A/N: HELLO

I arrived early this week, I know.

Listen, this chapter comes from an important discussion of sorts that happened on the book, and that I also feel was important for Colin's character (I didn't like the timing of it per se on the book though, but that's another story). This is actually a shorter chapter but it wasn't on purpose, in my head the story was organized like this so what can I do.

I have not much else to say at the intro, let's just get going.

Penelope Featherington didn't attend Francesca's wedding.

And as Portia Featherington apologised nonstop, in her typical insincere manner, about how her third daughter was feeling under the weather, all Eloise could do was stare at Colin.

"As you may be aware, both of her sisters are now married, and witnessing another marriage might be overwhelming for her," she said. "Even Lord Debling, whom everyone thought was courting her, has not paid her a visit in days."

As the woman spoke, Violet listened intently, nodding and smiling not only at her but also at her daughter Philippa. Meanwhile, Colin struggled to hide his eye-rolling reaction, knowing full well that Portia had no idea who Penelope's visitors were, let alone when they came.

Eloise continued to stare at him with a piercing gaze, and he stubbornly refused to acknowledge her. In the meantime, Hyacinth carefully watched the silent struggle between her two siblings, as Gregory gazed at all of them with a puzzled expression.

Once Portia had finished her rant and went off to socialise with the other guests, Violet turned to them, looking visibly exhausted.

"That seemed quite odd, don't you think?" She commented, her gaze shifting towards Colin and Eloise. "Penelope appeared to be in good spirits yesterday, didn't she?"

"Yes, mama," Colin and Eloise answered in chorus, the most suspicious duet on Earth.

Violet's gaze lingered on them for a significant moment before she redirected her focus back to the rest of the party, as there were guests that required her attention. And once their mother was out of earshot, Eloise turned to Colin again.

"What have you done?" She asked, causing Hyacinth and Gregory to raise their eyebrows.

Colin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Nothing," he lied.

"Absolutely not. I will not accept any excuses from you." With a firm grip, she pulled his arm towards her, making him meet her gaze finally. "Do you truly expect me to believe that this is a mere coincidence?"

"Eloise, I do not expect you to believe a single thing," Colin responded, his jaw tight and his gaze steely. "All I ask is for you to leave me alone."

He broke free from her hold and walked away from the conversation without turning back, leaving his siblings bewildered. They could count on one hand the number of occasions that Colin had behaved in that manner.

That was the ideal day to get inebriated. If only Francesca and John had brought some alcohol to the wedding reception.

Admittedly, it was not yet lunch hour, but given the joyous occasion, one would expect everyone to be celebrating, wouldn't they?

Colin reflected he envied Penelope. For he, too, wished to escape the smiling faces, enamoured couples, and general cheerfulness that engulfed him like a choking hazard. However, escaping was her specialty.

Particularly when they found themselves in extremely inappropriate scenarios, such as every time he kissed her and she kissed him back, and then she proceeded to act as if nothing needed to be done about it.

Colin, on the other hand, certainly wanted to do something about it.

Except he wasn't sure what it was, which was the problem.

He definitely desired to continue kissing her, so he supposed that was a start. And if he wanted to continue kissing her, he'd have to marry her, which was another important conclusion.

But Penelope seemed uninterested in marrying him, as she had consistently declined his marriage offers. As a result, he had not even made another proposal the night before. And that was the crux of their predicament, wasn't it?

She could reject his propositions all she wanted, but they couldn't just pretend that everything was normal between them; that they were nothing more than friends when they couldn't keep their hands to themselves when they were alone. Or perhaps, at least Colin couldn't, as he had to acknowledge that he was the one consistently pushing their limits, not her.

Which was a daunting realisation, if he were to be honest. Even though Penelope had admittedly and willingly given in to his advances, it was he who always took the first step to ruin their friendship. And perhaps she never intended to be in that predicament in the first place; that responsibility fell to him.

And that meant it was entirely up to her to decide the future of their relationship. As it was clear that there were only two possible outcomes: either they would wed or they would forever avoid each other's presence. His preference on that matter was quite clear by that point. And maybe Penelope too had already made up her mind when she excused herself that night, deliberately avoiding him so much that she even missed his sister's wedding.

And what could he say to that?

Therefore, his problem was truly, deeply, that he did not have a drink. And at that moment, he was not above finding it at that torturous alcohol-free wedding.

So, while Francesca and John laughed and smiled, the picture-perfect pair, his mother beaming with pleasure, and his brothers spread about the room enjoying the festivities, Colin headed to Anthony's study room.

He just didn't expect to find someone already there.

"Who are you?" Colin immediately inquired as he stood by the door, a perplexed expression on his face, as he noticed an unfamiliar individual wandering around their house during the festivity.

