Disclaimer: I don't own "Bridgerton" or any of the show's characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Part two of the "A Fine(r) Art" series. Please read "Every Aphrodite is valid (just ask Zeuxis)" first.
Warnings: drama, romance, romantic tension, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension, angst, art, Penelope drinks her self-love juice, Colin is an entire young himbo in the wild, Eloise is trying her best to accidentally marry off her brother to her bff - #goals.
Gulosity (in all things)
Being out was a tedious thing.
She had made a weak effort to be affable during her first season. Mostly blending into the crowd when it was clear Colin was no where to be found. Trying her best to avoid mama, who might rage at the state of her empty dance card. It all depended on how thoroughly Prudence and Philippa had disappointed her that evening.
She made it into something of a sport, in fact.
Quite certain that most of the time her own sisters forgot she was there.
Which was as she liked it.
After considering the matter at length, she found herself agreeing with Eloise. Being in society was not worth the change of scenery. For a young woman of standing, it was nothing more than a fanciful auction. And for those who did not catch the attention of the opposite sex, it was a lonely state of being. Even surrounded by people, you could easily find yourself alone. Or worse- the object of ridicule.
Truly, she didn't mind being kept so in the house.
It was where she was comfortable, after all.
Though, the proximity to the juiciest gossip was certainly agreeable for her other occupation.
She was now well into her second season, and had accrued herself a handful of suitors. Without any desire to have them, she might add. They were likeable enough. Certainly not the bad sort. But they were unremarkable, uninteresting. Save for the mildly foolish Lord Euron, they seemed quite safe. Mama, once she had gotten over the shock, had been overly welcoming when they came to call. Commenting how remarkable it was to have caught herself a host of potential husbands to choose from.
The only issue was, of course, her complete disinterest.
She sighed, taking a glass of mulled wine from Sir Marshall with a smile. Careful not to glance at him for too long. Such things encouraged conversation, and unfortunately for Sir Marshall, a wordsmith he was not.
Indeed, out of desperation, she had purchased a fan with a peacock painted on the front. Making liberal use of it every time one of them started vying for her attention. Mostly by snapping the fan open and closed at their masculine peacocking.
It was a sad sort of rejoinder.
But it was all she had.
"I know what you're doing," Eloise murmured, smoothing her dress as she sat beside her. Flashing a polite nod as the three men retreated. Much like a clutch of startled pheasants. Giving them room to speak. Apparently intimated with the female company doubled.
Thank the lord.
"I thought you'd abandoned me," she answered, no longer as tense as her suitors circled distantly. Like rival songbirds puffing feathers.
"Never," Eloise replied effusively, fixing her with an obvious look. "You seemed quite entertained. I couldn't see you for all your admirers."
She chewed on a laugh. Not certain it wouldn't come out hysterical.
"You will have to choose, my dear. No man will wait for long without encouragement. Who is it then? Which one has your heart? Your affection? The rest will come in time. You might never get another opportunity."
Her mama's words rang in her head. Threatening an ache between her eyes.
"And you? You've barely sat down all evening. You didn't tell me your dance card was half full," she hummed. Happy for her friend even though Eloise looked sour at the mention.
"It's like dealing with a pack of wolves...or locusts. I tried asking Daphne for advice, but she seemed to think it was a compliment. Imagine it! Who really wants to dance all night? My feet are aching! ...But don't change the subject, Pen. What are you up to?"
She took a delicate swallow from her wine.
"Are you playing with them for sport?" Eloise pressed, tucking arms with her. Toned with a surprising amount of censor considering her stance on the opposite sex.
The scolding was well earned, she supposed.
"Trying to hold them off, more like," she sighed, sinking a couple of inches deeper into her chair. "As long as they don't catch on, I might survive the night."
Eloise looked surprised, then thoughtful.
"I'm not about to expose you. It's- well, they truly seem to adore you. I cannot help being pleased by that. I thought this was what you wanted. I might not understand why, but I do support you. I love you. I want you to be happy."
If she were a better person, the guilt might have shattered her. But she wasn't. And she had to learn to live with the consequences of her alter ego. Part of her was dying to tell her friend exactly who Lady Whistledown was. How this was her way of fighting to be - to be herself - as much as Eloise fought for her slow introduction to society.
