-May 20, 1820-
"It's hard to choose between chocolate and vanilla," Lord Dorset scanned over the menu, and glanced up at Pen.
She gave him a warm smile. "It's strawberries and whip cream for me."
Dorset waved the server over, ordering their ice cream sundaes and beverages.
As the server walked away, Pen's stomach dropped. Sitting at the table right behind Lord Dorset was Colin. Sitting alone, and shooting her an unrepentant smirk.
"Oh, did I order the wrong thing? You don't seem pleased," her date quickly said, leaning forward with a concerned look.
Pen shook her head. "Oh, sorry. I just thought of something unpleasant, but it can wait until later. I must admit I haven't had ice cream in years. I didn't have it at all when living at my husband's estate."
That got her a shocked response. "No ice cream for years! That is quite awful. But maybe you don't have as much of a sweet tooth as I do."
Dorset was very pleasant company, and she tried her best to keep up her side of the conversation. But in the back of her mind, she was wondering how the hell Colin had known she would be in the ice cream parlour at this time to ambush this date. He had not been near them when they had made the plans after dancing at the ball.
"Lady Debling? Is it to your liking?"
Dorset's voice brought her out of her contemplations, and she shot Colin an irritated glance before giving her date her full attention. "It's delicious. Are you happy you got chocolate and vanilla?"
He grinned easily back at her. "Quite. I only hesitated, as I didn't want you to think of me as a glutton."
That made Pen chuckle. "I think it's good to enjoy whatever small pleasures life brings our way. Speaking of which, I'd love to hear about your favourite places in your travels."
Dorset was a few years older than she was, likely the same age difference she had with her late husband. There was an appealing confidence in him due to that. He was a man who had done a lot, travelled to India and many other far off places. His dark eyes glowed as he spoke enthusiastically about his adventures.
She encouraged him to tell her more, as she slowly ate her sundae, savouring the rich ice cream with small flecks of vanilla bean, the ripe strawberries, all topped with whipped cream.
He was very interesting and passionate about the topic, often making her laugh in delight about the places he described. But at some point, her gaze went past him, and landed on Colin. He was still staring at her intently, a half finished lemonade the only thing on his table. Pen closed her eyes, trying to control her own emotions.
"Um, I'll be back in a minute," Dorset said, excusing himself to head to the washrooms.
It was just as well, as Pen was having a hard time acting normal now. Colin was being so annoying. Between him behaving like this at the last few balls, and the whole thing at the lake, Pen was sick of it.
She wanted to get him as disturbed, as bothered, as she was. Give him back a little of his own medicine.
Without thinking it over too thoroughly, Pen took a big spoonful of ice cream, brought it close to her mouth, but then tilted the spoon. The cold, wet dessert landed on the upper curve of her right breast.
With her eyes half shut, she shot a glance at Colin, and could see his gaze was riveted on her chest. She could feel the ice cream melting against her warm skin, and a trickle slid down into her cleavage. Colin's eyes blazed, and he even licked his lips.
Pen reached down, scooping most of the creamy mixture off her chest with her finger, and slowly sucked it clean. Another subtle glance at Colin showed his mouth was hanging slightly open, practically drooling on himself. She took a napkin, dabbing it against her chest, getting most of it. But being in the middle of the parlour, she couldn't push the napkin into her cleavage to get what was there. She was presentable enough.
Dorset returned, and it wasn't long before he paid the bill and they exited. Outside the parlour, she thanked him for an enjoyable outing. He seemed very pleased, and promised to call on her soon. She told him her normal calling hours with a smile.
They headed their separate directions, and since it was mid day, Pen felt quite safe walking back to her carriage, on a side road.
As she neared, a footman opened the door for her, holding out his hand to assist her inside.
"Wait, Pen," Colin said, standing right behind her.
She whirled around to face him, her anger at him quickly rising back up. "You! You followed me back here!"
He gave no answer to her accusation, but his expression showed his guilt quite obviously since she knew him so well.
"Did you follow me from my house to the parlour as well?" Pen asked, the realization now just hitting her.
"Pen, what do you expect? I've hardly seen you for days, you wouldn't dance with me at the last ball, and even had Lady Danbury scare me off," Colin looked at her with beseeching eyes. "Please, Pen. Let me speak with you. I miss you so much."
"Go away, Colin. After the way you have been behaving, do you think I want to be around you?"
