Testing Audio -DK Principessa

by kibass91

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1. Perfect

Anthony Bridgerton's gaze followed Penelope Featherington as she gracefully moved about the Cowper ballroom. This wasn't the first time he found himself captivated by her presence.

Over the past several days, Anthony had discreetly observed Penelope whenever he could. Her close friendship with Eloise provided her access to the Bridgerton household, and Anthony used these moments to quietly study her interactions with others. He noticed a marked difference in her demeanor – she was more lively and conversational when with Eloise and his family, yet at formal events like balls, she appeared reserved and contemplative.

Once again, she was dressed in a yellow gown, a choice that perhaps didn't do justice to her beauty. While she wasn't unattractive, her mother's taste in fashion seemed to undersell her figure. He couldn't help but notice her curves – her ample bosom and graceful hips. Her red hair contrasted elegantly against her fair complexion. Her visage was one of kindness, framed by deep blue eyes and delicate pink lips. Yet, it seemed most men were oblivious to her charms. Penelope seemed to blend into the walls of grand gatherings like a forgotten bloom.

Anthony had witnessed Penelope's friendship with Eloise blossom over time. He had watched her transition from a girl to a woman. Despite her kindness and gentle nature, her shyness and her mother's questionable attire seemed to cast a shadow on her.

He was well aware that Penelope seldom engaged with other attendees outside of her family and the Bridgertons. To others, she appeared almost invisible, her presence fading into the background, much like an unnoticed wallflower.

On this particular evening, she appeared even more isolated, as Eloise was absent due to a lingering cold. Once again, his eyes fixed on Penelope, whose countenance conveyed desolation. Her expression worsened as Cressida Cowper, trailed by a group of followers, approached. Some words were exchanged, words that seemed laden with offense, as Anthony could perceive Penelope shudder in their wake.

Acting on pure impulse, he navigated through the crowd and swiftly interjected into their conversation.

"Good evening, ladies."

"Lord Bridgerton!" Cressida exclaimed with feigned delight. "What an unexpected pleasure to see you here! I've kept a spot open on my dance card just for you."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline your gracious offer, Miss Cowper. As a matter of fact, I came to extend an invitation to Miss Featherington for the next dance."

Penelope blinked in surprise, her voice wavering as she spoke up for the first time in his presence. "Me?"

"Yes, indeed, you," he affirmed, his gaze focused on Penelope. "That is, of course, if your dance card isn't already occupied..."

"Occupied?" Cressida interjected with a sharp edge, interrupting Anthony's words. "Oh, Lord Bridgerton, you must understand, Penelope's dance card remains conspicuously vacant. She's more akin to a decorative fixture at these balls, it seems…"

"I wasn't addressing you, Miss Cowper," Anthony responded coolly, fixing her with a steely gaze before turning his attention back to Penelope. "If your dance card has a space available, I believe I can lay claim to more than one dance this evening."

With a graceful gesture, he extended his hand towards Penelope. After a momentary pause to gather herself, she accepted his invitation and allowed him to guide her onto the dance floor, drawing curious glances from all around.

"Thank you," she murmured shyly as they both stepped onto the dance floor, preparing for the waltz.

"For what?" Anthony inquired as they commenced the waltz, their steps harmonious and precise.

"For rescuing me from her clutches," Penelope confessed.

"Why does she treat you in such a manner?" he asked, his curiosity genuine, their dance flowing with elegance. He noted Penelope's gracefulness and stored the observation away.

"I suppose she finds delight in being a shrew," Penelope replied without pause, a slip of honesty escaping her before she could catch it.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Bridgerton, for my behavior," she quickly apologized, a blush of embarrassment tinging her cheeks.

Anthony chuckled. "No apology needed. 'Shrew' seems a fitting descriptor for her."

"Still, I shouldn't be speaking like that in the presence of a nobleman. What must you think of me?"

Anthony's amusement persisted. "No need to fret, Miss Featherington. Our families share a history that grants us a certain level of familiarity."

Penelope nodded, her smile tinged with nervousness. Her interactions with Anthony had been minimal throughout the time she'd known his family and she found herself wondering why he was dancing with her that night.

As the waltz concluded, Penelope executed a graceful bow, expressing her gratitude for the dance. Just as she began to step away, Anthony gently caught her hand.

"My Lord?" she inquired, surprised.

"One more dance, Miss Featherington," Anthony asked softly, a trace of earnestness in his voice. "Unless, of course, your dance card has found another partner…"

A soft laugh escaped Penelope as she responded, "You know it is not."

With a nod and a hint of anticipation, they embarked on yet another dance, this time a lively quadrille.

Following the dance, both Anthony and Penelope found themselves slightly breathless. Anthony excused himself momentarily to fetch some refreshing lemonade, a thoughtful gesture that left Penelope intrigued by his unusual behavior.

"It does feel rather warm in here," he remarked, taking a sip from his glass.

"Yes, indeed," Penelope absentmindedly agreed. After a brief moment of silence, she finally ventured, "May I ask you something?"

A hint of amusement danced in Anthony's eyes as he quipped, "You just did, but please, go ahead and ask another."

Taking a steadying breath, Penelope inquired, "We have known each other for years, as you mentioned earlier, yet it was only tonight that you asked me to dance. I'm curious, why the sudden change?"

Anthony's lips curved into a genuine smile. "Because I wanted to, Miss Featherington. Did you not enjoy our dance?"

"It's not that…" Penelope hesitated, searching for words. "It's just that I expected such behavior from Benedict or Colin, but not from you. In fact, I can't recall ever having a proper conversation with you that lasted more than a couple of minutes all these years."

Anthony chuckled softly. "Blame my brothers for that. They tend to monopolize your attention."

With that, Penelope decided not to press further, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. After a few quiet moments, Anthony broke the silence, his tone relaxed. "I couldn't help but notice your proficiency on the dance floor. What other talents do you possess?"

"Why are you asking this?" She replied, aware that her curiosity was slightly crossing the boundaries of politeness, but his behavior that night was proving to be extremely peculiar.

Anthony simply shook his head, his smile unwavering. "Consider it an attempt at conversation, given our lack of previous exchanges."

Although still disconcerted by the sudden shift in their dynamic, Penelope obliged. "Very well," she began, collecting her thoughts. "I have a skill for embroidery, I can play the pianoforte, and reading is a beloved pastime of mine."

"Ah, I've seen you engrossed in a book before. Any particular author or book that you hold in high esteem?"

"I'm quite fond of Shakespeare," Penelope responded.

Anthony's response carried a hint of condescension that didn't sit well with Penelope. "Oh, I assume you're referring to Romeo and Juliet. Romance tends to be the favored choice among young ladies."

Quick to clarify her position, Penelope retorted, "Actually, I have a preference for Hamlet."

Anthony's surprise was evident, his curiosity piqued. He didn't often encounter young women who had delved into Hamlet. In fact, he had only skimmed through the play during his time at Eton. Yet, one quote from it had left an impression on him, and he decided to test Penelope's knowledge.

"'There is nothing either good or bad...'"

"'...but thinking makes it so,'" Penelope smoothly completed the quote, her confidence unshaken. "A line spoken by Hamlet himself in Act Two, Scene Two, if I recall correctly."

"Bravo, Miss Featherington!" Anthony exclaimed, genuinely impressed. A light laughter escaped Penelope.

"Was that some sort of test, Lord Bridgerton?"

Anthony paused for a moment, considering his response. "Well, I merely wished to ascertain if you were genuinely acquainted with Hamlet or if you were merely attempting to impress me with your knowledge."

Penelope's laughter, laced with a touch of mockery, caught Anthony off guard. He hadn't been met with such a reaction before.

"And why would I have the inclination to impress you?," she said.

Her response momentarily flustered Anthony. It was an unexpected retort, and he had to recalibrate his thoughts.

"I am Viscount Bridgerton, after all," he said, a touch of jest in his voice. "People often seek to impress me, particularly the young ladies."

"I am well aware of your title," Penelope replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of her lemonade. "However, it's usually those young women who aspire to be your bride that engage in such behaviors."

Anthony's brow furrowed, sensing a shift in Penelope's tone. There was something amiss, and he found himself wanting to understand her perspective better. He asked, "And are you not among them, Miss Featherington?"

Penelope's sharp intake of breath betrayed her surprise. Anthony reached out to pat her back gently as she composed herself, her face tinged with embarrassment.

"Apologies... I didn't intend… I mean… it's not what you think," she stammered, her words coming out in a rush as she struggled to regain her composure.

"So you are one of them?"

She had unexpectedly enjoyed conversing with Anthony, relishing this brief moment of interaction that didn't involve Eloise or Colin. However, she wanted to make it clear that she had no intentions of being one of the women aspiring to marry him. So she cleared her throat, her intention not to offend him evident. "Viscount Bridgerton, I am well aware of my aspirations. Please understand, my words weren't meant as an offense."

"No offense taken, Miss Featherington," he assured her.

The lull in their conversation left a hint of discomfort in the air. Penelope felt a growing unease in the silence, about to break it when Anthony spoke up:

"You know, I think we might have just surpassed our previous two-minute record. We've managed to converse for nearly ten minutes tonight." He retrieved the pocket watch that he always carried with him, a keepsake from his father, and checked the time. Penelope couldn't help but giggle at his observation. Anthony continued, his tone light. "I do believe a third dance would be rather inappropriate. So, Miss Featherington, I bid you farewell for now. I hope you've had an enjoyable evening."

With a graceful bow, Anthony took his leave, leaving Penelope slightly stunned by the turn of events. Never had she imagined sharing not just one, but two dances with Viscount Bridgerton in a single night, let alone engaging in a brief yet meaningful conversation with him.

As she stood there, pondering the peculiar events of the evening, Penelope couldn't help but feel a sense of enchantment and mystery that had unexpectedly graced her night.

Sienna's legs entwined with his as Anthony drew her closer, their naked bodies entwined in the aftermath of passionate sex. The room was filled with a tranquil silence, a moment of intimacy they both cherished. Anthony, not typically one to easily unwind after such encounters, made an effort to embrace the stillness.

After a few minutes, Anthony's voice broke the silence.

"I believe I've found the woman I'm meant to marry, Sienna," he revealed.

Sienna's gaze met his, surprise and curiosity mingling in her eyes.

"Really? Who is she?"

"She might not be someone you're familiar with. She's a friend of the family. Penelope Featherington."

"The red-haired daughter from Baroness Featherington's brood?"

Anthony nodded, a hint of uncertainty in his expression. "Yes, the newest one."

Sienna sat up in bed, her excitement palpable as she responded, "Oh, I know who you're talking about! She's perfect for you, Anthony."

"Have you met her?" His curiosity was piqued.

"No, but I've seen her at the balls where I performed. She's a bit plump, isn't she? Not exactly a belle of the ball. She seems rather unassuming. But that might make her the perfect match for you."

Anthony arched an eyebrow, intrigued by Sienna's assessment. "And why do you think that?"

Sienna leaned over him, her lips brushing against his chest as she met his gaze.

"Well, let's be honest, she is not be the epitome of beauty, so at least I won't have to worry about that."

Anthony pulled her close, his tone soft as he spoke against her hair. "You do realize that I'll need to consummate the marriage with her, right? To secure heirs."

"But of course, Lord Bridgerton." As her words danced between them, Sienna provocatively traced her fingers along his chest, her actions igniting a palpable desire within him. "And I'm well aware that when you find yourself in her company, my memory will surely be an ever-present companion, a reminder of how I've tended to your desires."

Anthony's response was immediate and intense. He pulled her close, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Sienna surrendered herself to him, settling onto his lap and indulging in the carnal desire that had rekindled between them.

Anthony knew that marriage wasn't part of her plans, and he was also well aware that a relationship with an artist would be an unprecedented scandal. He was a viscount, his life bound by the constraints and expectations of society.

Nevertheless, Anthony was resolute not to lose her, to find a way to balance his duty as a viscount with the passionate connection he shared with Sienna.

The decision loomed – a suitable wife, a partner who could embrace the role of a viscountess while not overshadowing Sienna's presence. Penelope, with her unassuming nature and practical skills, appeared to be the answer. Anthony's mind was set, his intention pragmatic. Love might not be in the equation, but practicality and duty were guiding his decisions.

Their intimate moment drew to a close, and Sienna's voice broke the silence, laden with curiosity.

"When do you intend to propose to her?"

"Soon," Anthony responded with a determined edge. "I want to fulfill this obligation as swiftly as possible."

Sienna's question carried an underlying doubt. "Do you believe she'll accept your proposal?"

"Certainly. I am a viscount, after all, while she remains a wallflower. Her options are limited."

Anthony was acutely aware of Penelope's situation. The lack of suitors during her second season cast a shadow over her prospects. His choice was a calculated one – Penelope Featherington would become his wife. She would be Viscountess Bridgerton.

Chapter 2: The proposal

Chapter Text

The next day after the Cowper's ball, Penelope found herself at her writing desk once again, crafting another Lady Whistledown column. Yet, she was ensnared by uncertainty as she grappled with narrating her encounter with Anthony at the ball. The incident had ignited a flurry of curious glances and comments, leaving her struggling to articulate the experience, primarily because she herself was bewildered by its implications.

Reflecting on her family's discussions from that same night, Penelope speculated about Anthony's motivations. It was likely his mother's doing that he had danced with her, she surmised.

However, their extended conversation was what truly confounded her. Granted, Lady Bridgerton might have compelled her son to dance, but to converse as well? He could have fulfilled his obligation and bid her farewell, yet he had invested time in getting to know her. While his aristocratic arrogance remained evident, as was common among noble gentlemen, the brief interlude had been surprisingly enjoyable.

Temporarily setting aside her unfinished text due to her wavering focus, Penelope retrieved a letter from a drawer in her desk and perused its contents. Colin's correspondence recounted his Mediterranean travels, detailing his escapades with the Turks and the exhilaration he derived from his journey.

Since the age of 16, Penelope's heart had secretly belonged to Colin Bridgerton, though he had never regarded her as anything more than his sister's best friend. The romantic spark had never ignited between them.

Penelope had weathered considerable heartache when Colin became entangled with her cousin Marina. Thanks to Penelope's intervention through Lady Whistledown, their impending marriage had been thwarted. Despite the turmoil, she had sought to spare Colin from unwittingly entering a loveless union orchestrated by Marina's deception. Penelope understood that Marina's lingering affections for her child's father would have rendered Colin's marriage to her a profoundly unhappy one.

The decision to besmirch Marina's reputation had been a heavy one, yet Penelope believed it was a small sacrifice to ensure Colin's well-being.

Fortunately Marina had found a husband who accepted her situation and embraced her, providing a name and legacy for her children. While she had severed ties with Marin since her departure as Lady Crane, Penelope hoped that her cousin's financial security and reputation were now on stable ground.

With a sigh, Penelope returned her focus to her writing. She dipped her pen into the inkwell and began crafting her weekly column. She highlighted the buzz surrounding Viscount Bridgerton's dance with Miss Featherington, subtly implying that Anthony had engaged in the act as an act of charitable benevolence, all while veiling the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

A few days after Lady Whistledown's column had been published, Penelope found herself at yet another high-society ball, this time hosted by the Bridgerton family.

The resonance of Whistledown's prose was as customary, casting its influence over the Ton. The familiar pitiful glances directed her way were nothing new; Penelope had grown accustomed to such treatment.

Eloise was also present at the event, but she had been whisked away by Violet to meet potential suitors, leaving Penelope once again adrift in the sea of festivities. While she could have sought solace in her mother's company, that would entail enduring Portia's incessant laments about her lack of suitors. Opting for a different refuge, Penelope stationed herself near the drinks table, her ears attuned to the whispers of gossip that swirled around her.

"Good evening, Miss Featherington," Anthony's voice reached her ears, prompting her to turn and greet him with a warm smile.

He had been observing her from a distance before making his approach. She possessed a certain charm, albeit one that could be amplified with a change of wardrobe. Once again, she was adorned in an unflattering yellow dress, a choice that did her no favors.

However, Anthony did notice that the hue of her hair was surprisingly striking. The shade of red in her auburn curls was not a common sight in the bustling streets of London. For a brief moment, Anthony allowed his thoughts to wander, considering the possibility of having redheaded children if he were to marry her.

"Lord Bridgerton!" she greeted him with a graceful bow, tilting her head and torso in a genteel acknowledgment. "I hope you're having a pleasant evening."

"I am indeed, Miss Featherington," he replied with a cordial nod. "I have come to request a dance, that is, if there's still room on your dance card."

Penelope playfully raised her small, empty dance card, holding it up with a smile. "I should consider retiring this, I fear it's simply burdening my arm."

Anthony chuckled appreciatively at her remark. Her wit was evident, and he found himself genuinely charmed by her clever quip.

"So, does that mean it's a yes?" he extended his hand, leading her onto the dance floor once more.

"Thank you for the invitation. Or perhaps I should thank your mother for orchestrating this dance," she quipped, a faint smile gracing her lips as they glided through the dance steps.

Meeting her gaze, Anthony locked eyes with her, marveling at the vivid blue hue that resembled glistening sapphires. Her eyes were truly captivating.

Before he could respond, their dance momentarily parted them, but as they converged again, he wasted no time in questioning, "Why do you believe I'm being coerced into this?"

"Well, I did read Lady Whistledown's column this week, Lord Bridgerton," she stated matter-of-factly, punctuating her remark with a subtle shrug.

Interrupting her, Anthony interjected with conviction, "Miss Featherington, what that woman pens is hardly a reflection of reality. I can't fathom how she conjures up such conclusions."

"By observing, obviously," she retorted simply, a hint of amusement in her tone, before the waltz once again momentarily separated them.

When their hands rejoined, Anthony held her close, a determined expression on his face as he refused to let the dance once again interrupt their dialogue. He was resolute in continuing their conversation without further disruptions.

"And what do you suppose she deduced from our interaction the other night?" Anthony inquired, a trace of impatience evident as the dance steps intermittently separated them, interrupting their flow. His displeasure with the waltz grew increasingly apparent.

"The truth. That you were simply being kind," Penelope responded calmly, "charitable, I believe was the term she used. I think she deduced it from what she observed."

"Yes, but that still doesn't grant her the right to make such assumptions. She was unaware of the nature of our conversation and hastily jumped to conclusions," Anthony protested, maintaining his grip on her hand, effectively halting the final dance step. "Interpretation is distinct from perception."

"Every perception is, in essence, an interpretation, Lord Bridgerton," Penelope asserted, her tone edged with conviction.

Perplexed, he inquired, "Could you elaborate on that?"

Though the waltz had concluded, they remained at the center of the ballroom floor. Couples around them began to disperse, exchanging bows and making their way elsewhere. Sensing the need for privacy, Penelope subtly touched his elbow, guiding them toward the periphery of the room to continue their discussion. Once situated, she expounded,

"The information our senses capture is inherently subject to individual understanding. Even when observing the same focal point, each person assimilates that information differently. Thus, every perception carries an element of interpretation within it."

Her perspective caught him off guard, prompting him to pause and ponder her words. While taken aback, he couldn't deny the logical resonance in her explanation. Penelope's intellect was evidently more profound than he had initially perceived.

"Well, Miss Featherington, I must admit I hadn't contemplated it from that angle before," Anthony conceded, genuinely intrigued. His curiosity led him to ask, "So, in Lady Whistledown's eyes, what do you reckon she perceives when she observes us dancing?"

Penelope offered a candid response, her voice laced with a tinge of self-awareness, "Much like the majority of individuals in this room: you, a peer, a viscount, arguably the most sought-after bachelor in London; and myself, a wallflower, relegated to the sidelines, overshadowed by more popular figures. Why else would you choose to dance with me, if not out of sheer charity?"

As she concluded her statement, Anthony couldn't help but detect a subtle undercurrent of bitterness in her voice, carefully masked by an air of resigned acceptance. It prompted a fleeting pang of empathy within him. At times, he believed he was the sole bearer of his burdens, particularly the weight of his responsibilities as a viscount. However, the glimpse into Penelope's perspective hinted at the challenges she too might be facing, albeit of a different nature.

"While perception can indeed entail interpretation," he interjected, attempting to engage in a reasoned discourse, "we must also acknowledge that interpretations can occasionally be wrong."

Her response was swift and adamant, "But in this instance they are not wrong."

"Indeed, they are," he countered.

"No, they are not," she rebuffed.

"Yes, they are," Anthony asserted more insistently, leaning slightly forward, his gaze fixed upon her, "because I am not engaged in an act of charity. If you haven't grasped it yet, Miss Featherington, I am actively pursuing you. I am extending a courtship, with the genuine intention of making you my wife, the Viscountess Bridgerton."

Penelope's mouth opened and closed, betraying her astonishment. Anthony anticipated her reaction to progress beyond surprise, yet the extended silence puzzled him. Nudging the conversation forward, he called out, "Miss Featherington?"

Abruptly finding her voice, she retorted, "Please refrain from making jests of such gravity."

"I assure you, I am not jesting," Anthony retorted, his frustration flaring, "do you honestly believe I would resort to such cruelty? I am absolutely sincere in my desire for your hand in marriage."

"No…"

"No, what?" he questioned, his eyebrows raising in inquiry.

"No, I can't accept," she asserted more decisively, "if you will pardon me, I must take my leave. Good night, Lord Bridgerton."

Without further ado, she practically hastened out of the room, leaving him stunned and confounded. He hadn't anticipated this reaction. While he had expected some level of astonishment, her swift departure was nothing short of unexpected. How could Penelope reject him so outright?

Driven by a mixture of bewilderment and determination, Anthony swiftly made his way after her, intent on seeking an explanation.

Penelope lived across the street, just around the corner, and was nearly reaching the gardens of her house when Anthony caught up to her, gently tugging her arm to make her turn and face him.

"Miss Featherington!"

"I'm not going to marry you," she replied, slipping out of his grasp.

"Could we sit down for a moment?" he requested, aiming to keep his patience and avoid drawing the attention of onlookers.

Though Penelope appeared set on escaping, a quick scan of their surroundings made her realize that their interaction might attract spectators. With a reluctant nod, she finally agreed. They made their way to a stone bench, positioning themselves slightly apart from others to maintain some semblance of privacy.

Once seated, and with a sudden burst of candor, she asked, "Why do you wish to marry me? It's clear that you're not in love with me." She wearily covered her face with her hands. "Oh, please don't tell me you're in love with me. That would be utterly absurd."

"No, I'm not, Miss Featherington," he responded, opting for honesty. "But I believe you would be a capable wife. I require a viscountess, and based on your qualifications, you seem to be the most suitable candidate."

She let out a snort, dropping her hands from her face and giving him a pointed look he hadn't witnessed before.

"Am I meant to be flattered by that? Did you compile a list of London's eligible ladies and their unparalleled accomplishments?"

Her question dripped with sarcasm, and for the first time, Anthony detected a boldness in her tone that had previously remained concealed. He was caught off guard by her unexpected retort, realizing that she appeared far more daring once her initial shyness had been cast aside. The verdict on whether this was advantageous or otherwise was still pending.

"I didn't meticulously compile a list. The thought just occurred to me, and you seemed like a fitting choice. While love may not be a factor, many marriages are arranged, and ours wouldn't be an exception. It's a practical arrangement. You'd assume the role of a viscountess, tend to your responsibilities, and bear my children. Additionally, you'd enjoy a comfortable life and have the means to support your mother, given the Featheringtons' recent financial struggles. Let's face it, your family's financial situation is dire. I believe you're well aware of this," he stated frankly.

Penelope regarded him with a scrutinizing gaze and inquired, "Are you attempting to buy my agreement, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Not at all. I'm simply outlining the advantages of this proposition. Presently, there are no suitors vying for your hand, and marrying me would significantly enhance your sisters' prospects. Doesn't that hold appeal for you?"

"Yes, but…" Penelope began to voice her concerns, yet Anthony cut her off.

"Miss Featherington, consider the stability and social standing I can offer you. The Bridgertons are among the most esteemed and influential families in England. You'd find yourself in capable hands. Furthermore, our families are already on amicable terms, owing to your friendship with my sister, Eloise. And let's not disregard the allure of being bestowed with the title of viscountess."

"I don't know…" She fidgeted with her hands nervously, uncertainty etched on her face.

"Why not? Is there perhaps someone you're in love with?" Anthony posed the question, convinced that only love might be the sole impediment. Yet, considering her lack of suitors, it seemed that her affections weren't being reciprocated.

At his query, Penelope's thoughts immediately turned to Colin. However, she was well aware of the uncertainty surrounding his return, if he ever did. Her love for him, she knew, was a one-sided fantasy, as her cousin had once candidly pointed out.

Being in love with someone who showed no inclination of reciprocation was a bittersweet reality. What Anthony was proposing, on the other hand, was a tangible opportunity with clear benefits. Being a viscountess was a prospect she had never envisaged for herself. It seemed like an opportunity that couldn't be ignored.

Skillfully evading his question, she redirected the conversation, "And what would you gain from this marriage? What is your motivation, Lord Bridgerton?"

"I've already mentioned it: securing heirs and having someone to fulfill the responsibilities of a viscountess," Anthony reiterated, his tone firm.

"This is the surface explanation. What I want to understand is your genuine incentive for pursuing this marriage. If it's not driven by romantic feelings, then there must be another advantage for you in this arrangement. What is it?"

Penelope's perceptive inquiry caught Anthony off guard once more. He recognized that her intuition was keen, and he chose honesty yet again.

"I have a mistress. She would be my benefit. I want to fulfill my duties as a viscount while maintaining her presence in my life. Rest assured, it won't encroach upon our public life. I am discrete about this affair," he admitted.

Penelope received this revelation without much surprise. Anthony wasn't the only aristocrat to lead a spirited nightlife. Numerous men of high society continued their relationships with courtesans even after marriage. Similarly, there were women – albeit few – who also maintained their own lovers. As Lady Whistledown, Penelope was well-versed in these narratives.

"Do you love her?" She inquired.

Anthony was taken aback by the question and even more so by the response that escaped his lips. "I don't know."

He admitted it with genuine uncertainty. The truth was that he wasn't entirely certain if what he felt for Sienna constituted love. His emotions for her were intense and driven by desire, but whether it could be categorized as love was an enigma he grappled with.

"Then what you share with her is merely pleasure, isn't it?" Penelope pressed on. She then offered a thoughtful observation, "And you've chosen me because I pose no risk of you falling in love with me, correct? I'm a safe choice, ensuring no threat to your existing relationship."

In spite of Penelope's astute deduction, Anthony couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. Attempting to divert the conversation, he fabricated, "No, it's not like that. I chose you because you are an ideal match for the role…"

"Lord Bridgerton, please spare me the charade. I am fully aware of the role you have in mind for me in this arrangement," she interrupted, her gaze unwavering.

"So, does this mean you're ready to accept my proposal?" he pressed, seeking clarity.

"No, not yet. I need time to contemplate," she rose from her seat. "I believe I've experienced an overwhelming flood of emotions tonight. Could you kindly inform my mother that I'm retiring early?"

"Of course," he rose as well. "And when might you be able to provide me with an answer?"

"When I have one," she replied simply, offering a slight bow before walking away.

Anthony let out a sigh, realizing that he had underestimated Penelope's insight and determination. Initially, he thought persuading her into marriage would be a straightforward endeavor, given his status as a viscount. He had never anticipated her astute perception or her immediate comprehension of his intentions.

He briefly wondered if his candidness had been a misstep, but then he reasoned that transparency might be for the best. It was essential that she entered into this marriage fully aware of their circumstances. Perhaps that was the only way their union could proceed without unnecessary complications — provided, of course, that a marriage was still on the horizon. With no answer yet, he had no choice but to be patient and await her decision.

An odd sensation enveloped Anthony. He found himself in an unprecedented position, nervously awaiting an answer to a marriage proposal. Such a situation had never crossed his mind before. He had never envisioned himself, the ninth Viscount Bridgerton, anxiously anticipating a response to a proposal from Penelope Featherington, a quiet figure in Mayfair's social scene.

Chapter 3: The waiting

Notes:

Soon I'll bring others chapters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

On the very evening he proposed to Penelope, Anthony paid a visit to Sienna. After sharing an intimate moment, he confided in her about his proposal and the impending wait for Penelope's response.

"I thought you assured me this would be a simple affair. That she would readily accept," Sienna's expression held a tinge of confusion. "You mentioned she lacked suitors."

"I know I gave that impression... I'm still at a loss as to why she hesitated," Anthony drew her closer on the bed, seeking solace in their connection.

"Perhaps she's simply too young for marriage," she ventured. "How old is she?"

"I believe she's nineteen, the same age as my sister Eloise. Yet, that's already deemed an opportune age for matrimony. Besides, this marks her second season, a juncture where many young ladies would eagerly embrace a proposal."

He struggled to comprehend Penelope's reluctance to provide an immediate response. In his mind, it bordered on incredulous that she would leave him hanging, especially considering her lack of a suitor since the previous season. His sensibilities were mildly affronted.

"Have you contemplated seeking another young lady?" Sienna shifted her position, her gaze fixed upon him.

"No, I don't believe so. Penelope will acquiesce, of that I'm certain."

He harbored three distinct reasons for eschewing the pursuit of an alternative match.Firstly, he wouldn't concede to facing a rejected marriage proposal from Penelope. Not while he remained Anthony Bridgerton, one of London's most sought-after bachelors, and she, well, she was Penelope Featherington.

Secondly, his family had already taken a liking to her. Penelope had been intertwined with the Bridgertons' lives since childhood, cultivating a strong bond with them. Undoubtedly, she could prove invaluable in assisting Anthony to manage his relatives, especially when they chose to disregard his counsel.

Thirdly, he held no desire for any other woman to be his wife except her. The mere notion of attempting to court other young ladies was enough to ruffle his feathers.

But with Penelope, the dynamics were distinct. The courtship, though devised by him, had transpired seamlessly during their two encounters. She, as he discerned, exhibited a natural demeanor, unaffected by the typical mannerisms young, single women adopted when in the company of potential suitors. Their interactions were gratifying. It wasn't contrived or mechanical, contrary to his initial assumptions.

Moreover, in the limited time they had engaged, she had unveiled herself as a person brimming with vivacity and astute wit. He was convinced their conversations wouldn't be mundane. Of course, he wasn't seeking a wife merely for companionship, but he had an inkling that the moments they spent together, at the very least, would be far from dull.

Hence, ever since he had resolved that she was to become his wife, Anthony couldn't fathom the idea of marrying anyone else but Penelope. She was destined to bear the title of Viscountess Bridgerton, regardless of the sacrifices.

Ultimately, she embodied perfection in the role.

The following morning, Anthony awoke with a renewed sense of confidence, anticipating that he would soon receive Penelope's long-awaited response.

During breakfast, he mentally outlined his plans to initiate the preliminary steps of wedding arrangements. One of his first tasks was to retrieve the family's cherished heirloom engagement ring from his mother's possession.

Subsequently, he knew he would have to engage in conversations with Lady Featherington and Lord Featherington to formally present his proposal.

Anthony wasn't particularly enthused about this aspect, but he recognized that tradition demanded adherence. However, the mere thought of dealing with Portia Featherington triggered a faint bout of gastritis in his stomach.

As he savored his meal, he halted his spoon midway to his mouth, a sudden realization dawning upon him that Portia would soon be his mother-in-law.

"Is something amiss, my dear?" His mother's voice promptly brought him back to the present moment, and Anthony noticed that the oatmeal was on the verge of spilling from the spoon due to his deep contemplation.

"Not at all, Mother," he responded, subtly adjusting his posture before resuming his meal.

Indeed, Portia would become his mother-in-law, but that didn't necessitate daily interaction. With Penelope's transition into a Bridgerton, her ties to the Featherington name would naturally diminish. Anthony would be required to engage with her family's side on formal occasions alone.

Feeling a renewed sense of calm, he concluded his breakfast and proceeded to his study, where he immersed himself in the meticulous task of managing financial ledgers. Though not the most enjoyable endeavor, it was undeniably essential. As the head of the Bridgerton household, Anthony bore a multitude of responsibilities, and ensuring the seamless flow of financial matters was undoubtedly among them.

Before retiring to his study, Anthony instructed Humboldt to discreetly notify him if Penelope happened to visit or if any message arrived from her. He wished for a calm and composed conversation when he received her affirmative answer.

However, the day passed without any response from Penelope. The next day was no different, and an entire week slipped by in silence.

No social gatherings occurred during this time, and Penelope did not make her usual visits to the Bridgerton residence for tea. It was as if she were purposefully avoiding him.

Anthony's frustration grew with each passing day. The anticipation of an answer, one he wasn't certain would be the one he desired, was becoming increasingly maddening.

Certainly, he could easily visit the Featherington house and press Penelope for a reply. Alternatively, he could approach the head of her family directly and formally request her hand in marriage. Undoubtedly, the answer would be a swift and resounding yes.

Yet, Anthony was hesitant to take that route. He had no desire to rush or involve her family prematurely. Impulsive actions were traits of his past self.

He recalled a time when he had acted similarly with his sister Daphne, agreeing to a marriage arrangement without considering her feelings or desires. He was determined not to make the same mistake with Penelope.

If they were to embark on a true marriage, he wanted it to be a choice that she wholeheartedly embraced. A marriage coerced against his future wife's will was a fate he couldn't fathom. After all, it would only add another layer of complexity to an already full plate, with his responsibilities of managing six siblings and his title.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but question how he had allowed Penelope to treat him with such disregard. Clearly, she had misconceptions about his character if she believed he would idly wait without taking action.

But what course of action could he truly pursue?

In that moment, he found himself at the mercy of Mayfair's unassuming wallflower, left with no option but to await her response.

Notes:

I hope you are enjoy this!

I can't wait to see how this turns out!

Chapter 4: Stipulations

Chapter Text

The underlying reason behind Penelope's hesitation in responding to Anthony's proposal could be summed up in a single name: Colin.

Her feelings for him were steadfast, and the mere thought of marrying someone else threatened to extinguish any hope she had of one day becoming Colin's wife.

Seated at her desk, once again plagued by these thoughts, Penelope contemplated whether any hope remained or if her emotions for Colin were simply an unrequited fantasy, as Marina had suggested.

Throughout the years they had known each other, Colin had never regarded her with a different gaze or provided any indication of deeper affection. He consistently embodied the qualities of a gentleman: kind, gentle, and attentive, engaging in conversations that set him apart from other men. Perhaps that was precisely what fueled her love for him. Colin's ability to converse with others, making them feel like the center of the universe, had captivated Penelope's heart.

On the other hand, Anthony was a complete contrast. While Colin exuded charm and kindness, Anthony radiated roughness and frankness. Patience was not a virtue he often displayed, a fact well recognized by Penelope.

During those fleeting moments they shared on the dance floor and in conversation, she believed she had glimpsed a side of Viscount Bridgerton that few were privy to. Beyond the facade of arrogance and rigidity, he had revealed an intriguing depth, an intensity that had captivated her. Furthermore, his captivating smile had only enhanced his charm.

"He should smile more often," she mused aloud, alone in her room.

Though she couldn't comprehend the burdens Anthony carried in his life, given his myriad duties and responsibilities, she wondered if she could add a few more smiles to his countenance. This sudden yearning surprised her in a way. Perhaps it was a form of empathy. Maybe she saw a reflection of herself in Anthony—both imprisoned by social norms, unable to be something different or to fully pursue their desires.

Could this be the reason for his keeping a mistress? A confidante with whom he sought solace and relief from the weight of his role as a viscount. Marriage would offer him that escape.

For a moment, Penelope paused, contemplating the implications of such a union for herself. Becoming a viscountess had never lingered in her dreams, not even in the most fantastical corners of her mind. Still, she couldn't deny the allure that such a prospect held.

The prospect of bearing a noble title and ascending to the highest echelons of society would undoubtedly turn her life upside down. Not to mention the advantages such an alliance could bestow upon her family. While her sisters and mother may not have had much faith in her, Penelope's concern for her family's future remained unwavering. Moreover, a subtle inclination emerged within her as she contemplated that, should the marriage come to fruition, she could flaunt this achievement before her family, refuting their misguided beliefs that she would never find a husband.

However, Penelope couldn't escape the lingering awareness that some of her mother's perceptions held a grain of truth. As an eternal wallflower without suitors, Anthony's proposal seemed primarily driven by his need for a marriage to secure a peaceful coexistence with his mistress.

Her stomach churned as she grappled with this unsettling reality. Yet, embracing her role as Lady Whistledown, she understood the malleability and invention of facts. Before her lay the opportunity to forge a favorable marriage on her own terms, resisting the potential older suitors her mother might arrange for her if Penelope couldn't secure one on her own.

Furthermore, Anthony's youth and handsomeness were undeniable. Penelope readily acknowledged her admiration for his looks; after all, she wasn't blind. It was widely recognized in social circles that the descendants of Violet Bridgerton were blessed with remarkable traits.

