Colin's Hessian boots clacked against the London sidewalk, a haunting echo in the deserted street. It was quiet―almost too quiet compared to the usual hustle and bustle of Town. But it was six o'clock in the evening on Wednesday, which meant most everyone on this elite side of town was inside, dressing and preparing for dinner and a night full of dancing and socializing at Almack's Assembly Rooms.
He was, of course, going as well, because he always went. Those of the ton counted on him to go and flirt with their daughters and dance with their wallflowers. It was his unofficial job to make the aging mamas blush, smile, and become more pliable toward whatever demand the young ladies were hoping to make on their pitiable guardians. Colin wasn't exactly sure when that had become his lot in life but, nevertheless, it was.
To say he disliked his situation in life would be a lie. Was it taxing at times? Yes. Did it sometimes demand more of him than he felt he could give? Also yes. But did it sometimes land him in courtships, the thought of which made him shudder? Absolutely. But, somehow, Colin still didn't mind. In fact, he felt a small satisfaction anytime he contributed something to lift another's day, something to lessen their burden, make them smile. To make them pleased with him.
And, thankfully, none of those courtships ever lasted.
Every filtration or courtship Colin entered followed the same pattern. They started with a hope so bright he felt the need to squint in its direction and ended with a false conversation about how their relationship had grown into a friendship much too dear and they were better suited for a platonic life. "As your friend, I could never ask you to sacrifice a future full of love and devotion for a life of mere friendship."
Which was a little ironic considering he was hopelessly in love with his best friend. But he had to push those thoughts away. He couldn't marry Penelope Featherington because―well, he simply couldn't. Recently, Colin had even decided to put the whole idea of marriage behind him.
Thankfully, romance and love-filled marriages had become quite in mode over the past few Seasons. Every lady who received his heart-melting speech looked at him as he were the very manifestation of Eros, sent to earth with the sole purpose of helping her find true love. And perhaps he was. Not a god―but sent to earth to set up love matches among his friends and acquaintances. Because, honestly, he was deucedly good at it.
Nearly every lady Colin had ever courted had ended up married within two months of their separation. Even a friend and frequent travel companion of his, Sir Phillip Crane, had profited from this odd talent of his. A woman whom Colin had briefly harbored a tendré for―which, admittedly, happened more often than not―had ended up falling in love with Phillip. They had been married one month ago to the day and Colin liked to think his presence in the situation was the catalyst for making it happen.
There was a reason people of the ton had nicknamed him "Charming." Some thought it was because of his smile or the way he flirted, but that wasn't it. The lesser known reason was because he seemed to be young ladies' lucky charm. Colin was sought after because to court Charming was to find oneself married and well situated swiftly after. But, he didn't mind...for the most part. It was nice to be wanted. And nice to know that, in the end, he wouldn't be responsible for that woman's happiness. Colin would never have to worry over living up to his father's example.
Colin quickened his steps as the sight of Huxley House―where Penelope would be staying for the Season―came into view. But, then he realized that his steps had hastened and forced himself to slow down. Rushing to see Penelope was ridiculous. On the other hand, she was newly out in Society and likely feeling a little alone. As her best friend, surely rushing to make certain she was settled and happy was the honorable thing to do? He let himself hurry his steps again until he was standing in front of Huxley House. The home belonged to Prudence and Robert, the Countess and Earl of Huxley.
He drew in a deep breath, willing his thoughts and emotions to all line up where they ought to be. Penelope was his friend and that was all. Nothing more. There could never be anything more between them.
Before Colin took another step toward the front stoop something caught the corner of his eye. He turned to face the small alley that separated Huxley House from the neighboring home, when he realized that a woman was hovering half out of a window on the second floor―a line of knotted bed linens hanged from the window, forming a sort of rope. He didn't even need to see the woman's face to know who it was.
Penelope.
Colin jogged into the alley and craned his neck to peer up at his friend, who had apparently gone mad enough to risk her life climbing out of a second story window.
