Colin walked to the carriage practically in a daze, he kept replaying the last 10 minutes in his mind. Bumping into Pen here hadn't been out of the realm of question so when he had run into her, Colin had considered it good luck and was only going to inquire as to why he hadn't received a single piece of correspondence from her all summer. But then he'd seen her face and something was just…wrong.

The way the youngest Featherington had looked at him, there was no warmth, no joviality, none of that which he had come to associate Penelope with. Normally, her eyes would have brightened at the sight of him and a small, delicate smile would have played over her lips as she spoke softly to him, sometimes even cleverly with sharp rebuttals that made both of them laugh. But here, she was felt as though she were putting up a wall, that much was clear with the way she emphasized the use of his family name. But more peculiar still was the way she had defended her choice of reading. He wondered what she meant when she said it would be the only way to experience it?

Colin was rudely returned to the present by Eloise's sharp elbow in his rib.

"Ouch!" Eloise looked at him smugly while he nursed his bruised belly.

"As I was saying Brother, what's got you all turned around?"

Colin made a show of pretending he was going to jab her back, watching in satisfaction as Eloise curled up to defend herself, then brought his hands back down.

'It is nothing," Hyacinth kicked her feet idly on the seat opposite them not really paying attention to them, more enthralled by the scenes of London passing them by.

"If it's nothing then why do you look so concerned?" Gregory inquired, "is it because Miss Penelope would not talk to you?"

Eloise's eyebrows shot up as she glanced at her brother who stiffened slightly, avoiding eye contact with her.

"She would not speak to you?" Colin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his collar now feeling overly tight and the scrutiny of his sister weighing on him.

"That is not what happened. She was simply in a hurry and was hurried home by her chaperone."

"I heard her," Gregory said brightly, in the way that only children can so innocently bring to light the private conversations of others. "She said 'if you'll excuse me then, Mr. Bridgerton.' She doesn't even call Anthony that, and he's the Viscount, does she call you that? I thought you were friends?"

"Mr. Bridgerton?" Eloise was now completely interested, "What on earth did you do? She's been calling you Colin since we were children." Colin was annoyed by the constant questioning and snapped back.

"Why don't you ask her then, you're the very dearest of friends, I'm sure she'll tell you everything." It was now Eloise's turn to look uncomfortable, a fact that Colin noticed immediately. "It is odd, I have been home a week now and Penelope has yet to come calling on you or mother for tea. It was almost a daily occurrence, is there a reason why she has not been invited?"

Eloise folded her hands primly in her lap and looked out the window, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the carriage.

"No reason. We have simply grown apart."

There was nothing to say after that, was there? The rest of the trip home was silent save for the chattering of the two youngest Bridgertons and gave welcome respite for both Eloise and Colin, who would have otherwise been lost in thought, both thinking of their dear friend, Penelope.

Penelope all but ran into her chambers once returning home to the Featherington Estate. Her face felt aflame as she shut the doors behind her and pulled the lock shut, stepping on the small wooden stool she had procured to help her reach high places.

It felt like she couldn't breathe and she began to pull at the ties of the bonnet on her head to giver some relief. It fell off her head and she sagged against the frame of the door, looking at her feet where she had dropped her purchase, the novel she bought fallen askew, pages bent. She knelt down, picking up the novel and smoothing out the pages.

She had known Colin was home from his travels but to run into him so abruptly had completely taken her off course. She didn't know until the moment he appeared in front of her how angry she was with him. In theory of course, she was furious, but she had no idea she was capable of not just melting at the sight of him. She thought she might crumble at the behest of his charms, which were admittedly hard to refuse, but the hurt was so strong that she was able to overcome his smile and his familiarity.

Below her, Penelope heard her mother speaking to Philippa and Prudence loudly, discretion in the household had never been her strong suit, so Penelope was treated to a rather long tirade from her mother about the necessities of becoming with child to procure an heir. When their sisters protested, Portia could be heard declaring to all and sundry that this was their chance to continue the family since Penelope's chances were slim to none this year and her fate was to spend her life living with her mother in a widow estate, caring for her mother.