Marrying a young, handsome, and wealthy man shouldn't pose a significant challenge. Thus, with a resigned sigh, Penelope finally decided to set aside her unrequited feelings for Colin, dedicating herself to ensuring a promising future on her own terms.

The following day, just before tea time, the butler announced the arrival of Penelope, and Anthony welcomed her into his private study.

"Well, Miss Featherington, have you finally come to a decision regarding my proposal?" he inquired, attempting to conceal his eagerness for her answer. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing he had been anxious while waiting for her visit.

"It depends. Only if you are willing to agree to my conditions," Penelope replied.

"Conditions?" Anthony's curiosity was piqued.

"Yes, indeed. If this is truly to be a marriage of convenience, I have some stipulations of my own."

"Stipulations?" He was mildly surprised. "You have stipulations? For me?"

"Yes, a few. Nothing excessive. If you find my terms unacceptable, feel free to seek out another eligible young lady. London is brimming with them."

A discreet smile played on his lips. She seemed to possess a natural talent for negotiation, a skill he couldn't help but admire. Anthony was genuinely eager for Penelope to become his wife. It would be a seamless match, as she displayed remarkable aptitude for handling affairs and exhibited impressive intelligence.

Furthermore, Sienna had already given her approval. Therefore, he was prepared to consider her conditions, whatever they may be – surely they couldn't be overly extravagant. With a nod of his head, he gestured for her to continue.

"First: you shall relinquish any claim to my dowry. After all, as you yourself mentioned, the Featheringtons are facing financial difficulties. Second: I possess a bank account in my name, and should we decide to marry, I would like you to forgo any rights to it," before Anthony could interject, she raised her hand, signaling for silence, "Third: I wish for any daughters we might have to have a separate sum apart from the dowry, in their own names. These conditions are not subject to negotiation."

Anthony was surprised once again. Where had Penelope learned to make such demands?

"Well, it doesn't seem excessive to me," he nodded after a moment's consideration. "I agree to all the conditions. You have my word."

"I believe your word is indeed honorable, Lord Bridgerton, however, I would prefer to have a contract in hand. Therefore, I need all these assurances to be established in a formal contract, with signatures and seals," she smiled, and Anthony almost returned the gesture, impressed by her audacity. Few dared to question the value of his word.

"That seems fair," he agreed, "we shall arrange for the contract once the wedding date is determined."

"Excellent," she nodded and continued, "The other stipulations need not be in the contract, but I hope I can rely on your word."

"Do you have more stipulations?" He was becoming increasingly intrigued by her.

"Just a few more considerations, nothing unattainable, I believe. I ask that you maintain your relationship with your mistress as discreet as possible. I am aware of the havoc such a scandal can wreak upon a family, and I have no desire to be put in such a situation," she blushed slightly before continuing, "Furthermore, I would prefer that you not come to me immediately after being with her. When you are with her, I do not wish to be sought."

He had no intention of acting otherwise. Anthony had already devised a plan in his mind to fulfill his obligations with Penelope once a week, aiming to conceive an heir as soon as possible, while spending one or two days a week with Sienna, or as he felt necessary.

"You can rest assured, that won't happen."

"And one more thing: since we are entering into an agreement between us, I wish to have a voice in this marriage. I do not intend to stand equal to you in terms of rights, of course," she leaned over his desk, "however, I believe I can contribute to the performance of your responsibilities as a viscount. Therefore, I want my opinions to be heard and valued. I do not wish to be merely an ornament on the walls in my married life."

For a moment, Anthony relived the sensation he had experienced at the last ball, realizing that being in Penelope's shoes was no easy task. This understanding stirred genuine empathy within him. Despite the distinct burdens they carried, Anthony sensed that Penelope could comprehend him in many aspects of his life.

Suddenly, he took her hand in his, conveying a gesture of reassurance. He wanted Penelope to find some degree of happiness, even if it had been elusive to society for a time. Anthony believed that the arranged marriage between them could indeed be successful. He recognized her intelligence, which would be a valuable ally in assuming familial responsibilities, finally allowing him to enjoy a measure of peace in life.

"We are formalizing a contract, Miss Featherington, and as a man of my word, I assure you that we shall seek a marriage based on fairness, as far as possible. I promise to be a devoted husband, and I hope you shall respond by being an attentive wife," Anthony declared with sincerity.

"In that case, I accept your proposal of matrimony, Lord Bridgerton," a shy smile graced Penelope's lips. "I shall be your viscountess."

Chapter 5: Shockingly news

Notes:

Thank you for all the comments!

I'm so excited about this story that it makes me want to post all the chapters at once!

But since English is not my first language, I need to do a grammatical review of each one before posting.

And in this story, I decided to use a more formal language that could make sense in a fanfic set in the Regency era.

Anyway, I bring you another chapter today, and the next one might take one or two days, okay?

Thank you once again for joining me in this Penthony madness!

Chapter Text

During afternoon tea, the Bridgerton was family gathered in the living room, sharing conversations and snacks. Anthony entered the room and, upon noticing most of them were present, cleared his throat to make an announcement.

"Dear family, I would like to inform you all that I plan to marry in the near future, and I have already found my bride."

For a moment, everyone was dumbfounded, unsure how to react, exchanging incredulous glances with each other.

Violet was the first to react, standing up to embrace her son. It was a surprise to her that he had found a bride without her intervention.

"Oh, my dear son, what wonderful news!" she hugged him, soon followed by the younger siblings who also began to greet him, though still wearing surprised expressions.

"You all seem as if you never believed this day would come," he remarked, observing the family's reactions.

The family tried to smile despite the surprise, but Hyacinth was the first to give up.

"My face doesn't obey," she replied, maintaining her bewildered expression, "I can't help it. All I can offer is my genuine surprise, brother."

"I find it rather astonishing that none of you believed me capable of entering matrimony."

"Capable of committing a murder? Yes. Getting married? Never." His younger sister commented with an affectionate hug.

Violet scolded her. "Eloise! What an inappropriate remark!"

Her daughter simply shrugged, while Benedict approached his brother and said.

"Well, what did you expect? The only thing that could surpass this unexpected news is if Eloise were on the brink of marriage."

His sister made a face in response. Violet tried to ease the awkwardness and asked:

"Well, who is the lovely lady who captured your heart? Do we know her?"

"Of course, you all know her. It's Penelope Featherington."

If Anthony thought the family was surprised by the marriage news, he wasn't prepared for their reaction upon discovering who the bride would be.

Benedict choked on the tea he was drinking, needing the help of his younger sibling Gregory to pat his back and assist him. While Hyacinth's smile widened with delight, Violet's astonishment was evident as her jaw nearly hit the floor. Eloise, on the other hand, appeared as though she'd been blindsided by a bombshell. The revelation left everyone incredulous.

"I apologize, brother... I fear my ears may have deceived me," Eloise managed a smile, "For a fleeting moment, I thought I heard you mention Penelope Featherington, my dearest friend. But that can't possibly be true."

"Your ears have not betrayed you, dear sister. They heard correctly. Penelope shall indeed become the future Viscountess Bridgerton."

"It's impossible," she uttered, her smile fading.

"Actually, it's very possible." He said, taking a seat in his chair.

"No, it's not," she insisted firmly.

"Have faith, Eloise. It's not only possible, but highly likely."

"But why? I mean, how? How did this come about?," Eloise countered, taken aback, "No, wait, when? When exactly did Penelope become your bride? No, this doesn't make sense. I need you to address all three questions: the why, the how, and the when."

"I am not obligated to lay out every detail, but rest assured she shall soon be a part of our family," his response remained unwavering.

"Actually, you do need to. After all, she's my best friend."

Benedict was still recovering from the shock, but he tried to smile, albeit shyly. Violet spoke, in an attempt to explain to her son that everyone's surprise was expected.

"My son, we apologize for the surprise, but you must admit this is quite unexpected. We never thought you would marry so quickly, let alone with Penelope."

"I thought you all liked her."

"And we do, yes," Violet hurriedly interjected, "but it's still surprising, considering you've never shown any interest in her."

"I danced with her twice at the recent balls."

"Yes, that's a fact, but dancing doesn't necessarily imply something more. Eloise danced with Lord Fife at the last ball…"

"I was compelled to do so, let it be clear," his sister interrupted their mother.

"...but that doesn't mean we're planning to organize her wedding anytime soon." Violet continued as if there hadn't been an interruption.

"Thank God we're all in agreement on that point," Eloise raised her arms in relief.

"Where are you going with this conversation, Mother? Is there an objection to my marriage?" Anthony inquired.

"Not at all, my son, but…" Violet looked at him, flustered, not quite sure how to respond.

"But what, Mother?" Anthony tried to maintain patience as he rose from his chair. "I believe there's nothing more to discuss here. The decision is made. Penelope shall marry me.

"And when will this happen?" Eloise suddenly asked.

"We're still working out the details," he turned to Violet, "Can I count on your guidance in this matter, Mother? While I'm sure Penelope's mother shall be involved, I would greatly appreciate your assistance as well. After all, Lady Featherington is…"

"Your future mother-in-law, isn't she?" Benedict interrupted, crossing his arms and looking amused, as if he were finding the whole situation entertaining. "But go on."

Anthony shot him an annoyed look and then turned his attention back to their mother, who had sat down.

"I believe she's a bit more extravagant than usual, and I'd prefer the wedding not to turn into a grand affair."

"But it's your wedding, brother. It should be a splendid day!" Hyacinth commented.

"The wedding ceremony is just one day, and my main concern, in fact, my main interest lies in the marriage itself," he turned to their mother once again, growing a bit impatient with the interruptions, "Can I count on your cooperation, Mother?"

"Of course, my son," Violet stood up as well, adjusting her dress, a revealing gesture that she was still somewhat nervous about the whole situation, "I shall meet with Penelope as soon as possible."

"Eloise, where are you going?" Gregory asked his sister, who was quietly leaving the room.

"Outside."

"Where to, exactly?" Anthony inquired.

"I am actually heading to Penelope's house. I need to talk to her."

"No, you are not going," Anthony decided, his voice firm. "You shall stay home."

"And why not?" his sister questioned, crossing her arms.

"Because I'm about to head there myself", "he explained, adding, "to make the proposal to Lady Featherington. Or rather, the actual Lord Featherington."

"Oh! Can I come with you?" Benedict exclaimed. "I wouldn't want to miss such a unique occasion!"

"Certainly not. It won't be a spectacle." Anthony objected, slightly disappointing Benedict. Then, turning to Violet, he requested. "I believe you have something to give me, Mother."

"Ah, yes."

Violet exited the room briefly, returning moments later with a dainty velvet box. As Anthony unlatched it, he beheld a gold ring adorned with a delicate sapphire nestled within its setting. Unintentionally, the gem's hue echoed the shade of Penelope's eyes.

"It shall perfectly complement her eyes," Violet observed, echoing the very notion that had crossed her son's mind. "This heirloom has been in our family for generations. I'm overjoyed you've found the right young lady to grace it."

"Penelope will radiate as a bride!" Hyacinth exclaimed, hugging her mother's side before her excitement triggered a memory. "Oh, brother! Whistledown will surely have a field day!"

"Undoubtedly, the news of London's most infamous rake being captured shall set society abuzz," Benedict added, placing a supportive hand on his brother's shoulder. "I presume I'm the one to assume the role of your best man?"

"Well, given Colin's absence, are there truly any other contenders?" Anthony responded, a playful lilt to his voice.

"Your father would have been proud," Violet said, brushing away a stubborn tear. "He would have been overjoyed to witness your wedding, my son."

Anthony's expression suddenly turned grave. He questioned whether his father would approve of the marriage, aware of the motivations behind it. A wave of shame engulfed him as he contemplated his impending actions. He felt unworthy of the ring, undeserving of the marriage, and out of place. An amalgamation of shame and inadequacy washed over him, leaving Anthony feeling diminished.

However, it was too late now. He had already made his intentions known to the family. Backing out was no longer an option. With the belief that he was securing Penelope's future and doing her a great favor, he suppressed his own emotions.

"Save the tears for the wedding day, Mother," he said, swiftly tucking the ring into his pocket. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to with Lord Featherington."

He departed, bidding farewell to his relatives. However, he reappeared at the doorway moments later, motioning for Benedict to follow.

"Come!"

Benedict readily followed his brother, rubbing his hands together and chuckling, as if anticipating a comedic spectacle.

Chapter 6: Necessary arrangements

Notes:

Hi there!

As it rained a lot in my city, I didn't go to work and managed to finish the revision of another chapter.

This story is really getting me excited, and I appreciate all the comments. Knowing that you all are enjoying what I write only makes me want to keep writing.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The butler of the Featherington family received Anthony and ushered him into the elegant living room, where he awaited his hosts. Nervousness fluttered within him, not so much due to the prospect of conversing with the family's patriarch, but because he had never envisioned himself actually proposing marriage.

"Lord Bridgerton, what a pleasent surprise." Portia greeted him as she entered the room, accompanied by her husband's cousin.

"Lady and Lord Featherington." Anthony and Benedict rose to their feet, executing a graceful bow towards Portia.

"Don't tell me your visit is prompted by an interest in my mining enterprises in Georgia, Bridgerton?"Jack inquired, exchanging a firm handshake with Anthony.

"Not at all, Lord Featherington. I don't perceive myself as someone inclined to invest in... ventures of a risky nature." The precise term Anthony intended to use was 'financially dubious', yet he hesitated, questioning the wisdom of such a choice as he was about to make a request to that man.

While the likelihood of his proposal of marriage to Penelope being declined was slim, Anthony remained steadfast in ensuring that nothing thwarted his plans, particularly now that they seemed to be heading in a promising direction. Moreover, there was an air of peculiarity surrounding the Featherington family, which left him slightly uncertain. His confidence wasn't absolute when it came to the Featheringtons.

The tenacious thought that he would soon be linked to this family lingered in his mind as he settled back onto the sofa. However, Anthony deliberately cast it aside for the time being, focusing on addressing matters one step at a time.

"You only make that assertion because you haven't had the chance to witness the substantial profits my investments have yielded. If you wish, you can inquire with Lord Cowper about his views on the gemstone mines, or, should it intrigue you, I could provide you with the comprehensive reports detailing the figures from the past few months…"

"Undoubtedly, those reports are meticulously prepared, Lord Featherington. However, my purpose here today diverges from that subject," Anthony interjected, steering the conversation away from its potential prolongation.

"Indeed? What subject do you have in mind, Lord Bridgerton?" Portia displayed a heightened interest in his forthcoming words compared to Jack.

Temporarily pausing, Anthony recognized the gravity of the forthcoming words, as they would indelibly shape his destiny. Once spoken, retracing those words would be an onerous endeavor, one potentially entailing a considerable scandal.

"I've come with the intention of requesting your daughter's hand in marriage," he finally articulated, his gaze unwaveringly directed at Portia. Renowned among matchmaking mothers for her dedication to securing suitable matches for her two unmarried daughters, she was his sole focus.

The woman's eyes widened in an anticipated astonishment, her parted lips reflecting the astonishment he had anticipated. Then, as comprehension dawned, a radiant smile graced her features. Yet, anticipating any potential misinterpretation, Anthony swiftly supplemented:

"Penelope. Specifically, I am referring to your daughter Penelope."

"Penelope?" Portia's expression oscillated between disbelief and amazement, encapsulating the profound impact of this unforeseen proposition.

"Yes, indeed."

"Hold on a moment, Bridgerton..." Jack cut in, his surprise mirroring Portia's. "Are you referring to Penelope Featherington? The youngest daughter?"

"Yes, that very one," he responded curtly.

"Are you being serious, Bridgerton?" Jack inquired, as if half-expecting Anthony to reveal that it was all a theatrical act and a clown would suddenly emerge from concealment to startle them.

As Benedict's face broke into an amused smile, Anthony's patience waned slightly under the persistent questioning regarding the identity of the lady in question. Leaning forward slightly, his tone losing some of the cordiality he had aimed to uphold that afternoon, he spoke.

"While I find it improbable that your hearing was impaired while overseeing your ventures in the gemstone mines, Featherington, let me reiterate for the sake of absolute clarity: yes, I am indeed referring to Penelope Featherington, the third daughter of the late Lord Featherington, who, incidentally, happened to be your cousin."

"There's no reason for you to become agitated, Bridgerton," Jack responded, regaining his composure. "Though you must admit, this marriage proposal is rather unexpected."

"I beg to differ,"Anthony retorted, his voice void of sympathy.

"Now, now, Bridgerton," Jack attempted a conciliatory smile, his gaze shifted between him and Benedict, a silent plea for reinforcement in his words. "Who on earth would have foreseen you seeking Penelope's hand in marriage? Even Lady Whistledown might struggle to predict such a significant turn of events."

A scowl etched across Anthony's face, his expression darkening like that of a grim gargoyle. It was evident that their inability to envision Penelope as a potential match had greatly irked him. Were they unfamiliar with her? Had they not engaged in conversation with her? Were her sharp wit, clever ironic remarks, and biting sarcasm completely lost on them?

"Why wouldn't they? I am a man seeking a wife, and she is a woman in search of a husband. Moreover, she possesses both intellect and grace, rendering her a highly suitable candidate for a spouse."

"I'm not implying she lacks these attributes... it's just that... well…"Jack attempted to explain, though his words appeared elusive.

"What difficulty does your intellect have in grasping that, Featherington?" Anthony's gaze seemed sharp enough to pierce through him.

"I beg your pardon?" Jack responded with a raised eyebrow. "Are you implying my intellect is lacking?"

"Lady Featherington?" Benedict's concerned voice interjected before Anthony could deliver a sharp retort to Jack. "Are you well?"

Portia remained seated, her posture unchanged. Genuine surprise played across her face, her reaction still resonating from Anthony's declaration. Her eyes widened, focused on some distant point, her eyebrows arching slightly as though they might ascend her forehead and seek refuge in her hair. She seemed utterly detached from the ongoing conversation, as though she had slipped into a catatonic state.

"Portia?" Jack's voice broke the silence, squeezing her hand to rouse her.

"Shall we fetch a doctor?" Benedict's concern was evident in his voice.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Anthony grumbled, rolling his eyes.

A soft sigh escaped Portia's lips. Then, with a nearly imperceptible movement, she blinked slowly, as if rousing herself from an unexpected reverie. Her gaze shifted back to Anthony, locking onto him. A faint, involuntary curve tugged at her lips, a smile forming as if she sought to contain the bubbling joy within her.

"You're proposing to my daughter, Lord Bridgerton?" She addressed him, and he responded with a silent nod, choosing not to speak, fearing he might utter something amiss if pressed further about his genuine intentions for Penelope. Portia nodded in agreement, her gesture conveying her consent. "Then, you have my blessing."

"Lord Featherington?" Anthony's attention turned to him. While Portia held the family's reins, it was this enigmatic figure's decision that would ultimately shape Penelope and Anthony's destiny.

"Despite your doubts about my intellect, Bridgerton, I'm not obtuse enough to deny a proposal for Penelope. It's her happiness that guides my affirmation of this union."

While Anthony harbored grave suspicions about whether Jack Featherington considered anyone's happiness, especially Penelope's, beyond his own, he let out a sigh, relief flooding him as this chapter drew to a close. Now, the intricate web of wedding preparations lay ahead.

"I'm pleased we found agreement."

"I find the end of this season to be quite fitting," Portia began with enthusiasm. "As we approach the conclusion of February and bid farewell to winter, I believe we have ample time until June to meticulously prepare for a most suitable wedding."

"Lady Featherington, I am resolved to marry Penelope in the upcoming month."

"Next month?" Portia was taken aback. "Why such haste?"

"Because it is my desire."

"Lord Bridgerton, permit me to argue that certain preparations necessitate time. The festivities, the trousseau, the honeymoon... all require careful consideration."

"There's no need for that. Our plans don't involve a grand celebration, and there's sufficient time to arrange the necessary preparations. In due course, my mother will be in touch with you to address these details."

"I must insist, my lord, that you consider granting me a few additional months to make all the necessary arrangements. More time is truly required," Portia argued.

"It surprises me that you suggest a longer wait now, Lady Featherington, when during our last conversation on marriage, you readily embraced the immediate union of my brother Colin and Miss Thompson upon their first meeting. What prompts this change of heart?"

For the first time, Portia appeared disconcerted, stumbling as she tried to respond.

"Well... it's because... because you hold the title of a viscount, you see. It aligns with societal norms that your marriage should reflect your station."

"While I'm truly grateful for your thoughtfulness, allow me to manage the societal norms that befit my title, Lady Featherington. Please spare yourself the trouble of concerning over it."

"But what about the honeymoon? Where do you plan to travel?"

"As a man engaged in overseeing properties and tending to the needs of six siblings, I cannot afford to depart the country at a moment's notice. Penelope will undoubtedly understand this. At the conclusion of the season, we shall seize a brief respite at Aubrey Hall to relish the summer."

Although she yearned to present a counterargument, Jack interjected.

"Portia, obviously we're talking about a clearly smitten man here." He smiled and turned to Anthony. "If you wish to marry tomorrow, Bridgerton, just let me know, and I'll pull some strings to secure a special license immediately."

"Such haste won't be necessary, Featherington." Anthony rose to his feet, Benedict following suit. "Shall we address other pertinent matters now? I believe your study would be more appropriate for this conversation."

As prearranged with Penelope, Anthony was prepared to inform Jack of his intention to relinquish her dowry. Yet, before they could depart the room, Portia stood up and beckoned him closer.

"Lord Bridgerton?"

"Yes?"

"I have two daughters."

Her remark left him slightly puzzled, yet he responded nonetheless.

"Indeed, I am aware. In fact, I understand you have three daughters, correct? Given that one is already married, I presume you are referring to having two unmarried daughters."

"Yes, exactly. I have two daughters who are yet to be wed."

"Very well, Lady Featherington," he endeavored to avoid sounding impolite, though his success remained uncertain. "And what is your intention in sharing this information with me?"

"Actually, I have one unmarried daughter remaining, as you are set to marry the other one," she smiled, seemingly reminiscing about the moment Anthony proposed. "Well, I find myself with one unmarried daughter, and you have two bachelor brothers, if I am not mistaken."

As she concluded her statement, her gaze shifted to Benedict, who stood slightly behind his older brother. His visible swallow indicated his apprehension regarding the prospect Portia had hinted at.

Feeling happy inside at the prospect of enjoying himself at his younger brother's cost, Anthony's smile broadened. "Lady Featherington, be assured that now that we shall be connected by family ties, there will be ample opportunities to engage in discussions on this important subject."

"I am delighted to hear that, my lord," she extended her smile further, her gaze resting on Benedict, who had fallen silent, glaring at his brother.

The trio exited the room, leaving Portia standing there, a self-satisfied smile playing across her lips, as if she had achieved the most remarkable feat on the face of the earth.

Notes:

In the next chapter, Penelope will have an important conversation with Eloise. After that, we'll have a time jump in Chapter Eight, right on the day of Anthony and Pen's wedding.

Don't forget that this story is also a slow burn. That being said, I want to give you a heads up that the steamy scenes between the two of them are going to be very, very hot. I mean, you all won't lose by waiting for the intimate moments between Penthony.

Chapter 7: Finally engaged

Chapter Text

While Anthony conversed in Jack's study about the marriage, Penelope had just entered her room. Taking a seat at her desk, an indescribable wave of excitement surged through her.

She had overheard the conversation Anthony had with her family in the drawing room. Despite not being formally invited to participate in the conversation, considering she was the topic of discussion, Penelope was determined not to miss out on hearing their thoughts.

Of course, she already anticipated the astonishment on her mother's and cousin's faces, but she never expected Anthony to lose his patience with them. While she was well aware of his limited patience, she hadn't foreseen him standing up for her in front of her family.

Anthony's mention of her possessing both intellect and grace to be his wife brought an involuntary smile to Penelope's lips. Genuine compliments were scarce in her life, and this warmed her heart. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine the prospect of sharing contented years alongside Anthony.

Certainly, the notion of him falling in love with her was a distant possibility. Nevertheless, Penelope pondered the potential of a respectful and amicable marriage between them, a rarity in a society that rigidly dictated feminine conduct.

A soft knock on her door snapped Penelope from her reverie, assuming it was her mother seeking her presence. Upon turning, she found herself face to face with Eloise.

"Is it true, Pen?"

Judging by Eloise's expression, there was no need for Penelope to inquire about the subject. Anticipating Eloise's imminent interrogation, she found herself momentarily at a loss for words under her dear friend's discerning gaze.

"El, I was actually planning to tell you..." she began, her uncertainty evident in her voice.

"Really? When? Maybe right as you were standing in the church saying your vows in front of the bishop? Or perhaps as you were setting off on your honeymoon." Eloise attempted to maintain a non-sarcastic tone, but it proved quite challenging. "Or maybe during the celebration of your first child's birth? So, when exactly were you planning on letting me in on this, Pen?"

Penelope remained silent, grappling with finding an appropriate response. Then, a sudden realization dawned upon Eloise.

"Oh my goodness! You're going to have a child with my brother!" She glanced at Penelope's belly, her expression filled with surprise. "You... You're going to become pregnant!"

"El, please, let's take a deep breath." Penelope guided her friend to a nearby chair, helping her settle. "While I am engaged to your brother, the prospect of having children is still quite distant."

"How did this happen, Pen? Are you truly in love with him?"

Penelope had made the decision to be forthright with her friend. It was imperative for the preservation of their relationship. She had been harboring far too many secrets from Eloise, and she had no intention of obscuring the genuine nature of her connection with Anthony.

"No, Eloise, I'm not in love with your brother. This is to be nothing more than an arranged marriage."

"An arranged marriage?" Eloise's eyes widened. "Pen, I could never have fathomed you'd consent to such a thing... Especially you, with your romantic inclinations."

"Well, there comes a time when we must cease our flights of fancy and confront reality, don't you think? I am securing a future for myself."

"Yet, I never imagined you'd resort to this. And why my brother Anthony, of all people?"

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

"You see? You're even quoting Jane Austen at me! You're an unrepentant romantic, Penelope! How will you bear such a marriage?"

"Your brother has secured me a favorable match, Eloise. If I had declined, I would have been subjected to my mother's proposals, and I dread they might involve octogenarian gentlemen with an excessive amount of saliva."

Both exchanged disgusted expressions.

"I'm honestly at a loss for words about that... I never envisioned something like this happening."

Penelope met her friend's gaze squarely.

"Do you think I made the wrong choice?"

"I'm not sure, Pen. What if you come to regret it? Marriage isn't something you can easily undo, you know? You're not Henry the Eighth."

"Even if I do come to regret it one day, although I can't guarantee that will actually happen, I'll have the strength to confront the consequences of my decisions."

Eloise looked at her in astonishment.

"You sound remarkably resigned. So mature... Tell me, how much older have you become since we last spoke?"

Penelope chuckled and embraced her friend who was still seated.

"We'll soon be related. Wouldn't you find that agreeable?"

Eloise held her in a warm embrace, a fond squeeze shared between them.

"I've always considered us practically kin, Pen. You're my sister of the heart."

"Well, then, share in my joy, El. I'm bound to face countless awkward glances from perhaps half of London's social elite, and having you at my side would be a comfort."

"I'll be with you every step of the way."

A peaceful silence enveloped the moment of their hug. A few minutes later, Eloise released her and inquired.

"Hey, does that mean you'll be responsible for me too? I mean, assuming the title of Viscountess carries such obligations."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that." Penelope grinned, then adopted a more solemn expression. "So, young lady, it's time for you to heed my guidance from here on, understood?"

"Oh, Pen. While you might be engaged to my brother, I doubt you'll be giving me orders any time soon. After all, my elder brother and my mother haven't managed that, so I can't imagine you'll succeed."

"Perhaps you don't know me as well as you believe, Eloise."

Eloise burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the tranquil room.

"What's so amusing? Me?" Penelope queried.

"No, not at all." Eloise composed herself. "I'm laughing at your destiny."

"What do you mean? What are you hinting at?"

"Oh, my dearest friend. In a matter of weeks, you'll be in charge of the fate of six Bridgertons. And I have only one thing to say: may God show mercy on your soul."

Before Penelope could inquire about the exact nature of Eloise's reference, Varley interjected, notifying her that Portia had summoned her to the family's drawing room to converse with her prospective fiancé. The mere mention of the word "fiancé" in a sentence tied to herself once again evoked that inexplicable emotion within Penelope.

"Your brother is here. I need to go downstairs. Will you accompany me?"

"I'm afraid I cannot. I'm presently at home, engrossed in a book in my room," Eloise responded. "Go, don't worry about me. I'll leave through the back entrance."

Penelope nodded, and they bid farewell with a hug.

Before stepping into the living room and facing her fate tied to a man, she took a deep breath, finally entering and finding her mother, Anthony, Benedict, and Jack waiting for her in the living room.

"Yes, mama?" she addressed after a curtsy to the gentlemen. "Have you called upon me?"

"Penelope," Jack initiated, motioning toward Anthony. "Lord Bridgerton has come here to formally request your hand in marriage."

Penelope donned the surprised expression she had rehearsed in front of her mirror. She had no desire for her mother to be aware that she had already conversed with Anthony about the potential of marriage. Portia would undoubtedly find a way to interject and complicate matters.

"Lord Bridgerton... I'm deeply honored by your consideration of me as your future wife," she expressed, her cheeks flushing.

"I must admit that I've been observing you from afar, Miss Featherington," he stated, acknowledging the partial truth. "I am aware of your excellent education and your many qualities. That is why I believe you would make a perfect viscountess. Thus, to ensure your wishes are duly respected, I must inquire: do you accept my proposal of marriage?"

Anthony had not initially intended to make this proposal in such a public manner, considering that he and Penelope had already reached an understanding, and he had formally asked for her hand from her family. Given these circumstances, formally asking for her hand might have appeared redundant. Yet, a certain impulse within him urged him to go through with it, perhaps to make Penelope feel valued in light of her family's apparent disregard.

Penelope, too, found herself taken by surprise at Anthony's proposal. She was momentarily thrown off guard, given that they had already discussed and agreed upon the marriage in private, with his visit intended primarily for adhering to social etiquette.

Before she could respond, Portia interjected, "Naturally, she accepts, Lord Bridgerton. We have already given you our word."

Without casting a glance at Portia, Anthony replied, "While I do appreciate your assurance, Lady Featherington, I am inclined to hear directly from Miss Featherington herself. After all, she is the most involved party in this matter, alongside me." Stepping closer to her, he repeated the question, "Will you accept my proposal of marriage?"

Penelope locked her gaze onto his deep, earnest dark brown eyes. This was the first time she felt truly involved in a decision about her own life. It seemed like Anthony was affording her the opportunity to decline, should she wish to. Yet, that was far from her desire, especially when the prospect of sharing her life with him seemed so promising.

"I wholeheartedly accept your proposal of marriage, Lord Bridgerton."

Her response was met with an instant smile from Anthony, who promptly retrieved a delicately adorned velvet box from his pocket.

"Could we have a moment alone?" Anthony inquired, glancing around the room.

"Of course, absolutely," Portia responded, subtly guiding Jack and Benedict towards the door.

In that instant, Anthony came to recognize that the woman was prepared to do whatever it took to ensure her daughter's marriage. If it meant delivering a punch to Benedict or Jack to safeguard the union, he comprehended that she would execute such an action without a moment's hesitation. His feelings wavered between whether he should regard this realization with admiration or a sense of apprehension.

Once they were finally alone, a brief silence settled between them. Penelope swiftly studied his expression as he delicately handled the velvet box, a trace of nervousness evident.

"There was no need to ask me directly, Lord Bridgerton," she eventually spoke. Anthony regarded her with a somewhat serious demeanor.

"I wanted you to have the opportunity to decline if you were uncomfortable with the situation."

"Seriously? With my mother practically breathing down our necks like a hawk stalking its prey? Do you think I'd even get a chance to say no?"

Anthony chuckled. "Your mother is quite..."

"Your future mother-in-law." She raised an eyebrow.

"A rather agreeable person," he concluded, his smile masking his true thoughts.

"Oh, come on, it's not that terrible. She's a bit of a shrew, of course, but definitely not the Cressida kind." She grinned as she commented, prompting Anthony to ask.

"Are there different categories of shrews by any chance? I always thought it was a self-contained adjective."

"If that's your perspective, I suppose you still have much left to discover in life, Lord Bridgerton."

"Anthony." He responded, and she regarded him with curiosity. "Our marriage is approaching, and it seems appropriate for you to address me by my given name."

She observed him, as if weighing the idea, and then enunciated his name slowly, a smile curving her lips.

"Anthony ... Henceforth, I'll be Penelope to you, Anthony."

He smiled once more.

"Penelope…" His brow furrowed. "Somehow, it feels as though we're encountering each other for the very first time."

"It's quite intriguing... I share the same sentiment." She shrugged. "Perhaps it's because we're on the brink of embarking on the uncharted adventure of matrimony together."

"You're likely correct."

"Quite possibly. It's a sentiment I'm familiar with, you know. I'm always proven right."

"Well, that's a slightly haughty remark, wouldn't you agree?"

Penelope's smile persisted as she shrugged once more, finding an unfamiliar comfort in his presence that seemed to strengthen with each encounter. She was gradually coming to believe that a true and effortless friendship could take root between them.

As she adjusted her posture, her hands delicately interwoven, crossed in front of her. The gesture betrayed her apprehension about what she was about to say.

"I wish to convey my sincere appreciation for your consideration in ensuring that my viewpoint is acknowledged within my family concerning our marriage. Your generosity is truly remarkable."

"Consider this an illustration of my commitment to honoring the promise that your voice will resonate within our marriage." He responded, his tone softening. "Although your statement in my office didn't seem to imply that you believe in the validity of my words."

Penelope summoned her self-control, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"That wasn't my intention ar all, Lord…" He arched an eyebrow, regarding her, and she swiftly rectified herself. " Anthony . I never meant to suggest that your word lacks value, Anthony."

"You've employed a rather refined manner of expressing it, Penelope. But rest assured, I bear no grudges."

"Are you truly certain?" She inquired, catching the playful undertone in his words.

"If you'd prefer, I could solidify my declaration with a contract, considering it appears you place greater importance on my signature than my spoken promise."

"Anthony!" A melodious laughter escaped her lips, and he observed a genuine sparkle in her eyes. Their gazes lingered for a fleeting moment before he looked away.

"I should hasten my departure, lest the 'hawk'... I mean, your mother, my esteemed future mother-in-law, swoops in unexpectedly to ensure our impending union is proceeding as planned."

"Should you desire to withdraw, my noble sir..." She teased him with an innocent twinkle in her eyes. "I would willingly bestow upon you the privilege of uttering the word 'no'."

"Oh, you truly are a generous bride." Anthony quipped, a smile gracing his lips.

"Among my most prominent virtues, I would presume." She replied.

"Indeed, alongside your humility, naturally." He chuckled softly, then proceeded to unveil a small box he still cradled, revealing a golden ring adorned with an embedded sapphire.

Penelope held her breath as the ring was unveiled. The jewel radiated a truly dazzling brilliance. While Violet had mentioned the Bridgerton family heirloom in passing, this marked her first opportunity to admire it up close.

She released a gentle exhale as Anthony delicately lifted the ring from its box, motioning for her to extend her hand. She complied readily, allowing the cold metal to glide across her skin until it found its place on her ring finger. The sensation prompted a satisfied sigh, accompanied by that distinct feeling that enveloped her. The reality of their impending marriage was gradually taking shape, moment by moment.

"It appears to be a perfect fit." Anthony remarked, his gaze fixed on the ring adorning her finger. "Perhaps no adjustments will be necessary."

"Wonderful." She responded, still entranced by the jewel's sparkling presence in her hand. Though small and lightweight, the ring bore the weight of the Bridgerton family's history across generations. This realization imbued her with a certain sense of gravity.

"May I?" Anthony gestured toward the ring with a nod, and she readily slipped it off her finger, placing it in his outstretched hand. "Don't worry, you'll see it again on our wedding day at the church."

The atmosphere between them lingered in silence as Anthony closed the velvet box and slipped it into his pocket. At that moment, Penelope fully grasped the reality of their engagement. They were genuinely committed to each other, bound for marriage in the near future. The weight of this fact settled upon her like a gentle realization.

"Well, I suppose tomorrow my mother and yours will convene to discuss the necessary arrangements. Thus, I must bid you goodnight. The hour grows late."

Penelope nodded, acknowledging his words. Uncertainty clouded her as she pondered the appropriate way to bid him farewell now that their engagement was established. Should a simple curtsy suffice, or was a more significant gesture warranted?

While her thoughts swirled within, Anthony tenderly captured her hand, bestowing a soft kiss on her skin before departing – a gesture that caught her off guard.

