly missed.

Sophie Bridgerton smiled gently at her, pressing a single finger to her lips to remind her not to react. Penelope returned her smile, lips trembling as she struggled to lift them at the corners.

“Oh, Miss Penelope,” Varley sighed when she noticed her standing at the bottom. “I have several tasks to get through today,” Yes, like finding more items to sell. “This is Miss Sophie Baek, the new governess. May you escort Miss Baek up to the school room? You could introduce her to Miss Felicity. It looks like we will be able to keep her home with us after all.”

Penelope nodded and gestured for Sophie to follow her up the stairs. Once they reached the first landing, the both of them swerved into an empty room.

Once they were sure they were alone, Sophie threw her arms around Penelope. Their chins hooked on each other’s shoulders and Sophie buried a sob into Penelope’s hair.

“You sent for me.” Sophie’s voice was thick from the tears she had held at bay. “You didn’t even know if I had returned to this time and you sent for me…”

“Of course I did.” Penelope held Sophie tighter in her embrace, allowing her to melt into her hold. Seven months in the past, she was sure Sophie had gone the entire time without being held by anyone that loved her. “Our family would do anything for you.”

Sophie trembled in Penelope’s arms, clutching tightly to the fabric of the back of Penelope’s day dress. Penelope reached up, stroking the back of Sophie’s head, fingers catching on the ends of the shorts strands that curled at the base of her neck on the downward swipes. Sophie’s hair grew quickly, but it would still be months to a year before she could recover most of its length.

It had been a gamble sending Michael to look for Sophie. Penelope wasn’t sure if Michael would be able to find her and if he did find her, if he would be able to convince her to go with him if she hadn’t joined them in the past. If it had been possible, Penelope would have gone herself and baited Sophie with her literary persona to gain her trust.

Anything to keep her from being locked in closets and unwanted. Not when there was a large family that would shower her with all the love she deserved.

But none of that had been necessary. Sophie had saved herself by running away again and had done whatever it was that she needed to survive as she made her way back to her family. The slight change in events in Lady Whistledown must have been her motivation, driving her to find them no matter how long it took her. Penelope would get the full story at a different time, not when she could offer Sophie a small taste of home.

Penelope murmured words of comfort, her own tears falling onto Sophie’s shoulder. How wonderful it was to have a sister returned to her. Now they needed to return Sophie to where she belonged—with Benedict.

“Let’s get you home, Mrs. Bridgerton.”