Penelope was aghast, and realized she had become too complacent, buying into Eloise's words about the triviality of marriage and its uselessness in the modern world. There was one stark difference between Eloise and Penelope that should have been as plain as the day was bright to her. Eloise would not end up caring for her mother in her old age, she would be free, with her brother's support, and she would not be referred to as poor Eloise because it would be abundantly apparent that for her, spinsterhood was a choice. For Penelope, it was nothing more than an inevitability. It would be known to all that there was nothing about it that had been her choice, it was simply that no one would have her.

She shuddered at the thought of living with her mother well into her twilight years, remaining at the beck and call of someone who genuinely thought of her as a crutch and not her own person.

It was then that Penelope decided, quite resolutely, that this season was for herself. She would find a man - a husband - and settle down. She would find someone to take care of her. All she needed to do after all was to sire an heir, a child, for the man, a child for her to love. She could do that. She paused, in the midst of her undressing, having begun to do so without thought as she planned her course of action. There would be no talk of silly things like love and passion.

Love?

She yanked off her underthings and tried to wiggle into her day gown as an image of Colin flashed through her mind, the way he would walk with her, the way he smiled at her, the way he - she shook her head and firmly told herself to stop, tying the sash loosely under her bust. She had spent her life harboring feelings for him, feelings that were not reciprocated, and would have her laughed out of the ton should anyone come to find out.

Love was not necessary. Her own parents' marriage of tolerance had taught her that. She had considered it, thought of it as a fantasy, harbored hope that she may find it herself one day, but that notion had been destroyed before she could even begin to truly think of it.

No, she resolved, as she opened her wardrobe to find that the maid had delivered some previously ordered gowns inside in anticipation of tomorrow's ball, the first of the season, she would not pretend to be worthy of such things.

Friendship, acceptance, and kindness. That was all she could hope to have. She would even accept apathy, so long as it meant freedom. Penelope knew then that this season would be her last. Either she married or she would remain a spinster, a failure to be trapped under mother's thumb for time immemorial. She pulled a gown of shimmering fabric, a daring neckline and prepared herself, sliding her hand down the length of it, admiring its feel.

This time, she would not be an observer.

The irony of the statement was that as Penelope planned for her future, planned for her own sake, for once, she was the one under observation. But how was she to know that across the square, sat a man in the drawing room of his family room, surrounded by raucous laughter and running children, completely drawn to the window, staring at the Featherington Estate, hoping to catch a glimpse of her even if it was woefully inappropriate.

The night was aglow with candlelight, painting every surface in the colors of flame, which paired with the cool summer night, felt magical to Penelope as she came into the event following her mother and married sisters inside. She had kept her cloak on because she found herself horribly shy and loath to remove it. However, once a footman approached her to take it, Penelope found herself with no way to refuse and slowly removed the fabric, acutely aware of how the onlookers watched her, feeling the weight of every gaze. She saw Eloise and Cressida's eyes widen and even some of the men watched her with something she might have mistaken as interest if she wasn't already privy to their thoughts of her from last year.

She heard her mother gasp inaudibly behind her, and as they walked down the stairs, Portia grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear.

"Darling, where are the gowns I bought for you? You would look so much better in that pink dress I bought you." She politely bowed her head to a passing gentleman and hissed back, thinking quickly on her feet, feeling her mother pinching the skin on her exposed arm.

"They no longer fit, I needed to improvise." Her mother made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and dropped her hand from her elbow.

"You should have been more careful dearest." She shook her head in defeat. "That was the last thing I could do to help you. Just try not to wear anything too displeasing, if we are to be part of society, one must adhere to the rules of propriety. Especially after the scandal with Jack. Do not embarrass me."

Penelope could only look to the ground as her mama tsked once more at her and then left, without saying one complimentary word to her about her looks. She could hear her telling Philippa that it was her choice to wear such dour clothes, if she wanted to. She was washing her hands of her daughter, at this point, three years in, there was no hope. Better to focus on the things that mattered.

Squaring her shoulders, Penelope tried to not to look at the other women, feeling more alone than ever, as she made her way to the refreshment tables. She picked up a glass of tart lemonade and sipped it carefully. The rouge on her lips was new and she didn't know how well it would fare over the course of the night. A shadow fell across the table and she heard a low voice behind her call her name. She knew who it was of course, even before he spoke. She had been infuriatingly aware of his presence from the moment she entered the room. Just the idea of him being this close to her sent a traitorous thrill through her.