For the first time, she experienced the sensation of a man's lips touching her hand without the barrier of a glove, an enigmatic blend of pleasure and disquiet washing over her.

Chapter 8: The wedding day

Notes:

Alright, this chapter ended up a bit longer than I intended.

My initial intention was to skip the wedding ceremony scene because I knew I would have to write a lot of details. So that's why I had our couple having their reflective moments before getting married. But as I was reviewing what I wrote, I felt the need to include a short conversation between Violet and Penelope. Then, the dialogue between Pen and Lady D just came to me, and I found it to be really necessary.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

On the morning of his wedding to Penelope, Anthony awoke with an unusual sense of calm. It hardly felt as though he was on the verge of a life-altering moment.

Perhaps this tranquility derived from the prospect of finally finding solace in his life, sharing the weight of his responsibilities with another.

Violet, his mother, had always been a dependable support, for which he was appreciative, yet having a wife's constant presence was an entirely different matter.

And Penelope was proving to be an exceptional companion. In the lead-up to the wedding, he paid her several visits, maintaining the façade of their pre-marital courtship, as everyone assumed there was a romantic connection underpinning his interest in Penelope.

However, Anthony hadn't anticipated that these moments with her would be so delightful. As the days went by, Penelope continued to pleasantly surprise him. Their conversations spanned literature, art, and even politics.

Anthony had rarely granted women his full attention, assuming that their discussions would hold no interest for him.

Despite their harmonious courtship, Anthony eagerly awaited their wedding day. The reasoning was straightforward: to lessen the frequency of his visits to the Featherington residence.

Having put forth the idea of Benedict's union with Prudence, Portia seized every chance to broach the topic with Anthony. Her resolute intent to witness her last unmarried daughter wed to a Bridgerton was unmistakable.

Furthermore, Anthony had to contend with the constant pestering from Lord Featherington, who was engaged in an incessant battle to persuade him to invest in his mines or to recommend to close friends that they do so.

But finally, that small torment was nearing its end. After getting married, he would have the right to retire to his residence and enjoy the first days of matrimony.

As he got ready for the church ceremony, the tranquility he had experienced in the morning began to fade gradually, giving way to a growing impatience with every detail related to the wedding.

He was now yearning intensely for the day to come to an end, hoping it would arrive soon.

"Still haven't put on your tie?" Benedict entered the room.

"I would have if I were counting on my best man's assistance," Anthony retorted, grumpy, observing his brother through the mirror.

"I don't think that's quite the role of a best man. Perhaps you should have asked for your valet's help."

"And what is the duty of a best man, since you seem so experienced in the matter, even though this is your first time taking on the role?" He turned around, the tie awkwardly hanging around his neck.

"Naturally, arranging your final evening as an unmarried man. And by the way, there's no need for gratitude." Benedict gestured to his heart with a hand. "I did it wholeheartedly."

Anthony released an exasperated sigh and refocused his attention on his tie. The previous night, he and Benedict had visited the club for drinks and gambling. It had been a duo outing, as Colin was still absent, off sailing in America.

After that unforgettable celebration of his ultimate bachelor night, Anthony met up with Sienna, returning to the Bridgerton residence before the first rays of sunlight.

The two had agreed to keep their distance for a few days, thus avoiding drawing unwanted attention to the beginning of their marital life. After all, it was expected that he would be enjoying his honeymoon, not meeting secretly with a lover. Therefore, to some extent, his bad mood was also attributed to the fact that he wouldn't have the opportunity to see Sienna for a significant period of time.

"I should have asked Simon to take on this role!" he grumbled, his frustration evident as he struggled with the knot. Regrettably, his brother-in-law and friend couldn't attend, having recently become a father for the second time.

Benedict calmly approached his brother, deftly taking the fabric from Anthony's hands and skillfully arranging the tie.

"Thank you," Anthony acknowledged, heading toward his coat.

"I hope your sour mood dissipates by the end of the ceremony. It's not my desire for Penelope to spend her wedding night dealing with such negativity."

Anthony remained silent, his thoughts freezing at the mention of the wedding night. Indeed, it would mark their inaugural night as husband and wife, and he grappled with his feelings about it.

While the idea had occasionally crossed his mind since their engagement, he had consistently brushed it aside, preoccupied with more pressing matters.

However, now, mere hours away from consummating their marriage, he found himself pondering how their intimate moments would unfold behind closed doors.

Inevitably, his mind wandered to imagine her body naked. It was the first time such thoughts had arisen. Of course, he had already noticed the distinctive features of her body that indicated fertility, such as her wide hips, but the idea of pondering the shade of her nipples and the contours of her curves without clothes was entirely new.

"Anthony?!" Benedict's voice sounded loud, jolting him out of his reverie. "Were you listening to me?"

He realized he was frozen in place, holding his coat in his hands.

"No need to shout, Benedict. I'm not deaf." He returned to his grumpy tone, trying to conceal his embarrassment over the intrusive thoughts.

"Are you sure? I've been talking for minutes, and it seems my words made no difference."

"Of course not. My brain struggles to process words that sound empty."

Benedict grumbled and headed to the door.

"We must hasten. We're already behind schedule, and I fear it might be Penelope the one waiting at the altar after all."

Just like Anthony, Penelope was grappling with a mix of tension and anxiety as her wedding day loomed closer. Her mother bore a significant share of responsibility for this unease, pushing her to the edge of exasperation with her ceaseless demands and intrusive behavior.

"Mother, please understand," Penelope's voice held a composed tone as the maid completed her hair arrangement, "Your plan to insinuate to Anthony that my late father's desire was that I should only marry after Prudence was highly unlikely to succeed."

Portia, who was also preparing alongside her, inquired, "Do you not wish for your sister's happiness?"

Penelope suppressed a powerful urge to roll her eyes in response to her mother's words.

"It's not that simple, Mother. The reality is that it's highly unlikely that Anthony could have persuaded Benedict to marry Prudence just to ensure our marriage."

"Had we sought your assistance, our efforts might have borne fruit."

"Unlikely. A plan of that nature had exceedingly slim odds of success."

"How can you be so certain of that, Penelope?"

"Because we're not performing in a rendition of 'The Taming of the Shrew.'" She rolled her eyes with impacient, "Our reality is far from a Shakespearean play."

Portia countered, "Yet, against all odds, your wedding is now becoming a reality. Look at your bridal attire. Did you ever believe this day would truly arrive?"

Despite the validity of her mother's statement, Penelope remained wordless, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror. Clad in a simple, light blue dress with a modest neckline, she exuded a sense of understated beauty.

Indeed, every aspect of her wedding exuded subtlety. Contrary to her mother-in-law's desires, Anthony had opted for a simplicity that would extend to both the ceremony and the ensuing reception for the guests.

Penelope hadn't voiced her disagreement. She wasn't inclined to draw attention and chose to view moments like the impending one as opportunities to strengthen connections rather than flaunt riches.

With the flower tiara now adorning her hair, Penelope once again took a moment to appreciate her reflection. Time slipped by, and soon, Portia dismissed the attendants, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

"Mother, please, not again," Penelope's voice held a hint of weariness. "Let's not discuss Prudence today, especially not on my wedding day."

"It's not that particular matter I wish to raise, Penelope," her daughter released a sigh, and Portia added, "But don't assume this conversation will fade into obscurity. You've secured a significant match, and I believe it's your familial obligation to assist your sister in finding a suitable suitor as well."

Penelope chose not to engage in an argument and simply inclined her head, silently encouraging her mother to continue with the point she truly wanted to convey. Unexpectedly, Portia appeared flustered, her approach to the subject uncertain.

"What is the matter, Mother?" Penelope's curiosity had been thoroughly piqued.

"Well... in addition to your wedding today," her voice wavered, "it also signifies your wedding night, which is the first night you'll spend with your husband."

"Yes?" Penelope's attention was fully captured. Since her engagement to Anthony was announced, she had been eager to have this conversation with her mother. "What will occur tonight? What am I expected to do? What will my husband's role be?"

"When the appropriate moment arrives, you should lie down and await your husband, who will assume his position and fulfill his 'responsibility'."

"Lie down and await him? Could you elaborate? What exactly is he going to do?"

"He will fulfill his obligation. Your role is to remain composed as he carries out... his 'duty' to facilitate a successful conception."

"Is that all?" Penelope inquired, a touch of disbelief in her voice. "Am I simply meant to lie there and permit my husband to fulfill his 'duty'?"

"Exactly as I've described."

"You can't be serious, Mother!" She found it difficult to accept. The information seemed overly simplistic. "Certainly, there must be more nuances involved in the carnal intimacy between a man and a woman."

"Penelope!" Her mother's expression turned horrified. "I'm relieved you're on the brink of marriage, as I certainly wouldn't tolerate such language from my unmarried daughter."

"Of course, Mother," Penelope's voice grew gentle. "However, could you please provide me with a bit more guidance about what to expect when I am alone with my husband? I wish to avoid any missteps that might cause discomfort."

"As long as you lie down and allow him to fulfill his... 'duty,' it's unlikely that any missteps will occur."

Further inquiry seemed futile. Extracting additional information from Portia would likely prove as challenging as squeezing blood from a stone.

Fortunately, Penelope had come across passages in books that delicately addressed the topic of the wedding night, although they never delved into explicit details. Still, she had hoped that her 'conversation' with her mother would offer greater insights than what she had read. It appeared she was sorely mistaken.

With no more to discuss with her mother, Penelope rose to make her way to the church. Her heart raced within her chest as she embarked on the path to fulfill her destiny alongside the man she had entered a marriage of convenience with.

"You look quite beautiful, Penelope," Violet remarked as the two stood in the reception organized at the Bridgerton residence after the church ceremony.

Everything had been simple, yet lovely. It wasn't the wedding she had dreamed of, filled with love and passion, but Penelope was content because things were unfolding as she had planned to ensure a peaceful and secure marriage.

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton," she replied with a modest smile, her eyes gracefully sweeping across the grand hall, her thoughts momentarily searching for Anthony. He had stepped away to engage in conversation with some gentlemen in his study, presumably savoring a glass of brandy as a masculine tribute to the newlywed union.

Despite her husband's efforts to ensure a modest ceremony, the house was packed with people. In addition to the Bridgertons already being quite popular in London society, her marriage to Anthony had drawn curious glances. The astonishment of the attendees was palpable, and whispers circulated about what had led to such an unlikely union.

Penelope attempted to disregard the stares and remarks, but at her core, it still gnawed at her. No longer was she the unobtrusive presence of Mayfair; she had ascended to become the wife of the ninth Viscount Bridgerton, a title that bore significance not just due to wealth, but also the lineage's historical weight.

"From now on, you must call me Violet, my dear," she said, holding her daughter-in-law's hand in hers. "We are officially family, and it is my wish for you to address me by my first name." Seeing Penelope's surprised look, she added with conviction, "I insist."

"Of course, Violet," she replied, a little soft giggle escaping her lips. "I must confess, it does feel a bit unusual, doesn't it?"

"Adjusting will come with time," Violet responded, gently squeezing her hand before releasing it to take a sip from her own glass.

"Do you find it strange?" Penelope inquired before she could restrain herself. While they had discussed wedding arrangements after the engagement announcement, this particular topic had never been broached between them. Penelope remained uncertain about her mother-in-law's genuine feelings regarding her union with Anthony.

Violet appeared slightly taken aback.

"Well, my dear, I must admit that when my son informed us, we couldn't help but be surprised. I never envisaged such a relationship between you and Anthony..."

"It appears you're not alone in that sentiment," Penelope murmured, attempting to conceal her melancholy as she took a sip of champagne.

"Nevertheless, I am convinced that this union could not have been more propitious," Violet said with an air of generosity. "I firmly believe my son has made the right choice, and I take immense pride in passing on the title of Viscountess to you. I am certain you will embody this role flawlessly."

Penelope's lips curled into a gentle smile, her heart touched by the authenticity of Violet's words. However, before she could weave her gratitude into a response, Lady Danbury approached them.

"Behold, the woman of the hour," She proclaimed, her voice echoing powerfully.

"Lady Danbury," Penelope greeted, rising from her seat and offering a curtsy.

"Oh, my dear, allow me to express my immense joy for the union we've witnessed today," unexpectedly, the woman pulled Penelope into an embrace, a gesture slightly unconventional by societal norms."I am certain it will bear good fruit."

"Thank you, Lady Danbury."

Lady Danbury relinquished her hold and observed her countenance for a fleeting moment before pressing on.

"I have a fondness for you, Penelope. May I share a thought with you?"

"Certainly."

"Society can indeed be unkind, I am acutely aware of this. And I recognize your resourceful strategies for navigating its trials. But understand this: your happiness shall radiate so luminously that it will undoubtedly blind even the most envious eyes."

Penelope found herself once again moved. She pondered whether her inner melancholy was so clearly evident or if Lady Danbury was simply astute beyond measure.

"I greatly appreciate your words, and I sincerely hope the festivities meet your approval."

In reply, she offered a smile, one that Penelope had rarely witnessed before, and spoke, "Everything is impeccable, Lady Bridgerton ."

Following a day replete with official greetings and extended periods of standing, Penelope now found herself within her private chambers – the very room that had once been occupied by Violet and was destined to be her own. Assisted by her maid, she shed her party dress and donned an elegant nightgown, a gem from her new trousseau. The fabric proved softer against her skin than the nightclothes she had been accustomed to. Somewhat displaced in her new attire, a sense of unfamiliarity lingered, a subtle reminder that her life was being redrawn.

As the maid tenderly brushed her cascading auburn locks, a gentle knock reverberated upon the door, quickening Penelope's heartbeat. Night had descended, bringing with it her wedding night. Uncertainty, fueled by her mother's insufficient guidance, continued to hold sway over her thoughts.

Standing up, she draped a robe over the nightgown she had on. Despite the occasion being her wedding night, she didn't feel prepared for Anthony to witness her in such minimal attire. A blend of nervousness and shyness welled up inside her.

"Good evening, Penelope," Anthony entered the chamber, having exchanged his wedding attire for more informal attire.

Acknowledging his presence with a graceful curtsy, she signaled her maid to withdraw, leaving them in solitude.

"How are you?" he inquired softly, drawing nearer to her.

"Nervous," she admitted, her honesty prevailing in their conversation. There was no reason to lie to him. Anthony was there to fulfill his 'duty,' and that left her with a sense of anxiety.

"Do you understand what takes place on a wedding night? Has your mother discussed it with you?"

"Well, we exchanged a few words, but I don't think they were sufficient to truly give me an idea of what will happen. I only know that you need to fulfill your 'duty.'"

"My 'duty'?"

"Yes, although I believe it should be our 'duty,' since I'm also a part of it, aren't I? Despite that, I don't know much about what to expect."

Anthony's smile was empathetic. The lingering tradition of mothers sending their daughters into matrimony without shedding light on the intimacies behind closed doors still haunted some young women. He understood her apprehension. So, despite the thoughts he had entertained about Penelope's body earlier that day, which had intermittently resurfaced throughout the remaining hours, Anthony opted to set them aside and said, "We don't have to do anything tonight, Penelope."

"But what about babies? You need heirs."

"It's true, but there's no rush. We have a lifetime of marriage ahead of us. You'll have time to adjust to married life. Don't concern yourself with that for now. We'll fulfill the... the 'duty' when you're more at ease."

Although he knew he should consummate their marriage promptly, Anthony wanted to give Penelope time. Their marriage was an arrangement meant to benefit both of them, so he didn't want to pressure her. Especially considering that he didn't require his wife for his own pleasure, as he already had Sienna in his life.

"I'm grateful for your patience."

Penelope felt a sense of relief, grateful that she wasn't being pressured. Anthony revealed himself to be understanding beneath the facade he displayed to society, where he often appeared impatient and easily vexed.

Yet, a nagging feeling told her that his understanding stemmed from having another woman to turn to. He didn't require Penelope for his own pleasure, but rather to fulfill his role as a husband.

"Will you be meeting your lover tonight?" she asked abruptly, catching him off guard.

"No, not tonight. I'll be in my chambers if you need anything."

"Then, good night, Anthony."

"Good night, Penelope."

Notes:

Don't be upset that Anthony didn't fulfill his 'duty' just now. There will be plenty of opportunities for that.

Oh, boy. They're going to fulfill the 'duty' so intensely, so strongly that we'll be surprised if they ever manage to leave the room... although, I must say the fulfillment of the 'duty' will occur in other settings and places beyond the confines of a marital bedroom.

So I'll just leave you guys pondering about that. Until the next chapter!

Chapter 9: First ball

Notes:

Hello!!!

I managed to finish another chapter. Yay!

I really would like to be able to describe more scenes of Penelope's interactions with the other Bridgertons, but that would slow down the story development, and my desire is to focus on the relationship of Penthony.

Nevertheless, you can be certain that cute scenes and funny banter will appear throughout the chapters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony felt immense satisfaction as he watched, for the next three weeks after the wedding, Penelope gracefully adapt to married life. While he believed it wouldn't pose much of a challenge, given her popularity among his family, he did harbor doubts about her ability to navigate his relatives' perpetual disagreements.

To his astonishment, Penelope seamlessly assumed control of Bridgerton House and shouldered the responsibilities of her new siblings-in-law. As a viscountess, she deftly managed her duties, overseeing the household affairs with poise. While Violet offered her assistance, Anthony suspected Penelope accepted it mainly to spare her mother-in-law's feelings of uselessness.

Despite Anthony's anticipation of change, Penelope insisted on maintaining the family's shared residence until she and Anthony became parents themselves. Curiously, the topic of marital obligations remained untouched after their wedding night.

Aware of Penelope's preoccupation with household matters, Anthony refrained from pressuring her. Though he often found himself captivated by his wife's allure, discreetly admiring her décolletage, he refrained from initiating further intimacy. Even Anthony struggled to comprehend his own restraint. He recognized the necessity of consummating their marriage, not only for its formal confirmation but also for the potential pleasure it could provide — especially considering his temporary hiatus from encounters with Sienna.

Despite this lingering responsibility, their relationship was blossoming. Through astute observation, he witnessed her personality flourish within the family fold — kind, magnanimous, and empathetic and possessing a brilliant instinct for bargaining as well.

Penelope's approach diverged from Anthony's. While he aimed to wield authority within the family, she consistently sought middle ground, negotiating until she surpassed her own goals. She achieved the remarkable feat of coaxing Eloise into dance lessons in return she allowed his sister's absence from two social gatherings. While Eloise had initially requested three, Penelope clinched the agreement at two and also she further persuaded his sister to commit to dancing with two potential suitors at the upcoming ball.

With her melodious voice, gentle presence, and steadfast determination, Penelope was gradually winning over the Bridgertons one by one.

She had truly been raised to excel as a wife, adept at managing a household with finesse. Anthony wondered in astonishment why she had never had suitors. Surely any man would have thrived with her by his side in a harmonious marriage. Nevertheless, he acknowledged that one person's misfortune was another's happiness — in this case, his own.

Anthony himself was reaping considerable benefits from their companionship. It was during the task of reconciling monthly accounts for their respective residences and upkeep expenses that he uncovered Penelope's aptitude for arithmetic. She not only corrected calculation errors but also identified opportunities for economizing by trimming needless expenditures.

Furthemore, the newfound ability to wake up without being inundated by a barrage of issues demanding immediate attention before breakfast brought an unexpected yet undeniably crucial sense of relief.

The final puzzle piece to complete their picture-perfect life together rested in the consummation of their marriage. Despite his earnest desire to ler her take her time, Anthony recognized the inevitability of addressing this matter sooner or later.

On that particularly evening, Anthony awaited Penelope by the carriage that would transport them to Lady Danbury's ball, marking their inaugural appearance as a married couple at a social event.

Engrossed in conversation with Benedict, his attention swiftly pivoted at the sound of approaching footsteps, and his gaze locked onto Penelope as she drew near. A breathtaking transformation had overcome her.

Dressed in a Bridgerton blue satin gown that harmonized flawlessly with her eyes, the dress artfully accentuated her contours, its gentle cinching at the waist enhancing her silhouette. Her auburn tresses were elegantly gathered in an updo, with a few strands thoughtfully arranged to frame her face, further accentuated by the glint of a silver tiara adorning her hair.

With each tentative step, she appeared to glide gracefully, the moonlight enhancing her delicate pallor. Her beauty surpassed any previous sightings by Anthony.

"If you don't retract those eyes soon, you might lose them."

The playful remark from Benedict snapped Anthony from his brief atonishment, who regained his composure, questioning, "What?"

A knowing smile tugged at Benedict's lips as he responded in hushed tones, "Come now, brother. There's no need for bashfulness. She's your wife, and you're free to admire her all you wish."

With a bashful smile and a graceful curtsy, Penelope extended her greetings, "Good evening, gentlemen."

Benedict was the first to respond, "Good evening, Penelope. I must confess, you appear absolutely stunning tonight." Gently clasping her gloved hand, he bestowed a chaste kiss, a gesture that prompted a subtle blush to grace Penelope's cheeks.

As an undercurrent of discomfort tugged at Anthony, he shifted subtly, feeling a bit uneasy watching his brother elicit such a reaction from his wife.

"Is there no carriage for you to catch?" He inquired brusquely, turning his attention to Benedict.

His brother shot a swift look his way, repressing a grin and bestowing a respectful nod upon Penelope. He then made his way to the other carriage where part of the family awaited. Anthony's gaze remained fixed on Benedict's retreating form, a glare etched on his face.

"Shall we?" Penelope's voice drew his focus, a delicate gesture guiding his eyes toward their waiting carriage. In light of their recent marriage, Anthony had arranged for them to have a private carriage for their journey.

His hand extended swiftly, offering her assistance as she stepped into the vehicle. They settled facing each other, an unspoken tension filling the space between them. Anthony found himself consciously avoiding direct eye contact. Penelope was adorned in an exquisite gown befitting a viscountess, yet her stunning appearance took him by surprise.

Where had Penelope concealed this beauty all along? His initial impression had been one of mild admiration, but now he was actively averting his gaze. He didn't want his glances to be misinterpreted; after all, their union was one of convenience, nothing more.

"You look rather dashing this evening," Penelope's voice broke through the silence.

"Thank you," he replied, adding, "You look stunning as well. The dress compliments your eyes perfectly."

As the words left his lips, he felt a pang of self-consciousness. Was he offering a compliment or inadvertently flirting with his own wife? If he was indeed flirting, Penelope showed no indication of having noticed. A smile graced her lips as she smoothed the fabric of her gown.

"Your mother assisted me in selecting it. I must confess, I'm feeling rather nervous. It's my inaugural ball as a married woman. It seems so much has changed."

"You'll adjust in due course, Penelope. This is merely the first of many balls you'll attend as Viscountess Bridgerton."

Just as he spoke those words, the carriage came to a halt. Anthony aided his wife as she disembarked, a reassuring smile on his lips, an attempt to soothe her unease. He was acutely aware that they were on the brink of entering the intense realm of scrutinizing gazes and hurtful remarks within high society.

Upon their arrival at the party, Penelope discerned a subtle shift in the atmosphere. All eyes seemed to pivot in their direction, a consequence she could well understand — after all, she was now a viscountess and was commanding a considerable share of attention.

She foresaw the inquisitive stares probing her personal life and the cutting remarks that were bound to come her way.

Interestingly, a portion of these remarks were provoked by her own actions, as she had occasionally alluded to her own marriage in Lady Whistledown's column. Such self-promotion was essential to divert any significant scrutiny, for failing to do so would undoubtedly raise grave suspicions.

Yet, before she could entirely grasp the significance of the moment, they were approached by a succession of individuals extending greetings. In the span of mere minutes, she found herself performing curtsies and engaging in pleasantries with a multitude of faces, too numerous to accurately account for.

Her new Bridgerton status meant that people stopped to acknowledge her, and she could no longer blend seamlessly into the surrounding throng. The level of societal attention she was receiving was unprecedented, leaving her mildly taken aback and, quite literally, breathless.

As the evening progressed, Anthony escorted his mother onto the dance floor, leaving Penelope in the company of Lady Danbury and an assembly of other ladies. Conversations swirled around them, filled with self-congratulation and grandeur. While Penelope was well-versed in such discourse, it marked the first instance where she contributed as an active participant. Evidently, her recent marriage was of keen interest to all.

It was somewhat enjoyable to engage in that conversation, but much to Penelope's dismay, the group was joined by none other than Lady Cowper and her daughter Cressida, who unsurprisingly wore the same displeased expression as always.

"Lady Bridgerton, your presence here is a surprise. We all assumed you'd be on your honeymoon with your husband," Lady Cowper remarked, her gaze fixed on Penelope. "Imagine our shock when we learned you both remained in London. Did something unexpected occur?"

"Perhaps the haste of the marriage left no time for a proper honeymoon, mama. Considering how quickly it was arranged," Cressida chimed in, a malicious smile playing on her lips.

Penelope had expected this sort of implication and was prepared with a response, "Anthony bears significant responsibilities in London, especially with one of his sisters currently in the marriage market. Regrettably, we couldn't take leave for a honeymoon trip."

"But I assume plans are in place for a future trip, are they not?" Lady Cowper persisted, her curiosity about Penelope's private life evident. "Even if it's a brief retreat to the Bridgerton ancestral residence, Aubrey Hall, perhaps?"

"Yes, indeed. And when the time comes, Lady Cowper, you shall be among the first to know. I assure you, I'll keep you well-informed. Alternatively, you could read Whistledown's papers for updates."

The assembled guests displayed a mild surprise at the tone of Penelope's response. Lady Danbury, however, erupted into hearty laughter, her head thrown back as she remarked, "Penelope, Penelope... the role of viscountess suits you splendidly. Have I mentioned how fond I am of you?"

"The sentiment is mutual, Lady Danbury," Penelope replied with a conspiratorial smile directed at the elderly woman, the sole individual refraining from hinting at her marriage to Anthony. "If you'll excuse me, I shall make my way to fetch a glass of lemonade," Penelope offered a slight curtsy and gracefully headed toward the refreshments table.

As Penelope raised her glass of lemonade to her lips, the sound of Cressida's voice drifted towards her.

"Penelope, dear, enlighten me. What did you do to deceive Viscount Bridgerton into marrying you? Orchestrated a compromising situation, perhaps?"

Penelope's complexion turned ashen at Cressida's insinuation, though she expected no good from her. This wasn't the first insult Cressida had hurled, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

She took a deep breath, determined not to lose her composure, and responded, "I am at a loss to understand your inquiry, Miss Cowper. You are offending me with such conjectures."

"Come now, must we entertain the notion that Lord Bridgerton fell in love with you? It's simply preposterous. Such a scenario would be entirely implausible."

A surge of anger raced up Penelope's throat like a bout of indigestion. Suddenly, she felt an urge to throttle Cressida Cowper right there, in the midst of Lady Danbury's ballroom.

Just as she was poised to deliver a fitting retort, Anthony emerged behind Cressida.

"You must be quite familiar with my sentiments to make such claims, aren't you, Miss Cowper?"

Cressida's gaze shifted to him, a hint of surprise flashing across her features as she hastily composed herself.

"Lord Bridgerton, what an unexpected delight to encounter you this evening."

"Regrettably, I cannot reciprocate that sentiment," Anthony replied with a cutting edge to his tone. "I didn't appreciate the insinuations you made about my marriage, nor the tone you used to address my wife."

Cressida struggled to maintain her facade of composure as she responded, her smile strained.

"Oh, it was just idle chatter. Penelope and I are friends. She knows I mean no harm."

"It's imperative that I have a conversation with the Earl and Countess Cowper regarding your inappropriate behavior. I'm genuinely surprised to witness a young lady of such breeding indulging in unfounded insinuations and the dissemination of gossip. I hardly think these are qualities that gentlemen seek in a potential wife."

"Lord Bridgerton, I... I..." Cressida stammered, visibly taken aback by Anthony's resolute tone. Clearly, she wasn't accustomed to being reprimanded.

"Extend an apology to my wife, and we can put this matter to rest."

"I beg your pardon?" She managed to ask, her confusion evident.

"Apologize to my wife. Penelope holds a place in the nobility, and I won't tolerate any form of disrespect directed towards her."

With each word, his voice grew progressively more unwavering. Penelope gazed at him in awe. Never before had someone so gallantly defended her.

Cressida appeared as if she'd just bitten into something unbearably bitter, her gaze shifting to Penelope beneath Anthony's unrelenting stare.

"I apologize, Penelope... It was never my intention to cause offense."

"Such an incident won't be repeated, Miss Cowper," Anthony interjected. "Furthermore, from this day forward, you will address Penelope as Lady Bridgerton. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton," she answered.

"Very well. You may leave now." Casting a resentful glance, Cressida offered a curt curtsy and hastened away.

Penelope shook off her daze and approached her husband.

"Anthony... that was... well, I suppose I should call it unnecessary, but honestly, it was quite wonderful. Thank you for standing up for me," she smiled warmly at him.

"You are my wife, Penelope," Anthony redirected his gaze to her. "It's my duty to defend and protect you."

"Even so, I'm grateful. This marks the second time you've rescued me from her clutches."

"I'll ensure that Miss Cowper doesn't trouble you again," he moved closer, his voice firm. "Remember, you're now Viscountess Bridgerton. You needn't offer explanations about our private life to anyone, do you understand?" Penelope nodded in agreement. Anthony gently squeezed her arm and added, "I'll be in the smoking room with Benedict. When you're ready to depart, summon a servant to fetch me."

She had hoped they would spend some time together or perhaps share a dance. It was true that married couples didn't often indulge in such things, yet she confessed to herself that she missed dancing with him.

With no argument to present and no desire to appear pitiable, she assented. Anthony took his leave, once again leaving Penelope amidst the lions. She sighed and lifted her head, mentally preparing for the impending deluge of society's relentless gossip.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed Penelope's sassy attitude. I truly appreciate characters who are quick-witted and have sharp comebacks.

Let me ask you guys something: Do you like jealous Anthony?

He's about to make an appearance in the next chapter.

Chapter 10: Whirlwind of sensations

Notes:

Hi there!

I was planning to post this chapter tomorrow, but I couldn't contain my excitement!

I present to you Jealous Anthony.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"So, brother, is married life treating you well? Are you enjoying it?" Benedict inquired, leaning back as he looked at Anthony.

Anthony took a draw from his pipe before responding to Benedict. "It's actually quite decent."

"Quite decent? Oh, come on, you married Penelope! Don't tell me life with her is mundane?"

"On the contrary. She's quite engaging in conversation. More intelligent than most women I know. And she truly knows how to manage a household. I have no complaints, for now."

The conversation was momentarily interrupted by the appearance of a servant, who handed a note to Anthony. He read it and quickly tucked it into his coat pocket.

"What is that?" Benedict asked, curiosity piqued.

"A message from Sienna. She wants to see me tonight."

His brother was astonished, "What? Anthony! You're married! Do not tell me you're still meeting with your mistress?"

Anthony scanned the room to see if anyone had caught Benedict's whispered exclamation. Thankfully, only three other men were in the room, engrossed in their own discussions.

Anthony turned to Benedict, finally revealing the truth., "That's exactly why I got married, brother. Penelope and I have an arrangement: she fulfills the role of a wife, and I can maintain my personal life without interference."

"Does she know about Sienna?" he asked, and Anthony nodded. "I can't believe she would agree to something like that!" Benedict still looked astonished.

"Of course she agreed. Penelope has no illusions about her future, dear brother. She needed security and protection. I can provide that."

After a minute of reflection on what his brother had said, Benedict commented "Well, at least you're getting the best of both worlds, aren't you?"

"What can you mean?" Anthony inquired.

"Well, you have your mistress and your wife. From what I've seen, Sienna is quite beautiful, but Penelope..." Benedict sighed in admiration as he continued, "Wow. Penelope is really starting to reveal her beauty. She looks stunning today. I've never seen her like this before. I must say, the title of Viscountess suits her very well."

Anthony clenched his jaw slightly upon hearing his brother's words. "Don't forget you're talking about my wife, Benedict. The Viscountess and Lady of Bridgerton House. Choose your words carefully when referring to her beauty."

"I'm not making any indecent remarks, brother. I'm simply expressing my admiration for your wife's beauty with enthusiasm."

"Alright." Anthony practically grunted the words. "Just dial down the enthusiasm next time."

Benedict chuckled at his brother's expression. He poured more drinks for the two of them and asked, "Are you jealous, by any chance? I thought you had a mere arrangement with Penelope. Why would you care if other men are praising her?"

"Because she's my wife. I wouldn't be a married man if my wife were being courted by other men, would I?"

"So, it's not jealousy, but pride?" Benedict frowned. "And what if she wants to have lovers too? What would you do?"

"Lovers?" Anthony was taken aback by the possibility.

While he was aware that some women in society had paramours, he couldn't quite envision Penelope among them, especially given her air of innocence.

Yet, the notion of her being involved with another man did cause a subtle unease to stir within him. Perhaps it was his inherent masculine instinct; after all, upon their marriage, she became a cherished possession, and the idea of sharing what was rightfully his did not sit well.

Benedict carried on with his conversation.

"Why not? I know many high society women with lovers. Think about it, Anthony. If you're enjoying yourself outside the home, why couldn't Penelope do the same? Know that I'm a strong advocate for equal rights between men and women."

"You talk a lot of rubbish, did you know that?," he replied, leaving the room to return to the ball, leaving his brother giggling behind.

Following the resolution of the incident involving Cressida, Penelope found herself savoring the ball's atmosphere to the fullest. Engaging in conversations, partaking in fine dining, and mingling with individuals she could never have envisioned conversing with before. The most delightful aspect was that her words held genuine intrigue, capturing the attention of those who lent their ears to her. The cloak of invisibility that had once shrouded Penelope seemed to have lifted.

After exchanging thoughts with Eloise, who was later summoned by Violet to dance with a suitor, she became deeply engrossed in a discourse on literature with Lord Debling, who exhibited a genuine enthusiasm for the subject.

"Lady Bridgerton, I had no idea you appreciated poetry to this extent... William Blake is one of my favorite poets." He commented later on as Penelope shared her thoughts about one of her favorite poets highlighting how Blake's lyricism inspired her to consistently seek a deeper meaning behind superficial appearances.

"Ah, Lord Debling, I consider myself an enthusiast not only of Blake's poetry but also of his paintings. His illustrations of the Divine Comedy left me utterly fascinated."

"Don't tell me you've also read Alighieri's work?" He asked, astonished.

"Yes, I have. In fact, I own one of the early editions at home. Quite a rarity. If you'd like, you're welcome to visit and explore our library. Anthony has always made an effort to acquire the finest of both English and foreign literature."

"I'd be honored, Viscountess," Lord Debling replied, inclining slightly toward her. "You know, I find myself wondering where you've been hiding all this time."

"Hiding? What can you mean?"

"At the balls, social events... where were you hiding? I can't fathom not having known your charm, intelligence, and beauty before... so, where were you, Lady Bridgerton?"

Penelope blushed at his overt compliment and nearly stumbled over her response. "I... I've always been around, Lord Debling, I just wasn't noticed before."

"That's what I don't understand... you don't strike me as the type to go unnoticed. Especially with that hair," he reiterated, his gaze fixed on Penelope's. "The color reminds me of the hue Botticelli used to paint The Birth of Venus. A captivating artwork, if you ask for my opinion and one of my favorites. That's why I can't comprehend not having seen you before, Lady Bridgerton. Was I blind, by chance? How come I never noticed?

Once more, a rosy hue graced Penelope's cheeks. It seemed that Lord Debling was flirting with her right in the midst of Lady Danbury's ballroom. She found herself in unfamiliar territory, uncertain of how to respond. This had never happened to her before, and at the same time, she wasn't sure if it was actually happening.

Lord Debling was well aware of Penelope's recent marriage, having attended the ceremony himself. So, she was puzzled by his seemingly flirtatious words. Also she was apprehensive about misinterpreting the situation and potentially accusing a member of the nobility falsely. What if he was just being friendly?

However, Penelope was prevented from responding as she heard the voice of her husband approaching the two.

"Noticed what?" Anthony inquired.

Having observed Penélope from a distance, Anthony noticed that Lord Debling appeared quite interested in conversing with her. The man's leaning posture, breaching the bounds of propriety when addressing a married lady, stirred a concern ignited by Benedict's earlier remarks. Witnessing Penelope's blush in response to Debling's words, Anthony felt compelled to intervene.

"Lord Bridgerton!" Debling greeted with a nod, "How goes the evening for you? I was indulging in a delightful discussion of literature with your wife. Her literary sensibilities are truly commendable."

Anthony's touch gently encircled Penelope's waist, drawing her nearer to him. The contact elicited a startled reaction from her; never before had her husband exhibited such familiarity. There, amidst the glittering gala, his behavior was rather improper for a ballroom.