"Please, Pen…," Colin said, looking wretched. He even started to lower himself, like he was about to kneel before her. Beg her.
Pen huffed in annoyance, and yanked his arm to get him to stand up straight. "Get into the coach. You've made enough of a spectacle of yourself in public lately."
She stepped into the carriage, with Colin right behind her, sitting on the back bench, far too close. She shouted to the driver to head to the Bridgerton house.
As the carriage lurched slowly along the busy streets, Pen looked at Colin with a sigh.
He was staring at her, his eyes drinking her in. Going over her hair, her face, her pink day dress, but his eyes lingered most on her cleavage.
He shifted, and she suddenly had his face pressed right against her breasts. He was licking over her skin, and pushing his tongue into her cleavage. Seeking out any trace of the melted ice cream remaining there.
It was arousing, having him giving into what he had obviously wanted to do. Falling into her little trap, feeling him a little out of control like this.
She pushed him back. "Enough. You'll get me messed up." Looking down, her cleavage was damp from his attentions, and she pulled out a handkerchief to clean it up.
"But you put me in this state," Colin gave her a desperate look, grabbing her hand, and pressing it against the front of his breeches.
As irritated as she was with him, he felt so good. So thick and hard, from her teasing him in the ice cream parlour. She stroked over him, tracing his shape through the material, and let out an appreciative hum. "Let me see."
Colin looked at her with wide eyes, and then his hands scrambled to undo his buttons and push his layers of fabric out of the way. It was somehow so much more erotic, more naughty, seeing him fully dressed, but holding his erection in his hand.
Leaving her handkerchief beside him, she carefully shifted to the opposite bench in the moving carriage.
"Let me see what you do, when you are alone," Pen whispered, a little shocked at her own daring.
Colin seemed in too much of an aroused state to object to her request. In fact, he spread his legs wide, shifted down to the edge on the bench, and leaned back to look at her, watching her watching him.
He was stroking himself slowly, and Pen could only follow the motions, her gaze flicking to his face, seeing the pleasure he was giving himself.
Feeling aroused herself, Pen shifted to lean into the corner of the carriage, and bent a leg to put her slippered foot on the bench at her side.
Watching Colin, she slid her hand up under her gown. He let out a groan, his hand speeding up, as she touched herself. The voluminous fabric of her gown hid her nakedness and her hand, but his gaze moved between her face and the motions of her arm.
"Tell me what you think about," Pen whispered. "When you do this on your own."
Colin groaned. "Next time, it will be a spoonful of ice cream, landing on the upper curve of your breast, melting… the liquid sliding down into your cleavage…"
Her fingers moved faster, loving the rough rasp of his deep voice, the heat in his gaze, the quick stroking. She pushed two fingers in, matching his tempo, imaging it was him.
"And right in the middle of that busy ice cream parlour, I would lean in, licking it all up. Sucking the sweet cream off your skin. Letting my tongue push in between your breasts, remembering how good they felt, pressed around me… all wet with wine…"
He continued, saying the most raunchy, shocking things, things that just made her moan and gasp, until she was shuddering in pleasure.
He let out a harsh groan, grasping for her handkerchief, and she watched as he peaked.
Pen straightened up, letting her foot go back to the floor of the coach. When she pulled her hand out from below her skirts, and used her other hand to put things back in place, Colin was suddenly on his knees in front of her.
"Please…," he said softly, and took her hand in his.
She watched as he lifted it to his face, and took her wet fingers into his mouth. His eyes closed, and she could feel him sucking gently, licking over her skin.
After a minute, she pulled her hand away, and pushed it into the thick hair at the back of his head, giving it a hard tug.
"Colin, you can't act like that around me in public ever again."
He looked down, and gave a small nod.
She gave his hair another tug, and he met her eyes. "Our agreement was for you to help me with my needs. But you've pushing to come over more often. This has to stop. I'll send you a note when I need you."
Colin again looked downwards, with another nod.
This felt good, telling him all the things he had been doing lately that bothered her.
"No more ambushing me at balls or on outings," Pen added.
When he nodded again, and seemed contrite, she loosened her grip, stroking over his hair to smooth it down. "Now, Colin, either you stick to our agreement or we will have to stop being lovers. Try to go back to just being friends."
Colin pinned her with a very direct stare. "But what about your needs?"
Pen gave a little scoff. "You saw me just now. I can take care of myself quite well. If not, it's easy to find another lover."
