A/N:Hello my darlings!
First of all I want to thank Lisa Dubois and Kippling Croft for their lovely reviews, thank you so much you have no idea how much they made me smile (I wasn't able to send a personal reply to each of you and i don't know why yet? fanfiction . net is playing with me but I'm gonna figure this out)
Anyways, I'm sorry it took me longer than expected to update this chapter because it turned out to be waaay longer than i expected (So it's not all bad news right?)
As a side note, I completely forgot I had created a playlist for this fanfic (imagining the instrumental songs I'd use for each chapter - am I a crazy perfectionist and lover of music? yes. So if you're interested you can listen tp the songs while reading, before reading, after reading, you do you - the link is on profile since I cannot add links to the story.
(songs 2-3 for chapter 1; 4-5 for chapter 2 and songs 6-7 for chapter 3).
Penelope was convinced that she was out of her mind.
The phrase you're mad, you're mad, you're mad actually repeated in her mind with each step she took down the stairs and towards the front door.
"Penelope, where are you going?" Portia asked from the Featherington drawing room as she noticed her youngest heading for the exit.
The girl in question paused and closed her eyes tightly. She hoped that Prudence's caller would distract their mother and divert her attention from her absence.
As the older woman waited for her answer to the sound of Prudence's and Lord Dankworth's raucous laughter, Penelope considered her lying options.
In the end, she had only one.
"I'm going to visit Eloise, she invited me for tea," she said, striving to keep a casual and composed tone.
Portia, as always, failed to notice anything unusual and gave Penelope a disappointed look.
"Really, Penelope? At your age, one would think you'd finally prioritise more important matters instead of indulging in frivolous conversations with Eloise Bridgerton." With one hand on her hip, she confidently gestured around the room, unaffected by the onlookers of their conversation. "But I suppose not everyone possesses the same qualifications for the marriage market as your sisters."
Penelope swallowed back her retort and pressed her lips together instead. "Yes, I suppose so, mama."
It was better to go along with her mother than to instigate an argument over a lie. And with that, she hastily made her way out of the house.
Standing at her house doors, Penelope took a deep breath and observed Bridgeton House. Prudence and Harry's lively conversations echoed in her ears, reminding her that Colin's plan might be more necessary than she initially thought.
That was likely her last season before she had to move to the country with her mother.
"I don't mean to question your method, but how will this be beneficial?"
Penelope pointed towards Colin, who wasted no time in devouring the entire tray of food as soon as the butler brought it, just five minutes after her arrival.
In a swift motion, he ingested a mouthful of chicken pie before answering. "To provide the setting," he said, as if it were obvious.
Penelope only stared at him, expecting an explanation for why her faux tea with Mrs Bridgerton/Eloise had turned into a full-blown event with a variety of snacks and actual tea. And lemonade, apparently.
"Lesson number one." Colin raised an index in the air. "How to initiate contact with the gentleman you have chosen."
She grimaced, resisting the urge to cover her face with her hands. How did the two of them find themselves in such a bizarre situation?
Oblivious to her embarrassment, he continued. "The first point I'm about to mention is probably something you are already aware of. You don't approach him, you make him approach you."
She muttered under her breath, "Oh, is that all?" while looking down at her shoes. He spoke as if achieving that was the easiest thing in the world when she spent three years being utterly ignored by every specimen of the male sex.
That reaction, however, didn't go unnoticed by him. "Yes. That is all. For now," he said. Then, taking a deep breath, he pointed at the food table. "That is why this is here. Now," he pointed at the spot beside him. "You stand here."
He then took a few strides to place himself on the opposite side of the room. "And I'll stand here."
Penelope blew out a breath, but did as she was told. She did say she wouldn't question his methods. Standing by the food table, she looked at him as if saying there, now what?
"Perfect," he said before holding his hands behind his back, the universal sign he was going to ramble. "The Smythe-Smith musicale is tomorrow, and we'll be rehearsing for it. However, what I'm about to mention applies to any social occasion. Remember that."
For a moment, she couldn't even react. It dawned on her for the first time that he had actually been well-prepared for this. His words didn't seem like a spur-of-the-moment speech; instead, they sounded carefully calculated. He even recalled the dreadful musicale that she had intended to skip.
"The purpose of the table is simple. It's an excuse," Colin continued. "It provides an opportunity to engage in conversation with a gentleman under the pretense of being solely interested in the food. Same rules apply for the gentleman," he pointed towards himself. "He may be unsure about asking you for a dance or showing interest, but he has the option to approach your table and engage in conversation, pretending to be preoccupied with the food."
Penelope blinked. Why was he actually making sense?
"I see," she said, grabbing an eclair to occupy her hands while she listened.
"So your goal is to ensure that the gentleman initiates contact with you." He motioned to where she was standing. "Let us imagine I am the gentleman in question, positioned somewhere within the room."
The girl suddenly choked mid-bite, softly tapping her chest to compose herself while Colin observed her with concern. She dismissed him with a wave and then finally swallowed the eclair before it killed her.
"I am alright," she rasped.
"Alright…" He hesitated, unsure if he should continue, until she gestured for him to go on. "The solution is rather uncomplicated—just look at me."