"Yes, I am well aware of her avid reading habits," Anthony responded, his tone poised, "We have an entire library at her disposal."

"Speaking of which, Anthony. I invited Lord Debling to explore our rare editions in the library. He seemed quite enthusiastic about it," Penelope informed, Smiling gently in an attempt to conceal the rush of emotion from her heart that had quickened at her husband's touch.

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton. It would be an honor and a great joy to share more literary discussions with your lady," Lord Debling replied with a gracious smile.

"I can well imagine," Anthony responded, his tone slightly sterner than usual.

Penelope noticed the shift in atmosphere and glanced at her husband. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed, fixed on Lord Debling, who continued, "Indeed. Her company is quite delightful. You are a fortunate man, Bridgerton."

"Believe me, Debling, I am well aware of that," Anthony tightened his grip around her waist and added, "If you'll excuse us, I believe it's time I whisked my wife away for a dance."

The two were now in the midst of their second waltz, gracefully gliding across the ballroom floor and garnering the attention of onlookers.

As the stares of the crowd lingered on them, Penelope remarked, her voice gentle yet concerned, "Anthony, it's rather unusual for married couples to dance so frequently. You know that. People are taking notice."

"We are newlyweds, Penelope. We have the luxury of defying convention. Besides, I care little for what others may think."

Her keen observation caught the tightening of his jaw and the strain in the muscles around his mouth, a familiar response that surfaced whenever tension or irritation took hold of him. Penelope ventured a gentle inquiry, "What's troubling you? You seem tense."

He took a second before asking, "Why did you invite Lord Debling to our home?"

"Does my decision displease you? I believed it was within my role as a viscountess to entertain and host noble guests."

Anthony remained silent. He didn't want to explain to Penelope the sort of entertainment Debling seemed to be seeking. If they weren't in the midst of a ball, he might have been tempted to deliver a punch for the audacity of Debling's lingering glances at his wife.

As they concluded their dance steps, Penelope spoke up, "If you don't mind, I'd like to go home. I'm a bit tired and would prefer to retire early."

"Not at all. I'll inform our family that we're leaving."

"I had a wonderful time tonight." Penelope remarked as they were inside the carriage, the vehicle making its way through the streets of London. "I've never felt so included before."

"I'm pleased you had a good time, Penelope," Anthony replied, stealing a glance at his late father's pocket watch.

"Do you have a scheduled engagement tonight?" she asked, noticing his second glance at the watch. "With her?"

Penelope had never inquired about his mistress or her occupation. She deemed those particulars unimportant to know, yet her curiosity was steadily intensifying.

"Yes, but I intend to take you home first."

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness," she genuinely responded. The two lapsed into silence again until Penelope spoke up once more.

"Anthony?"

"Hmm?

"What's it like to have a mistress?" She posed the question, catching him entirely off guard.

"Why are you asking that?"

"Curiosity... I want to know what it's like to be with a mistress. What does it bring to a person? Is it just pleasure? Or do you also find peace with her? Do you two talk?"

He fidgeted uneasily in his seat, visibly unsettled by her questions. He had never discussed the matter of Sienna with Penelope. It wasn't something he deemed appropriate to broach with his wife. Even though theirs was a marriage of convenience, discussing such a topic wouldn't be agreeable. In a way, he felt embarrassed and at times, a bit tainted.

"If you'd rather not discuss it, that's perfectly alright," Penelope picked up on his discomfort, "Forget what I asked... I was simply curious about the dynamics of such a relationship."

"Why do you want to know? Are you interested in having lovers? Is that what you're getting at?" Anthony inquired. The recent conversation he had with Benedict came flooding back into his mind.

"I'm not sure... perhaps I should. If my husband can, why shouldn't I?" Her expression turned contemplative.

"Are you serious?" He seemed taken aback by her boldness.

Penelope burst into a melodious laughter.

"Of course not, Anthony! I was only joking. I haven't even been kissed... how could I possibly entertain the idea of a lover?" She concluded her statement, a touch embarrassed. After all, they had been married for three weeks without consummating their marriage or even sharing a kiss. Penelope wondered if he only reserved such affection for his mistress.

Obviously she was grateful for Anthony's patience in waiting for her, but she also thought that at some point he would seek her out or bring the subject up. They conversed at home about various matters, but the topic of consummation never surfaced.

Perhaps, she thought, he truly didn't want to engage in the act. Although Penelope didn't know what carnal intimacy between a couple was like, she had suspicions that it must be something less enjoyable than the affections he likely shared with his mistress.

She turned her face toward the carriage window, not wanting Anthony to think she was trying to pressure him by bringing up the topic of his mistress or mentioning the kiss.

Anthony also averted his gaze, focusing on some distant point in the interior carriage decor. He was somewhat startled by her revelation.

He knew societal norms protected young debutantes, making it evident she hadn't yet experienced her first kiss. His surprise stemmed from realizing that he hadn't provided her with that experience since their marriage.

In the church, after exchanging their wedding vows, he simply placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. After that, there was no further intimate moment between them. Not that it was necessary in a marriage of convenience. After all, Anthony knew very well that there were couples who spent decades together without ever sharing a single kiss. It wasn't as if romance was cultivated in the Regency era. Love and romance seemed to exist only in novels read by debutantes aspiring to find a Mr. Darcy in life and, in rare couples, like his parents.

She deserved to know the sensation of a kiss.

His reflection moment was interrupted as the carriage came to a halt, prompting them to disembark. He escorted her inside the house, climbing the stairs alongside her towards their chambers. Penelope found it odd.

"I thought you had somewhere to go."

"I need to do something first."

"To do what?" She paused on the staircase, a step above him.

"I want to kiss you, Penelope," he informed her. "May I?

Startled by the unexpected request, she hesitated before responding, her eyes fixed on his lips. "You are my husband, and I suppose it is within your right," she replied, her voice soft.

"You know very well that our marriage is not like the others " he gently held a lock of her hair in his fingers. "We have an understanding between us. So, I ask once more: may I kiss you?"

"You may…" she whispered, shifting her gaze from his lips to his eyes, "You must."

In a gentle movement, he held her by the waist, pulling her closer to him, careful not to unbalance her.

Penelope let out a soft gasp, as their bodies came intimately close. Her gaze briefly fixed on his lips again before returning to meet his eyes. Anticipation coursed through her as she awaited what was to come, her heart quickening with a mixture of eagerness and a growing awareness of a desire awakening within her.

With their faces mere inches apart, Anthony closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly before pressing his lips to Penelope's.

At that moment, all the tension and restlessness he carried within himself seemed to calm, but another whirlwind of sensations, entirely distinct from the agony that accompanied him daily, overtook him.

As he felt her warm breath, Anthony's entire world narrowed down to that moment. The sole sensation he knew was that something he had never experienced before was spreading throughout his body like a spark ignited within him, causing a fervor to bubble up inside.

It was Penelope's first time and Anthony was careful not to be rough. However, when her lips slightly parted, accompanied by a soft moan, a new intensity infused the moment.

He traced the contours of her mouth with his tongue, delicately tasting her lower lip with a subtle suction, attempting to proceed with restraint. Yet, there was an irresistible allure in that kiss, urging him to plunge into it wholeheartedly. Penelope's innate sweetness had an intoxicating effect on him, her lips a delectable blend of flavors, a hint of tanginess that heightened the sensation.

Penelope was completely inexperienced when it came to kissing, yet she met Anthony's tongue tentatively with her own, guided by a sense that it was the appropriate course. And indeed, it was. At the point of contact, Anthony emitted a low, guttural sound, deepening the kiss. One hand cradled the nape of her neck with care, while the other firmly secured her against his body.

The sound of voices at the front door indicated that the rest of the family had arrived, and the two of them separated abruptly. Anthony locked eyes with his wife for a fleeting moment; her cheeks adorned a rosy hue, her lips slightly swollen, a mix of surprise and pleasure gracing her features. For a moment, he wrestled with the idea of whether he should have stopped the kiss.

"Well... goodnight, my lord. I shall see you tomorrow," she said, quickly ascending the remaining steps of the staircase to reach her room.

Anthony stood still on the staircase for a few moments, unsure of what to do. Eventually, he dismissed the idea of venturing out to meet Sienna. Instead, he made his way directly to his own chamber.

The remainder of the night was consumed by reflections on the inaugural kiss he had shared with his wife – a kiss that seemed to have eclipsed all others, becoming the most extraordinary he had ever experienced.

Notes:

I hope the kiss lived up to your expectations.

In the next chapter, we'll delve into their reactions after the kiss and how it will affect their dynamic.

Oh, and there will be more Jealous Anthony too!

A question: What did you guys think of the introduction of Lord Debling? Let me know in the comments.

Chapter 11: Conflicting feelings

Notes:

Hello! New chapter here! If all goes well, I'll bring the next one tomorrow or tonight.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Upon awakening the morning after the ball, Penelope's instinctive touch sought her own lips, the lingering sensation of Anthony's kiss still present.

"My first kiss," she breathed, a smile playing across her lips that she couldn't suppress.

Guided by the romantic tales of novels, Penelope had imagined countless times what her first kiss would be like. In her visions it was always something delicate, like a secret shared between two lovers, ushering in a deep and lasting love. Naturally, her mind had often cast Colin as the protagonist of these dreams. Never had she entertained the notion that one day, it would be his older brother's lips she would encounter. And least of all, that she would find such immense pleasure in it.

The kiss had been nothing like her own fantasies, yet strangely, Penelope felt content with it. The spontaneity of the moment had surpassed the contours of her own idealized expectations, and that felt unequivocally right.

She closed her eyes and retraced to that moment. The touch of Anthony's lips against hers had ignited a flame within her, awakening sensations she had never imagined she would feel. Her heart had raced, beating at a frenzied rhythm that seemed to echo in tune with the kiss.

She remembered Anthony's hands, firm and gentle, cradled her face with tenderness as he pulled her closer. The warmth of his body enveloped her, and she could feel the promise of something deeper and more intense lingering in the air. Each caress, each trace of his lips against hers, seemed to convey a silent message of desire and passion.

Emotionally, that kiss had left her breathless. It was as if a whirlwind of emotions had taken over her: anticipation, excitement, fear, and a hint of vulnerability. In the moment of the kiss, she felt as if she were in a state of suspension, lost in a world where only she and Anthony existed.

Penelope's thoughts lingered on the unexpected kiss as she rose from her bed, determined to get ready and have breakfast in her husband's company. Eager to uncover how their dynamic would unfold after the surprising kiss, she summoned her maid and prepared herself with care.

As she descended for breakfast, her heart pounded with anticipation, the housekeeper approached her to inform.

"Lord Bridgerton requested that I inform you of his decision not to share breakfast in your company this morning. He departed early today."

The bubbling excitement Penelope had been experiencing transformed into a wash of surprise at the housekeeper's words. Perplexity etched her features as Anthony hadn't alluded to any commitments for the morning during their previous night. Could there have been an unexpected urgency demanding his immediate attention?

"Did he say where he was going?" Penelope inquired further.

"I'm afraid not, ma'am."

"Very well. I appreciate your assistance, Mrs. Wilson. If everyone has already convened at the table, you may proceed with serving breakfast."

"Of course, Lady Bridgerton."

"Mrs. Wilson?" Penelope called after her as she began to depart. "Could you please inform me of the hour at which my husband returned last night?"

"He arrived at the same hour as your return from the ball."

"Did he not go out afterward?"

"No, ma'am. Lord Bridgerton retired to his chambers shortly after your return from the ball."

The disclosure caught Penelope by surprise, her assumption that he would visit his lover immediately upon parting from her now disrupted. Dismissing the housekeeper, a flurry of thoughts swirled within her mind.

Reflecting on the sudden morning departure, Penelope wondered if Anthony's absence was due to a visit to his mistress, considering he hadn't gone out the previous night as he had claimed he would. She had no idea if there was an ideal time for such encounters, but she imagined nighttime would be the more suitable choice. Then, a new possibility occurred to her: perhaps he intended to share breakfast with her, after all, they hadn't seen each other for a few days.

With her keen perception, Penelope had noticed that Anthony had spent the first few weeks of their marriage practically at home, occasionally going to the gentlemen's club in the company of Benedict. He hadn't made late-night outings or gone to unfamiliar places without informing her beforehand. She was grateful that he seemed to be mindful of their marital image and was refraining from seeing his lover while they were still newlyweds.

As Penelope sat down for breakfast in the company of the Bridgertons, a strange sadness enveloped her. She struggled to conceal her emotions, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. Despite her efforts, a veil of disappointment hung over her, a stark contrast to the optimism that had filled her moments earlier. She sipped her tea in silence, her eyes occasionally darting toward the entrance, hoping for Anthony's unexpected return. However, as minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, her anticipation waned, replaced by a blend of confusion and resignation.

She tried her best to savor the moment with her family, masking the restlessness in her heart. She ate, laughed, exchanged pleasantries, yet a part of her remained lost in the whirlwind of emotions stirred by that unforgettable kiss she had shared with her husband and his sudden absence.

Anthony leaned back in the carriage window, his gaze lost in the landscape as the vehicle rolled through the cobblestone streets of London. Sleep had eluded him the entire night, and he found himself admiring the darkness of the night transforming into golden and orange hues as it gave way to the blue brilliance of day.

His fingers brushed involuntarily over his own lips. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relive every detail of that moment. Penelope's lips, soft and inviting, had been an entirely new world for him. He had kissed many women before, but nothing compared to the sensation of her lips pressing against his, her sweet breath and the erratic rhythm of her breathing. It was as if every part of him was connected to her, as if that kiss had unlocked doors he never knew existed.

He contemplated what had made that kiss so extraordinary. Was it because she was his wife? The notion of sharing a marital bond seemed too limited to justify the intensity of that kiss. He shook his head, dismissing the idea. The truth, he realized, was that the difference lay simply in the fact that it was Penelope.

Anthony felt disconcerted by this realization. He recalled their agreement, a pact formed to maintain appearances, to rescue her from an unwanted spinster's life and to grant him the opportunity to savor delightful moments in Sienna's company.

Involving emotions, however, had never been part of that agreement. He had spent years guarding his heart, fearing love and all it could entail. And yet, here he was, grappling with the tumultuous emotions that Penelope's kiss had ignited.

His thoughts turned to the consummation of their marriage. It was an obligation, a necessary step to legitimize the charade of their marital vows. However, now, after that kiss that still made his heart race just by remembering, he felt an unsettling fear. He dreaded that touching Penelope's warm and velvety skin might deepen these emotions even further, unearthing desires and feelings he was uncertain how to confront.

Anthony sighed, frustrated with himself. Perhaps a more logical explanation existed for his emotions. Perhaps it was the sheer intensity of desire that gave that kiss its distinctiveness. Yes, that was it. Anthony had endured a prolonged absence of a woman's touch, and this scarcity might be amplifying sensations, such as a mere kiss, into something more profound than their reality.

Thus, that morning, he departed his residence prior to breakfast, heading to meet Sienna. He yearned for a moment of pure carnal pleasure with his mistress to forget the sensations that a simple kiss had stirred within him.

Sienna greeted him with a vexed expression.

"I sent a message yesterday asking you to come see me. Why did you not come?" she inquired, making way for him to enter her house.

Anthony instinctively gravitated towards her chambers.

"Yesterday marked my inaugural ball as a wedded man. I was obliged to be present alongside Penelope. After that, I was quite tired and retreated homeward for rest," he explained.

He deemed it prudent not to disclose the kiss shared with Penelope. Sienna didn't need to be privy to every detail of what transpired in his marriage.

Assisting him in the removal of his coat, Sienna took note of Anthony's loosened tie and interjected, "Fatigue has never rendered you incapable of my company. Furthermore, you are well aware that you are always welcome to seek repose within these walls. It would hardly be the first time of your departure at daybreak."

Seated upon the bed, Anthony released a sigh, "I am aware of that... However, now that I am wed, it would be unwise to absent myself overnight. Discretion must be exercised to avert undesired scrutiny upon my marriage."

Scaling the bed, she enfolded him from behind, her hand tracing a path across his chest as she voiced her thoughts, "I am mindful of the challenges that beset you... but upon engendering an heir with her, Anthony, you shall be emancipated. Unburdened to lead the life you were destined for, alongside me."

"Yes... that is my aspiration, Sienna... but Penelope… our union remains unconsummated."

"Why is this so?" Sienna exclaimed.

Anthony pivoted to face her as he replied, "I remain uncertain... She is a maiden and has expressed trepidation concerning the nuptial night. I don't want to pressure her into anything, so I told her we could proceed only when she feels at ease."

"Anthony! You cannot perpetually postpone this. You need to consummate it at once and ensure your seed is planted in her. You need an heir."

He lapsed into silence, his thoughts consuming him. The imprint of Penelope's kiss remained vivid in his mind, as if their lips had only just brushed moments ago.

Sienna sensed his hesitation and remarked, "I understand you don't truly desire her," leaning over him, her lips found his neck, "but pretend you're with me... envision my presence as you lean over her... picture me when you finally spill inside her."

Anthony had never spilled inside a woman before. The fear of fathering a bastard child had always prevented him from taking that step. But he knew with Penelope it would be inevitable, as that was the only way he could secure heirs. And thinking about it, he felt a surge of excitement at the prospect.

Sienna's kisses found their way to his shoulder, her seduction reminiscent of times she'd eased his tension. Anthony succumbed to her caresses, shutting his eyes and reclining on the bed. Straddling him, she continued her attention, her touch tracing a path downward.

However, against his will, the memory of Penelope's kiss surfaced again, and he superimposed Sienna's affection onto it, leading him to envision the kisses he was experiencing as coming from his wife. He opened his eyes to avoid dwelling on the notion, only to regret it instantly. A brief moment of sunlight painted Sienna's hair a shade of red, casting him into surprise.

"My lord?" She murmured, noticing his abrupt shift.

Meeting her gaze, Anthony glimpsed Penelope's face, her cheeks aglow, her lips tinted pink, and her azure eyes locked onto his. Anthony blinked forcefully, questioning his sanity. A second look and Sienna reappeared, her dark hair, eyes darker, and her complexion adorned with makeup, gazing at him with bewilderment.

"Is something amiss?" she inquired.

"No, nothing," he replied hastily, rising from the bed. "In fact, I have a prior engagement at the House of Lords."

"Now?" Sienna looked surprised as she observed Anthony dressing again.

"Yes, indeed. I had overlooked it. Regrettably, it's an unavoidable commitment."

"Oh, I see. But can we meet later tonight?" She inquired, then realized. "Oh, no! I'll be rehearsing today!"

"That's unfortunate." He completed tying his tie and slipped his watch back into his pocket.

She smiled, eager to share, "I'll be making my debut in Die Zauberflöte, next Saturday." She theatrically opened her arms and performed a slight curtsy. "You're looking at the newest performer of the Queen of the Night!"

Anthony offered a faint smile. "I'm glad for you, Sienna. I believe it will be a grand performance."

"Why don't you come and see me?"

"What?" He questioned, adjusting his appearance before the grand mirror in the room. Sienna embraced him from behind.

"Yes, Anthony. Pay me a visit. Bring your wife along. It might help her feel more at ease and finally consummate the marriage."

"Do you believe that could work?" He turned with a furrowed brow.

"Yes. And perhaps I can provide you with a pleasurable memory beforehand? Just seek me out backstage during the opera intermission." She smiled, her lips inching closer to his, but before she could seal the kiss, Anthony turned his face slightly, pretending to adjust the buttons on his shirt sleeve. In truth, he was feeling uneasy about kissing Sienna at that moment.

Her voice was filled with tempting promises, yet Anthony wouldn't be foolish enough to engage in such behavior with Penelope nearby. Not only would it be perilous to act that way in a theater, but it would also be profoundly disrespectful. He had agreed with Penelope to avoid unnecessary attention on their marriage, especially since Lady Whistledown had eyes and ears throughout London.

Nevertheless, he bid Sienna farewell. Anthony's lips barely grazed hers. The memory of the kiss with Penelope lingered, casting a shadow over him. Their farewell had been devoid of warmth, yet his mistress was accustomed to his restrained displays of affection.

During the carriage ride back home, Anthony felt a profound sense of unease. For the first time, he had kissed one woman while thinking of another. In a sense, he felt sullied by the intrusive thoughts.

He and Sienna were exclusive lovers, dedicated to only each other. Just as she didn't engage with other men, he refrained from other women.

However, Anthony's duty was to fulfill his obligations with Penelope. He understood this, but he hadn't anticipated Penelope's image to intrude upon his thoughts while he was in the arms of his mistress. It was inappropriate and proved challenging to manage.

Abruptly, he rapped on the window separating the driver's cab and issued a command, "To White's Club."

While at the club, Anthony attempted to divert his attention by engaging in games with fellow gentlemen, yet his thoughts remained far from the present. Seated now, his mind adrift from the game, he seized a cigar and began to smoke.

After a few hours, Benedict took a seat beside him, and a silence settled between them. By the time Anthony was onto his third cigar, his brother inquired, "Is something troubling you, Anthony?"

"Why do you inquire?" he muttered in response.

"Well, you appear poised to consume that entire box of cigars. Is there a concern plaguing your thoughts?"

Anthony sighed in reply. Internally, he grappled with whether he should confide in Benedict about the recent events. Given that he had previously divulged the marriage's facade, it seemed acceptable to share further.

"I kissed Penelope."

"Is that the source of your distress?" Benedict chuckled. "For a fleeting moment, I thought you might have committed a murder and were unsure how to dispose of the body. But is it really just that? A kiss is the cause of this deeply worried look on your face? I thought you had grown accustomed to such endeavors."

"No. It was our first kiss. And it should never have occurred."

"First kiss? Don't you kiss her when you're intimate?" Benedict appeared perplexed, his confusion deepening as he observed his brother's expression and grasped the reality.

"You haven't been intimate yet?" he whispered, genuinely surprised. "Why not?"

"She wasn't ready... we have time before considering children."

"Alright. I can understand that... but I don't understand why the kiss was a mistake. Is she a bad kisser or something?"

"Quite the opposite. She kisses divinely."

Anthony released a soft sigh, regretfully extinguishing the cigar, leaving Benedict puzzled.

"I'm starting to lose track of your reasoning, brother. If she kisses well, what was the issue, then?"

"It shouldn't have happened. That's not why I married her. I already have Sienna for that. Penelope's sole purpose is to give me children. That's all."

"Alright. I understand," Benedict seemed to contemplate. "So, go ahead and fulfill your duty with her. Then return to Sienna. Simple as that."

The appearance of simplicity arose solely from Benedict's lack of involvement in the situation. He hadn't savored the sweetness of her lips, as Anthony had. Even without prior experience, Penelope's mouth seemed to offer a taste of paradise when Anthony kissed her. How could he possibly resist such allure?

He knew he needed to address these internal conflicts, to prevent Penelope from becoming emotionally entangled. After all, she deserved far more than he could offer. He couldn't provide the love he knew she deserved. He couldn't allow himself to love her, as he was determined not to be ensnared by that emotion. Love brought pain, and Anthony had no desire to see Penelope to get hurt.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of that, the memory of the kiss stubbornly persisted, leaving him yearning for more, and simultaneously terrified of what it could mean for both of them.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Penelope diligently avoided dwelling on her husband's whereabouts or activities – and certainly not on whom he might be sharing them with. She refused to indulge in thoughts of Anthony sharing kisses with his mistress, reminiscent of how he had kissed her. She felt foolish for the thoughts she entertained and avoided getting entangled in his private life. After all, that wasn't the intent behind their marriage.

Anthony hadn't proposed matrimony with the intention of sharing kisses, since that was an activity he could easily partake in with his own mistress. Particularly because it was his mistress who had initially driven him towards marriage. Without Anthony's mistress, Penelope wouldn't hold the title of viscountess, a realization that left her unsettled. In a peculiar way, her new life owed its existence to the woman who now rested in her husband's embrace.

This was the perspective Penelope should maintain whenever she was with Anthony. She mustn't forget her designated role in this arrangement. Truly, it ought to be the sole enduring thought, rather than indulging in fantasies about the taste of her husband's lips.

To divert her mind, she immersed herself in her daily responsibilities and engrossed herself in reading. Burying herself within the pages of poems and novels appeared to be the only effective remedy to draw her away from moments of anguished contemplation.

Lunchtime came and went, and Anthony didn't return home. Penelope doubted she would see him at dinner. Perhaps he was taking the entire day to be with his mistress, to quench the longing he felt for her.

Shortly before the tea hour, the Bridgerton family embarked on a visit to Lady Danbury, who had extended an invitation for them all to partake in the occasion. Penelope politely declined, citing a slight indisposition, but the truth was her inclination to engage in conversations with others was minimal, especially given her melancholic state of mind.

As she neared the end of another book, a footman entered the room to announce a visitor.

"Humboldt, if it's my mother, kindly convey that I am not at my best disposition," Penelope's patience for Portia's relentless efforts to find a husband for Prudence was waning.

"It's not your mother, Lady Bridgerton."

"Well, then, who is it?" Penelope's surprise was evident as she hadn't anticipated any visitors on that particular day.

"Lord Debling. Shall I show him in?"

"Oh, please do." As the footman withdrew, she swiftly rose, reaching for the bell on the nearest wall to summon her maid for companionship.

Seconds later, with an air of regal presence, Lord Debling walked in, his blond hair meticulously swept back, a graceful smile adorning his lips, and his blue eyes never straying from Penelope's gaze as they exchanged their respectful bows.

Notes:

Oh no! Lord Debling again! What on earth is that blond guy with graceful smile up to?

Don't be mad at Anthony for the internal conflicts he's facing. This rake will indeed find love and fall deeply for our beloved little red-haired lady. Their first time will be breathtaking, I assure you.

Did you notice that Penelope is starting to feel certain things for her husband? Colin, who?

A little spoiler: The next chapter will be titled "Anthony's Inferno."

Chapter 12: Anthony's inferno

Summary:

Anthony's inferno is about to begin!

Notes:

Just to keep you guys updated on the progress of the story:

I was reviewing the chapter outline I created for this fanfic and realized that there might be more chapters than I initially imagined.

I'm thinking of a nice way to wrap up the Debling plot and I also need to include Colin's return and Lady Whistledown's revelation (which I've been putting aside, but it needs to come to light).

I had originally planned for 20 chapters, but it might extend to 23 or 25.

I'm keeping track of the "carnal intimacy" scenes, and it looks like we'll have 7, but it's not confirmed yet.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Penelope averted her gaze from Lord Debling when the maid entered the room and sat in a corner to keep them company.

"I greet you with the utmost respect, Lady Bridgerton," Debling smiled broadly. "I am grateful for your gracious reception despite the lack of prior notice."

"Welcome, Lord Debling. I am delighted by your visit. Please, have a seat."

Before taking his place, Debling presented Penelope with a modest bouquet of daisies, catching her off guard. The gift was an unexpected and yet heartwarming gesture.

"I passed by a florist on my way to your house and found these daisies too beautiful not to grace your presence, Lady Bridgerton."

Penelope was momentarily speechless. Lord Debling was making quite a curious impression on her. That man was indeed peculiar. And she certainly wasn't referring to the unusual collection of charms and astrology-related objects she knew he possessed. It wasn't that. Lord Debling had a different way of speaking and communicating with people, unlike other gentlemen. She was still trying to unravel the facets of his personality.

"Lord Debling, while I'm inclined to say you needn't have gone to such lengths, I must admit the gesture is truly heartening." Penelope's hand motioned for the maid to arrange the bouquet, her focus returning to Debling. "Tell me, what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

"Lady Bridgerton, I confess I feel somewhat shy about what I'm about to say," he smiled in a way that conveyed a certain embarrassment. Penelope nodded, giving him the confidence to continue. "Well, I couldn't bear the anticipation of seeing the copy of the Divine Comedy you mentioned to me that night. I know I should have given you prior notice, but..."

"Ah, yes. Don't worry," she smiled understandingly. "As an avid reader, I'm familiar with that kind of feeling."

"I hope I'm not being intrusive."

"Not at all. I'll fetch the copy myself. I'll be back in a minute," after departing the room, she made her way to the library to fetch the book. During her return, she arranged for tea to be readied for their enjoyment.

Upon reentering the drawing room, her gaze found Lord Debling, who was admiring the portrait of the late viscount and Lady Violet.

Debling turned around upon hearing footsteps, and asked, "There hasn't been an opportune moment for your image and the viscount's to be captured on canvas, I presume?"

"Oh, yes. We are gradually settling into married life."

"It will surely make for a beautiful portrait, in part due to your presence, of course," he smiled. Penelope once again felt flustered as she presented the copy.

"Here it is, Lord Debling. La divina commedia," she smiled. "Forgive my poor Italian."

In a few steps, he closed the distance between them, taking the book from her hands and sitting down to examine the work more closely.

"My goodness, Lady Bridgerton! It's still written in Florentine!" he remarked as he flipped through the pages of the book, impressed. "This is an incredibly rare copy. You must tell me where the Viscount obtained it."

"Well, I'll have to ask him directly, but I believe the work was already here before Anthony was born. His father, the former viscount, already had the library. I think it's a family heirloom."

"Incredible," he still had an impressed look in his eyes as he held the book as if it were incredibly fragile. "I'm a bit overwhelmed to have this work in my hands. It's truly divine, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't have taken you for a religious man, Lord Debling," Penelope politely commented.

The tea arrived, and she poured cups for both of them. Debling set the book aside and sipped some tea with biscuits, remarking, "Certainly not, Lady Bridgerton. In fact, I consider myself more a sinner than religious. What fascinates me about this work is its historical, political, and philosophical content. Besides Alighieri's brilliance, of course."

"Indeed, he was a great writer. And what fascinates me the most is that the story is about such a simple plot," Penelope reflected after taking a sip from her cup.

"What do you mean by simple, Lady Bridgerton?" He furrowed his brow. "Don't you think Alighieri was quite intricate in describing his Christian allegory?"

Penelope set her cup aside and adjusted her seating to better explain her thought:

"Oh, I didn't express myself properly, Lord Debling. Perhaps I used the adjective 'simple' inaccurately. When I say simple, I mean that the story presents the example of an ordinary citizen who has doubts, hesitates, and is tempted by evil. Who among us has never found themselves in such a situation? It's something that resonates with all of us. That's why I believe Alighieri's work speaks to us in a very intimate way."

"Indeed. I share the same perception," Lord Debling smiled at her. "It's wonderful to converse with someone who understands our thoughts so well! You are quite a discovery, Lady Bridgerton."

Penelope blushed at his comment and stammered, "You flatter me, sir. I am merely a literature enthusiast."

"I hope we can establish a cordial friendship. I believe our discussions about books will never cease," he said.

Penelope let out a melodious laugh.

Lord Debling was proving to be an extremely pleasant companion. The two talked about literature, science, classical music. Penelope felt at ease having someone who appreciated her intellect and challenged her with deep conversations.

As soon as Anthony arrived home, he was greeted by the footman.

"Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Humboldt," he glanced around as he removed his coat and hat. "The house is unusually quiet. I presume my family is absent?"

"Yes, sir. Your family is at Lady Danbury's residence."

"Very well. When my wife returns, make sure she's aware of my presence and that I plan to dine in my room," he said, heading towards the staircase. He didn't want to speak to Penelope just yet, not until he had calmed his own thoughts.

"Lady Bridgerton is at home, sir. Having tea in the drawing room with Lord Debling."

"Lord Debling?" Something burned in Anthony's stomach, almost like the brandy he had consumed at the club was rising back up his throat. Unconsciously, he clenched his jaw, turned around, and headed towards the drawing room.

There, he found Lord Debling quite at ease, engaging in lively conversation with Penelope. Anthony was growing to dislike that man's face even more.

"Anthony, what a surprise. I had anticipated our meeting only during dinner," Penelope exclaimed as she noticed his presence.

"I managed to swiftly attend to some matters and returned home earlier," he turned to their guest, inquiring, "Lord Debling, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I came to lay eyes upon the rare copy of the Divine Comedy your wife alluded to at the ball," he motioned towards the nearby book and continued, "it happens to be one of my favorite literary pieces, and the delightful surprise of discovering a fellow enthusiast with whom to share my musings on the plot was truly remarkable. You possess a remarkably astute wife, Bridgerton."

He offered a subtle nod towards Penelope, who blushed slightly and responded with a bashful smile. Anthony settled down beside her, casting a disapproving glance at Debling.

"I am well aware of her intellect, Debling. Now, I am curious, what was the topic of your conversation?"

"Should you permit me to inquire, Viscount, have you had the opportunity to peruse the work?" he indicated the book.

"Of course... but it's been a while," it was a half-truth. He had barely read the story back in college, but he had a rough idea of what the plot was about.

"Well, then join us. We were discussing which part of the work caught our attention the most. I was telling your wife that I'm fascinated by the part about paradise, where Dante speaks of his beatific vision."

"I love the description of purgatory," Penelope commented, "I think that's where Dante showcases the power of redemption and repentance."

"And you, Lord Bridgerton, what's your favorite part of the Divine Comedy?"

Anthony crossed his arms and responded, his gaze piercing Debling's:

"I lean more towards the infernal part, where Dante, in my view, unveils the essential nature of man. It's particularly in the descriptions of punishments that I find interesting. Many men in today's times, especially those who transgress the tenth commandment, seem to deserve some of those penalties, wouldn't you agree, Debling?"

"I wholeheartedly agree," Debling replied, maintaining his unwavering gaze, "The infernal segment certainly creates a remarkable impact. Especially when we delve into the Second Circle, reserved for the lustful and adulterers."

Penélope sensed a palpable tension in the air as she observed the interaction between the two men. With Debling's response, she saw her husband clench his jaw and exhale audibly through his nose. Anthony appeared uncomfortable with Lord Debling's presence, while the visitor seemed oblivious, a smile adorning his countenance.

"Well, I suppose each individual has their preference, don't they?" she spoke, her laughter tinged with nerves. "That's what makes this work so fascinating, the fact that all of us can connect with it and have our favorite parts."

"Indeed, Lady Bridgerton," Debling turned towards her, his smile returning. "You always manage to sum things up perfectly. You never cease to surprise me."

Penélope smiled. It was quite rare to receive such praise from a distinguished gentleman all in one day.

"Well, it's getting rather late, isn't it?" Anthony rose. "Lord Debling, if there's nothing further to add about Dante's inferno, I believe we can bid our farewells here."

Penélope was taken aback by the brusque manner in which Anthony seemed to want to dismiss their guest. She had never seen her husband behave so impolitely. Before she could say anything, Violet entered the room.

"I heard we have visitors," she curtsied. "Lord Debling, what a delightful surprise!"

"Lady Bridgerton! I came at the invitation of your dear daughter-in-law to examine an exceedingly rare copy of the Divine Comedy."

"Our library is a treasure trove of rarities, Lord Debling. You should come to visit more often and explore the volumes for yourself. My daughter Eloise would be thrilled to introduce them to you," she extended an invitation. "Oh, why not join us for dinner?"

"Mother, actually, Debling was already on his way out."

"Oh, do you have prior engagements for tonight?"

"Absolutely not, Lady Bridgerton. And even if I did, I would cancel them immediately. There's no place I'd rather be than here, sharing a good meal with esteemed company, particularly with my fellow critical reader."

"Excellent! Dinner will be served shortly," Violet smiled, noticing the bouquet. "Oh, such lovely daisies. Did you buy them for Penelope, my son?"

"They were actually a thoughtful gift from Lord Debling, Violet," the daughter-in-law murmured.

"They are truly beautiful! You have good taste, my Lord!"

Debling simply offered a gracious smile.

Anthony appeared as though he had swallowed something rather unpleasant. His expression was so sour that Violet asked, "Oh, dearest, are you feeling unwell?"

"Not at all, Mother," his jaw tightened slightly. As the women and Debling made their way to the dining room, Anthony accompanied them, feeling as though he was descending into his own personal version of Dante's inferno.

It was Anthony's inferno now.

Raising the second goblet of wine to his lips, Anthony observed the unfolding scene before him: Debling engrossed in an intriguing conversation with Eloise, Violet, and Penélope.

It was no surprise that his mother took a liking to Debling. With two daughters yet to be married, any distinguished man was regarded as a potential suitor. Although Anthony would never allow that particular man to court any of his sisters. Yet, perhaps preventing it would become a challenge, considering Eloise seemed entirely captivated by every word the blasted man uttered. Anthony couldn't ascertain whether she was merely being polite or genuinely enthralled by him.

That irked Anthony. His mother's fondness for Debling, he could understand, but Eloise as well? From Eloise, he at least expected condescending looks and sarcasm. However, his sister appeared quite engrossed in learning about his recent trip to Spain.

"Brother, if you ever lose your title and fortune, rest assured that your unique skill would be most welcome in a circus."

