The Featherington manor was abuzz with activity as the Viscount Anthony Bridgerton just took leave with the youngest redhead, Penelope Featherington for a walk in the park, just after declaring his intentions in courting the youngest Featherington. In the drawing room, Mrs. Varley, the ever-efficient housekeeper, approached the dowager baroness with a questioning look.
"My lady, what are we to do about the other callers who may come for Miss Penelope's hand?"
Portia let out a resigned sigh, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling slightly. It had been merely a week since her daughter was named the season's incomparable Emerald by the Queen herself. And now their longtime neighbor, the esteemed Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, had boldly begun courting Penelope.
"Instruct Briarly to politely decline any other callers, Mrs. Varley. Penelope is now officially spoken for." She clasped her hands tightly, hoping to avoid yet another scandal that so often plagued relations between their families.
Across town, Anthony and Penelope strolled leisurely along The Serpentine in Hyde Park, accompanied by Penelope's maid as their chaperone. Whispers rippled through the gathered ton as they passed, drawing speculative looks.
The unlikely pairing of a celebrated aristocrat like Anthony and a former wallflower like Penelope was the subject of intense gossip. Anthony caught Penelope's eyes, concerned by her momentary discomfort under the scrutiny.
"Are you quite alright, Penelope?" He asked solicitously. "I wish to make our courtship plain, but I'll understand if the attention overwhelms."
Penelope mustered a small smile. "I'm well, just unaccustomed to such interest." Her gaze met his steadily. "Since we are formally courting now, might I ask you some questions? To better know the man pursuing me."
Anthony felt his breath catch at her forthrightness but nodded. "Of course, ask me anything."
"Well, erm.. What was our relationship before my.. Accident? I confess, those memories elude me still."
Anthony's steps slowed as he considered her question. How to explain the strange dance they had kept up for years - friendly neighbors one moment, separated by rigid boundaries the next?
"We were acquainted through our families' long standing connections. You were best friends with my sister Eloise growing up. But propriety dictated our interaction remain rather formal."
Penelope nodded, pressing on. "Then might I ask you to tell me more about yourself? Your childhood, interests, past dalliances?" Her cheeks flushed but she held his gaze. "And what you might expect of me, should we proceed to marriage?"
For a long moment, Anthony was rendered silent, absorbing the realization that this remarkable woman wished to truly know him - the man behind the Viscount's facade. Even his own family had never sought the unvarnished truth about his inner thoughts and struggles.
But here was Penelope, boldly requesting entry past the walls he'd erected over the years. The burden of inheriting his viscountcy at just nine and ten years old, his lifelong quest to prove himself worthy of the honor, his interests in fencing and riding and quiet moments alone with his horses - all this and more sat unspoken on his tongue.
Slowly, a warm smile curved Anthony's lips. "You ask no simple thing, Penelope. But I shall endeavor to answer you fully."
He recounted a childhood of contrasting privileges and grave responsibilities thrust upon him entirely too young. The alienation of assuming a title at an age when he should have been enjoying it with his friends at the university. His single, ill-fated love affair with an opera singer that had ended with just a heartache on his part.
Finally, he met the redhead's gaze solemnly. "Hmm.. For the Viscountess, children are undoubtedly needed. With the title, an heir and a spare must be procured. But I expect loyalty, fidelity and partnership from my wife above all. A meeting of minds and hearts, not just form. In return, you shall have my protection, my faithfulness, and my full self - walls torn away."
As he spoke those last words, something integral finally unlocked within Anthony's chest. This woman had seen him, truly and from the genuine stares she had been giving him, she truly accepted what she found.
Whatever came next, he knew this courtship would forge a bond far surpassing anything propriety could dictate. He was undone, remade, and hers.
After Anthony finished sharing the unvarnished details of his life, hopes and expectations, he watched a kaleidoscope of emotions play out across Penelope's expressive features.
At first, a radiant smile blossomed, as if grateful to be granted a glimpse behind the persona he typically displayed to the world. However, that joy quickly gave way to a palpable sadness that furrowed her brow.