"I beg your pardon?" She asked, still rubbing her chest, half to soothe the lingering pain from the previous choking incident and half to ground herself in the present, overwhelming shock.
"You heard it correctly. The manner in which one gazes at another person is arguably the most crucial aspect of courtship."
He started pacing, dramatically raising three fingers in the air.
"There are, in fact, three distinct ways to look at someone: you can glance briefly, lose interest, and avert your gaze;
Or you focus your eyes on them, recognising your interest, but then divert your gaze to maintain proper decorum. And then, make sure to occasionally glance at them so they notice your gaze."
Pausing for a moment, he locked eyes with her, causing Penelope to startle and step back, unaware of how captivated she had been.
"The third option carries the highest level of risk, but it also has the potential to yield the greatest reward. It is when you recognise, within the depths of your heart, your genuine interest in another individual, without fear of shame or rejection. So you meet their eyes across the room, and you hold their gaze, and don't look away. Ever."
As she stared at Colin, a nervous gulp escaped her throat.
"I understand," Penelope said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
"Our focus will be on practicing the second and third methods. Tomorrow at the musicale, you will endeavour to attract a gentleman of your choosing, and I will be in attendance to provide assistance."
Why was everything going so fast? Penelope started fanning herself, she couldn't help but feel the room was so oppressively warm.
"Pen," he called, observing her restlessness, yet completely oblivious to its true cause. "Don't be alarmed, it is simple, I promise you. Do you trust me?"
She took a deep breath. "I suppose I do."
"Then face the opposite direction, reach for a glass of lemonade, and direct your gaze towards me," he said.
That got a small chuckle out of her before she turned around to retrieve her drink. With a cup in hand, she looked at Colin for a moment before placing it on her lips and taking a sip. Next, she took another eclair, briefly looked at him, and then returned her gaze to the table.
Colin tilted his head and placed his hands on his hips. "You did well, but it would be better if you were more obvious in your execution."
"More obvious?" Her cheeks reddened immediately.
"Here, let me demonstrate. Swap places with me," Colin said while motioning between the two of them.
He approached the table as Penelope positioned herself in front of Mr and Mrs Bridgerton's painting. Standing sideways, he cast her a penetrating stare. His blue eyes bore into her unashamedly, directly, making Penelope feel the need to seek shelter behind the couch. Taking a quick break to grab a glass and fill it with water, he immediately refocused his attention on her, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a long, deliberate sip. As he circled the table, the figs piqued his curiosity. He stole one more look in her direction, meeting her eyes before refocusing on the fruits.
Colin then nonchalantly popped a fig into his mouth and wrapped up his demonstration with a casual shrug.
"This is how you do it," he said.
She swallowed hard, while trying to ignore her wobbly legs and pounding heart.
"You make it sound like it's so easy," she said, slightly winded if one were to pay enough attention.
"Because it is." He walked up to her. "Look at it from this angle: what do you stand to lose? You are simply looking."
Her pride, most likely. But desperate times and desperate measures. Besides, it wasn't as if her own courtship methods had worked before.
Nodding in resignation, she turned and headed back towards the food table.
She grabbed her glass of lemonade once more, taking a sip to gather her courage rather than for show. After setting it back down on the table, she met his gaze head-on, her eyes piercing into his. Despite her perpetual inclination to avert her gaze, she mustered the courage to do what she had always yearned for—to gaze deeply into Colin's eyes, unafraid of the consequences.
Her eyes returned to the table, where she seized a bunch of juicy green grapes. With intention, she looked directly at him while relishing a bite. Picking up a napkin, she took a moment to delicately wipe her mouth while stealing another glance at him.
Colin cleared his throat. "Better," he stated with a faint hoarseness in his voice, before clearing his throat again. "That's better."
The redhead grinned, content with her small and peculiar accomplishment.
In a more relaxed state, she ate another grape, no longer obligated to maintain eye contact with Colin.
"And then, what happens next?" she asked. "I choose a gentleman at random within the room and maintain a focused stare towards him, like so."
"Something of that nature," he said, as he turned his attention towards the fireplace mantle, absentmindedly fiddling with the decorations on it. "Although, not just any ordinary gentleman. A gentleman who captures your interest."
Pouring herself some tea, she chuckled and shook her head at the irony. "A gentleman who captures my interest."
"Absolutely. Choose the most handsome gentleman in the room," he declared.
In mid-air, Penelope's hand remained frozen, the fragile porcelain teacup held between her fingers, while she stared at him in utter consternation.
After all, his counsel would be an arduous task, since the most attractive gentleman in the room was already in there with her.
"Alright." He rubbed his hands together, oblivious to her turmoil again. "Before we proceed to the next lesson, lock eyes with me and keep them locked until I approach you."
Penelope carefully set her teacup down. "Will do," she muttered.
Like swiftly removing a bandage, she directed her eyes towards him immediately.
And in an odd turn of events, her nervousness subsided.
One could argue that, after repeating the action several times in the last five minutes, it was only natural. But as Penelope stared into Colin's eyes, she understood why. Now they weren't under a ruse pretending to be at an event, or being forced to go around a table and glance at each other. It was just them. And despite all the nervousness and shyness that her infatuation had brought, Colin had always brought her joy, too.