Anthony regarded his brother with a profoundly puzzled expression. He couldn't decide whether it was the wine or if Benedict was spouting more rubbish than usual.

"Let's pretend I understood what you just said. Which specific skill are we discussing?"

"Throwing daggers with your eyes," his brother suppressed a smile as he whispered, "although, I suppose that particular skill only seems to work in the presence of Lord Debling, doesn't it? I don't know how the man is still alive, considering how many times you must have ended his life in your thoughts."

Anthony let out a chuckle. His mind was indeed brimming with thoughts of unpleasant fates that could befall Lord Debling. Anthony's patience was rapidly waning in the face of his persistent courting of his wife under his own roof.

Just a few seconds later, Debling's irritating voice invaded Anthony's ears once more. He hadn't experienced a single moment of silence from that man yet.

"Oh, Lady Bridgerton, I'm quite certain you would enjoy the play that will be presented at the Covent Garden Theater next Saturday. 'Die Zauberflöte,' by Mozart."

"Ah, I've heard of it," Violet remarked, her eyes filling with nostalgia. "I attended one of the performances when Edmund was still alive."

"In that case, I would be honored by your presence next Saturday, Lady Bridgerton. I'll be occupying a private box."

"Oh, that would be an absolute delight!" exclaimed Violet, genuinely excited.

"So, you're also an opera enthusiast, Lord Debling?" Penelope asked casually.

"Absolutely, Lady Bridgerton. And I have a special fondness for a work by Mozart. My mother is German, and I was raised on German soil. We Germans will never cease to treasure the emergence of this masterpiece. Before Mozart, German opera was practically nonexistent."

"The critical often suggests that Mozart's work is full of Masonic symbolism, doesn't it?" Eloise inquired, showing her curiosity.

"Eloise, I believe this is not an appropriate subject to be discussed at the table," reprimanded Violet, her concern evident in her tone of voice.

"But, mother, I'm merely expressing my curiosity. Lord Debling doesn't seem to mind, does he?"

"I certainly don't mind, Miss Eloise. Curiosity is a virtue. The opera we are debating does indeed incorporate various Masonic symbols, alluding to the trials of the characters that reflect the Masonic journey. Although I am not an expert in this specific theme, this opera itself deeply fascinates me."

"Well, that certainly explains your enthusiasm," Eloise commented. "It seems you're a man of many passions, Lorde Debling."

"And indeed, I am, Miss Eloise. However, regarding this opera, I must admit I'm looking forward to witnessing the renowned aria of the Queen of the Night, 'Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen.'"

"Ah, the Queen of the Night! Such an intense character!" Violet reminisced with nostalgia.

"Without a doubt, Lady Bridgerton. In fact, I've heard that an aspiring actress is taking on that role. Sienna Rosso. I believe you're familiar with her, Lord Bridgerton?"

Anthony nearly choked on the wine he had just sipped, caught off guard by Lord Debling's unexpected question. He exchanged a quick and meaningful glance with Benedict before responding.

"I can't recall that name. If I do know her, I'm having trouble connecting the name to a face."

"Ah, I thought perhaps you were acquainted with her. She was at the last musical performance during the season's opening ball."

"Your memory seems much sharper than mine, Debling. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast." He let out a restrained chuckle, attempting to disguise the impact of that question and the implicit insinuation it carried.

Although Penelope was aware of his secret affair, apart from Benedict, no other family member was privy to this fact. Thus, Debling mentioning Sienna's name appeared to be a veiled message, hinting that he had knowledge about Anthony's intimate life.

"I could have sworn I saw the two of you talking, well, perhaps it was someone else," Debling redirected his attention to Penelope. "In any case, Lady Bridgerton, my invitation also extends to you. It would be delightful to share in this groundbreaking masterpiece of German culture."

"We had already planned to attend, Debling, but we appreciate the invitation," Anthony intervened.

Penelope looked surprised at her husband. Apparently, these were plans he hadn't shared with her. She felt unsure about how to feel regarding that, but she didn't comment.

"Well, then I believe we shall all see each other there," Debling raised his wine glass in a toast.

After dinner, Lord Debling didn't linger at the Bridgerton residence, bidding farewell to everyone and departing shortly. Anthony finally breathed a sigh of relief. The man's presence brought a tangible discomfort to him.

"Penelope…" He addressed his wife in front of the main staircase. "How was your day?"

Without knowing quite what to say, the foolish question slipped from his lips. Her day had certainly been bewildering, given that he had left home without explanations after their kiss the previous night.

"Are you genuinely interested in hearing about my day, Anthony?" She used a slightly chilly tone of voice, one she had never used with him before.

"Of course. We're married, aren't we? It's perfectly normal to share such information."

He seemed to have chosen the wrong words, as Penelope's reaction was a faint furrowing of her brow, as if she were irritated.

"We are married, oh yes... if you hadn't told me, I could hardly remember that fact." Her familiar sarcasm, a trademark of her irritation, surfaced briefly in her voice before she continued, "I had quite a pleasant day, especially with the presence of Lord Debling, who kindly paid me a visit."

"I found his behavior rather uncalled for, appearing without prior notice and practically inviting himself to dinner here," Anthony commented, displaying his discontent.

"Yes, and you made that quite clear to him," she retorted.

"What do you mean by that?"

Penelope's penetrating gaze met Anthony's face, and an unpleasant expression formed.

"I never imagined you would behave like this. Your manners certainly do not align with the way your mother raised you. I was not at all pleased with how you treated my guest."

"I beg you pardon? I barely said a word to the man!"

"No, you certainly conveyed much more than mere words," she countered.

"It seems you quite enjoyed his visit, huh?" Anthony inquired, feeling a burning sensation in his stomach as he recalled how Penelope had smiled and blushed in the presence of Debling.

"Why wouldn't I? He's a pleasant man. At least I had someone to converse with.".

Anthony took a deep breath, trying to avoid a heated argument.

"Penelope, I don't want to argue about Debling. How about we go to the library for a cup of tea? We could spend some time together..."

He was interrupted before he could finish, by her voice.

"I appreciate the offer, but I've had enough tea today. I must retire now. Good night, my lord." She hurried up the stairs, not giving him a chance to say anything.

It seemed that, even after Debling's departure, Anthony's Inferno continued.

Notes:

In the next chapter, we'll have the opera and a heated argument between our couple. And you know that heated arguments often end with passionate kisses, right? Didn't know that? Well, now you do.

Oh, one more thing, I usually include a lot of literary references in my fanfics because, besides enjoying reading, I have a degree in Brazilian, Spanish, and Portuguese literature, and I'm also passionate about English literature. So, there might be too many references! Let me know if it's too much.

Chapter 13: Reflections

Notes:

Hello, everyone.

Initially, my intention was to post the chapter of the opera today, but I'm still finalizing it. Also I didn't want to post this and the opera scene together because would be an extremely long chapter with a lot going on.

So, I'm posting this one here, bringing up Lady Whistledown's papers. So in the next one will we have the opera, a heated discussion between our couple, and other things as well...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dear gentle readers,

The end of March heralds the arrival of spring in this blessed land, and it appears that things are blossoming within the heart of the Bridgerton household.

Following a marriage that continues to elicit looks of astonishment and inquisitive remarks, even from this humble hand guiding this pen, it seems that the circle of friendship within the Bridgerton family appears to be expanding.

Lord Debling, who returned at the beginning of the season after years of absence, has been seen twice in the company of the new Viscountess Bridgerton.

At Lady Danbury's recent ball, the distinguished gentleman engaged in a literary conversation with her. This wouldn't be particularly noteworthy if, on the following day, Lord Debling hadn't been received by Lady Penelope Bridgerton herself in the family's drawing room without prior notice. Quite intriguing, isn't it?

With one of the Bridgerton daughters making her debut in the marriage market, could it be that Lord Debling is making a strong declaration of his interest? After all, Lady Bridgerton now guides the matrimonial destinies of her sisters-in-law thus it would be only natural to witness Lord Debling in her company.

Or perhaps he has other intentions in mind by drawing closer to the Bridgerton family?

Fear not, dear gentle readers, my ears and eyes shall remain vigilant, and my quill shall not rest until I uncover the truth.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS,

5 April 1815

A carriage ride back from the printing press was a contemplative journey for Penélope. She had left her manuscript for the publication of the Lady Whistledown Society's papers at the church as had been arranged with the printing press that produced the pamphlets. This had been the method she had devised to avoid drawing suspicion upon herself. Now, as a viscountess, she could no longer afford to stroll through the streets of London without being recognized.

In that moment, letting out a sigh, she pondered her marital situation. Penelope was finding it increasingly difficult to understand her husband, and this was causing a certain frustration. She had always thought she could read people well, but perhaps doing so with someone she shared a marital bond with was more challenging than she had thought.

She couldn't shake off the feeling of being upset by his sudden disappearance from home the next morning after their kiss. Even as she tried not to dwell on it, Penelope wondered if she had done something wrong. She even began to imagine that the kiss was so bad that Anthony didn't want to see her afterward.

As frustrated as she felt, she knew that she couldn't let this situation fester. With the potential of a long married life ahead, she acknowledged that navigating challenges within the marriage was inevitable.

She sighed again, feeling her inexperience in matters of matrimony. With just a few weeks of marriage under her belt, she hadn't yet gleaned enough about the intricacies of wedded life. Managing a household seemed relatively straightforward compared to navigating the complexities of emotions entwined with another human being, especially one as enigmatic as a man – among the most confounding creatures on Earth.

It seemed prudent to seek counsel from someone wiser. Her friend Eloise came to mind, having often lent an ear to Penélope's confidences. Yet, Eloise's lack of experience mirrored Penélope's.

Violet, her mother-in-law, was another option. Apart from being Anthony's mother, Penélope hesitated to confess her marriage troubles to her. Strangely and unfairly, she felt a twinge of guilt about the situation, as if she were to blame.

Speaking to Portia was out of the question. Her mother would be the least suitable person to offer advice; she'd likely tell Penélope to keep quiet and not upset her husband.

Then, in a moment of clarity, Penelope recalled the one person she could confide in about her doubts. Tapping on the small window that separated her from the coachman, she instructed him to take her to a different address. The carriage changed course, carrying her toward a destination that held the promise of guidance and understanding.

After breakfast, Anthony spent most of the morning tending to his business. Before lunchtime, he retreated to the living room, savoring the rare moment of tranquility to read the newspaper. However, he could barely absorb the words, his mind far away, contemplating the events of the previous night and pondering which direction to take to mend his relationship with Penelope.

She hadn't come down for breakfast, citing an indisposition, but he quickly realized it was a flimsy excuse to avoid seeing him. Anthony was tempted to go to her room, to force her to face him, but he thought that might push her further away. Gradually, he was coming to understand that Penelope possessed a strong will, and if they were to clash, he was almost certain he wouldn't emerge victorious. It was with a mix of astonishment and pride that he observed this facet of his wife.

With a sigh, he set the newspaper aside and summoned the housekeeper. Despite Penelope's reluctance to converse, the two of them needed to talk.

"Mrs. Wilson, please inform my wife that I would like her presence in my office before lunch, if you would."

"Lady Bridgerton isn't at home, sir," the housekeeper promptly informed him.

"Where is she?" He was taken aback by this information.

"She left the house early, sir. Right after breakfast."

"She left?" His voice held surprise. "And did she inform you where she was going?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

Anthony dismissed the housekeeper, finding it strange that Penelope had left the house without disclosing her whereabouts. He had agreed with her that she would have a certain degree of freedom as his wife, but he had at least expected the courtesy of being informed in advance of the places she frequented, solely for the purpose of ensuring her safety. Yet, it seemed Penelope didn't care to keep him informed about anything. An unsettling feeling crept over him as he leaned back, imagining his wife's whereabouts.

Seated in Lady Danbury's elegantly furnished drawing room, Penelope found herself caught up in a discussion of trivial matters.

However, internally, she questioned whether seeking advice in this particular setting was the right choice. Now, facing Lady Danbury, she wondered if it was wise to expose the complexities of her personal life to another.

"And now, my dear, after we've exchanged pleasantries, shall we move on to the true purpose of your visit?"

"Sorry?" Penelope's voice wavered with nerves. "What makes you assume I have hidden motives for being here, Lady Danbury?"

"Well, you just confirmed it. Your stumble and that startled expression say it all," Lady Danbury chuckled in response.

Penelope's lips curved into a fond smile at her perceptive friend's comment. Nonetheless, she took a brief moment to collect herself before inquiring, "Was your marriage a happy one, Lady Danbury?"

"Oh, far from it. My husband was old, repugnant, and showed little regard for my intelligence, even when I made an effort to help him achieve his aspirations."

"That's rather sad." A tinge of melancholy laced Penelope's voice.

"Indeed, it was. Despite my marriage not being a fairy tale, let me tell you, my dear, becoming a widow is among the most fortunate turns my life has taken. But why do you inquire about these matters, Lady Bridgerton? Is something troubling you? Is it related to your married life?"

Penelope hesitated, unsure whether to broach the topic with Lady Danbury. However, the elderly woman had previously shared an intimate part of her life, so Penelope felt it was only fair to reciprocate that trust.

"Well, Lady Danbury, I'm finding myself somewhat at a loss when it comes to navigating my marriage. Anthony is... Well, he can be rather challenging to deal with."

"I've never doubted that, my dear. The firstborn is always the most complicated. But what exactly are you facing?"

"At times, he's charming and gallant, while at others, he's moody and rude. I was starting to adjust, you see, but sometimes I feel adrift, uncertain if I'm doing something wrong."

"Penelope, dear, men may claim that we women are emotionally fragile, but in truth, they're the ones occupying that place of vulnerability. We women tend to manage our emotions quite capably. However, the same can't always be said for the male species."

"Exactly, Lady Danbury." Penelope spoke, feeling more at ease as she opened up about her private worries. "I'm relieved you grasp my situation so well. To illustrate my concern, just the day before yesterday, we shared an intimate moment, and I believed our relationship was progressing. Yet, the following day, he simply departed without a word, spending the entire day away. However, upon returning home that evening, he behaved rudely towards my guest, Lord Debling. So I'm left puzzled by his behavior."

"Oh, dear, there's scarcely anything more fragile in this world than a male ego. If you'll allow me to offer some advice, don't expend energy attempting to dissect your portion of blame in a situation you didn't instigate. Allow Lord Bridgerton to navigate his own emotions. When you feel comfortable, have a conversation with him."

Penelope's smile brightened, her distress alleviated. "I appreciate your insight, Lady Danbury. I had a feeling your words would carry wisdom."

"Permit me a more personal question: does he treat you well in the bedroom, or do you feel uneasy in any manner?"

"Oh, no, not at all. In fact, we haven't... Well... We haven't engaged in what couples typically do, you know... To ensure the continuation of the family line."

"Oh, no. Not this again." Lady Danbury sighed.

"Not again? What are you alluding to, Lady Danbury?" Penelope furrowed her brow.

Without uttering a word, the elderly lady rose and rang the bell to summon a servant.

"We'll require more tea. We have much to discuss."

As Penelope returned home, the resonance of Lady Danbury's counsel lingered in her thoughts, and she was resolved not to allow her husband's fiery temper to cast shadows of distress over her days.

At the same time, after a conversation with vivid illustrations about physical intimacy between man and woman, Penelope knew she needed to address the matter of consummating their marriage. Lady Danbury was right in saying that without consummation, the title of Viscountess that Penelope currently held was at risk.

Stepping into the drawing room, she was mildly taken aback to find her husband, typically engaged in serious matters, engrossed in the latest society paper by Lady Whistledown. The revelation that he enjoyed such reading material was a surprise to her.

Aware that this week's papers would send ripples through the elegant parlors and salons of her social circle, especially within her new family, Penelope recognized her role as the voice behind the pen. She knew she had to address Debling's sudden interest in her.

"Good evening, Anthony," she greeted him.

In response, a furrow formed on his brow, conveying his annoyance with the contents of what he had just read. He looked up at her and inquired, "May I know where you were?"

"At Lady Danbury's residence. We shared lunch, and I lost track of time," Penelope replied. "If you're prepared, I shall instruct Mrs. Wilson to serve dinner."

Anthony offered a mere nod before Penelope left the room. He had initially intended to broach their matters, but the recent publication by Lady Whistledown had stoked his irritation. The implications of Debling's interest in courting Eloise unsettled him deeply. He resolved that he would sooner permit that dubious man near his sisters over his own lifeless body.

However Anthony harbored doubts regarding Debling's intentions toward his sister. It appeared that Debling's attention was solely fixed on Penelope, evident through his continuous smiles and lingering gazes. This vexed Anthony to such an extent that he could feel the discomfort of gastritis gnawing at his stomach. Waves of anger and jealousy surged through his thoughts whenever he envisioned Lord Debling in close proximity to Penelope.

Moreover, Anthony found himself wondering Lady Whistledown's astute observation. Could there be a concealed motive behind Debling's eagerness to integrate himself into their family circle, particularly when it concerned Penelope? The seeds of suspicion had been sown, causing Anthony's concern to intensify, adding a layer of intrigue to the unfolding situation.

His mind wandered back to the dinner from the previous night, a scene vividly etched in his memory. It was during that gathering that Debling had subtly alluded to his knowledge of Anthony's affair with Sienna.

A sudden, unexpected unease enveloped Anthony as he pondered the looming possibility of his affair being exposed by Lady Whistledown. The mere thought of his reputation being tarnished was distressing, but the notion of Penelope being caught in the crossfire left him deeply unsettled. The idea of her enduring public humiliation because of his actions was a weight he couldn't bear to fathom.

In the midst of this inner turmoil, he recognized the urgency to reflect on his behaviors and choices. It became evident that a reevaluation of his attitudes and actions was not just prudent, but imperative.

Notes:

I hope you all enjoyed our introspective little Anthony.

Chapter 14: A nigth at the opera

Notes:

I tried to write a shorter chapter, but it didn't work out. That's why I had to split today's chapter into two parts, or there would be too much happening all at once.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The days went by, and both Penelope and Anthony adopted a cordial demeanor towards each other, determined to approach their marriage with a lighter mood.

Following Lady Danbury's counsel, Penelope opted to allow Anthony to navigate his own emotions. This led her to refrain from addressing the subject of the kiss they had shared. In her mind, Penelope had convinced herself that the gesture held no significance for her husband, assuming he likely reserved such affections for his mistress. This sentiment unsettled her, yet she buried the discomfort within herself and carried on, striving to center her focus on her own pursuits.

As foreseen, Lady Whistledown's article did indeed ignite a reaction within her family. Eloise was the first to voice her thoughts, expressing that while she considered Lord Debling an acceptable suitor, marriage wasn't on her horizon in the immediate future. Eloise believed there were more pressing matters for a young woman to engage in than the complexities of matrimony.

Penelope found solace in her friend's lack of reaction to her written words. She had no intention of allowing her identity as Whistledown to cast shadows over her family dynamics.

Counter to Penelope's assumptions, Anthony found himself unable to banish the memory of the shared kiss from his mind. Since that poignant moment, he hadn't managed to communicate with Sienna, despite the persistent messages she sent his way. Anthony felt compelled to resolve his matters with Penelope before addressing his involvement with Sienna.

However, he refrained from directly summoning his wife for a conversation. He grappled with the challenge of expressing his sentiments adequately. Since their shared kiss, the dynamic between them had shifted, and Anthony grappled with finding the right words to bridge the emotional gap that had formed.

On that evening, as he awaited his wife for their trip to the opera, Anthony contemplated the best approach to broach the subject between them. Upon catching sight of her, he once again experienced that fleeting breathlessness that always overcame him when he saw his wife dressed up. She was elegantly adorned in a golden ensemble.

"Penelope, you look exquisite," he remarked, seizing the opportunity to pay her a sincere compliment.

"Thank you, Anthony."

Her cheeks tinged with a blush, and a sense of inner delight warmed him as he assisted her into the carriage. He found gratification in being the cause of his wife's flushed cheeks.

During the ride, a comfortable silence settled between them as each lost themselves in their own thoughts.

Anthony considered that the pleasant evening at the opera might be the catalyst for improving their relationship. While they had maintained politeness in their interactions recently, he acknowledged within himself that he yearned for his wife's sharp wit and her companionship.

Penelope on the other hand was thinking about their marriage. She knew that the consummation was inevitable. Following her conversation with Lady Danbury, during which her lingering doubts had finally been addressed, she understood that the need for their consummation was immediate. She couldn't deny her curiosity about how things might unfold between them. Not only curious, she also harbored uncertainties.

Lady Danbury had mentioned that pleasure could be derived from the act of consummation, provided the man knew what he was doing. Penelope was certain that Anthony must be a skilled practitioner in the arts of seduction and pleasure. He wouldn't be such a renowned rake if he weren't. But what if he only reserved pleasure for his mistress?

However, that kiss they had exchanged had provided Penelope with a small inkling that perhaps Anthony could indeed offer her pleasure. With just a kiss, he had ignited a fire that burned right between Penelope's legs. She had always thought of kissing as something romantic, but in truth, she had felt a visceral need take hold of her when Anthony's tongue had touched hers.

Her reverie was broken as the carriage pulled up at the theater. Stepping out of the vehicle with Anthony's support, she was met by the sight of her mother and elder sister.

"Mother? I hadn't realized you were joining us today." She was surprised.

Portia smiled, "Oh, my dear, your husband graciously extended the invitation to us."

"You didn't inform me you were planning this," Penelope turned to her husband in surprise.

"I thought it would be a pleasant surprise."

"Is your brother not attending, Lord Bridgerton?" Portia inquired, "Or perhaps he's about to arrive? Prudence would be overjoyed by his presence, wouldn't you, dear?" She nudged her distracted daughter, who was scanning her surroundings.

"Oh, yes, indeed, I adore the opera," she replied, adjusting her posture.

"My brother is accompanying my mother and sister. They'll be arriving shortly. Let's head to take our seats."

The four of them proceeded into the theater, exchanging greetings with acquaintances along the way.

Inside, the theater exuded opulence, with sparkling chandeliers suspended from lofty ceilings and walls adorned with intricate tapestries. Distinguished guests mingled, their lively conversations mingling with the aura of anticipation before the opera's commencement.

In the midst of the crowd, Anthony's gaze landed on Lord Debling's familiar countenance.

"Lorde Bridgerton! Lady Bridgerton! What a delightful surprise to see you here tonight," Lord Debling greeted, his eyes lingering meaningfully on Penelope.

Anthony restrained himself from uttering an insult and resisted the urge to punch the man, settling for a smile as he turned towards his mother-in-law.

"I believe you've already had the pleasure of meeting my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law. Lady Featherington and Miss Prudence Featherington."

Penelope glanced at her husband, her confusion growing at this sudden introduction and the peculiar smile on his face.

"Oh, indeed. I hope you both are in good health." Both women responded with reverence, and Debling promptly shifted his attention to Penelope. "Lady Bridgerton, I hope you and your husband will join me in my private box. It would be delightful to discuss the meanings and subtleties of the story we are about to witness."

Before Penelope could reply, Anthony slipped an arm around her waist and responded on behalf of both of them, "Your kindness is truly appreciated, Lord Debling, but I believe we'd prefer to secure our own seats."

"What a pity. Nevertheless, I eagerly anticipate our post-performance discussion, Lady Bridgerton. I believe our critiques will be quite in sync, but I must confess I'm particularly curious to hear your perspective on the opera."

Penelope, who already expected that Anthony wouldn't accept Debling's invitation, tried to smile kindly at him, "It would be my pleasure, Lord Debling. I don't often encounter such attentive listeners for my words."

"Believe me, Lady Bridgerton, it would be my pleasure to listen to you." After bestowing her with a smile, he inquired further, "And what about the other Lady Bridgerton? Shall your mother be gracing us with her presence?"

"Yes, she's on her way with my sister and brother."

"Excellent!" Debling's smile returned once again. "We're in for a truly splendid experience with the opera today."

Anthony seized the opportunity to set into motion the small plan he had orchestrated earlier that day and erase that self-satisfied grin from Debling's countenance.

Knowing Portia's eagerness as a mother to secure a suitable match for her unmarried daughter, he recognized this situation as a chance not only to divert Debling's attention away from Penelope but also to redirect his mother-in-law's focus towards another potential suitor for Prudence.

With a subtle smile, Anthony continued, "Speaking of which, my sister-in-law possesses a fervent love for opera and has yet to experience 'The Magic Flute.' It would indeed be an extraordinary privilege to have someone as well-versed as yourself guide her through its intricate plot and provide enlightening commentary during the performance."

Lord Debling appeared momentarily taken aback by the unexpected proposition.

Anthony detected a glint of calculation in Portia's eyes and turned his gaze to Prudence and offered a subtle nod in the direction of Debling's box, "What do you think, Miss Prudence?"

The Featherington matriarch wasted no time seizing the opportunity. "What a marvelous suggestion! Prudence, my dear, why not seize this unique chance and enjoy the opera in the company of Lord Debling? I'm certain it will be an unforgettable experience."

Prudence's gaze flickered between faces, her surprise evident. But soon an eager smile blossomed on her lips as she readily accepted the idea.

"I would love to!"

Satisfied with his shrewd maneuver, Anthony addressed Debling with a composed expression. "It's settled, then. I shall enjoy the opera alongside my wife, and my sister-in-law shall have the honor of your company, Lord Debling."

Debling momentarily appeared to have lost his footing, but he mustered a forced smile, accepting the role Anthony had proposed. "Miss Featherington, it will indeed be my pleasure. Let's take our seats."

As the ladies were led to Debling's box, a masked sense of satisfaction and relief washed over Anthony. He recognized that he had adeptly shifted the dynamics – evading a direct confrontation with Debling while redirecting Portia's attention elsewhere.

Anthony felt as though he had executed a masterstroke on the intricate chessboard of high society.

As soon as Lord Debling went to his box with Portia and Prudence, Benedict, Eloise, and Violet arrived.

"Ah, there you two are. Looks like the show is about to begin in a few minutes," Violet said, then turned to her daughter. "Let's head to Lord Debling's box, dear."

"Actually, Mother, "Anthony informed them before they departed." Debling is with the Featheringtons at the moment. There's no room in his box."

"Really?" Violet appeared surprised.

"Yes. Anthony came up with the idea of kindly suggesting that Debling receive them in his box." Penelope responded. Her expression clearly indicated that she was still surprised by the situation.

"He kindly accepted." Anthony said, "I must even say he seemed pleased with the arrangement."

"Well, I suppose we'll have to stay in the family box then." Violet responded, her gaze sweeping over the group as if she were taking a headcount. "I hope we'll all fit together."

"It won't be necessary, Mother. Penelope and I will share our own box. Enjoy the opera," he said, turning to his wife. "Shall we?"

Before they departed, Benedict, a curious smile playing on his lips, beckoned Anthony over.

"A word, brother?"

Anthony followed him to a corner. "Yes?"

"Debling kindly agreed, huh? Seems more like you forced the Featheringtons into his box. I must admit, that was a clever move. Well, in fact, quite a desperate one."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, brother." Anthony said. "And you should thank me."

"Me?" Benedict's brow furrowed, "Why?"

"I killed two birds with one stone." Anthony explained his little plan, "Now that Whistledown has suggested that Debling is in search of a match, and I've just connected the dots between him and Penelope's mother, it's only a matter of time before my mother-in-law makes him marry her daughter. So, in a way, I saved your neck, brother. I saw it coming — her trying to engineer a compromising situation between you and her daughter."

"You saved my neck?" Benedict whispered, indignantly, "You're the one who got me into this mess!"

"Anyway, you're welcome." Adjusting his jacket, Anthony said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be enjoying the opera with my wife in my private box without the presence of pompous, intrusive blonde men."

As they settled into their private box, Penelope slipped off her gloves and turned towards her husband."Anthony, I must admit, I'm rather perplexed by your recent actions." Her voice carried a hint of concern.

Anthony met her gaze, his expression guarded. "What actions are you referring to, my dear?"

"Your sudden interest in pairing Prudence with Lord Debling. It's not like you to be so invested in arranging matches. Well, at least I wasn't familiar with this matchmaking side of yours."

"Penelope, you know I only have Prudence's best interests at heart. Debling is, in my assessment, an acceptable match for her." Anthony responded with a hint of playful concern.

Penelope raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Oh, don't make me laugh with those words. Just a few days ago, you detested Debling, thought him a pompous meddler,."

Anthony nodded, his jaw set. "I still do. My feelings toward Debling haven't changed. But that doesn't diminish my interest in seeing Prudence settled."

Penelope's eyes narrowed slightly, and a mischievous smile played on her lips. "And might I ask, dear husband, what has prompted this sudden change of heart?"

Anthony sighed, his frustration momentarily showing. "It seems the infamous Whistledown has been weaving her tales again. Yes, she may have suggested Debling's interest in Eloise. But she's wrong. Eloise is not going to marry Debling."

"I must say I find myself agreeing with you," Penelope admitted, her gaze meeting his.

Anthony blinked in mild surprise. "Truly? I think this might be the first time you've ever agreed with me."

Penelope chuckled, a lightness in her tone. "Oh, now you're just exaggerating."

"Well, if memory serves me right, we've often held differing opinions." A corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, a touch of amusement in his eyes.

Penelope's laughter danced in the air, and she playfully nudged his arm. "Oh, you know what they say about couples – we may not always agree, but we certainly keep life interesting."

He grinned back at her, a rare twinkle in his eyes. "True enough. And I must admit, your unique perspective always keeps me on my toes."

"You are welcome, my Lord. It brings me joy to add a touch of intrigue to your life." She replied with a teasing smile gracing her lips.

"You're truly selfless. I suppose that's yet another among your prominent virtues."

"You're absolutely right."

"Really? Me being right twice in one evening must be unprecedented. If it happens again, I think we might be nearing the end of the world." Penelope chuckled at his remark, and Anthony continued, "but you mentioned that you were in agreement with me. What precisely were you alluding to?"

"Eloise won't marry Debling, or anyone for that matter. At least not this season."

Anthony's curiosity was piqued. "If you believe Eloise won't marry, then why did you place her in dancing lessons and encourage her to entertain suitors?"

A soft sigh escaped Penelope's lips. "I negotiated with Eloise. She agreed to dance and socialize to appease Violet's worries of having a rebellious daughter. And I suggested she dance with potential suitors because it's the only way she'd know what she truly desires. By experiencing what's available, she gains clarity on what she doesn't want in a husband." Penelope continued, "It's one way I've found to please both Violet and Eloise without endless debates and tensions."

As she finished her explanation, Anthony's admiration for her intelligence grew even more profound. He realized that she was born for the role of a viscountess, her mind strategic and astute. He knew he couldn't have chosen a more fitting partner.

Before she could anticipate it, his hand found hers, fingers intertwining as he gently caressed her palm. He pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles, his voice a warm whisper. "You're a perfect wife, Penelope."

A delicate blush dusted her cheeks, and she looked away, her voice a touch shy. "The performance is about to begin."

Yet a smile lingered on her lips, an unexpected reaction to her husband's sudden praise.

After the opera concluded, the audience once again filled the foyer, sharing comments and praises about the performance.

Anthony savored the enjoyable time he had spent beside Penelope. Together, they exchanged remarks and shared giggles throughout the entire performance, and he relished in the happiness that it brought. It felt as though the equilibrium was being restored. A sense of contentment was seeping through him, impossible to be diminished.

Anthony scanned the crowd for his family and spotted the opera cast stepping forward to receive compliments. He saw Sienna and he smile slowly vanished from his lips

"Let's go greet them!" Penelope walked ahead eagerly, and to Anthony's dismay, she headed straight for Sienna, who was still dressed in the costume of the character she had portrayed.

"Miss Rosso, allow me to congratulate you. You were a perfect Queen of the Night. Your performance was impeccable!" Penelope smiled, and Sienna responded with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton."

Anthony deliberately avoided looking at Sienna and gestured towards the other side of the room, addressing Penelope. "My mother is over there. Let's meet her."

He took Penelope's hand, and they weaved through the crowd, finally reaching the group of Bridgertons standing together.

"That was a magnificent play, wasn't it, dear?" Violet asked, initiating a discussion about the story that soon engaged Eloise and Penelope.

While the women conversed and Benedict slipped away to meet some artist friends, Anthony stood to the side, observing the bustling crowd. Penelope's brief conversation with Sienna was unexpected and left him uncertain about his feelings. Seeing his wife interact with his lover was an uncomfortable twist he hadn't prepared for, and a pang of shame gnawed at him.

Besides avoiding Sienna's clandestine meetings in recent days, he had also intentionally avoided encountering her backstage, as she had requested during their last encounter. In addition to not wanting to find himself in an awkward situation, he had genuinely relished spending the opera's intermission in conversation with Penelope.

Sensing the weight of someone's stare, he turned his eyes to the right, meeting Sienna's questioning gaze. It was as if her expression silently asked why he hadn't visited her. He felt a surge of cowardice and swiftly redirected his attention, striking up a conversation with a gentleman nearby.

Although the exchange of glances between Anthony and Sienna was fleeting, it lasted long enough for Penelope to pick up on an underlying tension. Within seconds, she had the unsettling realization that Sienna was more to Anthony than just an acquaintance. She was his lover.

The knowledge hit her like a wave, and she compared herself, feeling inadequate in the presence of the stunning dark-haired beauty. She couldn't help but think that if Sienna were a noblewoman, she would be a more suitable match to stand beside Anthony. She understood now why her husband had pursued an affair with her – why he desired her.

Yet, as sadness gave way to anger, Penelope's emotions flared. Anthony had promised to keep the affair hidden, so why was he exchanging glances with his lover in a crowded theater? She felt insulted, wondering if anyone else had noticed their interaction.

The conversation ceased to captivate her. Being in the midst of the crowd no longer brought her pleasure. Her expression grew somber, and she lapsed into silence, abstaining from participating in Violet and Eloise's spirited debate about Sarastro's true intentions in the opera.

Anthony, sensing the abrupt change in his wife's demeanor, asked, "Is everything alright, Penelope?"

In a voice devoid of warmth, she replied, "I'm tired. I'll return home earlier in the carriage."

"Are you feeling unwell? Has something happened?"

"It's nothing. I simply wish to return home."

"We can leave. I'll call for the coachman."

"You don't have to come with me." She spoke in a strange voice he didn't recognize. Her expression had lost all the delight from moments before. "You can stay and continue enjoying the evening."

"I insist. I'll accompany you back home."

Within a matter of minutes, they were on their way back home.

The journey back was cloaked in silence. Penelope refused to look at him or speak a word throughout the ride, leaving him bewildered by the sudden shift in her mood. They had been having a pleasant evening, and then suddenly everything changed.

The essence of the feminine, Anthony mused,was indeed enigmatic and diverse – each woman seemed to possess its multifaceted nature, designed to bewilder men.

Notes:

In the next chapter, we'll see the tension between Penelope and Anthony explode. And finally, the smut is coming! Yay!

But I also warn you that there will be a bit of angst.

Chapter 15: Consummation

Notes:

So, the smut chapter is finally upon us.

We're in for an emotional roller coaster ride. Penelope and Anthony are realizing that things aren't so straightforward when it comes to their relationship. There are more emotions, tangled emotions, that arise when least expected. Emotions that no contract could foresee or control.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Upon arriving home, Penelope immediately ascended to her room without a word of farewell to Anthony. He was taken aback by her abrupt behavior, especially given the pleasant moment they had shared.

In his study, Anthony contemplated his brandy, his mind clouded by confusion. Just when he felt he was making headway with Penelope, something would arise, causing her to retract. It was astonishing how adeptly she could unsettle him. No woman had ever wielded such power over his emotions.

Pushing back his chair, he resolved not to tolerate her treatment. They had an arrangement, and nowhere in their agreement was there a clause permitting her occasional transformation into a shrew.

Anthony strode into his wife's chamber, his expression a blend of frustration and concern. "Penelope, we need to have a conversation."

Penelope, who had been seated at her vanity, stood up and addressed him with icy detachment, "I have nothing to discuss with you. Please leave my room."

Once again, her deliberately rude behavior caught him off guard. "What is wrong? Why are you treating me like this?"

"Just leave, Anthony!" She exclaimed, her agitation evident.

However, Anthony remained unmoved. He, too, was caught in the grip of heightened irritation. The vision of a tranquil marriage with Penelope was slowly dissipating with each ticking second. "I won't let you ignore me. Clearly, this behavior was not part of our convenience agreement," he said.

A surge of anger coursed through Penelope's veins, and her lips tightened as she retorted to her husband's words. "I am well aware of exactly what the terms were. Perhaps it is you who needs reminding, Anthony. You bestowed upon me your word of honor, yet time has only demonstrated that I cannot place trust in it."