"But-"
She could tell he was going to object, and she was just sick of it. Her hand went back into his hair, giving it a hard yank. "Are you going to behave, Colin?"
His eyes glowed, a bit of defiance in them. Maybe some anger and even arousal. But eventually he let out a growl of agreement.
Pen let go of his hair and thumped hard on the roof. "Stop the coach please," she shouted out to the driver.
It took a couple minutes for the carriage to move out of the slow traffic, and stop.
Colin gave her a longing look, but climbed out.
"Take me to the modiste, please," she called out. She needed help from her friend.
…
"You did it. You took a lover. I can tell," Genevieve purred, placing the closed sign on the door and locking it. She urged Pen to follow her to the back part of the shop. "It is good, yes?"
Pen rubbed a hand over her face, feeling exhausted. "You can tell? It is so obvious?"
Genevieve opened a box from a bakery, filled with small cheese croissants, and poured them some wine. She kicked off her shoes, climbed on to a chaise lounge and leaned back with a sigh.
"You were very wound up before, and that is gone," she smirked, assessing her friend. "But something else disturbs you."
Pen took a deep breath, and felt good that she had come here. She could tell Genevieve anything, and knew she wouldn't be judged it.
"I took a lover, someone I trusted, a friend I have known for years, and it was so good. For both of us. We met many times, keeping it just physical, and it seemed to be working," Pen started, remembering how good it had been the first few weeks.
"But then….?" Genevieve prompted, eating a croissant and seeming quite interested in hearing more.
Pen shrugged a shoulder. "He just started acting so strange around me. In public! Staring at me at balls, trying to corner me and convince me to let him visit more often. Interrupting me when I was with other men, acting possessive."
Genevieve nodded. "Do you think other people are actually noticing it?"
"Yes! And it's becoming embarrassing," Pen groaned, and told her about the events the last few days.
"Penelope Debling! You are a naughty girl, torturing him like that at the ice cream parlour. But he deserved it," Genevieve chuckled. "But when a man is at this stage, it is like he is obsessed. He is not himself."
"Eloise thinks it could just be men's idiotic competitive nature," Pen sighed, sipping her wine. "That makes me wonder if one of them 'wins', which I guess is marrying me, would he even care about me? Or just that he satisfied some sort of male pride beating out the others?"
Genevieve thought about it. "I think any man who gets to this point, acting so obsessed, possessive, jealous… a little is alright, but so much is very bad."
"Very bad?"
"He can become dangerous," Genevieve shuddered, and frowned. "Some men can hurt or kill. The other men. The woman they claim to love."
Pen's eyes widened. Surely not Colin. He was a sweet, gentle man. But she never thought he would be behaving like he had in recent weeks from all the years she had known him.
In the end, she nodded. "I need to cut things off with him. Stop being lovers. Stop seeing him. Maybe eventually we can be friends again."
Genevieve nodded slowly, and held out her arms. Pen went into them, clutching her friend tightly. Taking the comfort that was so freely given.
Eventually she sat back, and Genevieve passed her a handkerchief to dry a few tears that escaped. She had experienced so many highs and lows this year, so many emotions. It was good to let them out.
"Thank you," Pen croaked, her voice a little scratchy. "You are a good friend. If you ever need anything from me, I'll always be there for you."
The older woman led her to the door, gave her another hug, and sent her home.
…
-May 23, 1820-
"Oh, how wonderful," Pen smiled, opening the colourful gift box to reveal a jar of peppermint humbug candies, and a book. "An Introduction to Lord Byron," Pen read out the title.
Lord Lumley was pleased with her reaction. "It contains his best poems published so far, and I find the more times you read a poem, the more it sinks in."
Pen waved him to sit down, displaying his gifts on a table nearby where she could often see them.
A few minutes later they were sipping tea, and Pen gazed at this man she had come to like more each time they spent time together. He was quite tall, with black wavy hair and cheerful dark eyes. What she liked most was his easy smile and positive demeanour.
His eyes were looking over her with appreciation. She felt comfortable in his presence, which after Genevieve's warnings, had made her more cognizant of that.
"So, Lord Lumley, what part of England are you from?" Pen asked, wanting to get to know him better.
Calling hours were the best way to really get to know someone. It was quiet, without lots of other people around. The flowers and other gifts the men brought were a nice reminder of them after they left.
"My family's country home is near Brighton," he replied. "Have you ever been there?"
Pen shook her head. "Never! But I would dearly love to see the ocean."
