Disclaimer: I don't own "Bridgerton" or any of the show/book's characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Inspired by the lovely Penelope art posted by flamedork on tumblr.

Warnings: period typical attitudes, oblivious!Colin romance, drama, romantic tension, sexual tension, unresolved romantic and sexual tension, cleavage so good Colin might need an exorcism along with some icy-hot for his bruises.

Reverse Darwinism

If he knew one thing for certain, head knock and all, it was that he would pay handsomely not to read a single word about his spill down the Cowper's stairs in the next edition of Lady Whistledown's society papers.

Indeed, he was quite sore, from ego to spine.

But perhaps more of the former than anything.

He could imagine it now. The cut of the gossip's pen would be sharp, no doubt. All too eager to share the indignity with the entire 'ton. It stung his pride. But that was all secondary when he considered the discomfort such a rumor would cause his dear friend.

Surely, Lady Whistledown would twist the interaction in some shameless fashion?

It was enough to make him grind his teeth. Remembering how she'd flown to her feet. His given name escaping unbidden as she hurried after him. Her green satin dress had been a cloud of trailing emerald. Giving her the appearance of a sultry forest nymph from the Grecian legends than a mere woman. Then his Pen.

He knew, at the very least, that Cressida and her mother had seen Penelope folded at his side. Gloved hand hovering just above his head as he reeled, stunned on the grass. The bare of her shoulders milky and blinding against the rising moon. Her face-

It wasn't proper.

That dress.

Not an inch of it.

The bodice was too low. The shoulders. The bare shoulders! Then there was the gathering of the waist and flare of her hips that insisted on being of note. Drawing eyes as she sat on a bench inside the solar. Looking out at the night with her head turned just so. The dress itself was so opulent he couldn't guess what shoes she might be wearing. But their absence had him jealous to know. He'd never cared much about shoes, but for some reason he found himself craning his neck to catch a glimpse.

Surely such a dress would merit an equally elegant heel?

The picture she made, sitting there alone, had brought him to a stuttering stop.

But it was her hair, curling down her exposed flesh, that was altogether too much for him.

He'd forgotten to watch his step and stumbled down a five-count of stairs.

Penelope hadn't even noticed he was there until he yelled. Arms windmilling.

And the dress? That sin of a gown? Well, it had little to say for itself.

He supposed himself quite blameless. Indeed, how could anyone, man or beast, not react the same? He'd heard the murmurs before he discovered her. Heard second, then third hand how she'd fluttered from her carriage like a river slicking down a virgin waterfall. Heard how Lord Turnely had nearly dropped his brandy when she passed him in the hall. Heard how the dress was rumored to be the current height of French fashion. That it was inappropriate, but also downright divine. With the mood of the gathering fixated on either Penelope herself and how well she looked this season or how they could procure a similar dress - with a few adjustments for modesty's sake of course.

What on earth was Pen playing at wearing something like that?

And he'd had every intention of taking her to task for it.

Only, when he'd opened his mouth, the exact opposite slipped out.

"You look lovely tonight, Pen. New dress?"

She blinked, freezing in the act of helping him sit up. Hand warm and strong across the small of his back. He was able to watch the entire thing. The way her face stayed impassive, before a small smile - the most he'd gotten from her in weeks - graced her face.

Strangely, Lady Whistledown's next edition was silent on the gaff.

And while he was grateful, he did have to wonder why.

The missed opportunity to make a scathing remark about his clumsiness was one thing. But no mention of Penelope's new dress? It seemed odd considering the entire 'ton was still buzzing about it. And her.

Indeed, he fully expected the current seasons hopefuls to flood the dress makers with orders now that the initial shock had worn off. And while he was correct, he was also quite baffled when the appearance of three similar gowns at the next ball did not provoke the same reaction.

Odd, wasn't it?


Reference:

- Reverse Darwinism – the survival of the most idiotic. Title inspired by a line from the movie "Jurassic Park."