"You doubt my word?" He exclaimed, feeling outraged."What on earth have I done to warrant such an offensive conclusion?"

"Offensive?" Penelope's face turned pallid, morphing into a mask of anger. "Offensive was witnessing you exchange glances with your mistress in the midst of a crowded theater! I asked you to keep your affair discreet, but you seem to care little about the shame that could befall me!"

Anthony's retort caught in his throat, his brow furrowing as he struggled for words. He was taken aback by her directness and also by how swiftly Penelope had pieced together his connection with Sienna from just a single glance. Although he was impressed by her perceptiveness, he also realized that using her observation skills as a compliment would only further enrage her.

"Are you going to deny it?" Penelope's voice quivered with lingering anger.

A heavy silence fell between them. Penelope stared at Anthony with anger, indignant. He, on the other hand, gazed at the floor, unable to witness the disappointment etched across her face. He felt like the most wretched man on Earth for having let her down.

"I won't deny it," he admitted after a few moments, his voice heavy with regret. "Penelope, I am genuinely sorry for my actions that caused you pain. I never intended to disgrace you. While you might doubt my words, I want you to grasp my determination to never let you down again. I will exert every effort to prevent such mistakes from recurring. Please, forgive me." Anthony's shoulders slouched as he spoke with a heartfelt sincerity.

Her eyes widened slightly, taken aback by his admission and apology. Anthony wasn't one to apologize for anything – his communication often dripped with an arrogant demeanor. But the evident sincerity in his words reached a place within her heart that she hadn't anticipated. Penelope turned away from him, heading toward the pitcher of water.

As she poured herself a glass of water, Penelope tried to suppress the emotions churning within her. She didn't want to be touched by his earnestness. She wanted to be furious. Anger felt safer, more controllable, a barrier against the turmoil of other feelings.

She wanted to find more reasons to resent her husband. Because, if she let go of her anger, she would have to confront the truth – that her reaction to Anthony's glance at Sienna had been more than just shame or sadness; it had been, above all, jealousy. And she didn't want to feel jealous. Anthony was her husband, but he didn't belong to her. So jealousy was a bewildering and uncomfortable emotion to deal with.

As Penelope silently sipped her water, Anthony's apprehension grew amidst the calm. To him, the tranquility felt like the calm before a tempestuous eruption.

He couldn't predict Penelope's next move. Sometimes he felt he knew her every facet, yet at others, he believed he had merely skimmed the surface of her complex personality. But what he truly yearned for was that deeper understanding.

He hungered to decipher the significance behind each of her smiles, to unravel the triggers that made her eyes sparkle, to uncover the wellsprings of her joy – even in the simplest things that made her burst into laughter. He longed to immerse himself in her intricacies, like delving into the pages of a mystery novel, eager to uncover its secrets.

Inwardly, he grasped for words, eager to mend what had frayed. Restlessness gnawed at him as he grappled with the weighty quietness enveloping them, an unspoken void that demanded to be filled.

As her glass emptied, and her back remained turned to him, Anthony's voice finally broke the silence, uncertain but driven by an urgency to bridge the chasm between them, "Penelope?"

Still facing away from Anthony, Penelope took a deep breath and declared, "We need to consummate our marriage, once and for all."

"What?" Baffled, Anthony asked.

Finally turning to meet his gaze, her expression grave, Penelope asserted, "We must consummate our marriage as soon as possible. I appreciate your patience, but further delay is not an option."

Taken aback by her sudden shift in focus from his affair, Anthony questioned, "Is this truly what you want?"

"Yes, it is. I have enjoyed numerous benefits from our arrangement, and I wish to solidify their continuation through physical consummation."

A discomfort he couldn't quite define settled within Anthony. He probed, "Is it only the benefits that come to mind when you think of physical intimacy?"

Penelope retorted sharply, "What else should I be considering? Yourself have gained from this arrangement as well, Anthony. Let's not dance around the fact that our marriage wouldn't even exist if you hadn't chosen to maintain an affair and your rake lifestyle."

Anthony's anger flared, knowing she spoke the truth. Yet, he resented the stark reality of her words, especially as his perception had evolved since their arrangement and marriage. Their union with Penelope hadn't unfolded as he initially envisioned, and the time spent together had, undeniably, significantly changed his life.

As Anthony wrestled with his indecision, Penelope was determined not to let a heavy silence settle between them. Speaking up, she said, "I understand that you're not eager for this, that your desire isn't directed towards me, but it's a necessary step." Unbeknownst to her, her self-doubt resurfaced as she compared herself once more to Sienna.

"Please, just stay silent," Anthony implored, closing his eyes, tormented by his thoughts. If only Penelope could comprehend that he couldn't even bring himself to touch Sienna after that first kiss between them. That cursed kiss had kept Anthony awake, aching for its repetition.

Despite the evident pleasure in kissing his wife, Anthony harbored a fear of going further. He understood that things could become complicated, and in the end, he might hurt Penélope once again. He knew the devastation that a love gone awry could wreak upon someone's life.

Penelope pressed on, "Anthony, you need heirs." She tried to reason with him. "We're about to enter the second month of our marriage. We should start trying for children. You're aware that it takes time, so the sooner we begin, the better. You have the responsibility for heirs. You have duties to fulfill."

"I know!" He snapped, the volume of his voice unintended, causing her slight surprise. Swiftly lowering his tone to rein in his anger, he said, "Do you think I'm oblivious to my obligations? Do you believe I haven't been conscious of them since the day my father passed away before my eyes? Trust me, Penelope, I'm acutely aware of every commitment and duty that rests upon me. I don't require a blatant reminder."

A weighty silence descended upon the room. Anthony hadn't intended to raise his voice, but his emotions were boiling over. He'd never experienced such a tumultuous mixture of feelings. There was sorrow, regret, and, above all, anger – mostly directed at himself.

In hindsight, Penelope realized she could have approached the subject more delicately. She understood that Anthony's title, and the manner in which he had come to possess it, was a heavy burden for him. It was a destiny not easily evaded.

"I'm aware you already know," Penelope tried to speak in a gentler tone, careful not to stir his anger again. "I just want to help you fulfill this... I told you I'd be of great assistance. I wasn't lying when I said that. If you wish... you can... you can think of her while we're together."

The words were a painful admission for Penelope, a crystallization of her underlying certainty. She would never be the object of a man's desire. Certainly not her husband's. If securing her future required him to conjure someone else in their bed, she would shoulder that burden. She had already borne so much.

"What?" Anthony appeared shocked. "What are you suggesting, Penelope?"

He struggled to comprehend how she could place herself in such a position. But a voice within him reminded him that she had merely stepped into the role he had cast for her. He and Sienna had conspired in this union, and his own mistress had proposed he think of her during moments with Penelope.

"You can think of her." She repeated. "I don't mind."

"Penelope…"

Anthony's voice came out broken. He didn't know what to say in the face of her words, spoken with such resignation. It sounded horrifying and yet, at the same time, it was something that had already crossed his own mind. A wash of shame, of filth, engulfed Anthony.

He thought that by marrying, he was rescuing Penelope from a life of spinsterhood, from her family's indifference. But now he questioned where he had placed Penelope, what he had done to her. Had he truly made her life easier, as he had deluded himself into thinking? She had shifted many things in his reality, lightening the load of some responsibilities off his shoulders, but had he merely shifted that weight onto her resigned ones?

"We need to do this, Anthony. We can't delay any further. We must do it."

He, too, understood they needed to do this. The delay in its unfolding was owed to his insecurities about what might come afterward. It had never crossed Anthony's mind that he would be apprehensive about surrendering to a woman while simultaneously wanting to be with her. The longing for Penelope battled against his fear of deepening their emotional connection. He felt like a coward, lacking courage.

"I know we must, Penelope. I know."

"I know I'm not her…"

Her words, once more, stirred a pang of pain within him. Embarrassment washed over him anew, for the understanding that Penelope was unlike his previous lover had been the very impetus behind his pursuit of marriage with her. However he hadn't meant for Penelope to feel any sense of inferiority compared to Sienna. They were distinct individuals; he recognized that. Each embodied completeness in her unique way. He simply hadn't anticipated unearthing the true essence of Penelope, much less that her essence would captivate him to such an extent was beyond his expectations.

Anthony was aware that he couldn't love Penelope as she deserved, nor could he be the man she deserved. The walls he had built around his heart were not just a product of his insecurities but also a defense mechanism against a far deeper fear - the fear of love itself. Love, in his experience, had proven to be a bittersweet journey, inevitably entwined with the pain of loss. The thought of growing close to someone, only to watch them slip through his fingers in the end, was a prospect he found hauntingly daunting.

Even though he couldn't yield to love and provide Penelope with what she deserved, he yearned to make her feel desirable, for it was an undeniable truth that he desired her. Since their very first kiss, a fire of longing had burned within him, manifesting itself in dreams and fantasies that were wholly consumed by her. With a tender approach, he closed the distance between them. His touch was delicate yet firm as he cupped her chin, delicately lifting her face to align with his gaze. Her eyes, reminiscent of sapphires, glinted with a melancholic shimmer. Although the knowledge that he was the source of her sadness left him shattered, he summoned his voice in a subdued murmur, "I know you are not her. You are perfect as you are, Penelope."

And in that fleeting moment, before any more words could escape her lips, he leaned in with a passion that set her heart racing. Penelope's defenses melted away as Anthony's tender kiss took her by surprise. Yet, it wasn't a surprise to him anymore; their connection felt like destiny, a missing puzzle piece finally falling into place. With a gentle tilt of his head, their kiss deepened into an enchanting dance of souls.

Anthony's touch ignited a fire within Penelope, a fire that spread through every fiber of her being. She clung to him, as though he were her anchor in a world of swirling emotions, and kissed him back with a fervor she hadn't known existed. His caressing lips and the playful dance of his tongue sent delightful shivers down her spine, evoking sensations beyond her dreams. The warmth that blossomed in her core radiated down her limbs, a sweet ache of longing taking hold.

As they reluctantly pulled away, Anthony's desire blazed in his eyes, an inferno of longing that mirrored Penelope's own. That single kiss had transformed him, leaving him both exhilarated and vulnerable.

Penelope, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her lips beautifully swollen, was intoxicated by the whirlwind of emotions. A deep yearning now resided within her, a realization that in that stolen moment, she had discovered an urgent need she couldn't ignore.

"Are you certain?" He asked

"I am. I want to give you heirs."

He guided her to the bed and helped her lie down, stretching out beside her to continue their kisses and prepare her for the moment. He was determined to create an unforgettable experience for her during their first time, knowing fully well that it would also hold profound significance for him.

Nervousness gripped Penelope as Lady Danbury's words came rushing back. She braced herself for the pain, hoping fervently that it wouldn't be too overwhelming. Aware of pleasurable positions, she also recalled her old friend's words: the first time might not offer a delightful experience. While it could evolve into something enjoyable with time, that moment wouldn't likely be the case.

"Um... what exactly are we going to do... is there a way to lessen the pain?" She asked, the concern etched on her face revealed her uncertainty about the impending experience. While she anticipated discomfort, the degree was a mystery.

Anthony ceased his tender touches, locking eyes with her, "There will be some discomfort, but it's mainly the first time. Well, actually, the initial discomfort is unique to women..."

"Really? So, men experience pleasure from start to finish, while we're left with pain? It doesn't sound quite fair."

Anthony chuckled at her reaction, "But the discomfort is only at the beginning. Afterwards, it's all about pleasure. Women can experience pleasure multiple times during the act, whereas men reach climax just once."

"It's starting to sound a bit more balanced now. But this pleasure... how does it truly happen?" Lady Danbury had provided explanations about positions and pleasure, yet Penelope sought Anthony's perspective.

He laid a hand gently on her abdomen, over her nightgown, to explain, "You'll start feeling a warmth in your body, which might begin from here," he applied a light pressure with his fingers on her belly, "and then spread throughout your entire body. Your heartbeat quickens, your breathing deepens, and shivers ripple across your skin."

"All of that?" Her eyes widened slightly, seeking more understanding, "and then?"

"Afterwards, it's a sense of tranquility. Your body eases, and you experience the most incredible sensation."

"How do we proceed, then?" Penelope's eagerness to understand was palpable, her curiosity about the sensations vivid.

In response, he had her sit up and gently removed her nightgown, leaving Penelope exposed. Her instinct was to shield her breasts, but Anthony intervened.

"Don't... you're my wife. There's no need to be embarrassed," he reassured her.

Anthony's gaze was fixated on her, captivated by her beauty. Her body was a masterpiece, meant to be revered. His fingers danced along her skin, igniting sensations as he traced from her shoulders down. Warmth and softness greeted his touch. His touch lingered, skimming the contours of her breasts, which were generous and inviting, their rosy peaks responding to his caress.

"Let's kindle your desire, so you're fully prepared," Anthony's words brushed her ears in a tender whisper.

He pressed gentle kisses on her lips, a trail of warmth tracing down her neck, seeking the tender expanse of her breasts. He dedicated moments to lavish attention upon them, his lips and kisses a testament to his intent. Enveloping a nipple between his lips, he watched Penelope arch, a breathy gasp escaping her. The surge of pleasure in this intimate area surprised her.

His explorations continued, lips and hands mapping her terrain. Anthony marveled at her reactions, her soft moans and the shivers cascading over her skin. Her uneven breath revealed the unfolding of newfound sensations. Guiding her into this realm of pleasures, he relished being her guide, the one revealing this world to her, marking himself as her first and only.

While experienced with women, this was his first time with a virgin. With her comfort in mind, he approached with care. As his fingers skillfully prepared her, Penelope gasped at the unexpected intrusion, yet her tension soon gave way to a new experience. His touch discovered a sensitive point, evoking sensations beyond words.

Her moans grew in intensity, echoing her rising need. Anthony's restraint wavered; his yearning had grown since their first kiss. The urgency to become one consumed him. Their connection, built on shared sensations and newfound discoveries, demanded fulfillment.

"You're ready for me," his voice rasped, laden with desire, sending a shiver straight to Penelope's core, kindling an intense ache between her legs, a craving for release that felt both urgent and unfamiliar.

Anthony stood, shedding his garments. Penelope was entranced; she had never beheld a naked man before. The mere sight further ignited the need that surged through her body.

Settling over her, he tenderly spread her legs, fitting himself between them. Propping himself on his arms, Anthony eased his hips forward with deliberate slowness, aiming for gentleness, cautious not to inflict pain. But with each incremental movement, his longing grew more potent. He closed his eyes, centering himself, resisting the urge for hastiness.

Crossing the final threshold, he met her gaze, questioning, "Are you alright?"

"I just need a moment..." she replied, the words escaping amidst heavy breaths.

Moments later, she moaned, her voice pleading, "Anthony... please, continue."

Without hesitation, he answered her plea, driving his hips forward, venturing deeper into her. With each undulation, she surrendered herself further, enveloping him in the warmth and embrace of her intimate realm. Anthony was intoxicated by pleasure, his body alive with every sensation coursing through him. He approached this union with an entirely new perspective, and its marvels were unfolding before him. As he immersed himself in her, he watched Penelope's expressions shift with each wave of pleasure, fueling his own desire. Her closed eyes, punctuated by elongated moans and deep breaths, stoked the fires of his arousal.

Her drawn-out moans intertwined with breathless gasps, and the repetition of his name amid ragged breaths amplified his yearning. Guided by the sound of her rapture, Anthony surrendered to the rhythm they were crafting, lost in their shared journey of pleasure and discovery. His lips met hers with a fervent hunger, tracing the contours of her face as if memorizing every curve. In that intimate, euphoric moment with Penelope, he felt himself propelled into a realm of unparalleled ecstasy. The delicate touch of her skin against his ignited a tempest of sensations within him, each point of contact resonating with an electric current of longing. It was as if every brush of their skin was crafting an opulent symphony of desire, notes written onto the very fibers of his soul.

His lips pressed against her sensitive neck, a trail of kisses descending over the expanse of her chest. All the while, his hips moved in a rhythm that harmonized their desires. The tempo he set was a harmony of pleasure, resonating through them both. His tongue traced a tender route across her nipple, a delicate dance of sensation that left her breathless. The gentle nip sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, evoking a gasp that mingled with the symmetry of their intimacy.

Anthony's gentle caresses resembled the strokes of a passionate artist, each touch adding vivid hues to the canvas of her skin. The synchronized rhythm of their entwined bodies amplified the smoldering fire within her, each movement of Anthony's hips stoking the blaze against her own. As if a droplet in the boundless ocean, she surrendered to the whirlwind of sensations. And in that climactic crescendo of emotions, Penelope sensed an even greater surge rising within her. "Anthony... I'm feeling something... it's coming," she uttered, her voice fractured by a mixture of emotion and pleasure.

"Let it happen, Penelope..."

Tears shimmered in her eyes as they met his gaze. Within moments, her eyelids descended, her body tensed beneath him, arching off the bed. Her head tilted slightly backward and a cry of release escaped her lips. As Penelope's inner muscles clenched around him, Anthony felt the crescendo of his own climax drawing near. His rhythm hastened, hips surging forward for one ultimate surge. A cascade of tremors coursed through his body as the climax consumed him, his world briefly hazy as waves of pleasure crashed over him, a symphony of sensation that left him breathless and enthralled.

He collapsed onto her, breathing heavily, perspiration covering his skin. Gradually, he withdrew and lay beside her. Struggling to rise, Anthony's body was still languid from the pleasure. He grabbed a clean cloth and dampened it with water from a nearby pitcher. Tenderly, he used it to cleanse her, who remained in a state of profound relaxation on the bed. "Are you alright?" he whispered, settling beside her once more.

"Anthony... I didn't expect it to be this incredible," she replied, her breath still slightly uneven.

He chuckled softly and instinctively drew her close, their bodies fitting together. The peak of his pleasure transformed into a sense of calm and serenity. For the first time, the post-coital tension that usually gripped him was absent. He felt utterly at ease. Something had clicked between them, a sensation of rightness.

"It was one of the most wonderful birthdays I've ever experienced." Penelope sighed, smiling.

"Today is your birthday?" He inquired, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"Today is April eighth. I just turned twenty."

"Why didn't you let me know?"

"I don't usually enjoy this day. Your mother and Eloise knew but I requested them not to say anything."

"Penelope... we could have celebrated..."

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, "But we did. You made my first time so special, and that, to me, was an incredible gift. Thank you, Anthony."

His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, their touch lingering with a shared understanding. "Many happy returns of the day, Penelope."

His lips met hers in a tender kiss, his arms drawing her nearer. Their hearts slowly settled into a familiar rhythm, their breaths finding harmony, and the comforting warmth of their bodies embracing each other in a shared intimacy.

As they settled in for sleep, Anthony realized that throughout their intimate connection, he hadn't once thought about Sienna.

Notes:

We'll have one or two chapters of calmness (with plenty of smut), before Colin's return. And then, a bit more angst awaits them.

Chapter 16: Fulfilling a duty

Notes:

I'm trying to keep the story with around 23 to 25 chapters, but there's so much I want to explore. Colin's return, the revelation of LW, Anthony breaking up with Sienna and I also want to introduce some hurdles for our couple. Anyway... I'm still thinking.

For now, enjoy a sweet and steamy chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony stirred as the soft rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently caressing his face. The warmth of the sun's touch gradually pulled him from slumber, and his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the gentle illumination that bathed the room.

As his gaze shifted to the bed beside him, a contented smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Penelope lay there, a vision of delicate beauty against the pristine white pillows. Her fiery red hair was spread in a tousled cascade across the pillow, a stark contrast against the pale linen. The morning light painted her skin with a soft rosy hue, and her lips were slightly parted in a tranquil breath.

Anthony's heart swelled with affection as he watched her sleep, admiring the peaceful expression that graced her features. His fingers twitched with the urge to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, but he resisted, not wanting to disturb her rest.

In the midst of his reverie, the door creaked open, and a startled gasp filled the air. Anthony turned his head to see Penelope's maid standing at the threshold, wide-eyed and taken aback. It was the first time he had ever spent the night in Penelope's chambers, a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed.

Quickly regaining her composure, the maid curtsied, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. Anthony gestured for her to leave with a subtle nod, and she withdrew quietly, closing the door behind her.

Returning his attention to Penelope, he resumed his study of her serene form. It was an intimate tableau, one that he cherished in the stillness of the morning. The sheet only partially covered her exquisite form, and Anthony felt a surge of desire upon seeing her uncovered, memories of the previous night flooding back. He had never encountered such profound pleasure with a woman, especially one as inexperienced as Penelope. He found himself captivated by the responses he had evoked from her, finding it incredibly arousing to witness her body succumb to waves of pleasure.

As Anthony's thoughts revisited the prior evening, he recognized that his time with Penelope had defied anything he had ever encountered in his masculine life. Following their intimacy, the sensation of relaxation had been extraordinary. It had been years since he had experienced such restful sleep.

He settled more comfortably in the bed, placing his arms behind his head and sighed, feeling relaxed. His eyes were nearly closing when Penelope's soft voice inquired,

"Do you always wake up like this?"

He turned to her with a smile, "Good morning. Like what?"

"Like this." She pointed with her fingers to the middle of his legs, where his member was rigid, creating a tent beneath the sheet.

He felt a tinge of embarrassment, attempting to discreetly conceal his erection.

"Not... I mean, yes, usually in the morning. It's a natural response in a man's body."

"Um... does it hurt? To be like that?"

"No. It's temporary."

Penelope abruptly sat upright in bed, a momentary lapse causing her to forget her own nudity. The sheet sensuously slipped down her skin, revealing her breasts and ensnaring her husband's gaze. Flustered, she quickly veiled herself once more.

"Can I touch it?" she asked.

"You want to touch it?" He seemed surprised. "Why?"

"Curiosity. I've never felt what it's like to touch..." she spoke nervously, "but if it's uncomfortable, that's okay."

"Alright. Well, you can touch it."

He sat up and unveiled himself, exposing his erect member. Penelope hadn't scrutinized it closely the previous night, but now she was intrigued by how it had fit inside her.

She placed her hand on its base gently, recognizing that despite its hardness, it was soft and warm. Gliding her hand a few inches upwards, she experienced its full length before sliding her hand back down. Employing touch to explore its entirety, she quenched her curiosity.

Anthony closed his eyes as he felt her hand tracing along his shaft. Her touch was delicate, feathery, and exquisitely pleasurable. When Penelope's fingers brushed the tip of his penis, he threw his head back, emitting a moan.

"Penelope..."

"Oh, sorry! Am I hurting you?" she inquired, worried, withdrawing her hand.

"No... it's... it's pleasurable."

She stole a glance at her own hand, slightly amazed that she could elicit pleasure in someone with it.

"Is it possible to provide pleasure with your hand?" she still seemed astonished.

"With the hand, with the mouth... there are various ways to intimately engage, Penelope."

"With the mouth?" she touched her lips as she asked, "you mean with the tongue? Like what you did to my breasts yesterday?"

Lady Danbury hadn't provided those details about pleasure with the mouth. Perhaps she had reserved that information for a second lesson, Penelope mused.

Anthony nodded, drawing the covers over his body. Penelope's cheeks tinged with a delicate blush as her thoughts wandered, and she averted her gaze from him, sweeping her eyes around the room. The realization that her husband had spent the night in her room suddenly struck her.

"Oh my goodness, Anthony! I didn't realize you slept here. It must have been so uncomfortable for you, sharing the bed with me."

"Don't worry, Penelope," he reassured her, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "I actually had a very restful sleep."

And it was the truth. For the first time in years, Anthony had slumbered as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. The night had been a peaceful and rejuvenating one, and the warmth of Penelope's presence had contributed to his sound rest. Moreover, the well-rested night had worked wonders on his mood, as he woke up without the usual sense of impending fatigue that accompanied his mornings.

Penelope's embarrassment was palpable as she continued, "Still, I apologize. I've never shared a bed with anyone before. Oh, what if I acted improperly? What if I snored? Or perhaps I hogged more space than you did?"

Anthony's hand gently covered hers, putting a reassuring halt to her nervous gestures. He smiled warmly, his eyes meeting hers.

"You didn't snore at all. In fact, you slept as peacefully as an angel, hardly stirring. It was a truly pleasant night's sleep, Penelope. Trust me, I was quite comfortable. And you, did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I felt completely at ease," she admitted, a shy glance stealing away from him, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. Anthony couldn't help but find her endearing, especially considering the shared intimacy they had experienced.

"Speaking of which, how are you feeling after yesterday?"

"Well... it was incredibly pleasurable... I didn't anticipate that, you know? It far exceeded my expectations," she hesitated for a moment and then inquired, "And for you... was it satisfying?"

She asked with a concerned look. Lady Danbury had imparted to her that the act should bring pleasure to the man as well; only then could conception occur. Now, Penelope worried whether Anthony had enjoyed their encounter. She knew it couldn't possibly compare to what he had experienced with his lover, but she hoped he had found some satisfaction, at least.

Anthony smiled to reassure her once more. "It was amazing, Penelope. Didn't my moans and sighs give it away?"

Once again, Penelope blushed, and Anthony felt a strong desire to draw her closer and relive the pleasures of the previous night.

"Now I understand why people have affairs... why you have a lover," she commented nonchalantly.

Hearing Penelope bring that up made Anthony feel slightly uncomfortable, and he shifted uneasily in bed. He reflected on their argument from the previous day and felt remorseful.

Penelope appeared oblivious to his discomfort and continued, "If I could experience this regularly, I would," she admitted, only to instantly regret it. "Oh, I'm sorry! How indecent of me to say that! What must you think of me? Oh my goodness, my big mouth!"

She was visibly embarrassed, and Anthony burst into laughter. It was a hearty laugh, one he hadn't indulged in for years. Observing Penelope flustered was quite amusing.

"You're... laughing?" She seemed incredulous. "Laughing at me, Anthony?"

"No... no," he attempted to regain his composure. "I'm not laughing at you... it's just... the situation... it's amusing."

"And what's so amusing, if I may ask?"

She placed her hands on her hips, and the sheet slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse of her breast. Anthony, who had stopped laughing, felt a surge of desire at the sight. He struggled to focus on her face and respond.

"It's amusing that you think you have to suppress your desires."

"But we're raised this way, Anthony. Women are brought up not to openly desire. Especially married women."

"But not in our marriage. We're unlike other couples, Penelope," he held her hands. "I want you to know you can openly talk to me about anything. I want you to have complete freedom in our marriage. Remember, that's our agreement."

"Yes, I remember our agreement... I know that's not exactly why we entered into this marriage, but I don't want you to think I'm becoming a wanton... it's just... yesterday was... extraordinary."

Anthony's smile brightened at her words. Pressing a kiss to her hand, he conveyed, "I understand this is a marriage based on convenience, Penelope, but I want you to experience all the pleasure you desire. You can and should express your desires whenever you wish. I don't want to deny you anything. Let's make a pact. Whenever you want to explore something new in our intimacy, just let me know, alright?"

Penelope nodded in agreement. She felt a sense of relief after finally consummating their marriage. She didn't know exactly what lay ahead, but she was determined to find a harmonious connection with her husband.

As for Sienna, she chose not to broach the subject of his mistress any further. The argument from last night had been intense, and she hoped to move past it. Focusing on his lover wouldn't bring any positive outcomes. Penelope understood the importance of focusing on herself and fulfilling her role as a wife by ensuring an heir for her husband.

"I believe it's time to rise and prepare for breakfast," she suggested, shifting her focus and extending her arms for a leisurely stretch. "The rest of the household will likely be woken up soon."

"Indeed. I'll make my way to my quarters to freshen up and provide you with some space," he rose from the bed to retrieve his attire from the floor, leaving the sheet behind and standing completely naked in front of her.

While the previous night had allowed her to glimpse Anthony's form in the candlelit shadows, now the morning sun revealed him in clear detail. His broad, meticulously defined shoulders established a firm foundation, their graceful transition into sculpted arms showcasing both strength and the subtlety of veins beneath the skin.

His chest, adorned with chestnut-hued hair, gently tapered towards his abdomen, unveiling a meticulously chiseled musculature that seemed to have been etched with exquisite precision. Linear contours lent a textured aspect that tempted her to trace each line with her own fingers, should she dare. Or perhaps with her mouth, now she was aware of the capacity to evoke pleasure with that personal part of her body.

Aware of her scrutiny, Penelope averted her gaze, a delicate pink tinting her cheeks. Though the prior evening had seen them share an intimate connection, gratitude for their improved understanding mingled with the realization that their marriage remained a union born of arrangement.

"See you at breakfast?" he asked, already fully dressed.

"Oh, yes. I'll come down shortly," she replied.

Anthony bid his farewell at last, and Penelope lay down on the bed, sighing as she gazed up at the ceiling. The previous night had been truly incredible. If every night they shared together were like that, she would be quite happy.

However, she didn't know what it would be like from now on. They had consummated the marriage, finally, but she had no idea if Anthony had considered some sort of arrangement to balance the nights he spent with his lover and the times he needed to fulfill his duty with her.

Despite the tsunami of emotions she had experienced the previous night, she had resolved not to inquire about his affair anymore. Anthony had promised her that he wouldn't disappoint her again, and she chose to believe his word. Instead of grappling with these feelings, Penelope should focus on what lay ahead. Soon, she would have concerns about her children, and that would undoubtedly consume much of her time.

Instinctively, she touched her own belly, aware that once there was an heir growing within it, she would bid farewell to the nights with Anthony. It seemed foolish to think about it at that moment, especially since they had barely begun to try conceiving a child. There was still time, she knew, but nonetheless, the bittersweet taste of realizing that her nights with him were numbered wasn't as savory.

With another sigh, she rang the bell, summoning her maid to help her get ready for breakfast. She wasn't necessarily eager to go downstairs; she preferred to linger in bed with the delightful memories of the previous night. However, facing the day was necessary.

Having finished preparing, Anthony headed to Penelope's room. He knocked gently and found her seated alone at her vanity.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she replied, rising from her seat as if roused from a daydream. "I'm ready." The past few minutes had been spent reliving every detail of the previous night. It was difficult to erase the memory of what Anthony had shared with her.

"Are you feeling alright?" He inquired.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, it's just..." She hesitated, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

"What's the matter, Penelope?" He drew closer to her.

After a brief pause, she inquired in a soft voice, "Do you think last night was sufficient to conceive a child?"

"Probably not. It's highly unlikely that it would result in pregnancy after just one encounter. But why do you ask?"

"Well, I believe... I think we should try again," she admitted, a blush gracing her cheeks, "to conceive an heir, of course. I think we should do it again."

She didn't want her husband to misconstrue her intentions. While she did want to ensure a child for him, Penelope couldn't deny her intense desire to relive the sensations of the previous night.

"Try again?" Anthony looked at her, surprises. "You're not feeling uncomfortable from yesterday?"

"Not at all... but if you have other commitments, I understand..." she explained, her words coming a bit hastily. "I don't want to disrupt your day. I imagine you have many responsibilities to attend to... just forget what I mentioned."

Her words caught in her throat as Anthony surged toward her, driven by an insatiable hunger. His lips erased any remnants of resistance, and she yielded utterly, enfolding him in her embrace. Fingers tracing the contours of his arms, her touch finding its home on his shoulders.

Trailing kisses down Penelope's face and onto her neck, Anthony suddenly spun her around, hoping he hadn't been too forceful. The flames of desire flickered back to life within him.

A gasp of surprise escaped Penelope's lips, taken aback by the sudden intensity. Her hands sought the wood of her vanity for support while Anthony was kissing her nape. Her skin tingled in the wake of his kisses, and she longed to shed some of the layers that separated them.

With fingers quivering, he sought to release her dress while his lips continued their tantalizing dance along her neck. But the process grew laborious, and with an impatient exhale, he pulled his lips away from her skin and finished his task. Finally, the fabric of her dress pooled at her feet, revealing a snug corset.

Penelope felt Anthony's skilled hands working to undo the tiny ties that held the corset in place. Each movement was precise yet eager, as if he were in a hurry to unveil a secret hidden within her body. While he worked, his breath brushed against her neck's fragile skin, the sensation causing tension to course through her legs, leaving her weakened. As his fingers skimmed her skin, undoing the knots, the sensation teetered on the edge of exquisite agony, heightening her arousal. Her desire swelled, an ache to shed the garment growing urgent.

Finally, the last tie came undone, and the corset opened gently. Penelope sighed gladly, but her thoughts were briefly suspended, for she felt herself being turned by Anthony. Their gazes locked, and in that fleeting connection, a smile graced his lips. He unfastened the corset entirely, baring her form. She no longer felt any shame in her nudity. Anthony's warm gaze had swept away any insecurities. In his presence, she felt wanted and yearning.

As if every second was precious, he swiftly kicked his boots from his feet. Penelope aided by loosening his tie, and Anthony discarded his shirt by pulling it over his head, allowing it to drop haphazardly onto the floor. With equal haste, he shed his pants, and before long, he reached out his hand to her, guiding her towards the bed.

As he gently laid Penelope down on the bed and leaned over to kiss her neck once more, Anthony found himself entranced by her intoxicating scent. That aroma had the potential to become his favorite, a unique and cherished memory. There was an allure about her that seemed to cast a spell over him.

Slowly, he trailed his lips down to her breasts, savoring the softness of her pale skin. A deep, involuntary sound of pleasure escaped him as he closed his lips around one nipple, while his fingers danced softly over the other.

Penelope quivered, emitting a soft, delicate moan at his tender touch. Anthony's caresses seemed to assert a connection between them, sending waves of warmth and tingling sensations deep within her. Each kiss, each gentle stroke seemed to awaken a new layer of desire, enveloping her in a cocoon of sensation. The way Anthony's warm, wet tongue traced her skin was a revelation, a delightful surprise that she hadn't expected. The notion that the act of "fulfilling a duty" could be so enjoyable had never crossed her mind before.

With a delicate touch, Anthony grazed her nipples, causing Penelope to arch her back and draw in a sharp breath, intensifying the sensations coursing through her. His hand ventured down her abdomen, tracing a path towards the epicenter of her yearning. In a fluid motion, his fingers found their way, exploring her essence with a gentle reverence.

As Anthony continued to hover over her breasts, his fingers dancing their secret dance within her, Penelope found herself losing control of the pleasure surging through her. Her moans deepened, echoing the rising crescendo of sensation that Anthony was eliciting. He was coaxing something profound, something that she couldn't quite define but was thoroughly enraptured by. And yet, a growing hunger stirred within her, prompting her to voice a whispered plea,

"Anthony... more… I want more…"

He quickened the rhythm of his fingers, gliding them in and out of her, his focus still on her delightful breasts.

Penelope wriggled on the bed, moans escaping her lips, her body receptive to his every touch. She remained in that state until a deeper gasp signaled her approach to climax. Her hips instinctively lifted from the bed, and Anthony observed a flush climbing her chest and face, her features contorting in the throes of pleasure. It was a sight of unparalleled beauty.

Before Penelope could regain her composure, Anthony was once again positioned over her, his firm arousal grazing her inner thigh. Their eyes met, and in the intensity of his gaze, Penelope sensed the hunger that drove him. She opened herself to him, a willing sanctuary, and their bodies converged, his head finding solace on her shoulder.

In contrast to the night before, Penelope was more at ease now, exchanging pleasure with a newfound reciprocity. Audible pants filled the air as she held onto him, her nails leaving imprints on his back as she met his every movement. He teetered on the brink of arousal, captivated by the display of her desire.

After a few moments, her inner walls contracted around him, a signal that Penelope had reached her peak once again. Her cry of his name as she climaxed ignited a wildfire within Anthony, his thrusts intensified, a dance of urgency and yearning. In the span of heartbeats, his own release surged forth, a tempestuous tide that engulfed him in its power, his fervor mirrored in every movement.

With a primal moan and her name on his lips, Anthony succumbed to an overwhelming orgasm, a wave of sensation coursing through him.

Breathless, he collapsed, mindful not to overwhelm her with his weight. Then, lifting his face to meet her gaze, he found her smiling.

"Now I'm all set for breakfast," she murmured, her laughter tinkling in the air.

The sound of her gentle laughter stirred tender emotions within Anthony. He peppered kisses across her reddened, perspiring skin, starting from her chest and making his way up to her cheeks. With a gentle touch, he wiped the sweat from her brow, his voice a soft murmur, "I'll arrange for our breakfast to be brought to the room."

"To the room? But why?"

"Because I'm not the least bit willing to release you from this bed, Penelope. I'm convinced we've yet to 'fulfill our duty' of conceiving an heir, so we should attempt it again," he bestowed another kiss on her cheek, "and again," trailing down to her neck, "and again..."

Her response was a whisper, "I'm in complete accord with you," as she promptly cast aside any other commitments that might have vied for her attention that day.

Both of them had duties to fulfill, and they wished to be thoroughly attentive to them.