Even with all the grief and heartache, one look at his warm smile, and she felt relief; one look into his face, and her nerves were blazing. It was like coming home and embarking on an adventure all at once.
She supposed that was what loving someone meant, a world of paradoxes. Colin Bridgerton was the one person she couldn't bear to face, yet also the one she couldn't tear her eyes away from.
And before she knew it, he was walking towards her.
Colin was certain that he had gone insane.
His plan was clear; it was rational. He was well-versed in all the social cues, and if he were to be frank, he had a knack for charming those around him. If it benefited Penelope, he had no trouble teaching her these skills.
So why did he feel so strange?
As Penelope stared at him, three peculiar thoughts entered his head.
The first, and perhaps more obvious, was that he missed her. Which was something he already knew. But it was as if his soul exhaled with contentment when it was near her, being acknowledged by her without animosity or shame.
The second was that her eyes had a striking blue colour. They were astonishing, really. How did he not notice them before? Perhaps they stood out because they perfectly matched her dress, or maybe it was the way her hair was styled that day, framing her face flawlessly.
Then the third and final thought dawned on him: he did not know how long he had been there. They had been locked in a stare for so long that he completely lost track of time. It felt odd to him, as he had experienced nothing quite like it in his life.
So, finally breaking free from his reverie, he approached her.
"As you can see, it's simple," he said, feeling anything but.
She tilted her head in disbelief. "Tomorrow we shall see."
After nodding, Colin took a breather, then plucked a few grapes for himself.
"Now that you have successfully achieved your goal of attracting the gentleman's attention, it is essential to understand the subsequent steps," he said.
As she finished her now lukewarm tea, she asked, "Which are?"
With his back to the table, he crossed his arms and said, "Talking."
Her eyebrows furrowed as she gazed at him, urging him to elaborate. It was obvious that talking would be required at that stage, but she hoped he had something more specific in mind.
"Although I wish I could say otherwise, it would be misleading to suggest that any topic is open for discussion at this juncture." He then turned to her. "This is not to suggest that rules cannot be broken. But, there are certain topics that… can either support or hinder the process of courtship."
"Such as?" she asked.
He grimaced as if reliving terrible memories. "Avoid topics such as the weather. And definitely, at all costs, avoid any discussions related to politics."
A soft chuckle escaped her lips, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she heard his list.
"Colin, I acknowledge my shortcomings in the art of courtship, but I assure you that I am not completely unaware," she said, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Her comment brought a smile to his face, amused by her wit.
"The reason I advised you to pick a gentleman who caught your interest, aside from the obvious, is because of what happens next. Following his arrival and a casual conversation about the delightful evening, the agreeable music, the floral decorations, and, perhaps, the taste of the food, you make your move decisively. Compliment him."
Caught off guard, she leaned back and raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Just like that?"
"No, this part, unlike the last, is not that simple. There is an art to it, and I am here to provide instruction." He gestured towards himself. "So, as I resume my prior position as your hypothetical suitor, I find myself here with you standing by the table engaged in conversation about..." he motioned towards the room with a sweeping hand gesture. "A violin being out of tune, you agree with me that the songs are sounding dreadful, and then there's a pause. At that point, you say—"he pointed towards her.
Penelope regarded him with a peculiar gaze, her eyes quickly scanning his face and attire. Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of red, as they have done multiple times during that encounter. Despite knowing about Penelope's shyness, Colin had never truly grasped the extent of her struggle until that day. Granted, he had never tested her limits like he had in the previous minutes, but there was a part of him that enjoyed this sensation. Not of making her feel nervous, but to be counted among the privileged few she trusted to reveal her vulnerabilities to.
Hoping to calm her anxiety, he gently interrupted her. "I know I am not the man who truly captivates your attention as a possible suitor," he said, his words hanging in the air. "But imagine for a moment that I am. Given our friendship, it would be disheartening to think that there is nothing about me that you find appealing. Choose something small but significant, and we can proceed from there."
Her mouth parted slightly, oddly catching his attention. As she inhaled deeply, she adjusted her posture and faced him, once again watching his features with attention.
With squared shoulders, Colin positioned himself directly in front of her, silently waiting for her next move. Much to his surprise, he found himself studying her too. The dainty ribbon adorning her neck served as a reminder of both her family's precarious situation and the silky smoothness of Penelope's skin. Her cheeks, still blushed and pretty. As he had already noticed earlier, her hair was expertly styled in an elegant bun, with delicate kiss curls that added a touch of charm to her already beautiful face. Her lips, plump and perfect, resembled a delicate bow, adorned with a subtle shade of pink, or was it peach? When it came to similar colour tones, he had never been skilled in telling them apart. And her irises. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite pinpoint the exact shade of blue that they were—were they a mix of green and blue, or more like the color of the ocean?
The last time he experienced such doubt was when he first beheld the vastness of Greece's seas.
"Your eyes…" she said, her voice carrying a depth he had never heard before. "A most remarkable shade of blue." She paused, and he felt a peculiar anticipation. "And yet somehow, they shine even brighter when you are kind."
The intensity of her expression betrayed nothing but honesty, and a wave of warmth washed over his entire body and made residence on his chest. Then he looked into those eyes of hers and saw the seas. Terrifying and mesmerising, a swirling spectacle of vibrant colours and overwhelming emotions, pulling him in and threatening to make their waters his home.