The man appeared momentarily startled, holding a flask in his hands, as if taken aback by the unexpected interruption. He swiftly regained his composure, appearing somewhat shy as he uttered, "I apologise for the intrusion."

Colin's eyes shifted from the flask in his hands to his figure, filled with a mix of envy and curiosity. He couldn't help but wonder if the man, just like him, had come to this room in search of privacy.

The enigmatic visitor attempted to clarify his identity by stating, "I am the cousin of the groom," and realising it may not suffice, he further expressed, "To be more precise, we share a bond akin to that of brothers."

Colin's eyebrows shot up as he suddenly realised that he knew the man standing before him. It dawned on him that he should have recognised him from the recent family supper they had shared, if only his mind hadn't been so preoccupied.

The other gentleman then approached him and extended his hand, introducing himself as Michael Stirling.

"Colin Bridgerton," he said, graciously accepting the hand extended towards him and giving it a firm shake. "I-"

"Francesca's older brother, one of them, I know," he replied with a self-deprecating smile that left Colin puzzled. He was so caught up in his confusion that he didn't even realise how the man had used his sister's first name.

The other gentleman then scratched the back of his head and said, "I shall take my leave, then."

Sensing that Michael needed it just as much as he did, Colin said, "There's no need," before walking towards one of Anthony's cabinets where he kept his drinks. Then, with a bottle of whisky in his grasp, he waved it at him, asking, "Would you care for some company?"

"One simply knows."

"One simply knows?" Colin asked, his words slurred as the taste of alcohol lingered in his throat. With a half-empty bottle of whisky sitting between them, both men were slouched in their armchairs, their bodies sinking into the plush cushions. "One glimpse was enough to know?" He knitted his brows, his mind clouded and he pondered whether he was truly grasping the words at that moment or if they were merely a jumble of unintelligible phrases.

Michael simply shrugged and stated, "Before it occurred to me, I had no idea it was even possible."

Colin reached for the bottle once more with fervour, filling his glass, and concluded that the conversation was positively beyond his capacity.

With a reddened complexion and a glassy stare, the other man questioned him, "Why, do you not know?"

Colin hesitated, his hand frozen mid-air with the bottle poised over his glass. Unlike Michael, he had chosen to keep the reason for his secretive drinking to himself. Returning the bottle to the side table, he remarked, "I never stated that I was drinking because of a woman."

Michael then scoffed, as if they were old friends, and at that point, it curiously appeared as though they were. "Is there any other motive for one to indulge in excessive drinking at their sister's wedding? Or at all, truly," he murmured under his breath.

Colin sank back even more in the armchair, releasing a loud breath as his eyes shifted downward to his glass. "I concede that you are correct."

Michael casually waved one hand at him as if to say I knew I was correct before reaching for the bottle himself.

Staring at the amber liquid, his eyesight already blurring, Colin contemplated that the notion Michael put forth was quite peculiar to him.

The notion of instantly falling in love with a woman merely by catching sight of her struck Colin as strange, given that he had known Penelope for nearly his entire existence. At what age did they initially meet? Nine, ten? Their encounter had lacked any sort of dramatic flair, and he couldn't recall his initial impressions of her—naturally, why would a ten-year-old be concerned with such matters.

It was odd to consider the possibility that the mere sight of a new person could drastically alter his life. However, he recalled how he was immediately smitten with Marina; so was this the way things had to be?

That didn't sit well with him.

Throwing his head back on the armchair, he gazed at the room with the same intensity he would gaze at his own life. If only his mind were clearer, he could grasp the true significance of it all.

After exhaling deeply, Colin quickly downed his entire drink, then turned to Michael and asked, "If your feelings for her are so strong, why not consider proposing?""

His drinking companion's countenance twisted in anguish as he uttered, "She is marrying another," before swiftly downing his entire glass.

"Oh," Colin murmured in response. He reflected that his situation was not yet that dire. He gazed once more at his glass, pondering the possibility that he might soon encounter a similar predicament. In his inebriated state, he pondered the possibility of challenging Lord Debling to a duel. Such a course of action, he reasoned, would either result in his adversary's death or his own, presenting what appeared to be a rational and advantageous solution to all his troubles.

"And what of you?" Michael inquired, and Colin raised his gaze to meet his. "Why don't you wed yours?"

That somehow seemed to strike a chord in the Bridgerton man as he placed a hand on his face, his expression contorting in agony. "I am trying," he replied, his voice strained with pain, and Michael wondered if tears were about to spill from his eyes.

"What is happening here?"

Both inebriated gentlemen turned to Benedict, who was standing at the door with raised eyebrows, astonished. With a pointed finger and a hurried stride, he approached them, exclaiming, "Have you two finished the entire bottle on your own?"

Colin groaned, "Not you, of all people, being judgemental."