"Good evening, Pen."

It hadn't been hard to spot her, she stood out, always had. Her hair was a beacon in the dark, glowing by the lamplight like liquid gold, and it made it quite simple for Colin to pick her out of the crowd. Of course her sisters and mother sported the same hair, but it was nothing like Pen's. He wasn't quite sure what had happened in their last encounter but tonight Colin was resolved to have his friend back. If he had slighted her in some way, then he would make amends. It was no difficult task at all.

She looked wonderful, dressed in a more mature color than he had ever seen her wear. It complimented her wonderfully and made her pale skin seem soft to the touch in contrast. He liked what she had done to her hair as well, he could see more of it now and he wondered why she had not worn it down before. The look suited her well.

"See something you like Colin?" He nearly jumped out of his skin to find Viscountess Kate Bridgerton at his side.

"You gave me a fright, I did not know you were there." Kate smiled, the look was equal parts apologetic and playful.

"Apologies, I did not mean to startle you, I merely wanted to know what has you so completely transfixed this evening? Your eyes have not ceased following Miss Featherington since her entrance."

Colin blinked in surprise at the rather blunt observation and cursed himself for the stuttering of his tongue as he tried to answer.

"Following? You are mistaken, I was only looking for her as she is a dear friend. I haven't seen her in some time and was looking forward to getting reacquainted. In fact, I'll be heading over to offer her a dance." At Kate's raised eyebrow, he hurried to add. "It's Pen, " he said as if it explained anything, "She does not count." Behind him, there was a small flurry of giggles though when he turned to look, none of the ladies were looking at him.

"I see." Colin found he did not like the gaze under which he found himself at the current moment. Kate hesitated, appearing as though she wanted to say something.

"Colin, I think you should know - "

"Darling, what are you doing over here?" Anthony came weaving through the crowd to find his wife. "Come, Lady Danbury has requested to speak to you."

Kate glanced at Colin, recognizing she had lost her chance, and waved as she took Anthony's arm. All at once, Colin found himself alone again, but not for long as he could sense the matchmaking mamas sharpening their claws to sink into him. He all but scurried away, ending up behind Penelope as she drank from a frosted glass. He stood behind her a moment, letting her have her moment, before leaning down slightly to say her name.

Penelope did not jump, she did not turn swiftly as she had done before. She tensed for a moment, as he waited for her to turn. When she did, he made sure to smile as charmingly as he could, waiting for the smile she gave him, the one that used to light up her eyes.

Except that when he saw her, her gaze was not warm at all. Instead it was a carefully neutral expression, making him feel like he was looking at a mask and not a person.

"Good evening Mr. Bridgerton. Are you well?" He laughed uncomfortably, she looked away, fiddling with her dance card, and then back up at him when he responded. She was so small in front of him, even when she was irate, she looked to him like just his best friend. Although he could not recall when it was that she had suddenly become so mature. Everything about her demeanor had changed.

"Come on, Pen, since when have you referred to me as Mr. Bridgerton?" She gestured around them to the other guests.

"Since we are in polite society. I would appreciate you calling me by my family name as well." Now her tone was downright icy. When he could think of nothing to say, she bowed slightly in his direction and turned to make her departure.

Colin was completely nonplussed. She had never spoken to him that way before. She had always called his name softly, and followed obediently where he went. He could not fathom the change of behavior.

And it did not get any better. Over the course of the night, he saw Penelope stand where she usually did, with a drink in hand in the corner. But then, he watched her take the hand of a young gentleman and let him guide her out onto the floor to dance. Two more dances went by like this, though when Colin attempted to request a dance, Penelope feigned exhaustion and went to sit instead near the ladies, a hard place for him to reach. When she rose to retrieve a refreshment for herself, his offer to procure one for her was denied as well.

Colin was beginning to get frustrated. How was he to fix whatever was wrong if she wouldn't even speak with him?

Almost giving hope, he found an opportunity when Colin saw her duck out of the hall and onto the balcony on the fair side of the ballroom. It took him only a second to make the decision to follow her. Colin knew it would not be proper, but he couldn't just let her walk away.