Penelope opened her mouth as if to speak, but then seemed to think better of it, pressing her lips together in a tight line. Anthony could all but see the realization weighing on her - for all the truths he'd laid bare, she could not reciprocate in kind.
Not with her memory still so crucially lacking.
A lump rose in Anthony's throat at the naked vulnerability etched on her face. Without a second thought, he reached out, giving her gloved hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Penelope Featherington." He used her complete name deliberately. "I know this courtship must feel unbalanced with your loss of memories. But I assure you, I already see who you truly are."
His warm brown eyes caught and held her gaze as they continued their leisurely stroll. "A kind and intelligent woman, a person who loves my family. One with an incredibly generous spirit."
Anthony's thumb grazed her knuckles soothingly. "Even if those recollections remain elusive, we shall build new memories together. I'll help you rediscover yourself, if you'll have me."
The sincerity in his words was palpable, warming Penelope's face with a becoming blush. She found herself utterly captivated by this man - his steadfast strength, his undeniable honor, and something softer too when he looked at her.
As if he truly saw her in a way so few ever had.
Unbidden, the thought stole into her mind that if this was the man who would stand beside her as her husband, perhaps the prospect of marriage would not be so forbidding after all.
Penelope's fingers curled around Anthony's in a tender hold. "I should like that very much." She murmured, her eyes shining with the promise of whatever future lay ahead.
As Anthony and Penelope continued their leisurely promenade through Hyde Park, an unwelcome figure approached - Lord Fife. The notorious rake sauntered over, giving the briefest of nods to Anthony before turning his full attention to Penelope.
"Miss Featherington." Fife purred, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips in an exaggerated gesture. "What a delight to encounter the season's Emerald looking so radiant on this fine day."
Anthony felt his jaw tightening as Fife blatantly disregarded his presence, engaging Penelope with cloying compliments and insinuating questions clearly designed to fluster her. Though to Anthony's displeasure, Penelope seemed to relax slightly into the banter.
That is, until Fife's roving gaze overtly raked over Penelope's figure before remarking. "Such a finely shaped woman is sure to provide sturdy, lusty heirs."
Penelope's grip on Anthony's elbow tightened convulsively at the crude insinuation. Before she could respond, Anthony had stepped forward, his expression thunderous.
"Mind your tongue, Fife." He bit out in bald warning. "Your words stray beyond the bounds of propriety."
Rather than looking chastened, Fife offered an insolent smirk. "And by what right do you claim to judge me, Bridgerton? We are but two suitors seeking the lady's favor, unless I miss my mark? Also, your rakish ways are most questionable than mine."
The clear implication that he and Anthony were on equal footing for Penelope's hand made Anthony's flare white-hot. Before he could unleash the full brunt of his ire, however, Penelope Featherington straightened beside him.
"You are mistaken, my lord." She stated with surprising poise. "Lord Bridgerton and I have already commenced courting. He has every right to take issue with your untoward manner."
Glancing at Anthony, the redhead's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief despite her somber tone. "Is that not the case, my lord?"
Anthony Bridgerton could not help the surge of pride - and undeniable desire - that swelled within him at her brazen declaration. Turning back to Fife, he allowed a slow, smug smile to spread across his face.
"The lady speaks the truth. You've been decisively outmatched this round, Fife."
For once, the rake in the form of Lord Fife seemed to have no caustic retort. His mouth opened and closed uselessly as the reality sank in that the coveted season's jewel had chosen Anthony Bridgerton over him.
"I believe we've exhausted the need for further conversation." Anthony states smoothly. With a mocking tilt of his head, he escorted Penelope onwards, leaving a fuming Fife in their wake.
—
The Trowbridge Ball
The Trowbridge ball marked the highly anticipated debut of Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Penelope Featherington as an officially courting couple. As the Featherington family made their entrance, Anthony wasted no time in claiming Penelope's arm, leaving her mother and sister in the capable hands of Mister Robert Huxley.