The older Bridgerton sibling looked at his younger brother, who appeared dishevelled with a disordered shirt, glassy-eyed, and with a chaotic hairstyle. "I will handle matters with you later," he stated, before shifting his focus to Michael. "Before anything else, allow me to secure a room for you."

Nodding, Michael waved him away and then struggled to get up and walk towards the door with wobbly legs.

Benedict then held Colin's face in his hands, as if he wanted to make sure he had his full attention. "What are you thinking? This is Francesca's wedding, Colin."

The man let out a sigh and said, "I'm aware," as he swatted his brother's hands away from his face. "You're hardly present these days, Benedict."

Benedict blinked, suddenly aware that this was no ordinary display of thoughtless and casual inebriation at a wedding.

"I need you and you are never around anymore," Colin drunkenly declared, and his brother suddenly realised that he was indeed correct. It became increasingly difficult to ignore what was happening with Colin; every member of the family had noticed the change in him. From the very start of the season, Benedict had noticed a distinct change in his brother, if he were to speak candidly. However, he presumed that if whatever was transpiring held any real significance, Colin would have already disclosed it to him.

But apparently not.

He had been so consumed by his own worries about art school and his attempts to help his family, like Anthony, that he failed to see that his efforts were ineffective. Colin was completely intoxicated at their sister's wedding, leaving Benedict perplexed as to why. But in the past, Benedict had always been somewhat aware of what was going on in Colin's life.

"I will come back here, I promise," Benedict said, his voice filled with determination as he placed a gentle hand on Colin's cheek. Despite his strong desire to speak to Colin immediately, he had to ensure that John's cousin was taken care of properly; otherwise, he would go back to the reception in that condition. "Do not leave," he told his younger brother.

With a swift decision, he opted to do something completely reckless, reminiscent of the old Benedict, and it dawned on him that maybe that was the person he should have been from the start. As he approached Anthony's cabinet, he promptly seized a small silk pouch that he had hidden inside and handed it to Colin.

"What is this?" Colin asked, frowning as he looked at it.

Benedict raised his eyebrows pointedly and answered with a single word, "Tea."

Much later, Colin would hold the copious amount of whisky he had ingested responsible for his next decision. Because at that particular moment, it seemed like a stroke of genius to drink all of the contents in the pouch that Benedict had handed him along with his drink. At once.

Whether it was minutes or hours later, he was left bewildered and gazing around the room. He was filled with questions about the room's brightness, the slow passage of time, and how Benedict walked into the room looking so... rigid?

"What do you think you are doing?"

Colin was unsure of the reason, but he found it highly amusing. "Benedict, why are you speaking in such a strange manner?"

"Bene— Have you drank all of this by yourself?" He gestured towards the now empty bottle next to his younger brother.

"No," he replied, raising his index finger in the air. "I had company." He nodded and gave a thumbs-up gesture. "The tea you gave me, however," he muttered, struggling to pronounce the last word with his numbed tongue.

"Tea? What tea?" He asked, firmly gripping his brother's face, sensing the intense heat radiating from his skin and noticing his unfocused gaze. Although he acknowledged his brother was occasionally irresponsible, this was a whole different level of unusual. Causing havoc at social gatherings and getting completely inebriated at his sister's wedding—that was not normal.

"Colin, what is happening to you?" he asked with the utmost sincerity.

"Benedict… Why… Are your eyes brown?

Anthony groaned and released his brother's face as he considered his alternatives. The one thing he knew for certain was that he couldn't leave him here; who knows whether he'd wind up returning to the reception in that shape. So the real issue was: could he carry him?

"Can you walk?" Anthony asked

Colin nodded as if it were no issue, but when he tried to rise up from the armchair, he almost fell on his knees. Anthony raced to grasp him by the arms, slinging one over his shoulder.

He grumbled and cursed about how Colin was taller and therefore heavier than him, and then he also cursed the fact that he always ended up cleaning up after his family's messes. Inhaling deeply, he steeled himself mentally as he prepared to guide them towards the door, desperately wishing for an empty hallway.

Opening the door, he cautiously peered outside, careful not to strain his shoulder under the weight of his brother. Fortunately, there was no one in sight, allowing him to swiftly guide Colin to the hallway.

Colin let out a disgruntled noise, nearly bumping into his brother after being abruptly yanked. "Where are we headed?"

"To your chamber, naturally. Do you wish for others to discover you in this condition?" Anthony hissed as he scanned his surroundings every three seconds for fear of colliding with anyone.

His brother furrowed his brow then nodded. "Right. Anthony would be furious with me."

If Anthony's hands weren't occupied, he would have instinctively brushed them against his tired face. However, he opted for a sharp glare at Colin while retorting, "Indeed, he would."