And then she looked away, and he was parched.
"I'd m- I might say something like that if you were a suitor," she said, spinning towards the table to retrieve her glass.
Colin was taking a long sip of water as he listened, making a noise deep in his throat in acknowledgment. With a loud gulp, he set his glass down on the table, causing a resounding thud.
"Well… That was a… rather direct." He raised his eyebrows. Probably not the best approach for a potential suitor on her part. Not that he minded hearing it at all.
But well, he wasn't a suitor.
And why was his throat so dry?
"Um," he trailed off, his focus back on her as he tried to come up with anything to say.
But, just as he was about to, his sisters' voices erupted from behind the door.
The man had about five seconds to determine what course of action to follow before he and Penelope were caught three times over. His legs carried him to the door without a second thought. Then he turned to Penelope and pointed towards the sofa so she could hide behind it.
She widened her eyes at him, and he shrugged. The girl then ran behind the curtain where she could hide without leaving her feet exposed, as would have happened if she had chosen the sofa. Colin had a moment to admire her intelligence before he opened the door.
"Colin!" Eloise exclaimed, almost losing her footing as he appeared out of nowhere.
He stepped into the hallway and away from the door, closing it behind him.
With only a second to spare, Penelope found it curious that her immediate concern, upon hearing Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth approaching the Bridgerton drawing room, was the possibility of Eloise discovering her estranged best friend in her house.
And then she remembered… she was alone with Colin.
Which was the reason she ended up behind a heavy curtain, drenched in sweat, fervently wishing they wouldn't choose that moment to enter the room for a casual chat.
As she heard the door close, she cautiously looked behind the fabric, relieved to find the room empty and the voices fading away. Finally, she could breathe normally again.
Taking careful steps, Penelope checked if the door was truly shut, and only then did she finally feel at ease. Exhaustion from the entire day washed over her, causing her to remove the gloves from her clammy hands. She sank into the sofa, letting her head droop against the backrest as she released a tired exhale.
That was when something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. On the sofa cushion, there was a fraying book bound in brown leather, which she observed Colin reading upon her arrival.
A couple of ragged paper sheets were sticking out of it, and Penelope couldn't resist leaning in for a closer look at the hastily scrawled words on them. She quickly recognised Colin's handwriting.
The people here can't know that joy. Their days are always perfect. Can one appreciate perfection when it is a constant in one's life?
Troodos Mountains, Cyprus
Her first thought upon reading those words was, What is this? Followed by the second, most intriguing thought—indeed.
Was Colin writing? That was definitely an unexpected development. Her eyes shot up, eagerly devouring every word on the paper. She had exchanged many letters with him in the past—even if she had ignored the latest ones—and, admittedly, he was good with written words.
He was good with any words, really, written or spoken, which made him all the more intimidating and captivating.
Her fingers instinctively moved to the edge of the pages, gently pulling them to read the entire text. It looked like a travel journal of sorts, and truth be told, it was quite addicting.
"What are you doing?"
She nearly leapt off the sofa, only to realise the worst person possible had caught her.
"Colin!"
"Indeed," he replied.
Penelope remembered what she had told him earlier. How his eyes shone brighter when he was kind. Because at that moment, his blue eyes looked anything but.
Their coldness was chilling, a sight she had never witnessed before. It made them appear clearer, silver-tinged, as if made of pure ice.
"What were you doing?" he asked with a tone made of steel as he walked past her to grab his journal from the sofa.
She watched him walk up to the opposite side of the room, his back rigid and his paces final. Throughout her entire life, she had never seen Colin so enraged. Words failed her completely.
"Um," she stammered, her arms awkwardly hanging by her sides, unsure of what to do. "I'm sorry." There was no use in pretending she wasn't reading something deeply personal. "I saw the pages and—"
He threw the leather-bound book onto a nearby chair by his side of the room and turned to her with his arms crossed. "And you didn't think to look away?"
His sarcasm then finally irritated her. "Obviously not," she said, feeling her cheeks burn for the thousandth time that day.
"I see." He raised his chin ever so slightly, adjusting his crossed arms.
And that was probably the first time Penelope seriously considered striking Colin.
"There's nothing to defend it. It was a mistake, and I'm trying to apologise. One would think you would know what that's like," she said.
Instead of achieving the desired effect of making the man more rational, it only exacerbated his anger. Or perhaps she did want to provoke a stronger reaction from him. Penelope was irrationally furious at his attitude herself, and misery loved company.
"I wasn't readily granted forgiveness, so I am determined to reciprocate the kindness," he said. "Maybe you can present me with a proposition."
She all but growled in frustration. "In that case, all agreements are nullified, and I will take my leave. Have a good day, Mr Bridgerton," she spat the last title with pleasure.
"Good day, Miss Featherington" he replied.
With a single, furious glance in his direction, she walked towards the door. And he just watched her go, feigning casualness as he leaned against the side table.
But as she was about to push the door open, he let out a scream.
Penelope couldn't recall how she had arrived at Colin's side so quickly, but in an instant, her surroundings were all red. A scarlet-stained letter opener lying on the ground. Crimson droplets on the wooden floor. And, finally, his hand, bearing an open wound, stretched upwards, with blood seeping from his palm down to his forearm.
