Disclaimer: I don't own "Bridgerton" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: I rewatched the episode in season two where Colin and Phillip vibe and I am only human, okay?
Warnings: promo/teaser/general season three spoilers, season three au, friends to lovers, sexual tension, romantic tension, angst, drama, romance, emotional hurt and comfort, emotional baggage, first time, references to unrealized Penelope x Colin and the marriage of convenience between Marina and Phillip.
(An) Aculeate Harvest
Chapter Two
"Not choosing is also a choice," Phillip observed, three days into his impromptu stay. It was the first time he'd mentioned it. The reason why he'd appeared unannounced and wide eyed the night Lady Featherington came to call on Mama - all but beaming with the happy news.
He arched a brow, feigning- lord, he didn't know what.
"I don't know much of Miss Featherington, save for what my wife has shared. But you were close, I assume?"
A witty reply was sluggish on his tongue. It was his only defense and even that failed him. Leaving him with nothing but a nod and an excuse to breathe in the scent of the honied brandy he'd been nursing.
Phillip had a rather impressive Apiary.
And, apparently, a bottomless liquor cabinet.
"I am no expert in women. Or love," Phillip continued, halting but somehow not awkward. If he was anything, it was careful. As if he were a delicate piece of china he didn't want to break. "But it seems she made a choice. Women aren't allowed many of them. Some say they have no true ones. The choice of a husband? One always questions if it's for love or security? If a woman has no ability for an occupation, no means to support herself, how can she marry for love? …Women have to wait and plan, while men-"
The strange part was, he wasn't that upset. That was the thing he'd been wrestling with as he'd accepted the Crane's hospitality. Barely stomaching Marina's knowing, but ultimately pitying looks. And making the best of Phillip's awkwardly genuine attempts at distraction. Overall, the loss of Pen in the light he'd recently started to see her, in the way a man is oft to look at a woman, was a dull, if not consistent throb.
It was the wound of change that hurt the most.
Penelope had always been there, and now she wouldn't be. Not in the way he was accustomed. There would always be distance between them. She wouldn't be his Pen. She would be Lord Debling's wife. Lady Debling. She wouldn't be free to write to him. She wouldn't be a moment's walk away. As a married woman, she would be appropriately distant, and as a result, he would sorely miss her company. Barbs and all.
Lord alive, he was a selfish bastard!
"-I sense you feel she made the wrong choice?"
He blinked, realizing he'd stopped listening. The guilt was immediate. Because Phillip's face was curious, thoughtful, and kind. Nothing like society outside of the safety of his family. Giving him the dangerous impression that the man actually cared, and his answer would not travel beyond the two of them. Not even to Marina.
A dying fire cackled in the bronzed hearth before them. Giving him time to look around as he considered his answer. The trappings of the room were too masculine to be anything other than Phillip's personal study. It spoke of a separation. Like Marina had never stepped a foot inside and both preferred it that way.
He could have told him exactly what he thought about Penelope and Lord Debling. He could have told him about the golden years of their childhood. About their friendship. About how utterly unmoored he felt in life, love- everything.
But he didn't say any of it.
"I find it hard to believe that a married man knows nothing of love," he answered instead.
He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth.
The silence that followed was a wound.
"Forgive me," he said quickly. Shaking his head at his own callousness. "I fear I am not at my best tonight."
"Of course," Phillip answered softly. Nodding his understanding.
Naturally, that only made him feel worse.
He knocked back the rest of his drink and got to his feet. Feeling the weight of Phillip's gaze as the potent brew made the action loose enough to feel dangerous. He flushed, suddenly self conscious, imagining how he must look. Forlorn in lost love and now rather drunk. Impinging on his host's good grace and hospitality.
"I should retire for the night."
Crane nodded, doing him the honor of following him up. It shouldn't have meant anything, but as they stood together in the low light, the air unexpectedly thickened. He cleared his throat a moment after Phillip did. Leaving him caught between another cough and a laugh. Finding the moment so-
Phillip reached over and patted him on the shoulder.
It wasn't what he'd expected, but he got lost in the feel of it all the same.
The particular weight.
The phantom rasp of callouses on a gentleman's hands.
He wanted to shiver.
He wanted-
"Yes, I believe you should."
He woke up well past the morning meal with liquor for sweat. The linens rumpled and damp, from the exorcism of a bruised heart. He was worse for his night of drinking, but somehow much improved. And Phillip, of course, was quick to say as much when he finally graced them with his presence.
He was gone on his next traveling adventure before his invitation for Penelope's wedding could reach him. He heard later from Mama that Penelope had cried on hearing he'd sent his regrets.
He didn't know how to feel about that, but strangely Eloise told him he was lucky to have such a ready excuse not to attend.
A/N: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! – There will be more to come.
Reference:
- Apiary: (also known as a bee yard) is a location where beehives of honeybees are kept. Apiaries come in many sizes and can be rural or urban depending on the honey production operation. Furthermore, an apiary may refer to a hobbyist's hives or those used for commercial or educational usage.