She hid a frown behind the fan when Lord Mason approached with a plate of sweets. Presenting it with such a flair one would have assumed he'd slaved in the kitchen to make them.
"Thank you sir, you are too kind" Eloise told him, being the shield she didn't deserve as she took the arrangement happily.
A giggle threatened to bubble up her throat. Hiding her face behind the fan when upset flashed across his face. His great victory, thwarted.
She swallowed it.
"They are all decent men. Foolish, but kind," she admitted when Lord Mason retreated. Him miffed, the others emboldened. It was exhausting, the tempers she needed to manage. "One cannot ask for more in a man. In a husband."
Eloise rolled her eyes, popping a salted candy in her mouth.
"Yes, you can. Surely in matters of the heart, you have every right to approve or disprove. Indeed, if you don't love them, you must tell them. You must choose someone you respect. Someone who can respect you. Otherwise I will be very cross with you."
For a girl of the same age, Eloise could be surprising naïve.
"Not all of us have the luxury of time...or choice, Eloise," she said gently, accepting the caramel sweet she handed her. "If I don't choose, mama will not forgive me."
Eloise snorted, loudly. Drawing the attention of her suitors. Giving Lord Euron the misguided impression her friend was choking and hastened over with a glass of peach juice.
This time she broke her silence, smiling sweetly.
"Thank you, my lord. You are so kind."
Lord Euron pranced away, feet barely skimming the floor.
She snapped her fan open and closed again. Aggressive this time.
The painted peacock flared its wings in agreement.
Mary and Joseph preserve her.
Eloise sipped her drink, pointedly quiet.
She took the moment to glance around the room. Pretending she was looking for mama or even her sisters. But in truth there was only one face she was hoping to see. And, as if Eloise had heard her thoughts-
"My brother, Colin, came into a painting the other day. He is very taken with it. I didn't know he was interested in art. Apparently an acquaintance sent it to him as a gift. You must see it tomorrow; we can have tea."
"Is Colin here this evening?" she asked carefully. Hoping her friend wouldn't sense the hopeful tremor. Hopes thoroughly dashed when Eloise shook her head.
"No. And I am cross at him for it. Why is it that men can come and go as they please and women are so controlled? Do you ever wonder why-"
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, save for her suitors meddling.
But she had to confess, she wondered all the while if Colin was enjoying his night as well.
She arrived for tea the next day promptly at two. Reminding herself to take a steadying breath before she knocked. Smile firmly in place as the door opened to the usual Bridgerton uproar. A bracing atmosphere of laughter and constant motion. She took a moment to catch up with the children before Eloise towed her to the smaller sitting room and closed the door.
Their laughter quickly followed, as it always did.
Apparently some things refused to change.
Thank the lord.
"So," she began, setting down her cup with a quiet rattle. Trying to pretend she hadn't been obsessed ever since she'd learned it had caught Colin's attention. "Tell me about this painting."
Indeed, she was desperately curious.
When it came to Colin, she was glutenous to a fault.
She had always been attentive to him, for as long as she could remember.
Eloise sprang up, startling her.
"You shall see it!" she announced, dress flaring out. Eyes shining with an energetic, bold look. The one that had usually led to them getting scolded as children.
Perhaps Eloise should not have ordered so many cakes from the kitchens.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly..." she started, flushing heat down her neck at the idea of stepping one foot inside Colin's chambers. It simply wasn't done. Close acquaintances or not. Especially now that she was out in society.
Eloise had no such concerns.
"It's fine," her friend assured her. Waving her hand dismissively as she smoothed her dress and started for the door. "Besides, he isn't here. I told him he needed to show you. If he is being lazy, I will take full advantage and have the pleasure of your reaction for myself."
Well...perhaps.
She eyed Eloise balefully, before-
"Just for a minute then, not a second more."
Eloise flashed a smile with far more teeth than she was comfortable with.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
She stared up at the painting in open, slack-jawed awe. Unable to form thoughts, words or even an assenting sound that would have distracted from her obvious rapture.
The woman in the painting was a vision of beauty in a way she'd never seen. She was a lush creature, thick and healthy. With large breasts and hips that begged to be both caressed and gripped strongly. Her stomach was not lean, nor overly large, but soft. Her buttocks were shapely, thighs in similar kit. She looked...she looked-
"Do you know what I said to him when I first saw it?" Eloise hummed, balancing on the tips of her toes. Well pleased with herself.