"Pen!" Colin called out as quietly as he could and still have his voice reach her. He glanced sideways toward the street, hoping his voice hadn't alerted any bystanders to Penelope's madness.
"Colin?" said Penelope, pausing her decent and glancing down over her shoulder with such a pleased smile that it made a warm sensation spread through his chest.
No. No warm feelings, Colin.
But then her smile fell away and she just looked annoyed that he had caught her. "What are you doing here?" she all but demanded.
"I could ask you the same thing," he countered, resisting a grin at the sight of her―skirts bunched up in her hand, excitedly scaling down a wall using bed linens as a rope, with more length of her legs showing than he was comfortable admitting he noticed. Granted, it wasn't actually much. No more than he had already seen when she would lift her skirts to walk with him through the streams of Aubrey Hall during the blissful summers of their youth. But the difference was, Colin no longer felt the same way toward Penelope as he had during most of those summers. She had been a child back then, but certainly was not now.
Which is why he cleared his throat against its sudden dryness and focused his eyes on her face.
"I think the answer to that question is self-evident. I'm escaping through my window." Penelope was moving down the wall much faster than he thought prudent. Colin would have asked her to be careful, but he knew that would be to no avail; the woman was fearless.
So, instead, he stood directly below her and prepared himself to catch her if she fell―his customary position for most of their friendship. He held his breath when her boot slipped off the wall, but she clung tighter to the makeshift rope until she was able to regain her footing.
"Aren't you going to tell me to take care?" she asked, a smile in her voice, as she continued moving.
"No, I am much too fond of my breath to waste it on those words." He held up his hands as she neared the top of the first floor window. Having to fix his eyes on her like that really wasn't helping his determination to deny his feelings for the woman. She possessed a natural grace and elegance that the average woman had to refine for years to achieve. Penelope, however, accomplished the look with no effort at all―while scaling down the side of a house, no less.
It made his stomach clench to think of how she would draw a lot of eyes of the many eligible males in London. Penelope was going to be an instant success this Season, of that he was certain, even if she could not see that about herself.
Penelope neared the ground but then paused, realizing what Colin had noted from the moment he walked up. Her makeshift rope did not reach the ground. Instead, the end dangled to just above Colin's head. Penelope would not be able to reach the ground on her own without letting go and jumping from a height that would most likely leave her more than bruised.
Her crystalline eyes reluctantly slid to his. Colin had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned casually against the wall, gazing up at her, letting his eyes convey his triumph.
Penelope took in a slow breath and narrowed her eyes. "Oh, just say it!"
"Say what?" he asked in an innocent tone.
She rolled her eyes and adjusted her hold on the linens. "That I do not think before I act."
Colin gasped playfully. "I am offended, Pen. I would never say something so stuffy."
"You would and you have. At least a dozen times over."
Colin grinned. "Hmm. I think you're mistaking me with some other prosy fellow." He had, in fact, said that very phrase too many times to count, but it had never done a bit of good, so Colin had decided to stop saying it. Besides, if he were being honest, he rather liked rescuing Penelope from the scrapes she continuously found herself in.
"Well, if you're quite finished acting as if you're posing for a Grecian marble, could you possibly help me down from here?"
Colin unfolded his arms and pushed off the wall, moving just below Penelope again. "Is that your way of saying I'm looking rather handsome today?"
"I would, but I'm afraid that if I tend to your ego any further you will combust." At that moment, Penelope reached the end of her rope and peered down over her shoulder at Colin.
He―being of a tall build―was able to reach her lower legs, though he really shouldn't reach for them. He stared at the brick wall in front of him, trying to work through the problem. In his mind, he thought he would just take hold of Penelope's legs and let her slide down in his arms to the ground. But now, when faced with a very real Penelope, it felt too improper. And his racing heart wasn't doing anything to help convince him otherwise.
"Pen, I think you should―" However, he did not have time finish that sentence or formulate a new plan.
"I'm letting go," she said, leaving him barely time to reach up and take hold of her legs. In a blink, she was sliding down through his arms until her feet gently and safely reached the ground. Colin's heart pounded against his ribcage as Penelope spun around, still encircled in his arms, and faced him. He was struck by how incredibly right it felt to hold her.