Notes:

Anthony told Penelope that she can and should do what she desires. I'll give you a heads-up that she's going to explore that. Oh, boy! She's going to take a stroll in that park known as Anthony's six-pack. She will become a hungry woman.

Another one or two chapters (I'm still deciding), and Colin will be among us.

Chapter 17: Awakened desires

Notes:

I've been a bit slow in my writing these past few days, so the chapters might take a while to be posted.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Mother, what a delightful surprise to find you here," Penelope exclaimed as she spotted Portia standing in her living room.

"Delightful, you say?" Portia's retort carried a hint of acidity. "I've been here for the past two days, Penelope, and you haven't even acknowledged my presence. Would you care to enlighten me on what has kept you so engrossed that you couldn't spare a moment for your own mother?"

A flush of embarrassment swept over Penelope, tingling her cheeks with color. Over the past two days, she hadn't left her room for anything, not even to eat. Basically, Anthony had kept her practically confined to the bed until they both could no longer ignore their obligations.

"I... I've been tending to my duties," Penelope stuttered.

"Duties? What kind of duties are these that prevent you from sharing a word with your mother?"

"You understand how it is, mother... Duties," Penelope's gaze shifted as she took her seat, a flicker of discomfort in her eyes. "But I'm here now, am I not? So please, do tell me the reason behind your visit."

Portia settled into a chair, her posture rigid as if she still harbored the desire to reprimand her daughter for not receiving her earlier. However, she chose to soften her expression before speaking. "I've come to ask if you would kindly host a dinner and extend an invitation to both me and your sister."

"A dinner? Is that all?" Penelope's curiosity arose, finding it too straightforward for her mother to have gone to the trouble of paying her a visit.

"And also extend the invitation to Lord Debling."

"Ah!" Penelope's exclamation revealed she already discerned her mother's intent. "Mama, I'm not entirely convinced if this is a good idea..."

"Why the uncertainty? Your own husband believes in the potential of this connection, Penelope! He wouldn't have suggested that we occupy Lord Debling's box on the day of the opera if he didn't."

Penelope sighed, her reservations palpable. "Did Lord Debling display any interest in Prudence that evening? Did he hint at the possibility of courting her?"

"Not explicitly. But they engaged in a discussion about the opera."

"They conversed?" Penelope's skepticism was evident. "They truly talked? Prudence said things? Things about the opera?"

"Not in the exact sense. Truthfully, Lord Debling expounded on the opera's plot, yet I'm unsure if Prudence grasped any of it."

"See? How can you believe this union has potential when they don't even share a common interest?"

"For heaven's sake, Penelope!" Portia's patience wore thin. "Do marriages nowadays hinge solely on shared interests? You know what I suspect? That increasingly you're averse to witnessing your sister's happiness. Isn't that the case?"

"Of course not," Penelope quipped, her eyes rolling subtly.

"Then prove it! Make the dinner happen and invite Lord Debling!"

"Fine," she sighed, conceding. "I'll arrange the dinner, but I still hold reservations about its outcome. I can't envision Lord Debling taking an interest in Prudence."

"And that's precisely why, as a devoted sister who desires nothing but success for her sibling, you'll extol Prudence's virtues to our guest."

"That might prove a challenge," Penelope responded, rising from her seat and lowering her voice, ensuring her mother wouldn't overhear, "given that Prudence possesses none."

"Pardon? I didn't hear."

"I said I'll draft the invitation immediately." Penelope swiftly replied, straightening her posture. "The dinner will take place next Friday."

"Excellent!" Portia clasped her hands before her chest. "Perhaps this will be the turning point for your sister, making perfection an absolute necessity." She turned her gaze towards her daughter. "Discover his preferred dishes and present them all. You know what? I believe it's wiser if I oversee the servants' preparations. We cannot afford any mistakes."

"Absolutely not." Penelope was acutely aware of her mother's propensity for meddling and control. Allowing her a free hand would undoubtedly drive Penelope to madness.

"Penelope, I genuinely think..." Portia attempted to object, only to be firmly cut off by her daughter.

"No, Mama. I bear the title of Viscountess Bridgerton, and this is my domain. The reins of authority are in my hands. While I'll undertake the hosting at your request, every detail shall be orchestrated and determined by me. I have no use for your intrusions or unsolicited counsel. Is my stance clear?"

Portia regarded her daughter, caught between sentiments of pride and astonishment. She had invested immense energy into grooming her elder daughters for matrimony, yet the exceptional poise and acumen of her youngest had taken her by surprise.

"Crystal."

The club buzzed with energy as men chatted, laughed, and reveled in the laid-back ambiance. Anthony and Benedict occupied a table, whisky glasses in front of them. Laughter and the distant hum of music filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere.

Benedict leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on his brother, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Well, well, Anthony. Look at you, wearing a brighter expression today. What's behind this newfound cheer?"

Anthony raised his glass, taking a sip and meeting Benedict's gaze with an enigmatic gleam in his eyes. "Just enjoying life, brother."

Benedict chuckled. "Enjoying life? It seems more like you're enjoying someone in particular. Perhaps it's related to the two days you spent locked in a room with Penelope?"

A fleeting smile graced Anthony's lips, but he chose not to offer a direct response.

"Ah, my suspicions were right!" Benedict exclaimed, his laughter blending into the club's ambiance. "I had a feeling it was connected to that. So, what were you two doing in there all that time? Discussing heirs and properties, I presume?"

Anthony shifted his gaze to his glass, reminiscing about the past forty-eight hours with Penelope, their shared moments of fulfilling their marital duties. "Something along those lines."

Benedict raised an eyebrow, his curiosity evident. "My word, you're an entirely different person today, Anthony! Where's the real Anthony, the grumpy Anthony we all know?"

Anthony laughed, his amusement evident as he shook his head. "You're such a fool, Ben."

Benedict grinned. "Seriously, how's everything between you and Penelope? Have you finally managed to sort things out?"

Anthony stared into his glass for a moment, lost in thought. "Things are good, even better than I expected."

Benedict's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Better than you expected? Well, that's a positive turn, isn't it?"

Anthony nodded slowly, his gaze distant. While things were progressing well with Penelope, there was an issue he couldn't delay any further. The problem was, he didn't quite know how to broach the subject.

Benedict picked up on his brother's change of demeanor and probed, "What's on your mind? Something is bothering you?"

With a sigh, Anthony focused on his glass before turning to his brother with a determined look. "I need to end things with Sienna."

"With your lover?" Benedict's surprise seemed genuine. "But I thought you and Penelope had an arrangement. Wasn't keeping Sienna the whole reason you married her?"

Anthony nodded. "You're right, but I've come to realize that my actions could irreparably damage Penelope's reputation."

"What exactly happened? Is there something I'm missing?"

In swift succession, Anthony recounted the night of the opera and the heated argument that followed.

"But... if Penelope already knew about your affair, why did this particular incident upset her so much?"

"Because our interaction was public. You know how Lady Whistledown is – her eyes and ears are everywhere. I can't afford to let anything like that tarnish Penelope's standing. I won't subject her to that. I couldn't live with myself if she suffered because of my choices."

Benedict nodded in understanding.

"I comprehend," he exhaled. "In truth, a scandal of this nature could easily grace the pages of Lady Whistledown's chronicles."

Anthony released an exasperated sigh. "There are times when I believe the lives of everyone would be better without that notorious columnist."

"Are you certain?" Benedict questioned. "Wouldn't people still harbor secrets and fabricate lies? Lady Whistledown merely exposes what's hidden beneath."

"Yet, she has no right to do so. It encroaches upon people's private lives," Anthony retorted, his mood sour.

"Very well, then if Lady Whistledown didn't exist, would you continue your involvement with Sienna?"

Anthony found himself unsure how to respond. Before Penelope had uncovered Sienna's identity and before the prospect of their affair being unveiled by Lady Whistledown, he had ceased seeing his lover. He struggled to remember the last time he had even kissed her.

After a brief hesitation, Anthony finally admitted, "I'm not certainly. Since the marriage... I haven't been with her."

Benedict furrowed his brow. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I really don't know." Anthony focused on his glass, avoiding his brother's gaze, and released a profound sigh. "I wed Penelope to grant myself the liberty to meet with Sienna, yet since our marriage, we've been unable to share any intimacy. Now, after the opera... I believe it's wiser to put an end to it."

"How do you anticipate she'll respond?" Benedict inquired.

"I cannot predict, though I hope she comprehends the predicament I'm in. I find myself without a choice."

"I suspect she won't take it well. Few women would accept rejection of such nature gracefully."

Anthony let out a weary sigh. Facing Sienna was a conversation he had been avoiding, but the inevitable moment had arrived. Despite knowing the pain it would cause, he understood the necessity of being direct and resolute in his decision. The affair couldn't continue any longer.

He was now responsible for Penelope, and deep down, he felt accountable for her happiness as well. Anthony had no intention of jeopardizing her peace of mind for anyone, not even for Sienna.

Penelope, who had been meticulously chosen to be a mere pawn in the arrangement Anthony had devised to ensure the fulfillment of his noble duties, was now who held a prominent place in his life, being the foremost priority he had in mind before proceeding with any decision.

This realization had dawned on him while he surrendered to Penelope's kisses and embraced her in his arms. Anthony realized that with her he experienced more than mere physical pleasure; it was a sense of wholeness that lingered within him even hours after the intimate moments they shared. She made him realize that he didn't need mistresses to find pleasure in life. Even though she was inexperienced, she had taken him to incredible peaks of pleasure, and her wholehearted surrender to him always left him ecstatic. He still didn't fully grasp the exact cause of it, but he knew he couldn't jeopardize that as well.

As he poured himself another glass of whisky, he pondered how he had reached this juncture. Just under two months ago, he had been in Sienna's embrace, plotting to marry Penelope to secure the freedom to be with his lover whenever desire struck. Yet now, life had taken an unexpected turn, and he found himself grappling with the best way to bring his liaison with Sienna to an end.

How had Penelope managed to orchestrate such profound changes in his life within such a brief span of time?

With the details sorted out alongside Violet for the dinner requested by Portia, Penelope retired earlier than her usual time, driven by the intent to craft her Whistledown column. Anthony had headed to the club to spend time with his brother and friends, making this an opportune moment for her writing. Still keeping her clandestine endeavor under wraps, she valued the solitude that enabled her to immerse herself in her writing.

Over the past couple of days, following their intimate encounters, Anthony had shared her room at night. However, they hadn't engaged in conversations about whether this would evolve into a regular practice. The uncertainty held her back from raising the topic, leading her to embrace the shared moments without pressing the issue further.

A sigh escaped Penelope's lips. The intensity of those two days spent with him lingered, yet she was aware that the frequency of such intimate moments might soon dwindle. Anthony's liaison with a mistress persisted, likely causing him to split his time between his responsibilities towards Penelope and his rendezvous with Sienna. The topic of his affair hadn't resurfaced; Penelope's choice was to maintain this unspoken understanding.

Despite her knowledge of his extramarital affair, Penelope couldn't repress the joy she derived from being able to provide pleasure to her husband as well. The genuine delight he exhibited during their shared moments in bed was evident, and it alleviated any skepticism. Anthony ignited emotions within her that Penelope had never fathomed experiencing, and the realization that she was able to satisfy him boosted her self-assurance.

She wouldn't mind at all if he graced her with his presence every night. The sensation of his warm, sturdy frame melding against her gentle curves was undeniably pleasing. The way his hand held her close during their slumber, or the expression he wore as he succumbed to sleep – these were intricacies she had grown to treasure in those fleeting shared moments. Furthermore, waking up beside him, the firmness of his presence pressing against her, was an overwhelming sensation, and it appeared her husband possessed a persistent urge in the mornings.

With a gentle shake of her head, Penelope sat at her desk, the quill poised above the parchment, but her thoughts seemed to have a mind of their own. She had every intention of writing her weekly column, but her mind kept drifting back to the memories of those intimate moments shared with Anthony, her husband. She sighed, frustrated with her lack of focus.

She had assumed that all the sensations he had stirred within her over the past few days had been satisfied. Yet, it appeared her body had other plans, a fact that left her feeling oddly out of sorts. She was not one to be consumed by such desires, and the realization left her feeling disconcerted.

With a determined exhale, she dipped the quill in ink and began to write, trying to divert her thoughts. But with each word she penned, her mind seemed to pull her back to the memory of his touch, the way his hands had ignited a fire within her that she hadn't known existed. The sensation of his lips against her skin, his whispered endearments, it all played like an unceasing loop in her mind.

She shook her head, as if physically trying to dislodge those thoughts. It was as if Anthony had awakened something within her, something that refused to be ignored. She couldn't deny that a part of her wanted more, craved more of those stolen moments that had left her breathless and wanting.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. This was not how she was accustomed to feeling, and it left her feeling vulnerable in a way that was both exhilarating and unnerving.

As she reopened her eyes and looked at the parchment before her, she couldn't help but wonder if every day would be like this. Would her thoughts always be consumed by the memory of his touch, the taste of his kisses? Had Anthony truly awakened something within her that she couldn't control?

With a sigh, she set the quill aside, her mind still in turmoil. Reading a book seemed equally futile; her mind couldn't grasp the words. Perhaps slumber would offer solace. Sleep had the potential to ease her thoughts, which were now consumed by her mind filled with thoughts of Anthony, and the unknown path their newfound intimacy had set them upon.

With a sigh, she rose, tidied her writing materials, and settled onto the bed. Restlessly shifting, she sought a comfortable spot, but none was forthcoming. Frustration mingled with her sighs as she tossed and turned. Sleep remained elusive, her mind steadfastly fixated on Anthony. A subtle throbbing had now joined her thoughts, pulsating in her lower abdomen. Fervently, she wished Anthony were there.

Anthony and his mastery in using his hands and tongue to provoke sensations. The way he had evoked such wondrous feelings within her in the past days. Penelope shut her eyes, immersing herself in the recollection of how he seemed to have mapped out a realm of pleasure upon her body during their last encounter.

Lost in her thoughts, suddenly she opened her eyes and lifted her hands to her face. Could she replicate the pleasure he had granted her? Testing the notion, she placed a hand on her own breast, concealed beneath her nightgown. She applied gentle pressure, her fingers exploring the softness of her own skin. Though not as exquisite as Anthony's touch, it was a semblance of something.

Her chemise rose next, unveiling her legs folded on the bed, feet anchored to the mattress. With her other hand, she trailed along her thigh, directing her touch towards her core, mirroring Anthony's actions from their recent liaison.

Anthony and the finesse of his hands. His skin possessed a slight coarseness in comparison to hers, a contrast that kindled Penelope's yearning for his rugged touch, beautifully juxtaposed against her smoothness. Moreover, his fingers extended longer and more robust than hers, their very nature a source of fascination. His hands were indeed exceptional.

Anthony, whose tongue was both warm and moist. Mulling over this, Penelope elevated her chemise further, exposing a breast. She moistened the tip of a finger with her tongue and employed it to stroke her nipple, envisioning it as Anthony's tongue. The bud of sensitivity responded to her touch, yet it still lacked the fervent warmth of her husband's tongue upon it.

As Penelope's fingers danced across her body, her eyes fluttered shut, and her thoughts were consumed by Anthony... his lips on hers, his hands exploring her, his tender care. The urgency between her thighs surged as she indulged in her own desires, her mind echoing with the rhythm of her husband's name.

Anthony...

Anthony...

"Anthony?" Penelope questioned, her confusion evident as she opened her eyes, interrupted by a knock on the door and a voice calling out.

"It's me, Penelope. Can you please open the door?"

Swiftly, she rose from the bed, taking a moment to adjust her disheveled chemise. A quick glance in the mirror revealed her slightly unkempt appearance, and she hoped fervently that her husband wouldn't notice.

As the door swung open, Anthony entered the room, dressed in his customary home attire, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the skin of his forearms. The sight of him made Penelope's heart skip a beat, and she couldn't help but nibble gently on her lower lip.

"Good evening, Anthony. I didn't expect you. I thought you were with Benedict."

"I was. I apologize for not being able to join you for dinner tonight. My brother and I got carried away with a game at the club."

"No need for apologies, Anthony. You have your freedom."

"I know. Still, I came to explain. After all, for the past few days, I've always been having dinner at home..."

Penelope sensed a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, observing his uncertainty in choosing his words. Wanting to ease his discomfort, she spoke up.

"Don't worry, Anthony. I'm well aware of your evening engagements. There's no cause for concern. Although, I did think you might not be returning home to sleep tonight. I assumed you'd be with..." she hesitated, "with her."

"No... I wasn't with her today."

Anthony's response lingered with uncertainty. Despite having resolved to end his liaisons with Sienna, he hadn't yet navigated the conversation with her, and discussing his mistress with Penelope was not a prospect he relished.

"Right. So…" Penelope hesitated between bidding him goodbye or inviting him into her bed. Uncertain how to navigate their interactions after their recent intimacy, she pondered. "Did you have something to eat?"

"I grabbed a bite at the club," he replied, casting a quick glance around the room, noting the disheveled sheets. "Were you already preparing for bed?"

"Yes... well, I... I was attempting to sleep, but I couldn't," Penelope blushed, recalling her interrupted endeavors.

Anthony sensed her unease and suspected she wasn't entirely forthcoming. Curiosity tugged at him.

"What exactly were you up to, Penelope?"

"Oh...nothing. Just trying to sleep... as I said," her voice faltered.

Drawing closer, Anthony gently guided Penelope's waist, tilting her chin to meet his gaze.

"You know you can trust me, Penelope. Tell me, what were you really doing?"

"I... I was trying to touch myself... like how you touched me," she confessed, the flush in her cheeks deepening.

Anthony's eyes darkened further, inadvertently tightening his grip on Penelope's waist. His jaw tensed as he exhaled slowly through his nose. He attempted to imagine Penelope pleasuring herself, the image flickering in his mind. Abruptly, he released her and stepped back.

"Anthony? Are you displeased by it?" Penelope's concern was evident.

"On the contrary, I find it intriguing that you seek your own pleasure," he strode over to her writing desk chair and pulled it closer to the bed.

"What are you doing?" Penelope inquired, confused.

"I'd like you to continue where you left off, as if our conversation didn't interrupt you. And I'll observe," he informed her, settling into the chair.

"I beg your pardon?" Penelope's voice jumped an octave. "Are you mad? I can't do that! Not in front of you!"

"Why not?" He queried.

"Because it's inappropriate!" Penelope's voice remained strained.

Anthony rose, drawing nearer to her and clasping her hands ."Penelope, I've mentioned before that we aren't like other couples. I desire to witness you pleasuring yourself, and I implore you to allow me. I can guide you to reach the peak of pleasure. Wouldn't you like that?"

Indeed, she did long for that. A fervent need to reach climax coursed through her. Yet, the notion of engaging in such an act with him as a spectator left her feeling exposed.

"Anthony, this is... I don't even know..."

He leaned in, softly pressing his lips to hers. "Please," he entreated as he pulled back slightly. "Allow me to watch."

She took a deep breath, contemplating the audacious proposition. It diverged dramatically from their recent shared experiences, but his smoldering gaze ignited a curiosity within her.

"Very well. I'll try it," Penelope responded in a hushed tone.

With measured steps, she approached the bed and shed her chemise, reclining as she had before his arrival. Anthony settled into the chair, granting him an unhindered view of Penelope's form.

A bit apprehensive, Penelope used her hands to caress her breasts as she had moments before. Her nipples once again became taut, and she gently squeezed them between her fingers.

As Penelope explored her own body, Anthony was already erect and consumed by desire. Yet, he intended to be a silent observer. He craved watching Penelope take herself to the pinnacle of pleasure, desiring to etch that image into his memory forever.

"What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, Penelope?" Anthony inquired in a low, husky tone.

"You. I was thinking of you," she admitted, her face growing even more flushed.

"Excellent. Keep exploring," a faint note of satisfaction tinged Anthony's voice.

With one hand trailing down her belly, Penelope continued to tenderly caress her breast with the other. Her fingers ventured lower, reaching her groin. Her touch roamed along her inner thigh, gradually edging towards the intimate space between her legs. She closed her eyes as her fingers rediscovered that special spot that bestowed exquisite pleasure upon her.

A finger traced gentle circles around that sensitive area. Adjusting her position, she glided her finger along her entrance, surprised by the extent of her arousal. Slowly she inserted a finger inside herself and drew a sharp breath at the sensation. The warmth and wetness of her interior enveloped her. She moved her finger with a growing familiarity, embracing the sensation that pulsed through her.

As Anthony watched, his own arousal throbbed insistently within his pants. Penelope's exploration of her desires held him captivated, her closed-eyed moans a testament to the surrender of pleasurable sensations.

In time, Penelope incorporated another finger into her endeavors, a slow rhythm building as she inserted and withdrew them. Her moans escalated in response.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Anthony inquired.

"Oh, yes... it's wonderful... but it's still not the same as you."

Her words nearly drove him to the edge of control. Anthony composed himself and offered direction. "While working with your fingers, use your other hand to massage that special spot."

"Like this?" Penelope sought confirmation, diligently following his instructions.

"Exactly like that. Keep going... don't stop."

"Oh, Anthony... it feels so good," she gasped, her hand's pace quickening.

"Then continue," he encouraged, his own hand discreetly moving over his clothed arousal. The fear of losing restraint prevented him from shedding his clothes; the temptation to pounce on Penelope was too real.

Eyes closed, Penelope carried on with her self-indulgence. Her fingers withdrew from within as her focus shifted to that special area, igniting intense moans. Yet, she yearned for him to be the source of those fervent sounds. She relished in the way he commanded her pleasure.

In a matter of moments, her body erupted in a powerful climax, her legs trembling with the intensity of it. Instinctively, she arched her hips, soaked in the aftermath of her pleasure.

Anthony gazed at her as she squirmed on the bed, a vision of breathtaking beauty. With his own restraint slipping away, he drew nearer, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice a mixture of concern and affection as his fingers gently gliding through her hair.

Penelope turned her head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving her lips, "More than alright. I'm in pure ecstasy."

Gently, he pressed his lips to hers. Her hands explored his form eagerly, her touch a mixture of urgency and affection.

After indulging in a passionate kiss, Penelope's yearning for another release intensified. "I want to feel you," she confessed, breaking the kiss. "Now."

Without needing to be asked twice, he swiftly discarded his clothes and lowered his body onto hers, positioning himself between her legs. Penelope adjusted herself to receive him, and as he entered her, she experienced a sensation of fullness and completion.

Anthony began to move slowly, feeling each contraction of Penelope's inner muscles as they gripped and tightened around him, creating an exquisite symphony of sensations. Never before had he taken the time to observe how every part of the body responded during lovemaking. Yet, with Penelope, every moan she uttered became a mental note, allowing him to replicate these moments in the future.

"Faster, Anthony... harder," Penelope implored, her moans filling the air, and Anthony was on the brink of losing himself to her plea. He relished her assertiveness, finding immense satisfaction in fulfilling her desires.

With a hunger ignited by her plea, Anthony picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent and passionate. Their bodies moved in sync, a dance of desire that transcended words. Penelope's gasps and moans filled the room, fueling his own fervor.

His hands found her hips, fingers digging into her skin as he guided himself deeper, responding to her need for intensity. Every thrust was a declaration of their shared longing.

As their tempo increased, their breathing intensified. Penelope's nails raked lightly down his back, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body. He drank in the sight of her beneath him, her flushed skin, tangled hair, and eyes that held a ravenous desire.

Anthony's control wavered, the overwhelming sensations pushing him closer to the edge. But he was determined to prolong their pleasure, to let it build until they both reached the peak together. He shifted his angle, hitting a spot within her that drew a loud cry from Penelope's lips.

"Anthony!" she cried out.

He continued to thrust into her with purpose, each movement pushing them both higher. Their breaths mingled, their bodies slick with sweat as they chased their climax. In the midst of their shared passion, he reached between them, fingers finding the sensitive point that pushed Penelope over the edge.

With a wordless shout, Penelope shattered, her body trembling as waves of pleasure cascaded through her. The sight of her unraveling beneath him was enough to send Anthony spiraling after her, his release crashing over him in a tidal wave of sensation.

They clung to each other, breathless and spent, their heartbeats gradually slowing as they basked in the aftermath of their shared intensity. As Anthony lowered himself beside her, their bodies still entwined, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

They lay side by side, relishing the silence that hung in the room and the sensation of relaxation that enveloped their bodies.

After a few minutes, Penelope spoke, her voice rousing Anthony from the drowsiness that was beginning to overtake him.

"My mother paid me a visit today."

"She did? What a pity to have missed the presence of my esteemed mother-in-law," he responded, lacking any tone of regret.

Penelope chuckled. "No need to lament, my dear. We're hosting a dinner on Friday, and she will be joining us."

"Friday? And what's the occasion, may I inquire?"

"Perhaps your desire to see Prudence settled may be closer to realization."

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, slightly puzzled.

"My mother requested that I host the dinner and extend an invitation to Lord Debling. She believes the timing is perfect to encourage him to court my sister."

"And you agreed to this?" Anthony's tone held indignation. "This won't work! You should have declined, Penelope!"

"What could I say to her? That I'm against Prudence finding happiness? Besides, it's your fault!"

"Mine?" Anthony sat up in bed, both surprised and growing more indignant.

"Exactly! Yours! You initiated all of this by practically thrusting Prudence into Lord Debling's box on the night of the opera, remember? Now my mother thinks you're acting as a matchmaker and wants our assistance to bring it to fruition."

Anthony found himself at a loss for words, a sinking feeling settling in as his once seemingly brilliant plan seemed to be backfiring on him.

Notes:

I was going to include a scene of oral sex in this chapter, but since the smut was already quite lengthy, I saved it for another time.

We'll have the breakup with Sienna (do you guys think she'll take it well?) and the dinner with Debling in the next chapter.

By Chapter 19, I think we'll have Colin's return.

Chapter 18: Right choices

Notes:

Something happens to me when I'm writing, and I get carried away with the storytelling. Before I realize it, the chapter becomes filled with events, and I find myself needing to revise and cut some scenes. Ultimately, this ends up causing things to take a bit longer to unfold. I had promised Colin's return, but we'll only have that in the next chapter, okay? Please be patient.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony paced back and forth in his room, his frustration etched across his forehead. The impending dinner visit from Lord Debling weighed heavily on his mind. Although Penelope had extended the invitation with good intentions, hoping to establish a connection between him and her sister Prudence, Anthony couldn't shake off his discontent. He didn't want Lord Debling in his house, let alone near Penelope.

After finishing getting ready, he went to her room to see if she was prepared. Knocking lightly and hearing her permission to enter, he stepped in.The scene that met his eyes momentarily stole his words. Penelope stood before the mirror, adjusting the delicate pearls around her neck. The rich blue gown she wore accentuated her figure, enhancing her natural grace and beauty.

"You look absolutely stunning," he managed, his voice infused with sincere admiration.

Turning to him, Penelope's cheeks flushed with a delicate pink. "Thank you, Anthony."

A playful notion blossomed in his mind, and he drew nearer, his tone playful. "You know, we could always skip the dinner and have our own evening here."

Her laughter filled the room, a melodic sound that resonated within him. "As tempting as that sounds, Anthony, our guests will be arriving soon. We can't cancel now."

Drawing closer, he brushed his lips against her ear, his words a tender murmur. "Who needs guests when we have each other?"

Penelope's laughter continued to dance in the air, though her eyes twinkled with playful mischief. "We do need to head downstairs, Anthony. The guests will be here shortly."

With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "This dinner was a dreadful idea."

Her fingers brushed his cheek affectionately. "It's a temporary ordeal until Lord Debling turns his attentions toward Prudence."

Raising an eyebrow, Anthony's skepticism was palpable. "Are you certain he's interested in Prudence? It appears he's more intent on courting my wife."

Amused by his dramatic assumption, Penelope chuckled. "Anthony, you're letting your imagination run wild. Lord Debling and I have a pleasant friendship, nothing more."

A hint of displeasure tinged his expression. "What draws you to converse with him so earnestly?"

"We share a mutual love for literature. It's rather refreshing to have someone to discuss such matters with."

His gaze lingered on her, a quiet contemplation taking hold. Perhaps he had allowed his duties and preoccupations to eclipse the simple joys of shared interests with Penelope. Perhaps if he engaged in more book conversations with his wife, she might be less inclined to enjoy Debling's company.

The early evening moon cast a warm glow as Lord Debling entered the Bridgerton family's living room. With calculated elegance, he greeted everyone present. In his hands, he held a bouquet of fresh flowers, vibrant hues contrasting against his dark attire. A smile curved his lips as he extended the bouquet to Prudence, who accepted it with a quick thank-you. Portia, her mother, smiled with approval at the scene.

"Lord Debling, how thoughtful of you," Portia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as her daughter held the flowers close to her chest.

Following Prudence's gaze, Debling's eyes met Penelope's, and his smile became even more pronounced. In his hands, he cradled a weathered book, its pages slightly yellowed with age. He took a step forward and extended the book to Penelope, his tone warm and refined. "For you, Lady Bridgerton. A gift that I hope you find as enchanting as I do."

Penelope's fingers brushed over the worn cover, her eyes widening in admiration. "Oh my, 'The Sorrows of Young Werther.' Is this one of the first editions?"

"Indeed, one of the earliest editions. It holds immense significance in Germany. Consider it a small token of my appreciation for the dinner invitation," he responded with a gracious nod.

A genuine smile appeared on Penelope's lips as she looked up. "Thank you, Lord Debling. This is a remarkable gift."

The atmosphere shifted as Anthony cast a glance at the bouquet in Prudence's hands before his attention returned to the gifted book. As he had suspected, Debling's plan seemed to be aiming to court someone else.

An intrigued eyebrow raised as he cleared his throat, his voice dry. "Ah, 'The Sorrows of Young Werther.' Isn't that the book where a young man falls hopelessly in love with a married woman and meets a tragic end?"

Debling's affable demeanor didn't falter. "You've summarized a complex work quite succinctly, Lord Bridgerton. But it's much more than that. It's a cornerstone of German literature, marking the advent of the romantic movement."

Anthony's response carried a touch of wry humor. "Ah, yes, the allure of unrequited love and anguish. I suppose it's a fitting choice for a dinner, isn't it?"

Debling met Anthony's gaze, his tone thoughtful. "It's a reflection of the human experience, Lord Bridgerton. A story that delves into the depths of emotions and passions."

"Yes, indeed, I see your point. However, even so, by the end, he doesn't end up with the married woman, and she doesn't return his affections."

"Yes, but Goethe's intention in writing the work wasn't solely focused on that outcome. The intensity of emotions and the protagonist's internal struggle are the core themes, transcending whether his love is reciprocated."

"Maybe you're delving too deeply into the subtext, Debling. Sometimes, a story is as straightforward as it seems. And in Werther's case, he simply couldn't attain the woman he desired."

The assembled guests shifted their gazes from Anthony to Lord Debling, as if they were spectating an intellectual duel.

"I respect your perspective, Lord Bridgerton, yet I hold that great literary works possess a complexity that surpasses the surface. They prompt us to explore various viewpoints and ponder the subtleties of the human experience."

"Regardless of your analyses, it remains a tale of a man unable to achieve his desires," Anthony concluded, as if his words could covertly communicate to Debling his veiled reference.

"I believe it's time for dinner." Penelope interjected, preventing the debate from spiraling further.

"Excellent suggestion!" Portia rose from her seat with enthusiasm.

The grand dining table was adorned with an array of delectable dishes, a testament to the culinary prowess of the Bridgerton household. The dinner party was in full swing, conversations flowing lively.

"Lord Debling, I must say that your choice of literature to give to Penelope is quite intriguing. 'The Sorrows of Young Werther' is a masterpiece, but wasn't it the same work that caused some controversy for addressing certain themes?" Eloise inquired, her curiosity piqued as always by controversy.

"Indeed, it's a novel that delves deep into the human heart, but one can't help but be captivated by Werther's passion," he replied. "Furthermore, the work introduces other characters who are just as interesting as the protagonist."

Portia, strategically seated beside Penelope, couldn't resist nudging her daughter, accompanied by a suggestive glance towards Lord Debling, as if implying she should start praising her sister's qualities in front of the potential suitor.

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Penelope tried to include Prudence in a conversation that Debling was engaging with Eloise and Benedict. "Lord Debling, I'm sure Prudence would be interested to know your thoughts on character development," she said, sending an encouraging smile towards her sister.

"It's fascinating how characters in a well-crafted novel possess deep layers, revealing both their virtues and flaws, don't you agree, Miss Featherington?" Debling asked.

Prudence appeared momentarily puzzled. After a brief pause, she finally responded with an animated voice, "Oh, yes, characters are so... they definitely exist in books, don't they? They are so... present!"

Eloise and Benedict buried their faces in their wine glasses to conceal their chuckles. Violet cast a cautionary glance at them, yet she struggled to contain her own chuckles.

Penelope tried not to laugh at her sister's response and continued, "Yes, indeed they are, Prudence."

"Have you read any books recently, Miss Featherington?" Debling inquired.

"Hmm, I'm not particularly fond of reading, actually."

"I see. What other activities capture your interest then?" Lord Debling inquired, maintaining his polite demeanor.

"I find joy in singing, actually. And I must say, I'm rather skilled at it." Her eyes sparkled as she enthusiastically suggested, "If you're interested, I could give you a performance after dinner."

Anthony had to suppress a cough, vividly recalling Prudence's memorable singing at Colin's engagement dinner. Portia swiftly intervened.

"That won't be necessary, dear."

A hint of disappointment colored Prudence's expression, but she deferred to her mother's decision. "But, Mama..."

Portia redirected the conversation, her tone gracious. "Why don't you share your passion for painting with Lord Debling? Prudence has developed quite a knack for watercolor painting. Her work is truly impressive, my lord."

Benedict, unable to resist a quiet quip, leaned closer to Anthony and whispered, "If her painting skills match her singing skills, I fear for Lord Debling's artistic sensibilities."

Anthony struggled to hide a smile, fully aware that he was just one chair away from his mother-in-law.

"And what about you, Lady Bridgerton?" Debling suddenly turned to Penelope, his attention shifting. "Do you also have an inclination for painting? Given your vast knowledge of the literary world, I wouldn't be surprised if you excel in other forms of art as well."

A blush crept up Penelope's cheeks as she replied, "Oh, not at all, my lord. I truly have no artistic inclination. I leave that skill to my dear brother-in-law," she smiled at Benedict, "and to my sister, of course. Her watercolors are truly amazing. You should see them."

"Yes, Lord Debling. The doors of the Featherington house are open should you be interested in visiting," Portia chimed in, seizing the opportunity presented by Penelope.

While his mother-in-law was talking, Anthony leaned over to his wife, his voice teasing as he whispered near her ear, "Her watercolors are amazing, huh? You do realize that blatant lying is a sin, don't you?"

"Shh!" Penelope whispered back, pressing her lips together to stifle a laugh.

Eloise, seated across from Debling, couldn't resist her penchant for frankness. "Speaking of enchantment, Lord Debling, do you believe it's possible to find a love as intense as the ones in the novels you so much enjoy?"

Debling's smile was indulgent as he met Eloise's gaze. "Ah, Miss Bridgerton, the world of literature often provides us with exquisite fantasies. I'm afraid real life tends to be a touch more complex."

Benedict, his lips twitching with restrained amusement, leaned toward Eloise. "Perhaps, my dear sister, Lord Debling is living his own romance right now."

Anthony glared at his brother.

Eloise smirked. "Or perhaps he's the gallant hero of the stories he reads."

Debling chuckled, "You two are quite the pair, aren't you?" He nodded towards Penelope, his expression warm. "Lady Bridgerton understands what I'm saying. Is it not accurate to say that the passion experienced within the pages of books also touches your heart?"

Anthony, seated beside Penelope, was growing increasingly irritated as he observed Debling's fascination with his wife. He cleared his throat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Ah, passion. A topic that seems to ignite your interest, Debling. You seem to know no other subject."

Violet, sensing the rising tension, intervened with her characteristic grace. "Lord Debling, may I inquire about your travels? Have you encountered any peculiar customs or breathtaking landscapes?"

Debling's attention shifted to Violet, his unshakable charm in place. "Certainly, Lady Bridgerton. I recently visited Venice, a city unlike any other. The intricate architecture and the romantic gondola rides were truly enchanting."

Anthony found himself torn. On one hand, he wanted Debling to stop paying so much attention to Penelope, but on the other hand, orchestrating a match between him and Prudence would mean that Debling would become an even more prominent figure in Anthony's life than he would prefer. The most frustrating aspect was his inability to be direct with Debling, given that the man had not been disrespectful in any way. He exuded only smiles and noble courtesy as he engaged with the guests. Anthony was certain that there was more to Debling than met the eye. His facade seemed carefully crafted.