The woman, surely some forgotten goddess, looked back at her. It was an intimate carnage expressed through natural femininity and an alluring expression. Promising things she didn't have name for and understood even less.
"I said she reminded me of you... and she does! Don't you think?"
Her lips parted, the gasp more a ghost as she stared at the canvas.
Her first instinct was to refuse the entire notion.
Her? How could it possibly?
The woman in the painting was beautiful and-
She swallowed a soft sound that might have been a whimper.
She kept looking and saw- she saw herself.
There was a self-kindness to her thoughts that she wasn't used to.
The woman in the painting had been drawn in such a way that it seemed to celebrate the shape of her. He had made her beautiful. Not pitiable or deserving of snide comments and censure. He'd painted a girl of the divine who looked more like her than anything she'd seen. And it made her feel valued... worshipped.
She exhaled shakily, taking comfort in the familiar smell that seemed to permeate the room. Colin's room. It filled her with an excited hum of anticipation. As though she was waiting for something to happen.
She never ended up answering Eloise, but she believed her friend understood.
"Eloise?"
She was still rapt. Hungry eyes taking in every inch of the canvas when a familiar voice roused her.
Oh no.
Shame rushed to the forefront. Flushing her skin with moist heat. Itching hives in the clutch of her throat that threatened to make her faint as Eloise bounced on her heels. As if there was nothing wrong with a young woman, unprotected by marriage, visiting a man's chambers.
"Colin! I thought you were still in 'ton? When did you get back?" Eloise asked, calm as she bore witness to her ruin. Unbothered by the breach of propriety, and indeed privacy of the man in question. "I was just showing Penelope your new acquisition."
Her hand flew to her mouth. Wondering if her tea might come up on her as she tried to steady her breathing.
It wasn't proper to be in a man's rooms.
Mama would be in hysterics if she ever-
"I finished my business quicker than expected... our mother is asking for you in the kitchens. Something about the tailor?" Colin replied, his expression still a mystery considering she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
The sound of Eloise sighing seemed surreal until the click of her shoes echoed across the wood floor. Brushing past in a hush of muslin and lace. So close she was able to detect earl grey and caramel-sugar.
"I will be back shortly then. Would you mind entertaining Penelope for me?"
And with that, her friend was gone.
Leaving them alone.
In his personal rooms.
She was mildly surprised the floor hadn't opened up and swallowed her whole.
The moment stretched endlessly, before-
"Do you ...do you not approve of it?" he finally questioned. Soft and without his usual confident rhythms. It was so unlike him it forced her gaze. Looking up so quickly her head spun.
He was standing in the door frame, expression almost-
"I do, very much," she answered breathlessly, unable to swallow back the warmth. She felt too much - too strongly to hold back. Realizing in a hot rush that this was the painting Colin had formed an attachment to. It should have shamed her. But she didn't feel shame. She felt powerful. Possible. "She is... she is-"
If there was a perfect word to describe the work, she couldn't find it. But he nodded jerkily all the same. She didn't need to explain. He knew.
"I'm relieved... your opinion, once given, is the only authority I trust," he returned, ducking his head. Scratching his starched collar against his chin. Indeed, she might think him bashful if she didn't know him better.
But it was the hitch that made her raise her eyes. Watching him through the fan of her lashes.
Colin was...blushing?
There was as ruddy color to his cheeks for certain.
It was only because she was observing him so closely that she caught what happened next. Witness to the way he looked from the painting, then to her. Eyes dragging downdowndown, before he realized he was being watched and looked away again. Posture a highlight of discomfort.
Her lips parted, exhaling a soft sound.
He looked at her again like she'd dared him, gaze lingering.
This time his eyes were not drawn back to the painting at all.
Oh.
Her interest was a landscape - long dormant in heath and heather - but now there was a hint of spring. Something to give her hope when she'd had none. Not after Marina and all those months apart. Hope that perhaps this painting, this moment, was the start of something more.
She hardly dared to hope.
But for the first time in a long time, she would dare.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.
Reference:
- Gulosity: a rare word for gluttony.