The sight of him standing on Mrs. Bridgerton's exquisite carpet triggered Penelope's instincts in an instant.
"Colin!" she called out, pushing his arm away from the carpet. He looked down, noticing what she meant. Taking a step to the side, he positioned himself on the wooden flooring.
"It's good to see you have your priorities in order," he said, his voice shaking as he stared at his injured hand.
"I cannot speak on your behalf, but personally, in the event that someone discovers us in this predicament, I would rather face allegations of impropriety than homicide. Or worse, damaging the aesthetic of your mother's decor," she said.
A sincere laugh escaped Colin in response. His expression softened, radiating warmth once again.
"I was joking," he said, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.
Despite their tense atmosphere, she smiled back at him briefly. It was only when he crouched down to reach for the letter opener that she realised she was still holding his hand.
"Wait," she crouched down in front of him. "You need to wrap this," she said, holding his hand in front of him.
He stared at their hands for a moment, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, before reaching into his pocket with his uninjured hand. He then held out a handkerchief for her to take.
She wrapped it tightly around his hand, trying to ignore the warmth and the sensation of his skin against hers
"Thank you," he said, his gaze fixed on her handiwork. He remained silent for a moment, captivated by it. "I find myself uncertain as to whom I should feel more disappointed in—should it be myself for being so distracted that I cut myself, or the sibling who left a letter opener unattended on a side table. " He then looked up at her with a self-depreciating smile.
As always, his smile disarmed her. In an instant, her indignation and his rage were forgotten.
"There is no need to blame yourself. You will live on despite the severity of this injury," she said, her voice soft and humorous.
He chuckled, his attention once again drawn to their intertwined hands. His grip on her hand tightened, and then he brushed his thumb against hers. Her breath hitched, and a shiver ran down her spine, causing the hairs on her arm to stand on end.
That sight reminded her of who and where they were.
"I… I should take my leave," she stammered, standing up at once.
Colin blinked, standing upright after her. Before he could utter a word, she exited the room to prevent either of them from saying or doing anything else they would regret.
The Smythe-Smith musicale wasn't a fiasco, but it wasn't fantastic either.
After her anger subsided, Penelope could analyse their fight with more clarity.
Had Colin read her personal writings uninvited, she would have reacted with a similar fury. Colin's reaction had caught her off guard with its crudeness, but she could understand why he had lost his temper.
Regardless of the outcome, she had to offer him a more sincere and lengthy apology.
So when the Smythe-Smith musicale arrived, the girl was simply too preoccupied sneaking glances at Colin to look for suitors. The man, on the other hand, seemed more stiff and serious than she had seen in her entire life. His refusal to greet her, even though he had promised to help her find suitors, was undeniable proof that he still harboured resentment.
And with that, the evening passed uneventfully—no more than a footnote in Penelope's week.
However, the Vauxhall Ball was a different story.
As soon as she entered the gardens, the girl was determined to settle everything. She wouldn't let another event go by without speaking to Colin, and she refused to spend another night without actively seeking out potential suitors.
Starting at the top of the list, she surveyed her surroundings in quest of the third Bridgerton brother, taking her time to appreciate the warm night aglow with various lights and the exuberant chirping of crickets. She also noted that the musicians were still tuning their instruments; Her family had arrived too early to the ball. Blame it on Portia's Featherington over the excitement at Prudence's brewing engagement.
Noticing that none of the Bridgertons had arrived yet, Penelope spotted the food table and decided to grab a snack and put Colin's theory to the test.
The lively music began playing just as she found the chocolate eclairs. Taking one for herself, she turned her attention to the couples on the dance floor. Her sister was already there with Harry, who had apparently arrived earlier as well.
Penelope sighed. Her mother's excitement was justified. Harry looked like a lovesick fool while dancing with her sister.
The youngest Featherington surveyed the room, determined to avoid spinsterhood and seize control of her own fate. However, the gentlemen in attendance were, at best, just satisfactory. Thankfully, being Lady Whistledown gave her an advantage, as she knew the unsavoury secrets of some of them. The ones she did not know were still a mystery, and she would have to judge based on their appearance. Which was as terrible as it sounded, but it would have to suffice until she followed Colin's advice and engaged in conversation with one of them.
Too tall, too short, too much hair, not enough hair. Her mind found reasons to dismiss them all, perhaps unfairly. When she was about to concede she was too unsettled to find anything appealing that night, one gentleman seemed reasonable enough.
She took a deep breath and recalled Colin's words. She gazed at the man's agreeable figure for a considerable amount of time, then focused back on her food. As expected, he hadn't noticed her. Taking a bite of her eclair, she glanced at him once more. And, surprisingly, he was already looking back at her.
She reminded herself that, no matter what, it was important not to choke on an eclair again.
He seemed to have nice eyes, although she was too far away to be certain. But his well-kept beard and hair were a welcome sight. She then looked away to pour herself some lemonade. While sipping it, she stared at him, much like Colin had done during their lesson.
The new gentleman continued to gaze at her, and for a brief moment, Penelope relished in that small victory. However, it remained small as he looked away instead of approaching her for a dance.