In that moment, he recollected Kate's words, reminding him that he was Colin's brother, not his father. And he should behave as such. In an effort to calm himself down, he took a deep breath and noticed that Colin was becoming increasingly heavy, causing his arms to ache.

That was when his younger sibling in question then glanced at him with a quizzical expression and remarked, "Benedict, you bear a striking resemblance to Anthony today."

And then Anthony contemplated releasing him and leaving without a second thought.

But his luck finally, finally, turned around as a footman carrying a tray full of empty glasses emerged from the corner. Looking at the two, he stopped dead in his steps, but Anthony seemed unmoved by his shock.

"John, could you please lend me a hand here?" He whispered urgently.

The footman's eyes grew wide as he swiftly set the tray he was carrying on a nearby table, fully expecting a scolding from Lady Violet in the near future. With a quick stride, he positioned himself beside Colin, gently draping his arm over his shoulder, relieving Anthony of a considerable burden.

"We must proceed to his chamber with utmost discretion," Anthony said, his gaze filled with significance. John nodded, well aware that working at that house demanded strict adherence to secrecy.

Colin scrunched his face as they moved faster, then moaned loudly. "I despise weddings, Benedict. They are utterly detestable."

John glanced at Anthony for a moment, and definitely not Benedict, before going back to acting like he didn't hear anything that occurred in that chaotic family.

Anthony chose to indulge his intoxicated brother, so he responded with an eye roll and engaged in his musings. "Colin, that is an entirely novel revelation. I presumed you delighted in weddings."

Since those types of celebration always had an abundance of delicious food and people enthralled by his little brother's charisma, things he was incredibly fond of.

"Indeed," Colin replied. "That is quite novel, isn't it?" His brow furrowed, a look of confusion crossing his face as the trio rounded a corner, making their way towards the back stairs. He released a sigh, the scent of alcohol lingering in the air, as he confessed, "I simply... I long for her."

With a sudden movement, Anthony turned his head towards him, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, his face contorted with confusion.

Meanwhile, Colin appeared unaffected. "I long for her all the time," he confessed, emphasising the word all as if it were causing him great personal pain. "It is truly agonising. And it is rather peculiar, is it not? Is that normal?" He furrowed his brow and gazed at John, repeating his question, "Am I normal?"

John nodded, attempting to placate his delirious doubts, despite the undeniable abnormality of the situation.

With a sigh, Colin stared ahead, the sound of Anthony and John's grunts filling the air as they struggled to pull him up the first flight of steps. "I do not long for just one thing. I long for everything. I miss her laugh—Why did I not notice that she has the most endearing laugh I've ever heard? It's absurd, considering I've been listening to it for nearly my entire life," he rambled, causing Anthony's eyebrows to ascend further and further on his forehead.

The oldest Bridgerton brother was unsure about what surprised him more - not knowing who Colin was referring to or the extent of his brother's infatuation.

Little did he know that Colin had only just started.

"How I long for the sound of her voice. Oh, the manner in which she speaks." He leaned heavily on Anthony, who promptly shoved him to the side so they could both try to ascend the massive stairs. "I mean, her voice is pleasant in general, but the way she speaks is absurdly intelligent. Even when she is shouting at me, I find her perspective so astounding that I am speechless with admiration. And I believe I'm stupid in some way; I must be." He furrowed his forehead in perplexity. "How is she always winning every single argument? I don't know how that is possible."

Anthony let out a soft chuckle, fully understanding the sentiment. As he raised his gaze, he couldn't help but find the situation rather peculiar. With a curious expression, he observed his brother as they made their way to his room.

"What's even more unfortunate is that I am unable to feel genuine anger towards her when she's upset, as her angry expression is actually quite adorable. Who on earth looks cute when they are angry, Benedict?" He turned to Anthony in astonishment and said, "She's this little ball of fire; how can you even argue with someone like that? It is ridiculous."

He continued by looking ahead and saying, "But it is not as though we argue frequently; I suppose we have been getting along for years. She understands me unlike anyone else; that much is certain." He sighed. "I miss talking to her instead of arguing, which seems to be all we do lately. I miss simply talking," he said, his eyes glazing over, as he leaned against the arms of the two men, swaying together on the staircase.

"And laughing with her, and smiling. Her smile is truly delightful, I must say. I miss it… " The wistfulness in his voice as he trailed off caught Anthony's attention.

"I long for the days when I could make her smile instead of cry. But then I suppose it is entirely my fault. I kissed her," he admitted, causing the other two men to nearly lose their footing on the stairs, taken aback by the unexpected twist of events. Undeterred, he pressed on, "But do you wish to hear something bizarre? I have spent a considerable amount of time in her company, often without a chaperone, mind you," he stated, causing Anthony to run his hand over his face in frustration. "And previously, it never posed an issue. I never had the urge to touch her. But now… it seems as though I have kissed her once, and the floodgates of something deep within me have been unleashed. I simply cannot stop."