If he held her in his arms a moment longer, he would be forced to kiss the woman and show her just how wrong she had been. Like kissing a brother, indeed! In fact, Colin was certain that a kiss shared with Penelope would be nothing short of devastating.
Using impressive amounts of will power, Colin dropped his arms and took a small step back on the pretense of inspecting his jacket. "Well, I hope your shenanigan was worth it because I don't think this jacket will ever recover. You ripped off a button."
He heard her chuckle, but it sounded a little forced. Or was he just reading too much into her actions? Blast. He needed to get a hold of himself.
"It was more than worth it, believe me," Penelope said playfully. "Your button sacrificed itself for a most noble cause."
Colin stopped pretending to care about his jacket and turned his attention back to Penelope. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm. He almost pulled her into an embrace to warm her, but he refrained. Instead, he squinted at the top window. "Are you going to tell me what you have escaped from? Is using the door too much of a bore for you now?"
Her light pink lips pulled into a grin. "Doors are rather average. But, no. Prudence has been put to bed."
Colin's face sobered at the thought of Penelope's oldest sister―who also felt very much like his older sister―taken ill. "Is everything alright with her and the baby?" He knew that Prudence was increasing and that she had lost a baby during her last pregnancy. Neither of those things were public knowledge, but Colin had spent enough of his life around the Featheringtons that they considered Colin as one of their own and shared most everything with him. They loved him in the way that the Bridgertons loved Penelope.
"Thankfully, she and the baby are both well. However, she began to have a few startling pains after the Rochford Ball a few nights ago, and the doctor thought it best for her to remain abed until her time comes. And you know how inept Prudence is at sitting still." Colin couldn't help but laugh at the way Penelope said those words―completely serious, and as if she was not exactly the same way.
"I'm failing to see where the window comes into play."
Penelope's eyes widened in horror. "The woman is a nightmare, Colin! She is bored to death, laid up in that bed of hers, and has taken to putting all of her energy into managing my every move―even more than usual. Not to mention the many, many times a day she pulls me into her room to discuss my hopes and dreams for the Season." She shuddered. "She is suffocating me. I just needed a little walk, but I have to pass by her room to get to the stairs. I simply could not risk alerting her to my exit, or she'd call me into her chamber again." Penelope would rather risk her life climbing out of a window than do something sensible: say, discuss her feelings. Or, at least, discuss her feelings with her older siblings.
Colin knew that Penelope had always felt overshadowed by her two elder sisters―Prudence and Phillipa―even though she had never said as much to him outright. But there was a lot Colin knew about Penelope that she had never spoken. He just wished her feelings toward him were one of those things...
Actually, no. Colin didn't wish that. Because even if she did share his feelings, it wouldn't change his mind about the future. Colin would never marry. He wasn't going to marry Penelope or any other woman, for that matter.
"I can see how the window was an appealing choice...but not, perhaps, the safest. If I hadn't been here to catch you, what would you have done?"
She shrugged a shoulder, a half-smile on her mouth. "Why should I waste my time with what if's? You were here and that's all that matters." Her eyes held his, a secret message that either read as thankful or annoyed flashing through her sky-blue irises. "You're always there to catch me," she said in a frosty tone. Annoyed, then.
Suddenly, a voice called from the window above them, drawing their eyes up to Lord Robert Huxley, who was leaning out. "Penelope, did you climb out of this window?"
A pause. "Yes."
Huxley let out a short laugh and shook his head lightly. "Of course you did. Well, get back in here because I will not let you leave me to fend for myself with your sister." In any other noble family, Penelope would have been scolded, punished, and caged until she could learn to act as a proper Society lady for ever doing something so reckless as climbing from a window. But Colin had learned from a young age that Penelope's family was quite unlike any other.
"Is Lady Huxley truly that miserable to be around in her state?" Colin inquired, his gaze flickering between Huxley and Penelope.