Just then, Francesca appeared in her line of sight, positioning herself to dance with a gentleman Penelope didn't recognise. But if Francesca had arrived, it could only mean that her other siblings were already present as well. She didn't have to search far because, soon enough, on other side of the dancefloor, she saw him.
To her utter misfortune, Eloise was right beside Colin, reminding Penelope of another problem that needed fixing. But well, that one seemed more hopeless than the others, especially after Eloise had told her she never wanted to see her again.
Penelope just had to make sure she wouldn't lose another friend because of her blunders, or even more vicious, her pride.
Approaching him, however, was impossible with her former best friend standing right by his side. No, she had to make him approach her.
With a fortifying breath, she straightened her back and realised what she needed to do.
He did tell her to choose the most handsome gentleman in the room.
So she met Colin Bridgerton's eyes from across the ball. And didn't look away. Ever.
Colin was admittedly having a tumultuous week.
He liked to think none of it was his fault, but if he were to be honest, it was completely and absolutely all his doing.
Never before in his life had he been a victim of uncontrolled emotions, but in three days only, he created quite a mess in the name of his temper.
Perhaps this was a common affliction for Bridgerton men once they reached a certain age. He wasn't yet sure; though Benedict seemed immune, he would have to ask Anthony about it.
He hated to admit it, but he was slowly starting to understand the reason behind his brother's occasional nonsensical and obnoxious behaviour. Colin was feeling obnoxious himself, but somehow he could not stop.
He was aware that he had overreacted when he found Penelope reading his journals, but the wave of shame that overcame him was simply too great to allow any room for reason. And, besides, it wasn't as if she had properly apologised. Granted, he barely gave her a chance to speak, but even so, she didn't seem that apologetic.
Not at the time, at least. During the Smythe-Smith musicale, however, he couldn't deny that her expression seemed dejected. Even then, he didn't want to talk. His desire was to wallow in anger, if only to cover his deeply buried feelings of humiliation.
The issue wasn't even that Penelope had read something personal without permission. Yes, that was a gaffe, but it wasn't what unsettled him the most. The real problem was that his writings were infantile and foolish.
They were done in the privacy of his solitude, born out of his desire to share the beauty he saw in the world. Many people had commented on how exhausting his incessant rambling on the subject could be, so he wrote about it instead. But those words were never meant to be read by anyone else.
So when someone finally did, it felt as though they were peering into the most absurd and vulnerable parts of his soul. He knew Penelope wasn't cruel, and she would never laugh at his personal reflections. Yet, it bothered him that she might think less of him based on what she had read.
It was ironic, really, because now that they had fought, she definitely thought less of him. He even had the idiotic idea of throwing the one arrangement that had convinced her to forgive him in her face. His temper had transformed him into a deranged person, and Colin felt a need to apologise to Anthony for the countless times he had unfairly judged him.
"What are you looking at?" Anthony narrowed his eyes at Colin, who seemed to watch him intently.
"I was thinking that we should express our gratitude to Kate," Colin remarked, assuming a thoughtful stance with his thumb under his chin. "I cannot recall a time in the past two decades where I have witnessed you being this calm."
The viscount rolled his eyes at him.
From his seat beside Colin in the carriage, he chuckled. "He is right, brother," he said.
"Our beloved sister is on the brink of a swift and straightforward engagement. The Earl of Kilmartin seems to be a distinguished and honourable gentleman, with no evidence of financial difficulties or a concealed propensity for gambling. I see no grounds for objection to this union, which serves as evidence—to all of you—that your best interest has always been my utmost concern," Anthony said, the smirks on his brothers' faces growing wider and wider at each word.
"Oh, is that the explanation for your decision to withhold questioning her when it is evident that she invited Kate to join them in the carriage for a confidential conversation?" Benedict asked, crossing his arms as he regarded Anthony's deflections.
The man's only reaction was a sidelong glance as he continued to stare out the window. Upon realising their arrival, he promptly exited the vehicle without bothering to confirm if the other two had followed.
Francesca, Eloise, and Kate's carriage came to a stop nearby, and before long, they all crossed paths on the way to the entrance. Unexpectedly, their mother made the choice to abstain from the evening's activities, thereby entrusting Kate and Anthony with the duty of supervising them for the duration of the night.
And it was indeed their duty, not his mother's. Yet her persistent worry for her children led her to get passionately involved. Also, her constant concern about Anthony's temperament prevented her from leaving him to handle his siblings' season by himself. He liked to think that Violet was finally trusting him, especially considering everything that had transpired in the past. But, if he were honest, the decisive factor was probably her trust in Kate.
"Everything in order?" he asked as soon as he saw his wife, while offering his arm for her to take.
Her warm brown eyes sparkled with amusement, a small grin adorning her mouth as they linked arms. "Well, I must inform you, my dear husband, that the world is not coming to an end at present."
Anthony sighed. Although Kate was teasing him, he decided not to inquire further, as he could discern from her soothing voice that everything was indeed well. Whatever Francesca needed to discuss with her was likely related to feminine matters, which he had no intention of delving into.
"So." She turned to him once they reached the gardens where the ball was taking place. "Will you spend the entire night consumed by worry, or will you ask me to dance?"