As they made a sweeping turn about the lavishly adorned ballroom, Anthony leaned in close. "How fares my partner this evening?"
A soft smile played across Penelope's lips as she recounted the day's happenings - the frantic last minute visit to the modiste, her mother's frazzled yet doting fussing, even Mister Huxley's comic near-tumble onto the front steps. Her dimpled grin and sparkling eyes were a balm to Anthony's soul.
Their circuit was interrupted, however, by the icy presence of Cressida Cowper and her equally glacial mother. While all painted civility, Cressida's languid greetings to Anthony were undercut by the barbed asides thrown Penelope's way.
"And what wiles have you employed to capture the Queen's interest in announcing you as the season's gemstone, Miss Featherington?" Cressida purred, her tone dripping disdain. "Surely the gentlemen cannot resist such.. Credentials as yours."
Penelope stiffened slightly at the brazen insinuation, though Anthony felt his hackles rising in indignation. He knew of Cressida's cruel tendencies, particularly towards other ladies. But to attack his Penelope so baldly was unforgivable.
For her part, Penelope seemed momentarily wrong-footed, unable to place her history with the spiteful Miss Cower. Polite bewilderment warred with the faintest embers of defiance.
Before Penelope could defend herself, Cressida opened her mouth to spew more unpleasantries. "Why Lord Bridgerton, I cannot fathom what has possessed you to –"
"Enough, Miss Cowper." Anthony interjected cooly, briefly silencing her. "I will thank you to keep a civil tongue about your betters."
"You may be acceptably pretty and your dowry ample, but no gentleman of worth will claim you for his own. Not with that poisonous disposition and utter lacking of decorum."
The words seemed to slap Cressida and Lady Cowper in the face, rendering them both slack jawed. Penelope felt Anthony's arm tense beneath her hand and quickly tugged him onwards before he could further ignite their tempers.
As much as she wished to allow Anthony to defend her honor, escalating a public scene would only breed more cruel gossip. With a gentle murmur, she deftly motioned for him to let the issue go and for him to remain calm.
Penelope offered him a wan smile, squeezed his arm soothingly. Allowing her presence and tender affection to becalm him, Anthony's features gradually softened once more into the devoted suitor who adored every moment at Penelope's side.
"Miss Featherington, would you bless our courtship with an honor of this dance?" He left no doubt it was a command, not a request. Cressida and her mother Lady Cowper's mouths were left open as they heard the Viscount confirm their courtship.
Penelope's eyes sparkled with unspoken gratitude as she acquiesced. Anthony spared one last, quelling look at the stunned Cowpers before sweeping Penelope into the whirl of the dance floor.
As they fell into the steps, Penelope glanced up at him curiously. "Forgive me, but I cannot quite place my previous association with Miss Cowper. Her vitriol seemed.. Excessive."
Pursing his lips, Anthony considered how to explain. "Cressida is a lady known more for her pettiness and cruelty than her grace. She takes immense pleasure in tormenting other young ladies, particularly those she deems.. Beneath her station."
The muscle in his jaw ticked. "Which is utter hypocrisy given her own lacking conduct and character. Pay her malice no mind."
Penelope's dimpled grin resurfaced at his heated diatribe. "Then I shall count myself fortunate to have such a champion to whisk me away." Her eyes shone with impish mirth. "My valiant knight."
Anthony felt his throat go surprisingly dry at her teasing words and heated look. His desire to take her lips right at this moment has been increasingly dangerous, given that they are in a public view. Her innocent teasing are ringing on his head, making his body burn to touch her skin, to feel her warmth and to make her his. Anthony's eyes darken as playful thoughts run amok his mind. Clearing his throat, he countered. "Happily given, my lady."
As she places her hand more firmly into his arm, Anthony silently thanked the fates for this woman's resilient spirit. Tonight was just the first act - he would spend every remaining night battling dragons to keep that light in her eyes and to control his growing urges to take liberties against the irresistible Penelope Featherington.