Even from the ground Colin was able to see the flat look Huxley was giving him. "She is insisting that I try on every single garment that I own, inspect each one from head-to-toe, and purge the things that are out of fashion."
Colin let out a laugh, imagining his stoic friend parading around his room for Prudence to judge. "Is it too late to cast my vote? I've been itching to burn that grey waistcoat of yours for at least five years now."
"I was going to invite you to stay for dinner, Bridgerton, but now I think I shall let you starve," said Huxley. He pointed to Penelope. "Back inside in five minutes, Miss Escape Artist. But leave the imp outside." Huxley disappeared back into the house and pulled the makeshift ladder back with him before shutting the window. Apparently, he didn't trust Penelope to not re-enter the house the same way she left it. Smart man.
Colin rested his eyes again on Penelope. She had a way of smiling that made it impossible for him not to return it. "Are you coming in, then?" she asked, gesturing toward the front of the house.
"Didn't you hear Huxley? I am banned from admittance."
"You know, I do have a bit of pull with him. Or, perhaps we could simply lie and say that I was attacked by footpads and you fought them off. He will be honor-bound to give you dinner then."
Colin chuckled. "No sense risking the goodness of your soul for my benefit. I was planning on dining at White's before I made my way to Almack's, anyways. I only stopped by to see how you were settling in."
"I am pleased you did." She held a soft smile for a moment before slowly morphing into a mischievous one. "But only because I would have fallen to my death had you not. It has nothing do with being pleased to see you."
He laughed. "Of course not." Yet, inwardly, he wondered if there was some truth to her words. Did she only view him as she would an older brother, always around to protect her and help her down from walls, apple trees, old ruins, and other obstacles of great height?
Colin peeked around the corner to make sure no one would spot them before exiting the alley together. His steps slowed as they approached the door. He didn't want to leave Penelope―a recurring theme of the past few years. And that was precisely why he had to go.
They said their goodbyes, but, before they parted, Penelope turned back. "Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Since Prudence is sentenced to her bed, she can no longer act as my chaperone for the Season."
Colin raised an eyebrow. "And you're happy about this because you've finally found a way out of having to endure a Season?" Most of her life, Penelope had grumbled and complained at the thought of having to come out in Society. Much like his sister, Eloise, adventure and freedom meant more to Penelope than fine gowns and stuffy ballrooms.
Her face didn't brighten like he had anticipated. Instead, she looked toward her feet and fidgeted a bit with her skirts. "I do not feel that way anymore, Colin." Her eyes darted back up to his―something like uncertainty in their depths. "I fully intend to enjoy my coming out, and...hopefully even make a match."
"Good," he said in a tone that sounded odd even to him. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to say, or why her eyes seemed to challenge him. "So, is the baroness coming to Town after all?"
"No." Penelope shook her head lightly, loose auburn curls that had slipped from her pins bouncing around her face. "Felicity is still ill. And you know how dreadful she is when she is ailing. Mama cannot leave her."
"And yet, you still look happy after all of this rather depressing news."
"That's because the solution is going to be much more entertaining."
"Oh?"
Her eyebrows lifted and lowered. "Viscountess Bridgerton has taken it upon herself to stand in as my chaperone for the entirety of the Season."
For a moment, Colin couldn't say anything. His mind was too busy racing with images of Kate―his eldest brother's new bride, who had also been new to the ton the previous Season―returning to London in the new role of viscountess. Penelope was correct―it was most definitely going to be entertaining. And then he thought of Penelope, Kate, and Eloise living under the same roof together with Anthony, and he could not help but laugh.
"What?" asked Penelope.
"Nothing," he said, backing down the stairs with a grin plastered on his face.
Her brows pulled together with suspicious amusement. "I know that grin, Colin Bridgerton. What are you off to do?"
"Oh―nothing important. I simply want to get my name in the betting books at White's. There is no chance Bridgerton House is still going to be standing at the end of the Season with you, El, and Kate under its roof."
Her eyes narrowed, but she smirked. "If I had something in my hand I'd throw it at you."
"Case in point, my dear Pen."
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