He grinned at her, reminiscing about a time when inviting her to dance felt like going into battle. Now he could dance with her as many times as he wanted, could look at her for as much time as he desired. He gently grasped her hand and pressed his lips against it because he could also kiss her with no repercussions.
Behind them, his siblings groaned aloud.
"I beg of you," Eloise said. "Refrain from kissing at this very instant."
Anthony refrained from smirking instead. "That would be highly inappropriate," he told his sister.
In reply, she scoffed and placed her fists on her hips. "Pray tell, brother, has that ever stopped you?" She asked, her mind vividly recalling the viscount and viscountess' exuberant displays of affection during their family gatherings.
Kate chuckled while Anthony prepared a witty retort, ready to fire back. However, the Bridgerton family's daily squabble was halted by a gentleman approaching them.
"Viscount and viscountess Bridgerton. "His gaze swept across the Bridgerton family as he greeted them. "Mr Benedict and Mr Colin Bridgerton, Miss Eloise."
Each and every one of them acknowledged him until he locked eyes with the person he wanted to see. "Miss Francesca, you look absolutely enchanting this evening. Would you do me the honour of sharing the first dance with me?"
Francesca's face lit up when she saw him, and it brightened even more when he made his request. Offering her hand to him, she replied, "I would be delighted, Lord Stirling."
And so they made their way to the dance floor. With a smile of contentment, Anthony tilted his head at Kate, his hand finding hers once more as they set off towards the dance floor themselves.
"I suppose I'll also find a dance partner," Benedict declared, earning confused expressions from his two other siblings.
Despite his passion for parties, Benedict had a certain disdain for formal balls. And he certainly cared little for waltzes and quadrilles. But ever since he renounced his artistic ambitions, the second-eldest Bridgerton sibling had been displaying uncharacteristic behaviour.
"And then there were two," Eloise said as Benedict disappeared into the sea of people. With a sigh, she looked around the crowd, as disinterested in being at these sorts of events as she had always been.
Not a single gentleman in the room caught her interest, and she had no passion for dancing. The frivolous dresses and idle conversations repulsed her. She pondered whether the ball would provide a single thrilling moment before she could come up with a reason to return home.
"Will the Queen be present, do you think?" she asked absentmindedly. "I am genuinely unsure why she has taken such an extended period to designate the diamond of the season, as it is clearly Francesca—"
However, when she glanced at Colin, he appeared unconcerned about the dance or the queen. Instead, his mind appeared to be elsewhere as he focused a narrowed gaze on her, a smirk gradually appearing on his face.
"What is it?" she asked, her brows furrowing at his weird behaviour.
"Francesca requested a private conversation with Kate to seek her opinion on your confidential letters, didn't she?" he said.
Eloise briefly widened her eyes in response to his accusation, but then quickly dismissed it with a scoff.
"They aren't confidential," she said while crossing her arms. "And you were never even meant to know of the existence of those letters."
Colin's fortuitous presence in the drawing room that day led him to discover his sisters' conversation regarding Eloise's secret correspondent, whose identity she steadfastly refused to reveal. A fact that had Francesca deeply concerned.
"In that case," he replied cheekily. "You shouldn't be discussing them in the house."
Eloise pressed her lips together, her gaze focused on the couples twirling around the dance floor. "Francesca worries needlessly. I'll have you know that my correspondent is of the female gender. This concludes all the information I am disclosing to you."
He watched his sister once again, noticing her troubled expression. Benedict wasn't the only one acting out of character as of late.
"I suppose it is only natural to long for a friend, especially after experiencing the loss of one," he said, absentmindedly grazing his thumb on the handkerchief still wrapped around his hand.
That earned a prolonged wide-eyed reaction from Eloise.
"You and Penelope—" he trailed off.
"Yes," she interrupted, fully aware of his meaning and not pretending otherwise. "How did you come to know about that?"
"Well, I'll have you know that I have eyes," he said.
"Please." Eloise scoffed again. "Do not insult me with false tales of your supposed perceptiveness. How do you know, Colin?"
She asked not because she didn't know the answer, but because she needed to confirm it. If anyone in her family had noticed that she and Penelope weren't speaking, it was most likely her mother. If it weren't for Benedict's troubled state of mind, maybe he would have also taken notice. But Colin? Unless someone told him, there was no chance of him finding out. And there was only one person who knew—the sole individual capable of sharing the information with him.
"Just because you and Penelope aren't on speaking terms doesn't mean she and I aren't," he replied.
And that insignificant piece of information somehow shattered Eloise's world a little.
It wasn't like she was oblivious to Colin and Penelope being friends. But deep down, she was always under the impression that she was the glue between Penelope and all the Bridgertons. She was the reason the girl often interacted with her siblings; she was the reason she frequented their household.
And It had been months since Eloise last had a conversation with Penelope. But she and Colin were speaking? Hadn't he humiliated her in front of the entire ton? Had she already forgiven him already? Eloise was completely at a loss as to what was happening.
Involuntarily, her eyes scanned the surroundings and zeroed in on the main topic of discussion. To Eloise's further confusion, Penelope was already looking at her. Her former friend's eyes held a piercing determination that Eloise had rarely seen before.
And then she realised her mistake. The person the girl was looking at was not her.