Lumley picked up the small book he had given her, flipping through a few pages. "This poem always reminds me of home."
Pen took it from him, her eyes scanning over the short poem, and started reading it aloud. "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more-"
"Mr. Colin Bridgerton," Pen's butler announced, and the man strode into her drawing room.
She jumped to her feet. Hadn't she told him in the carriage not to visit her house unless she expressly invited him?
With Lord Lumley here, she hardly wanted to make a scene. He was standing near her, looking concerned.
"Mr. Bridgerton," Pen eventually said, trying her best to treat him like any guest. "Do come in and have some tea. I think you know Lord Lumley."
The men bowed to each other.
"I should likely go, now that you have other company," Lumley said with a regretful smile.
Colin shook his head. "That's unnecessary. Surely we can all chat together."
Pen had no choice but to pour Colin a cup of tea, easily remembering how he liked it, and placing a few biscuits on the saucer.
He was holding a massive bouquet of flowers, and made quite a show of presenting it to Pen. "These are for you, Lady Debling."
Thanking him, she took the bouquet, and inhaled their sweet fragrance, before placing them on a table way off to the side. It made the other bouquets around the room appear tiny in comparison.
Once they were all seated, Colin looked towards Pen. "Did I hear correctly as I entered? Were you reading out a poem?"
Pen closed the book. "Yes. Lord Lumley gave me a book of poetry, and said that one reminded him of Brighton, where his family lives."
"I have travelled there a few times, although I usually depart from Portsmouth for my longer journeys," Colin said, seeming quite friendly. Almost normal.
"Lady Debling had mentioned she has never seen the ocean," Lumley told Colin.
He turned to Pen. "You should plan a trip at once! Take along Eloise and Hyacinth. They would love it."
Pen gave a small sigh, and turned to Lumley. "He's referring to his two younger sisters. Eloise has been my best friend for many years." It was tiresome having Colin there, disrupting the conversation.
"Well, let me know if you plan a trip. I may just visit my family at the same time. It would be nice to walk with you along the Boardwalk," Lumley said with a warm smile.
Pen returned it, and could imagine walking with her arm looped with his, hearing the crashing of the waves, and the taste of sea salt in the air.
"Are there still a lot of problems with peeping toms? Trying to get a look at the female sea bathers?" Colin asked, crunching on a biscuit, crumbs going everywhere.
The tender moment between Pen and her caller was completely spoiled by Colin's crass comment. Lumley awkwardly chuckled, explaining to her about how many people bathed in the sea for health reasons.
Colin took over the conversation, asking Lumley question after question about the area. If she was being generous, she could attribute it to his love of travelling and learning about new places. But she knew it was mostly to disrupt any conversation between Lumley and herself.
Pen found her glares at Colin had no effect, and by the time both men were leaving, she was seething.
About ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on the drawing room door, even though it was open.
She whirled around, and Colin stepped into the room.
"Sorry, I realized I had forgotten my-"
"Colin Joseph Bridgerton!" Pen growled and strode over to him.
"What?" Colin asked, putting on innocent airs.
"You promised to behave only three days ago in my carriage," Pen scoffed. "And I told you in the park to stop interfering with my conversations with other men."
He let out a frustrated huff. "I can't see why you bother with any of them. They don't suit you in the least."
"I didn't ask for your opinion, Colin. It's none of your business," Pen snapped back.
"Promise me you won't go to Brighton with Lord Lumley," Colin demanded, his voice getting louder.
"No," Pen scoffed.
This seemed to make him even angrier. "Promise me you won't get engaged to Lumley," Colin stepped closer, looming over her, trying to stare her down.
"You have no claim on me, Colin. I can marry whatever man I choose," Pen walked over and grabbed his massive bouquet, and pushed it into his arms. "Take this back and leave. I don't want you entering my house again without an invitation."
Colin threw the flowers down on floor, petals flying everywhere, and walked towards her, furious.
"No claim on you? You are mine," Colin hissed, wrapping his arms tightly around her and setting her on a nearby desk. His mouth crashed down on hers, kissing her deeply, as his hands ran over her body.
It had been over a week since his last midnight visit, and Pen was responding to him, against her will. He kissed down her neck, and she shivered at the sensation, letting out a moan when he nipped at her skin, surely marking her skin.