Anthony's lips formed a tight line as he nodded sharply, muttering, "Good, wonderful for you, Colin," while John struggled to contain his laughter.

"No, it is not good. The instant we are alone in a room, the next thing I know...I am kissing her," he shrugged, his voice growing louder along with his indignation. "It is as if it is part of my body; it was designed to kiss her, and so it does. I am powerless against it, much like the whims of the weather. Do you understand what I mean?"

His older brother inclined his head but nodded; amazingly, despite Colin's drunken brain, Anthony understood precisely what he meant.

"But why would I desire to fight it? Have you seen her skin? It simply glows, it defies reason," he exclaimed with a grimace, as if he was mad at it. "Why have I never seen it before? Am I bereft of sight?" He turned to John, who fiercely shook his head to confirm that he was not, in fact, blind.

"So of course I kissed her, for what other course of action could I possibly have taken? For what other purpose does one's delicate skin serve, if not to be savoured in such a manner. I truly… " With a heavy sigh, his voice grew louder, filled with agony. "Her lips are incredibly soft, and I yearn to caress her graceful form, tracing the contours of her back with my fingertips, and kissing her neck, a gesture that brings her immense delight because—"

"Cease your prattle this instant!" Anthony exclaimed, his voice raised as he forcefully placed his hand over Colin's mouth, preventing any further trauma from befalling them all. John emitted a small sound as his laughter escaped him uncontrollably.

Colin gazed down at Anthony's hand covering his mouth, his brows knit together in confusion at the unexpected interruption.

As they pressed forward, the older Bridgerton brother let out a sigh and withdrew his hand when he believed they were out of danger.

"I comprehend your belief that if Anthony becomes aware, he will insist on an immediate marriage. However, would you like to be enlightened on the cruelest irony of this situation? I have already proposed."

Anthony almost dropped his younger sibling once more as he whirled his head in his direction.

"I have already proposed, not once but twice, Benedict," Colin said, tugging at his shirt, while Anthony's mind felt like it was on the verge of exploding. How did all of this happen without him noticing? Was anyone else aware of this?

"And you know what happened?" Colin asked, and Anthony found himself genuinely curious. "She declined. Twice." Colin shrugged, even though his expression was anything but casual about it. "Her repeated denials prevented me from asking again yesterday, despite the fact that I am certain she enjoyed it when I—"

"Colin," Anthony cautioned, before he resumed shouting intimate details of the unfamiliar woman.

"But I wanted to, I genuinely wanted to," Colin continued. "I want to marry her. But she keeps… leaving," he spat out the word with contempt, and his older brother let out an exhaled sigh of relief as they finally reached the top of the stairs, grateful that the most challenging part was now behind them.

Upon turning a corner, they proceeded towards Colin's room, with him persistently rambling, "And I simply cannot comprehend why, for she has undeniably returned my affections. On numerous occasions. So why won't she say yes. Is she determined to torment me? It is the only possible reason. Because at this point, what should I do with my life? Should I simply move on? Will she be expecting me to enter into matrimony with another woman? How can I even hope to do that? There is no one else. No one. Should I feign that I have no desire to passionately kiss every inch of her skin when we are in the same room for the rest of our lives, even though she is married to another person? Is that what she desires of me?" he asked, putting his palms on his face as he was fully and drunkenly torn apart.

Anthony's eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at him, feeling the concern coursing through his veins at the sight of his brother like that. He thought he had seen his brother be heartbroken before, but the devastation he was experiencing now was unlike anything he had ever seen.

As they reached Colin's room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. Despite Colin being the one who had just finished a lengthy speech, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"Okay, little brother," he said, inadvertently employing a moniker he hadn't used in an extremely long time. "We will lay you down," he further stated as he and John carefully guided the man in distress to his bed.

"Shall I summon his valet?" John said, and Anthony shook his head.

"There is no need; I will handle this matter. Thank you, John," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

And John, with a nod and a final glance of concern towards Colin, exited the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Now free from the need to carry Colin around the house in secrecy, Anthony could fully concentrate on him. His younger brother, in his deeply intoxicated state, had bloodshot and teary eyes while gazing up at the ceiling. Throughout that entire time, Anthony couldn't comprehend why Colin had been behaving so erratically, to the extent that he viewed him as an irresponsible child. While Anthony truly, truly had no idea what he was going through.

"Have you told her?" Anthony asked, hoping that Colin would somehow grasp his words coherently.

While gazing at the other man in confusion, Colin squinted and asked, "Told her what?"