Making sure that he went unnoticed, Colin slipped out of a side door, trying to catch her. When came to the corner of the building on her side of the balcony, he couldn't help but stare. Something was wrong with this night. The way the moon shone, it made her hair gleam, and her skin seem creamy white. Her eyes glittered in the night, and her silhouette cut a striking figure, ethereal and arresting in ways he had never noticed before. The longer he looked, the more he felt like he couldn't breathe. It was only when his eyes traveled downward, unbidden that he forced himself out of his reverie. Being out here was improper enough, to be ogling her - however platonically, and it was platonic, he insisted - it would not look right at all if they were seen.

So he made his presence known, by clearing his throat. She yelped, yanking her shawl closer to her and peered around suspiciously for the source of the sound. Penelope only relaxed when her gaze landed on Colin and at least she knew she was not in danger. That didn't mean she wasn't incredibly annoyed by his actions.

"Mr. Bridgerton, what on earth are you doing?!" Her whisper came out as a hiss as she looked around, anxiously hoping no one had seen them.

"I'm here to check on you. You seem… vexed with me Pen. Are things not well? Between us, I mean?"

Here, Penelope's eyebrows practically shot up over her eyebrows and she let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Alrigh - I - " She almost wrung her hands, but then stopped. Colin could see it happening again for the umpteenth time. Penelope was withdrawing into that mask she had created and was making to run again.

"This is highly improper. We should not be out here. On our own, unchaperoned. I am returning inside." She whirled around to leave, and all he could was stand in front of her.

"Talk to me. What is the matter? All summer I have written to you, in the mornings and evenings, I must have sent you dozens of letters. You did not write me back. " His eyes searched hers, finding them obstinate and unmoving.

"Are you going to make me say it? " He waited for her response and when he received none, he plowed forward. "I miss you."

She almost scoffed, taking him aback. He had expected her to smile at this, to look down and say "really?" as she would have usually done.

"You miss me?" She repeated his words back, the message sounding like a mockery to him now. His brow furrowed as he nodded in affirmation.

"You miss me but you would not court me?"

And just like that, the world slid out from under his feet.

She stared at him expectantly, her eyes locked onto his, daring him to answer. All he could do was stutter.

"I -"

"I never asked you to court me, Colin." The use of his name brought reality crashing down around him. " I never asked anything of you, and yet you would disparage me like that? Amongst your friends? Men of the ton? Men who would have maybe looked my way if it were not for that you stated so plainly that to court me would be nothing short of a nightmare."

"I never -" He protested, horrified by the implications of her words.

"You made it quite clear." She sniffed and Colin felt a wave of shame course through him as he realized she held back tears. "I am the laughing stock of the ton, even when I change my wardrobe, but I expected that. What I did not expect was for my oldest friend to be this cruel."

She wiped her red rimmed eyes and having said her piece, Penelope gathered her shawl back around her and swiftly left the balcony, abandoning Colin in the moonlight.

"Something on your mind brother?" Benedict could not help but notice that the normally jovial Colin was lost in thought on their ride home. Eloise and Francesca had departed earlier in the night. It was just the four of them, Anthony, Kate, Benedict and Colin in the carriage.

He shook his head. He wouldn't even know where to begin.

"It is nothing. I am simply tired."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with you pursuing Miss Featherington around the hall would it?" Colin's head snapped in Benedict's direction, eyes warning him not to continue, however Kate just nodded and added.

"I'm sorry Colin, but it was rather obvious. You spent much of your time in pursuit. It is a wonder more people did not notice," Colin sunk defeatedly into the plush cushions of the seat.

"She wouldn't speak with me." He said, omitting the reason. His shame was bad enough, he did not want his brothers and more importantly his sister - in - law to think less of him. All that flew out the window though as Benedict responded to him.

"Well, you cannot expect her to after you declared to every eligible bachelor that you, Colin Bridgerton, would never court Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest dreams. " Anthony shook his head in disappointment.

Colin sat up straight, shock plastered all over his face. If he were not so surprised, he would be cross with Benedict for saying it so plainly.

"How on earth do you know about that?" Benedict looked at him quizzically.

"Whatever do you mean? Penelope heard it herself, she was standing right behind you." Colin rubbed a frustrated hand over his face.

"And how do you know that?"

"It said so in Whistledown."