He was yanking up her dress, and then undid his buttons. It happened fast, but she could have stopped it. But she didn't. Desire overrode her reason in that moment. The desk had her at the perfect height, with Colin standing right between her legs, and he pushed right in, his hands on her hips. She groaned with him, never able to hide how good this felt, being so close to him, so intimate. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, wanting it as much as he did.
It was quick and urgent and over in only a few minutes. He had barely pulled out in time, her thighs damp with his seed.
They were both strangely quiet in the aftermath of that storm. He stepped back, fixing his clothing as she pulled her dress down. He helped her back on her feet.
She sat down on the settee, but wouldn't look at him. He sat beside her, and reached for her hand. She pulled it away.
She felt really numb, in complete shock. Had he really grabbed her like that? How could she have been swept up into it? In her own drawing room, when anyone could have walked in? She was shocked at his behaviour, but even more at her own. They were pushing each other to act worse and worse. How far, how bad, would this go?
"Colin, we can't do this anymore," she said softly, looking straight ahead. "This is just a mess."
"No, no, Pen," Colin said, bending forward, trying to catch her gaze. "Don't let what just happened-"
She shook her head. "We need to be adults about this," she said firmly, and turned to face him. "Our agreement isn't working, and if we don't stop now, it will just get worse. It will kill our friendship as well."
There was a finality to her words, and he knew he couldn't argue her out of them. "Can we at least dance at balls?"
"No…," Pen said, her eyes damp with unshed tears. "I won't be going to any more this season."
"Pen, don't do this. Don't shut me out," Colin said softly, sounding upset as well.
"This was a mistake. We never should have done made that agreement," she shook her head. "Please leave, and don't come back."
…
-A/N: Don't hate me…. Every story needs some angsty angst…
-Yes, yes, I know they need to stop having sexy times and talk things out. Things have gone to a very strange place between them. There was a little bit of a D/S vibe to the carriage scene, with Pen calling the shots. Perhaps what happened in the drawing room had a bit of Colin pushing back against her control/restrictions, but taking it too far. Things obviously can't continue as Friends With Benefits, as too many of those damn emotions are messing things up.
-Lots of notes on historical stuff mentioned in this chapter below. Feel free to skip if you aren't interested.
-Ice Cream: At this time, there was no electrical refrigeration. Ice cream parlours sprung up, providing this rare treat.
About 20 years after this, most people had an icebox in their home. They would put a large block of ice in the top compartment and it had drains to collect the water as it melted.
Every winter, there were companies that harvested blocks of ice from frozen lakes, storing them in massive warehouses, and delivering the ice blocks to customers weekly. The Disney movie 'Frozen' opens with the song 'Frozen Heart' and shows the icemen harvesting blocks of ice from a lake.
-Lord George Byron: (1788-1824). He became a Regency celebrity at the age of 24 as a published poet in 1812. "He rapidly became the most brilliant star in the dazzling world of Regency London. He was sought after at every society venue, elected to several exclusive clubs, and frequented the most fashionable London drawing-rooms."(Wikipedia). Although publishing many other great poems, he got into increasing trouble for his many lovers, one who claimed he was "mad, bad and dangerous to know". Due to his mountainous debts, a scandalous legal separation from his wife (due to all his infidelity) and incest rumours with his half-sister, he was forced to leave England in 1816, never to return. He died at 36 years old, having fallen ill and his physician weakened him more with excessive bloodletting.
He is remembered as being one of England best poets. Most people would recognize the line "She walks in beauty, like the night…" that comes from one of his most famous poems.
-'There is a pleasure in the pathless woods': This Lord Byron poem was written in 1818. It's part of 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage', a long narrative poem, published in four parts between 1812 and1818.
-Brighton: Around 1750, doctors of the time started thinking that drinking and swimming in mineral waters (like at Bath, UK) or sea water was good for your health, and could even cure some diseases. Brighton went from being a small fishing village to a seaside resort around this time, with King George's oldest son & heir spending a lot of time down there. He ended up building the orientalist palace, the Royal Pavilion, which is still Brighton's most known landmark.
-Sea Bathing: Men and women's areas of the beach were segregated, as swim costumes /suits weren't that common, and most people swam in the nude at this time. Small wooden huts on wheels, called 'bathing machines' lined the beach. A person entered the hut, and stripped as a horse dragged the hut into the water. The bather would walk down the steps into the seawater and splash around a bit, before going back into the hut for it to be dragged back to the beach. Peeping Toms were a problem around the women's areas.