"How you feel about her, obviously." Frustration etched across his forehead, he paced back and forth in front of Colin's bed, searching for a way to mend his broken-hearted brother. "That you love her. Have you told her?"

When Colin didn't answer, Anthony stopped his pacing and stared at him. The inebriated gentleman had raised his head slightly, propping himself up on his elbows as he gazed at his brother with a confused expression.

Anthony arched an expectant eyebrow, awaiting his response. "Well, have you?" he asked.

"I…" Colin's face contorted, as if his intoxicated neurons were struggling to navigate a complex thought.

Somehow, Anthony discerned from Colin's multitude of perplexed microexpressions that he was a nitwit. At that moment, Anthony realised why this family was constantly on the brink of scandal—their collective intelligence left much to be desired. Except Francesca, most likely.

Placing a tired hand over his eyes, he said, "Surely you are aware that you love her, are you not?"

Colin wrinkled his forehead, a strange but recognisable sensation washing over him. It all culminated in the same perplexing conversation he had with Michael.

Colin had forever loved Penelope, that much he was certain, that much was undeniable. Since they were children and discovered their friendship, loving Penelope came naturally, as one would always love their dearest friends. But what was being asked of him was different. And that was his problem.

One simply knows.

Michael proposed that love was an overwhelming feeling that struck you out of nowhere, as if you suddenly knew. And it troubled Colin, as he couldn't imagine meeting Penelope and having his life completely transformed. He couldn't fathom such a notion, for the simple truth was that he had no recollection of his life before her, nor did he desire to remember it.

Heavens, had he always known?

"Colin, it is perplexing that you are unsure whether you are in love with someone or not. Haven't you openly declared your affection for Miss Thompson in the past?" Anthony placed his hands on his hips, "Mrs Crane," he corrected himself.

Colin then flung himself onto the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling in a state of shock. "That was different. This is…. worse," he said, his face contorted in deep contemplation. "And better."

The remark somehow managed to elicit a chuckle from Anthony. He recognised that feeling extremely well.

With a tired, reminiscing sigh, Anthony stated with unwavering certainty, "You love her."

He then walked around the bed so he could probably see his now wide-eyed brother in the face, "Colin, you articulate every aspect of this woman that captivates you, recounting every minute detail. You confess that you cannot bear a moment without longing to kiss her, your thoughts consumed by her presence. Your state of disarray in her absence is unparalleled, and your heart yearns for a lifetime together. What further evidence could you possibly require?" He exclaimed in exasperation, "Must a bolt of lightning strike you in the head to reveal the truth? For I can certainly be that bolt, my brother, you are in love with her."

Colin fixed his gaze upon him with unwavering focus, a remarkable feat given his current state of intoxication.

"But if you lack the discernment to perceive such matters, have you at least expressed your desire to wed her, rather than doing so because of your indiscretion? Have you told her any of the things you have insufferably and extensively shared with me?" He gestured towards himself.

His brother simply regarded him with silence before returning his attention to the ceiling.

"Colin." Anthony buried his face in his hands, amazed at how someone could be so clueless.

"I informed her of my decision to sever our friendship, for it has become abundantly clear that I am unable to continue in such a capacity."

Anthony lowered his hands and shot him a withering look. "You are a complete idiot." With a firm grip on his face, he leaned in and spoke earnestly, "Colin, allow me to share a secret with you, and I implore you to remember it: when you propose to someone you love, declare your love for them first."

"I was unaware of how I felt," Colin attempted to defend himself, his emotions swirling inside him as he wrestled free from his brother's grip.

Adjusting his posture, Anthony said, "Then tell her now, before it is too late." And as Colin started to get up from the bed, Anthony practically pounced on him to prevent his escape. "Not now, now. Once you have regained sobriety."

Colin collapsed back onto the bed, his face clouded with sorrow. "What if her answer is still a refusal?" He looked at Anthony.

As his older brother raised his hands in surrender, he stated, "Well then, I will personally join you in sipping an entire bottle of whisky. But not until you comply with my instructions."

Colin nodded in agreement, finding solace in the prospect.

Anthony let out a long sigh and gently advised, "Rest now, so that we may revisit this matter when your mind is clear."

With that being said, he gently pulled the covers over his younger brother, as if he were transported back to their childhood days. Colin acquiesced with a slight nod, already sensing the weight of drowsiness settling upon his eyelids.

Concern filled Anthony's voice as he whispered, "I am worried about you, Colin," before making his way towards the door.

"Thank you, Anthony," Colin murmured, his voice barely audible as sleep began to claim him.

Anthony let out a frustrated breath and quietly murmured, "Ah, now you know who I am," before gently closing the door.

At the tender age of two-and-twenty, Colin Bridgerton discovered the true meaning of a headache.

For all the experiences he had encountered in his past, none could compare to what he was currently facing.