"Colin," Eloise said, grabbing her brother's attention. With a subtle nod of her head, she gestured towards the youngest Featherington sister. "What is happening?"
Furrowing his brows, he followed her gaze to see what she was pointing at. Eloise watched as his eyes landed on Penelope and the momentary pause that followed when he spotted her. As they locked eyes in a moment of seemingly unspoken understanding, he clenched his jaw.
"Excuse me," he said before making a beeline towards her.
"Colin—" Eloise called, her voice filled with frustration, still waiting for an explanation.
One she would not likely receive as he resolutely made his way over to Penelope.
Because that was what she wanted, wasn't it? She was beckoning him to come to her. He recognised that the moment he met her unwavering gaze, just like they had practiced.
And so he answered, reaching the food table at record speed.
"Pen," he greeted.
"Colin," she greeted back, keeping her reply just as succinct as his.
But both parties chose to forgo the use of their formal titles, a subtle detail that wasn't lost on either of them.
He nibbled on his lower lip and feigned interest in the sandwiches. "Have you summoned me?" he finally asked.
She cleared her throat. "Um, yes," she nervously twiddled her hands in front of herself, "I… I have."
Nodding, he patiently waited for her to speak. Part of him already longed to plead for forgiveness again and urge her to stop feeling apprehensive, but another part still seethed with the humiliation and resentment from their previous encounter.
"Look, Colin, I'm truly sorry," she said. "It might not have appeared that way when you stumbled upon me that day, but I assure you, I am. I found your reaction to be unsettling, but it was not within my rights to feel that way. It was I who made the mistake."
He remained silent, choosing to direct his gaze to his shoes. Her words were not entirely true—she did have a right to be offended at the way he reacted.
"I just… was completely absorbed by your writing. It was truly captivating."
Immediately, his head snapped up with such force that he almost hurt his neck. Though he heard the words, he couldn't believe the meaning behind them.
"—and then one word led to another, and my curiosity grew as I pondered the outcome of that particular tale, you see. It felt as if I was right there with you on your travels, experiencing every moment by your side, and, for the life of me, I couldn't stop reading the pages and—"
"Penelope," he interrupted her ramblings, his heart pounding as he wondered if he was hallucinating, "What in the world are you talking about?"
She paused mid rant and stared at him with those beautiful blue eyes. They looked unusually shiny, causing him to briefly wonder if it was a common occurrence when she was fully absorbed in something.
With an audible groan, she couldn't help but shrink back involuntarily. "I should never have read those, I apologise," she said, misunderstanding what he meant.
"No," he said, placing a hand on her arm out of reflex. "What I'm trying to say is that I do not understand your remarks regarding my… my writing."
His comment caught her off guard, causing her arms to drop in surprise. As her skin slipped away from his hand, he felt a strange longing for its warmth.
"Oh," she said. "I enjoyed it—your writing, I mean." Upon noticing his puzzled expression, she understood the source of his confusion and continued, "You are a good writer, Colin. In fact, a remarkably skilled one."
Breathless in an instant, he could only stare at her in wonder.
"I wasn't aware," was all he could say.
Her face lit up with a grin, her eyes glistening and reflecting the enchanting lights that surrounded them. It did something indescribable to his heart. At that fleeting moment, all he wanted was to be the reason behind that glorious smile for the rest of his life.
"Pardon me. Miss Penelope Featherington, is it?" A blond-haired gentleman suddenly cut short their conversation, catching Penelope's attention and immediately irritating Colin. "I think we haven't been properly introduced. I am Lord Debling," he said.
Normally, one could find his interruption rude. After all, Colin could be a gentleman courting Penelope. If only he hadn't declared to everyone with ears that he would never do such a thing.
When that fascinating smile of hers was directed at the other man, he felt a sudden, intense desire to snatch a glass from the table and smash it to pieces with his bare hands. Colin confirmed then and there that he was surely was losing his mind.
"Would you do me the honour of accompanying me for the next dance?" he asked.
What do you know, the lessons actually worked, Colin thought bitterly as he grabbed a handful of peanuts and chewed on them loudly.
"It would be an honour, my lord," Penelope said.
With a smile, he extended his hand for her to accept.
Penelope approached the dance floor alongside Lord Debling, radiating a level of happiness that Colin had never witnessed before. And Colin should have been thrilled for her—why wouldn't he be? She was his closest friend, and her joy was his joy.
But as the quadrille began, all he could do was watch her. And in that moment, he realised he had never done that before. After all, it was always him up there, dancing with her.
And that didn't feel like joy.
It felt as if the very foundations of his life were about to change.
A/N: PHEW! I hope you guys enjoyed it.
Hopefully Penelope and Colin didn't seem too harsh? It's just I feel they are more direct and even moody on the show (I like it better that way personally, but idk it's just a personal preference)
And, oh, I'm aware that on the books Colin's brothers also danced with Penelope but that wasn't exactly shown on the show so I ended up not mentioning that at all.
And now finally, the second sneak peek showed up (and many other book references, as I'm sure some must have noticed)
Hopefully, I'm going to see you guys soon. Don't forget to leave your amazing reviews because they're always deeply appreciated (and 'ill find a way to reply to each of them personally ASAP)!