"Would you kindly keep the drapes closed?" He sharply reprimanded the maid for daring to open the curtains while he enjoyed his breakfast. His very late breakfast.

"Colin, after nearly twenty-four hours of sleep, you still feel ill?" His mother, the only one remaining at the breakfast table, asked. The absence of food on her plate and her leisurely tea-drinking made Colin suspect she had a hidden agenda.

Meanwhile, Colin vowed to never lay eyes upon tea for the rest of his days. Or any kind of spirits. From that day forward, he became a man devoted to water.

"I had too much to drink," he explained, his voice strained as he sipped from his glass of water. He gazed upon his plate, his stomach still unsettled.

Violet nodded, which piqued his suspicion given that she was well aware that no alcoholic beverages were served at Francesca's wedding reception.

"Can you withstand the journey to Aubrey Hall?" she inquired absentmindedly, delicately sipping her tea, which was likely tepid.

Colin once more cleared his throat, gastric bile rising in his direction as he observed the eggs. He had completely forgotten that we were scheduled to arrive at Aubrey Hall immediately following Francesca's wedding. That sure complicated matters.

As his recollection of the previous evening was hazy, but a few fragments lingered in his mind: a piece of advice, a flicker of doubt, and then an instant of absolute certainty.

After belatedly recalling that he had neglected to respond to his mother, he nodded and said, "Mother, may I ask you a question?"

Violet's hands froze against the cold porcelain. It was unusual for Colin to ask her that, but it marked the second occurrence that season. She could only speculate as to what question he would pose at that moment.

"Certainly, my dear," she replied, gazing at him with a curious expression.

The late morning light trickled through the tiny slit in the curtains, casting a faint glow on Colin's motionless form as he continued to gaze at his plate. As he tightly gripped his fork, his eyebrows furrowed inquisitively, "How did you know?""

Violet blinked, as if she had missed some of the conversation: "Know what?"

"That you loved father," he said, his eyes searching for answers, as he finished the question, "How did you come to know you loved him?"

The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton's intuition proved right as Colin indeed asked an astonishing question.

Her initial inclination was to inquire as to why he had an abrupt need to know that, but she promptly restrained herself from doing so. Perhaps she was, in fact, beginning to comprehend what was transpiring with her son.

"Um." She cleared her throat and sipped her tepid tea as Colin eyed her carefully. She tried to concentrate on her response since it felt so important. "That is, in fact, difficult to answer."

Colin raised his eyebrows. That came as a surprise. Everyone around him exuded an unwavering certainty when it came to matters of the heart.

"As you are aware, I have known your father since we were children. Therefore, initially, I did not perceive him as exceptional; he was merely... present," she shrugged.

Colin cocked his head in response to this information. It simply sense; but it was peculiar to overhear her mother discuss their father as if he were an ordinary person rather than the love of her life.

"After that, our interactions became less frequent; it wasn't until much later that he requested a dance with me; I didn't recognise him until he identified himself." A small laugh escaped her lips, barely audible, as a nostalgic smile graced her face. She averted her eyes and fiddled with her napkin as she continued, "You see, Colin, your father was considerably more perceptive than I was," she said. "He was the first to notice me, the one to recall me, the one to request a dance with me—he accomplished all of these things before I could even recall him."

Violet gazed up at her son, her eyes shimmering with the weight of her memories. "I have no idea precisely how it was for him, but I have the impression that he always knew, leaving me to merely play catch-up." She shrugged slightly, "With every exchange, every dance, every moment of shared happiness. I yearned for his company, desired his proximity, and longed for the times we shared. Although I could not immediately articulate the precise meaning of these things, I had a profound understanding in my heart. Do you find that to be logical?"

Colin was so focused on her that he nearly missed it when she addressed him. Nodding, he concluded that what she was saying made a lot of sense.

"And your father, poor soul, he waited for me." She smiled. "When he professed his love for me, I experienced an indescribable sensation. It was as if he spoke in a language foreign to me, as if his words held the power to alter the very fabric of our connection. Yet, in that moment, I came to the startling realisation that things had always been this way - I was simply blind to it." As she concluded her narrative, she neatly folded her napkin. "I suppose that was formally when I realised I also loved him, even though I had been loving him for quite some time prior."

With sharp attention, she directed her eyes towards him, noticing he appeared frozen while gazing at her. "Why do you ask, Colin?" she finally questioned.

He shook his head and avoided her gaze, dismissing her question. "I was simply curious...without any particular motive."

"I see," Violet said, not believing him for a second.

Colin remained silent, his fingers nervously toying with the tablecloth, his brow creased with concern. He was not incorrect about the certainty that had sprung within his heart when he awakened; it was not the result of alcohol and Benedict's tea.

He wasn't daft, by any means. In light of all that had transpired, Colin was fully aware that his emotions towards Penelope surpassed mere friendship. But it was difficult to reconcile what it all meant: his lifelong affection for one of his closest friends, whom he swore he would never court and who, in his mind, would never be his romantic partner even in anyone's wildest fantasies; and his near-animalistic impulse to touch her, kiss her, and do everything that was far from platonic.

But those two situations were somehow the same, weren't they? It was as if he had a blind spot when it came to understanding the obvious. At the end of the day, he was also a writer. Lost in the frivolous intricacies of ideas, oblivious to the glaringly truth staring him in the face.

He wanted her.

All the time, in every way... It was always her. As his friend, and as his lover. As the girl who wore yellow gowns in the corner of a ballroom and the person who pushed him to take cold baths so he could think properly. In the past and for the future. He loved her.

He had always loved her, in various forms, and now in every possible way. He loved her.

"Colin, what are you doing?"

Upon hearing his mother's voice, he was startled and became aware that he had stood up, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his realisation.

"I…" he gulped, a surge of determination coursing through him, "I must go," he announced, his feet guiding him towards the Featherington house.

"Go?" In an instant, Violet's eyes grew wide as her son hurriedly walked by her. She turned to him and asked again, "Go where? We must make arrangements to depart for Aubrey Hall."

"Mama," he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself, fully aware that he couldn't afford to waste any more time on meaningless social events, "I understand—"

"Colin, you are the one who must understand that everyone is making their way to Aubrey Hall," she remarked, lifting her brow in the hopes that he would get her meaning. Visiting anyone at that hour seemed futile, with the possibility of finding empty houses and people getting ready for the ball.

He paused, his gaze fixated on her, tilting his head as he struggled to comprehend.

Violet continued, "Perhaps you can accomplish whatever it is that you must there? When it becomes apparent that you have not entirely consumed Anthony's collection of alcoholic beverages?"

"Everyone?" he inquired once more, his eyebrows arching in surprise, for Penelope had chosen to forgo attending Francesca's wedding. Who was to say she wasn't skipping the Hearts and Flowers ball as well?

Violet eyed him intently as she repeated, "Everyone has confirmed their presence; I have received their responses today," her voice carrying a hint of emphasis.

Colin nodded, quickly rationalising that if Penelope skipped that ball anyway, he would hail a carriage and head straight back to London. "Am I really looking that terrible?" he finally asked.

Violet feigned indifference while discreetly appraising his utterly disarrayed state, and suggested, "It would be advisable for you to bathe prior to our departure, dear."

Taking her advice to heart, he nodded and started walking towards his room. Observing him with a smile, Violet wasn't certain about her son's chances of success in his endeavours, but at least she now had some idea of what those endeavours were, even if only slightly.

"My Lady," the housekeeper entered the room with great haste, her countenance displaying a curious blend of concern and anticipation.

"Mrs Wilson, what is the matter?" She inquired, filled with concern over her attitude.

"We have just received the final confirmation for the ball," she announced, a barely contained grin adorning her face as she extended a yellowed piece of paper towards Violet. The red wax seal on it seemed to glare with significance.

Violet's gaze fixated on the paper, her eyes widening in astonishment. She turned her attention to Mrs Wilson, who eagerly nodded in agreement. "The Queen?" she inquired, her voice filled with curiosity as she accepted the paper, her suspicions confirmed. "Why would she choose to attend the Heart and Flowers ball all of a sudden?"

"Perhaps it's because it's the final ball of the season," Mrs Wilson pondered. "I believe she was quite distressed by Lady Whistledown's criticism of her absence from previous balls."

"Indeed," Violet murmured softly, her eyes lingering on the letter as she read it once more. "Indeed, that must be the only plausible explanation.

A/N:

*hidding under the table*

After last chapter, Y'all really thought I was gonna get these two together drama FREE? PFFFF you don't know me. This is based on a shondaland tv show, come on, there will be drama, there will be DRAMAAA.

As I said earlier, when Colin is engaged to Penelope he is also questioning himself whether he loved her or not, and I felt it was important to bring this back. As I guess for a character like him - that constantly defies propriety to engage with Penelope yet it's completely oblivious to his own feelings, it felt important to allow him to give a name to what he was feeling.
(and, personally, if anyone would help him, it would be Anthony and Violet. I hope it's the same on the show. On the books, Daphne was the one who helped him but I personally think that the sibbling who has the most to offer Colin in terms of advice - for this situation specifically - is Anthony).

Anyways, song number 15 for a playlist this week (I saw a Polin edit to this song yesterday AND I WAS SO HAPPY)

That is it! Don't forget to leave your review even if it is to yell at me I love it.

Have a good day guys, God bless you.