As Anthony contemplated his options, he considered the idea of bringing Debling closer to Portia, who was known for being obtuse and rather irksome. Perhaps that would cause Debling to naturally distance himself from the Featheringtons and, consequently, the Bridgertons. It seemed like a viable path to pursue under the circumstances. By creating an environment less appealing to Debling, Anthony might indirectly achieve his goal of keeping him away from Penelope.

"Oh, you know what would be splendid?" Anthony interjected into the conversation, capturing everyone's attention. "Why don't you join Miss Prudence for a promenade tomorrow, Lord Debling? It would be a wonderful opportunity for you to discuss your numerous travels, books, and whatever else captures your interest. I must admit, my sister-in-law is an excellent listener."

Prudence, who seemed to awaken from a daze, looked at Anthony in surprise that he was talking about her.

Portia seized the opportunity, her voice a theatrical whisper. "Oh, that would indeed be splendid!"

Debling glanced at Anthony and then nodded, a polished smile forming on his lips. "It would be my pleasure, Miss Featherington."

"Then it's settled!" Anthony exclaimed. "I propose a toast now."

"What are we toasting to, dear?" Violet inquired.

"Here's to our remarkable family," Anthony raised his glass, his voice carrying a tone of hidden meaning. "To the intricate web of connections that bind us together, weaving our destinies in ways we might not foresee." He held the gaze of Lord Debling for a lingering moment before continuing, "And as we raise our glasses, let's remember that life is full of unexpected surprises. Just like the characters in a story, we never truly know what lies ahead." A subtle smile played on his lips as he added, "To the future, where paths cross and fates intertwine. Cheers."

As glasses clinked and smiles exchanged, Anthony's insinuation hung in the air like a hidden thread waiting to be unraveled.

After everyone had raised their glasses and returned to their conversations, Benedict leaned towards Anthony, his voice hushed. "Marriage has turned you into quite the matchmaker, hasn't it?"

Anthony replied, masking a smile with a sip of wine, "All is fair in love and dinner parties."

Once the dinner at the Bridgerton house had concluded, Anthony departed from his home with the unwavering intention of ending his affair with Sienna. With every day of avoidance that went by, the weight on his conscience grew heavier. The situation had reached a point where it could no longer be postponed.

His heart raced as he crossed the threshold into her home, his steps propelled by a nervous urgency. Sienna had served as his sanctuary, his escape from the intricate web of his noble life. Today, however, he was entering her abode to sever all ties they had ever shared.

Sienna welcomed him with an affectionate embrace, her fingers tracing a delicate path across his chest, her lips tantalizingly close to his. "I've missed you," she breathed, her voice a seductive murmur.

An instinctive recoil overcame him, her touch now akin to treachery. "Sienna, we need to talk," he managed to utter.

Her playful countenance morphed into one of confusion. "Talk? Anthony, since when have we needed to talk when we're together?"

Anthony sank into a nearby chair, drawing a deep breath, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond her. "You must have sensed the changes between us."

She tilted her head, scrutinizing him intently. "Yes... you've grown distant. Avoiding my kisses, my touches... you haven't visited me in weeks. Indeed, much has changed. I just can't fathom the cause of this sudden shift."

Anthony sighed, his fingers involuntarily fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. "Sienna, I... I don't know how to put this into words."

"Then find the words, Anthony. Don't leave me in suspense," her tone tinged with genuine concern. "What's wrong?"

Summoning courage, his gaze locked onto hers as he resolved to lay everything bare. "We can't continue to see each other."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Anthony, what are you saying? What do you mean we can't see each other?"

A tense silence hung before he continued. "Our relationship can't persist. I need to focus on my marriage."

"Your... marriage? Are you serious?" Sienna's voice quivered, her hurt reflecting in her eyes. "You married her to keep us together, remember? What changed?" A pause lingered, and Anthony's gaze faltered, evading her penetrating stare. An eerie stillness enveloped them, shattered only when Sienna whispered, "Did... did you sleep with her?"

"Yes," he responded, his voice devoid of emotion.

Sienna's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "And now you're ending it all because of her?"

"It's not solely because of her, Sienna. It's about my duty, my commitment. I must make this marriage work. I can't dishonor Penelope. I'm married now. I can't continue on this path."

She emitted a bitter laugh, her composure crumbling. "You're deluding yourself, Anthony. You took her virtue and now you believe it signifies something profound. This connection you're sensing won't endure. Marriages are obligations, not conduits of happiness. She will not make you happy!"

His patience eroded. "Do not belittle Penelope."

Sienna's frustration ignited, anger evident in her voice. "Not too long ago, you dismissed her as insignificant, a mere wallflower. And now she's suddenly significant to you? Why?"

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. "I won't stand for you insulting Penelope. She is my wife, and I won't tolerate that."

Sienna's voice escalated, bitterness permeating her words. "Don't forget, Lord Bridgerton, that we together chose your wife!"

Anthony rose from his seat, "We have nothing left to discuss." Heading towards the door, opening it, and pausing, his gaze returning to Sienna. "I truly wish it hadn't come to this..."

She cut him off, "Save your apologies, Lord Bridgerton. Just leave my house. Don't come seeking me out when your marriage crumbles."

He cast one final glance at her, a pang of guilt coursing through him for letting things escalate to this point. It was unimaginable that he would ever be parting ways with Sienna due to another woman. Without further ado, he turned on his heels and walked away.

Anthony's chest was heavy as he stepped inside his house,the familiarity of the surroundings offering little solace. He finally broke up with Sienna. He knew it was the right thing to do, a necessary step for the sake of the marriage and Penelope's well-being, but that knowledge didn't ease the turmoil inside him.

How did things get to this point? He'd been so sure of his decisions before, so sure he'd manage the affair with Sienna and his marriage to Penelope. But now, as he faced the consequences of his actions, his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the memory of Sienna's hurt expression, the disbelief in her eyes as he uttered those final words.

He wandered through the halls of the silent house, his mind drifting to Penelope. She deserved happiness, security, and a peaceful marriage. He had promised her those things, and he intended to deliver on that promise.

As he reached her bedroom, he paused at her door. Pushing it open gently, he found Penelope in slumber, bathed in the soft, pearly glow of moonlight streaming through the open window. A moment's hesitation passed before he shed his boots, coat, and tie. He approached her with silent steps, settling beside her and enfolding her in a gentle embrace.

"Anthony?" Her voice, laced with sleep, recognized his scent.

"It's me, Penelope. Forgive me for waking you," he whispered tenderly.

"Is everything alright?" Concern edged her voice as she turned towards him.

He cradled her hand in his, the touch was reassuring, grounding him in the reality of their marriage. "Everything is fine now," he assured, sincerity imbuing his words.

Even in the darkness, she studied his face for a moment, as if seeking hidden meanings. "You seem troubled," she gently observed.

"Can I sleep here tonight? Just sleep?"

Penelope sensed the weight of unspoken thoughts but she chose not to press. She knew Anthony would share when he was ready. With a gentle gesture, she lifted the covers, extending an invitation. "Of course, you're welcome."

As he held her in his arms, Anthony couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settling over him. Yes, the path ahead wouldn't be without challenges, but he knew that he was making the right choices for their future. Sienna had been a chapter in his life, but Penelope was his story, his partner in this journey.

And as they lay there, together, he knew that every sacrifice he made was worth it to ensure Penelope's tranquility and happiness.

Notes:

I hope this chapter turned out well. I'm not sure if I overdid Anthony's emotions, but to me, he's a bit more introspective. He has doubts, fears, doesn't know what to say, and doesn't want to make the wrong choices.

Sienna being hurt by the breakup was the only option for me. No woman wants to be sidelined. She also believed there was something genuine between her and Anthony. They did have something, but hurricane Penelope completely altered Anthony's life. He never imagined that the wallflower would become so significant in his life.

Chapter 19: Doubts

Notes:

Today's chapter is reflective for Anthony and the emotions he tries to suppress.

In the next chapter, there will be a cute moment for those who are fans of Pride and Prejudice

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Seated in a corner of one of the White's club, bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers, Anthony held a brandy glass, his thoughts seemingly distant.

It had been days since he ended things with Sienna, and a sense of relief had settled over him. He had grown tired of the complicated web of their relationship, and her absence now felt like a reprieve he didn't know he needed.

Yet, even in his solitude, a new dilemma gnawed at him. Should he tell Penelope that he no longer had a lover? He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, as he contemplated the consequences of such a revelation.

He cared for her deeply, that much was undeniable. But the prospect of her developing deeper, more romantic feelings for him left him conflicted.

He couldn't deny the growing connection between them. Her presence had become a soothing balm to his soul, a respite from the storm that had been his emotions for so long. He found solace in their conversations, a sense of camaraderie that he had never anticipated.

Anthony sighed, raking a hand through his hair. His heart, though guarded, was not impervious to the possibility of change. But with change came uncertainty, and he feared leading her down a path that might ultimately cause her pain.

Benedict, with his ever-keen observation, leaned in slightly. "You appear preoccupied, Anthony. Is something bothering you?"

Anthony sighed, setting down his glass with a contemplative expression. "I've ended things with Sienna."

"I see. Have you shared this with Penelope?"

"No, not yet."

"Why the secrecy?" Benedict inquired.

After a brief pause, Anthony answered, "I... worry that Penelope might interpret my break with Sienna as a sign of developing feelings between us, or that she might grow attached."

Benedict's scrutiny intensified as he observed his older brother. "And do you have such feelings?"

Anthony took a moment to reflect. Slowly, he responded, "I value her companionship, our time together. Our conversations and connection are enjoyable. But I'm cautious about forming a strong emotional bond."

"It's worth noting that bonds often form irrespective of intent. Emotions have a way of defying reason."

Anthony's brows furrowed slightly, his pride clinging to the idea of controlling emotions. "I lean more toward logic than emotions."

Benedict's unwavering gaze remained on Anthony, his eyes probing his brother's expression. "May I ask if you plan on seeking another mistress?"

Leaning back, Anthony contemplated the question. "Not at present. I find contentment in what I share with Penelope." A significant glance passed between them, and Anthony's confusion grew. "Why the scrutiny?"

Benedict chuckled softly. "You're a fool, Anthony."

Confusion etched Anthony's features. "What?"

Benedict's demeanor turned thoughtful, "You've always relied on logic to guard against emotional involvement. But life often proves us wrong. What if Penelope were to fall in love? You can't control that."

Anthony's expression shifted, a mixture of uncertainty and apprehension surfacing. "I won't permit it," he asserted. "I'll ensure our marriage remains harmonious."

Benedict's earnestness heightened. "And if she falls for someone else? Would you deny her the chance at a deserving love?"

Silence enveloped Anthony as he grappled with his brother's inquiry. He acknowledged the absence of a clear answer, his emotions and convictions at odds.

Benedict's gaze remained unyielding, searching Anthony's eyes for a response. "Remember, Anthony, love finds us, whether we seek it or not."

Penelope paced restlessly around the Bridgerton residence, her mind a whirlwind of scattered thoughts. The words for her column eluded her, and frustration gnawed at her concentration. With a sigh, she decided a small break was in order. Perhaps a glass of warm milk would help clear her mind.

Making her way to the kitchen, Penelope retrieved a glass bottle of milk from the chilled pantry. She paused by the stove, and reached for a box of matches. Just as she was about to strike a match, the kitchen door swung open.

"Penelope, what are you doing?" Anthony's voice cut through the silence.

Startled, Penelope jumped and clutched the matchbox to her chest, her eyes wide. "Anthony! You scared me half to death!"

He stepped further into the kitchen, a curious expression on his face. "I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you. But really, what are you up to?"

Penelope took a calming breath, relieved that it was only Anthony. She glanced at the milk in her hand and then at the unlit stove. "I was just... I thought I'd warm some milk. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to bother the servants."

Anthony raised an eyebrow, "You're going to light the stove yourself?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded with determination. "Yes, why not? I've seen the servants do it often enough. I'm quite capable of handling it."

He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "You remind me of a time when Daphne and I were utterly baffled by how to light a stove. We ended up drinking cold milk."

"Well, you see, I've paid attention, and I've learned a thing or two. Besides, I like understanding how things work."

Anthony's smile softened, and he leaned against the kitchen counter. "You're a viscountess now, Penelope. You don't need to concern yourself with such tasks."

She shook her head, her determination unwavering. "I may be a viscountess, but that doesn't mean I should stop learning. And you should know how to do this too."

He regarded her with a mixture of amusement and something else, something she couldn't quite place. "And why should I bother, when I have a capable wife who can do it for me?"

She set down the milk and picked up the matchbox once more. "Because knowledge is valuable, Anthony."

With deft fingers, she struck a match, lighting the stove's burner. Soon, the blue flames danced to life, and she placed the milk on the stove, a sense of accomplishment washing over her.

"See?" she said, turning to him with a triumphant grin. "Not so difficult, is it?"

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head in mild disbelief. "You truly are something, Penelope."

"Well, if I can do it, so can you."

As the milk heated, Penelope fetched two glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the table, taking a seat as Anthony joined her. "I thought you'd be at the club a little longer," she commented casually.

"No, I'm feeling a bit tired, so I decided to come home earlier," he replied.

"Perhaps a glass of milk can help you rest. Warm milk," she suggested.

"Now that I've learned how to light the stove, I'm sure I won't go hungry anymore," he smiled.

They stood in comfortable silence, the gentle crackling of the fire breaking the quietude. A few minutes later, Penelope got up and removed the milk from the stove, serving the two glasses.

"Thank you," Anthony said, waiting a few seconds before bringing the glass to his lips.

"Next time, can you take charge of the stove?" She suggested, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Definitely... I think I've finally got the hang of it," he chuckled, a hint of uncertainty still present in his stove-handling skills.

They sipped their glasses of milk, a comfortable silence enveloping them. Yet, Anthony's thoughts drifted to his recent conversation with Benedict. What if Penelope fell in love with someone else? A genuine, reciprocated love.

Unintentionally, Anthony found himself recalling how Penelope had relinquished her own aspirations to accept his marriage proposal, even though it was a practical arrangement – which had led him to speculate at the time if she held feelings for someone else. He remembered how adeptly she had sidestepped giving him a direct response to that query. Now, he couldn't help but wonder if remnants of those feelings lingered. Did she still harbor a fondness for someone from her past?

"Penelope," he began, his voice gentle yet probing, "have you ever been in love?"

A quiet tension settled between them after his question. He watched as Penelope's gaze seemed to drift momentarily, lost in her own thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder about the nature of her hesitation and the emotions that lay beneath.

"Why do you want to know?" Penelope finally asked, her voice hesitant as she broke the silence.

"I've always wondered about your hesitation when I proposed to you," he admitted, "There was something in your eyes, a fleeting moment of uncertainty. I couldn't help but wonder if there was someone else you were considering."

She looked away briefly, her thoughts drifting to Colin, who was still traveling. She remembered the decision she had made to set aside her feelings for him and marry Anthony instead. She remembered the nights she had spent crying over her unrequited feelings, the internal struggle she had faced before accepting Anthony's proposal.

After a pause, she finally nodded, a touch of vulnerability in her gaze. "Yes, I have."

Anthony's heart clenched at her admission, even though he had suspected it. A wave of jealousy surged through him, irrational yet undeniable. He wanted to ask more, to know who the man was, to understand the depth of her emotions. But he hesitated, his own fears and insecurities holding him back.

She took a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before speaking, "I fell in love when I was sixteen," she admitted softly. "But it was... unrequited. It was just a fanciful crush, a youthful fantasy that I knew would never come to fruition."

As she spoke, a strange feeling settled over her, a mix of relief and discomfort. Talking about her feelings for her husband's brother, especially without Anthony knowing the full context, felt surreal.

"And do you still carry those feelings?" Anthony's voice was carefully controlled, masking a storm of emotions that raged beneath.

She shook her head, her gaze distant. "No, not anymore. I eventually resigned myself to it."

"Did it hurt?" Anthony's question was barely a whisper.

Penelope nodded, a sad smile touching her lips. "At first, it did. But over time, I learned to accept it and move on. I knew that he didn't share my feelings, and it wasn't fair to me to hold onto something that was one-sided."

They both lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Anthony's grip on the armrest tightened, jealousy coursing through him. He knew it was irrational, considering they were now married, but the idea of another man occupying Penelope's heart stirred a complex mix of emotions within him.

After a moment, Penelope's voice broke the quiet. "And what about you, Anthony? Have you ever been in love?"

His eyes met hers, his expression guarded. "No," he replied.

In his mind, reason waged a war against emotions he had long suppressed. He knew that admitting his feelings for Penelope would mean surrendering control, allowing himself to be vulnerable in a way he had spent years avoiding. And yet, as much as he resisted, there was a part of him that yearned to take that leap, to explore the uncharted territory of love.

Notes:

I understand that I keep saying that Colin will appear in the next chapter and he never does, but it's just that I get carried away and end up writing a lot, which leads me to postpone certain events.

Chapter 21, I promise with absolute certainty, Colin will be among us. I swear!

Chapter 20: Falling

Notes:

I was thinking around 23/25 chapters, but I think we'll have 30. I'm not completely sure about it yet. Things can change.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony walked into the library with a determined purpose. His gaze swept over the shelves of books, searching for something that could engage him and provide him with a topic of conversation with Penelope. He wanted to pay more attention to his wife and share in her interests.

His fingers brushed over the spines of various titles until they settled on a copy of "Pride and Prejudice." Should he immerse himself in the world of Austen, a world he had never considered before?

After a moment of contemplation, he made his decision. With a resolute nod, he withdrew the book and found a comfortable chair by the window. He sank into the seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight, and opened the pages to begin his journey into a world he had never explored.

The words flowed before him, and as he delved into the first chapter, he was captivated by Austen's wit and storytelling. His eyes moved swiftly across the lines, the characters and their interactions coming alive in his mind. Anthony was surprised to find himself enjoying the writing, and the thought of discussing it with Penelope filled him with a quiet excitement.

Time passed as he read, the minutes slipping away in the company of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Anthony's fingers absentmindedly turned the pages, his thoughts immersed in the unfolding narrative. He couldn't deny that the story was engaging, drawing him further into its grasp.

Just as he was about to finish the fifth chapter, the library door swung open. Anthony glanced up, his attention shifting from the pages to his sister Eloise, who stood at the threshold with an amused expression. Her surprise was evident, as if it were a rarity to find Anthony engrossed in a book.

Eloise's lips curved into a playful smile. "Well, well, what do we have here? The great Anthony Bridgerton indulging in some literature? I must say, this is a sight to behold."

"Must you make it sound like I've stumbled upon a hidden treasure, Eloise?"

She laughed softly, stepping into the room. "No, but I find it rather endearing to see you reading something other than financial reports."

He closed the book. "It's a rather captivating story."

Eloise crossed her arms with an incredulous look. "Brother, since when do novels capture your attention?"

Leaning back with an amused glint in his eyes, Anthony countered, "Is it criminal for me to indulge in a novel?"

Eloise's grin turned mischievous. "Not at all. However, it's highly unusual to witness you immersed in one voluntarily. Don't you have more pressing matters to attend to?"

"I could ask you the same, dear sister."

Eloise playfully dismissed his comment. "I am constantly occupied. But you, Anthony, absorbed in a novel? It's a rare sight."

"People evolve, Eloise."

She continued to observe him, her curiosity unfading. After a moment, Eloise's realization sparked a mischievous gleam. "Ah, I see now. Perhaps there's a motive behind this sudden literary enthusiasm."

Raising an eyebrow, Anthony entertained her line of thought. "And what motive do you suspect?"

Eloise's grin turned knowing. "I have a theory. This book happens to be one of Penelope's cherished favorites.So you're reading to share common interests with her. To discuss matters she delights in, especially in the company of Lord Debling, I presume."

Anthony's facade wavered momentarily, a faint flicker of surprise passing over his features. Caught slightly off guard by his sister's deduction, he cleared his throat. "I neither confirm nor deny such speculations."

Eloise couldn't suppress her laughter, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Oh, Anthony, you're not as discreet as you believe."

Leaned back, Anthony's lips curved into a reluctant smile. "Perhaps you're right."

Their exchange shifted as Eloise's playful demeanor mellowed. She leaned against a nearby sofa. "You know, I never envisioned Penelope finding happiness with you."

His gaze sharpened, a mix of intrigue and earnestness taking over. "And why is that?"

Eloise's gaze turned contemplative as she shared her insight. "You've always appeared to be a man not entirely suited for marriage, Anthony. A tormented soul, grappling with your own inner battles. But Penelope seems to draw out a different facet of you, grounding you. It's evident you bring her joy, and she in turn brings out a lighter side in you."

Anthony's gaze shifted, absorbing her words with thoughtfulness. "Your observations are remarkably keen."

Eloise chuckled. "Observation is one of my talents, after all. Your evolving relationship with Penelope is even making me reconsider my views on marriage."

Arching an eyebrow, Anthony raised an inquisitive question. "Shall we anticipate news of a wedding from you this season, then?"

Eloise straightened with an amused twinkle in her eyes. "Let's not leap too far ahead, brother." As Eloise prepared to leave, she turned back with a genuine smile. "Thank you, Anthony. For taking care of my friend."

Meeting her gaze, Anthony nodded with a touch of gratitude. "It's my pleasure, Eloise. Always."

Eloise glided into the drawing room, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes as she approached Penelope. "Oh, Pen, you won't believe what I stumbled upon."

Penelope peered up from her book, captivated by her friend's enthusiastic demeanor. "What is it?"

A playful grin curved Eloise's lips. "Prepare yourself for a surprise: I caught Anthony with his nose buried in 'Pride and Prejudice'."

Penelope's brow furrowed in perplexity. "Anthony? Reading a Jane Austen novel? That seems utterly implausible."

Eloise nodded with an air of certainty. "Believe me, I couldn't believe it myself. But there he was, completely immersed in the pages."

Penelope settled back in her chair, a blend of incredulity and amusement swirling in her gaze. "It's quite baffling. Anthony and novels, especially romantic ones, don't typically cross paths."

Eloise's expression took on a knowing quality. "I have a hunch. My theory is that he's a tad bit jealous of Lord Debling's conversations with you."

Surprise widened Penelope's eyes, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "Jealous? Eloise, that's positively absurd. Debling and I are nothing more than conversational companions."

Leaning in, Eloise adopted a conspiratorial tone. "Penelope, I've learned that men can be surprisingly dense in matters of the heart."

Penelope's laughter tinkled softly. "You truly believe Anthony could be jealous?"

Eloise responded with a playful roll of her eyes. "While it pains me to admit it, I think there might be some merit to the idea. Debling's intentions seem to extend beyond mere discussions."

A flush of embarrassment tinged Penelope's cheeks, her smile a mixture of bashfulness and flattery. "Eloise, you're painting a fantasy. I invited Debling merely because my mother thinks he'd be an appropriate match for Prudence."

Eloise released an exasperated sigh. "Oh, your mother and her unrelenting matchmaking endeavors. She ought to come to terms with the possibility that Prudence might be a spinster." Penelope's laughter bubbled forth and Eloise added, "Indeed, being a spinster does come with its own set of advantages."

Penelope leaned casually against a nearby table, her gaze contemplative. "Speaking of marriage, Eloise, do you ever envision yourself taking the plunge for real?"

Eloise's gaze turned introspective. "I ponder that question from time to time, but it remains an unresolved matter for me. I have more important matters to focus on right now than contemplating marriage or suitors"

Penelope arched an inquisitive eyebrow. "Is it due to your fervent pursuit of Lady Whistledown's identity?"

Eloise hesitated, her response weighed with consideration. "Not at all. I forgot about Lady Whistledown for now because I've been dedicating myself to personal growth. I've been immersing myself in the study of philosophy and modern sciences. My goal is to expand my realm of knowledge."

Pride lit up Penelope's eyes. "That's truly remarkable, Eloise."

"Thank you," she responded with a soft smile.

Penélope seized the moment to inquire casually, "I would like to know: What are your true thoughts on Lord Debling?"

Eloise's tone took on a contemplative note. "He is a rather intriguing man."

"Do you believe he's a suitable match for Prudence?"

"Only if he derives pleasure from conversing with a wall," Eloise chuckled. "Frankly, I believe your sister should begin embracing the notion of spinsterhood soon."

Penelope joined in the laughter. "I'm in complete agreement, though let's avoid whispering such sentiments within earshot of my mother." After a brief pause, she ventured, "And as for you, would he be considered a suitable suitor?"

Eloise smirked playfully. "Oh, he's suitable, no doubt. But I doubt I could ever commit to someone like him."

Intrigued, Penelope tilted her head. "Why's that?"

Eloise's gaze turned reflective, a hint of distance in her eyes. "He always seems to possess the perfect words, the impeccable compliments. It might sound appealing, but it could turn monotonous with time. I prefer a partner who challenges me, who doesn't always share my sentiments, someone who offers a fresh viewpoint."

Penelope nodded, her expression pensive. "I understand your perspective. A bit of intellectual sparring keeps things intriguing."

Contemplating her connection with Anthony, she acknowledged that they didn't always share the same perspective, yet the intellectual friction between them seemed to add depth to their bond. It was the amalgamation of differing viewpoints and shared esteem that rendered their relationship extraordinary. With growing assurance, she recognized that her choice to marry him had indeed been the right one.

Anthony slipped into Penelope's room with a quiet presence, finding her seated at her dressing table, finishing up applying a cream to her face.

After the night Anthony surprised her in her room, they began sleeping together every night. It hadn't been planned between them; Anthony simply started showing up each evening to share their rest. Penelope didn't mind, as she cherished that intimate time with him. But, deep down, she held a fear that it might come to an end abruptly.

However, Penelope noticed that he no longer made frequent late-night excursions or simply headed out with his brother to the club. She chose not to bring up these changes, sensing that if necessary, he would discuss it with her when the time was right. Things were going well between them, and she didn't want to stir up potentially uncomfortable subjects.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't be retiring for the night," she mused, her gaze shifting to the mirror to catch his reflection as he shed his clothes and donned more comfortable attire for sleep.

"I got lost in a book in the library, lost track of time," he replied casually, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance. Settling onto the bed, he propped himself up against the pillows.

"Reading, hm? Anything intriguing?" she inquired, the memory of her earlier chat with Eloise flitting through her mind.

"Pride and Prejudice," he remarked in an offhand manner, his eyes focused on her as he spoke.

She rose from her chair, gracefully moving to join him on the bed. Despite Eloise having already divulged the information, hearing Anthony himself mention that he was engrossed in a Jane Austen novel caught Penelope by surprise.

"You read 'Pride and Prejudice'? Truly?"

Anthony nodded, a faint hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I thought I'd give it a try."

Her heart warmed at his effort, and she couldn't help the happiness that bubbled within her. This was the first time someone had gone out of their way to take an interest in her passions. "That's... wonderful, Anthony. I hope you are enjoying the story."

He met her gaze with a small smile, clearly pleased with her reaction. "I must admit, I can see why you enjoy Austen's work. Her writing style is quite engaging, and the characters are interesting."

"So. What do you think of Mr. Darcy so far?"

"Ah, Mr. Darcy. A complex character, isn't he? I find his aloofness intriguing, though I suspect there's more to him than meets the eye."

"Indeed, he's one of Austen's most famous creations." She gazed at him with a playful glint in her eyes. "You know, Anthony, I couldn't help but notice a certain resemblance between you and him."

Anthony's brows shot up in surprise, his lips curling into an amused smile. "Mr. Darcy? Really? In what aspects do you see this resemblance?"

Penelope leaned forward slightly, her gaze thoughtful as she considered her response. "Well, for one, you both have this air of mystery and reserve about you. People might find you intimidating at first, but underneath, there's a complexity that's worth discovering."

Anthony chuckled, clearly intrigued by the comparison. "Mystery and reserve, you say?"

"Yes, and there's also your sense of responsibility and devotion to your family. Just like Mr. Darcy takes his role as the head of his family seriously, you also prioritize your family's well-being."

Anthony's amusement was evident as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on her. "You've certainly given this some thought."

Penelope chuckled, a hint of color dusting her cheeks. "Well, 'Pride and Prejudice' is one of my favorite novels, and Mr. Darcy has always been a fascinating character to me."

"Is he your favorite character?"

"Yes, he is. There's something captivating about his transformation throughout the story, how he learns from his mistakes and becomes a better person."

Anthony's smile softened, and he regarded her with a warmth that reached his eyes. "I'm glad to know that you see qualities you admire in him. And I must admit, being compared to Mr. Darcy isn't such a bad thing."

Penelope chuckled softly, her gaze meeting his. "Oh, you should be flattered, Anthony. Mr. Darcy is an iconic character, after all."

With a subtle, knowing glint in his eyes, he leaned closer to her. The air between them seemed charged with a gentle tension as he lowered his lips to hers, a soft, lingering kiss that held a hint of seduction without being overt.

When he pulled back slightly, his gaze held hers, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, "So, if I am Mr. Darcy, would you assume the role of Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Do you wish for me to embody Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy?" Her innocent question stirred a complex interplay of emotions within Anthony.

His fingers brushed against her skin in a feather-light touch. The sensation sent a shiver down Penelope's spine, causing her to inhale sharply. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming, and she could feel her cheeks flush with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

His touch traced a delicate path along her jawline, his fingers sending a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Penelope's breath hitched as she closed her eyes, surrendering to the delightful sensations he was awakening within her. It was as if every brush of his fingertips was setting her skin on fire, igniting a growing desire that she could no longer deny.

Anthony's voice was a mere whisper, a velvet caress against her ear. "Take off your clothes."

She complied promptly, eager to obey him in every way possible. As he gently laid her down on the bed, she closed her eyes, savoring the softness of the pillow beneath her.

The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a wave of goosebumps over her body, her senses heightened by the intoxicating proximity of their bodies. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.

His thumb brushed against her lower lip, and she couldn't help the soft, involuntary sigh that escaped her. The electricity between them was palpable, an unspoken yearning that hung in the air, charged with unexplored emotions.

"I want to do something," he admitted, his voice a husky undertone that seemed to reverberate through her.

Before Penelope could ask what, his lips met hers again, the kiss deeper, more fervent than before. It was a silent confession, a declaration of the desires. As their lips moved against each other, the world around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sensation of their moment.

His fingers gradually traced down her abdomen, and Penelope parted her thighs, eagerly anticipating the sensations his touch would ignite.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, parting from her lips for a brief moment, his fingers moving within her.

"Yes..."

With her affirmation, Anthony withdrew his fingers, drawing a soft protest in the form of a moan from her lips. He took off his clothes and then positioned himself between her legs, his face nestled at the heart of her desire. The first touch of his tongue made her squirm.

"Anthony? What are you doing?" she asked, a mixture of surprise and anticipation in her voice.

"Something I've longed to do for quite a while," he confessed, raising his head to lock eyes with her. "Just relax, Pen. I promise you'll find pleasure in this."

Returning his attention to the task at hand, Anthony's tongue explored every inch of her femininity. The sensations were exquisite, different from the touch of his fingers – a warm and moist intensity that sent shivers of pleasure up her spine.

Her fingers found refuge in his hair, pulling gently as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Anthony's skilled tongue had her body undulating with each movement, and when his fingers joined the act, Penelope felt like she was on the brink of ecstasy.

Anthony's strong hands held her securely as Penelope rode out the waves of pleasure, and he savored every moment of her release like a connoisseur savoring the finest of flavors.

Breathing heavily, Penelope gradually regained her composure as Anthony raised his head, his own face glistening with her essence. He tilted his head and kissed her. Penelope tasted a different flavor on his lips, and her hands gripped every part of his body she could reach.

"I'm interested in trying something... a bit different," she murmured, her cheeks flushing. The vivid recollection of the sketches Lady Danbury had shared reignited her curiosity once more.

"Different?"

"I want to take the lead."

"You mean...?"

"I want to be on top." She said, turning beet red. Anthony couldn't conceal his surprise, his astonishment evident. He had never fathomed Penelope might suggest something like this.

"I thought... I considered…," Her voice wavered as a blush deepened, her words stumbling slightly, "Maybe we should forget about it. I might be too heavy and..."

He didn't allow her to finish, capturing her lips with a fervent kiss that silenced her uncertainties. As they reluctantly pulled apart, Anthony's whispered words brushed against her lips. "Use me for your pleasure." He separated from her momentarily, sitting on the bed, his rigid arousal dripping, and said, "Ride me, Penelope."

The flames of desire blazed in his eyes, and Penelope yearned to be engulfed by their fervor. She ascended, positioning herself over him, her knees resting on the bed with her legs bent as she melded to his form. In this arrangement, a new sense of fullness enveloped her, and it was nothing short of exquisite.

Pausing for a moment, she adjusted to the new position. Anthony's gentle inquiry came, "How are you feeling?"

Her response was a soft whisper, "Whole," accompanied by a contented smile.

"Good... now, move your hips forward. You're in control now. Set the pace."

With deliberate slowness, she swayed her hips forward, her hands finding their place on her husband's shoulders. Her bosom swayed, a weighty temptation, and Anthony wasted no time in enfolding them with his palms, his tongue igniting trails of pleasure across each mound. As Penelope's hips gained momentum, a symphony of rising moans accompanied her fervent movements.

A goddess astride him, she was a breathtaking sight. Auburn locks cascaded over her shoulders like a fiery waterfall. Her skin glistened with a sheen of perspiration, her features aglow with effort. In Anthony's eyes, she radiated an unprecedented allure.

She was his wife, only his, and in this union, he was the sole witness to her magnificence, the only one who could claim her in this profound manner. Such an epiphany surged through him, a potent sense of ownership, driving him to grip Penelope's thighs with both hands, guiding her with fervent urgency. He held her firmly, imprinting his ardor upon her alabaster skin.

"You're mine, Penelope… mine," he groaned into her mouth, a claim sealed by an ardent kiss, his desire cascading unchecked. Penelope nodded, speech eluding her amidst the deluge of rapture flooding her senses.

As another climax beckoned, Penelope's hand journeyed between her thighs, brushing against her center of pleasure. Anthony's hold on her thighs remained steadfast. A brief span of time later, Penelope quivered above him, every fiber of her being tensing in ecstasy.

Anthony, unable to resist the magnetic pull of the incredible sensations, succumbed to his climax. A surge of pleasure surged from his toes, mounting in intensity until it erupted within her with a guttural roar.

Still trembling atop him, Penelope gradually disentangled herself from their intimate connection, settling beside him. Anthony mirrored her movement, enfolding her in his embrace. Silence enveloped them as they inhaled the aftermath of their shared passion.

"How do you feel?" he inquired after a pause.

"Boneless," she answered, her smile radiant, the remnants of tremors still lingering within her.

Anthony's fingers traced soothing patterns through her hair. Flush from their fervor, Penelope remained a captivating vision. In this moment, he realized he could spend eternity in quiet admiration of her presence, content within their shared world.

Observing her in this poignant moment, right after the crescendo of intense pleasure, a realization crashed over Anthony, one he had been skillfully dodging for days, though it had been steadily growing beneath the surface.

It was as if his heart had expanded, enveloping her entirely. And there was a singular, undeniable truth that could account for this overwhelming sensation: he was irrevocably, unequivocally in love with Penelope.

The weight of this realization settled heavily upon him, like a cloak he couldn't shed. The depth of his feelings for her had become undeniable, and the gravity of his emotions left him both exhilarated and apprehensive. Love was a realm he had never ventured into willingly, and the prospect of living this reality made him feel vulnerable for the first time.

Notes:

Finally!

I'm sensing their sexual connection is building and Penelope is feeling bolder.

For those who think that only Anthony is changing, so is Penelope.

In the next few chapters we'll see more of these changes and her own internal battles.

Chapter 21: Uncharted territory

Notes:

Colin is back!

Thanks for all the comments and kudos! It makes me so happy to know that you are all enjoying the story!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony sat in his study, surrounded by stacks of account ledgers and financial records. He attempted to focus on the calculations involving his various properties, employees, and the expenses of his six siblings, but his mind refused to cooperate. It had been a few days since he had realized his deep affection for Penelope, yet he remained at a loss about what to do with this newfound information.

He had chosen to keep his feelings to himself, stashing them away while attempting to carry on as usual. But the more he tried to suppress his emotions, the more they seemed to bubble to the surface. Anthony felt a peculiar discomfort, as if the natural order of things had been disrupted. In his mind, if anyone was to fall in love in their marriage, it should have been Penelope. After all, she was the one who immersed herself in romantic novels. He hadn't expected to be swept away by such emotions himself.

For a moment, his thoughts drifted to Sienna. They had been in a relationship for almost two years, yet Anthony hadn't felt a fraction of what he now felt for Penelope. What was the difference?

Anthony grappled with the question as he stared at the columns of numbers on the pages before him. Why couldn't he simply indulge in the physical pleasure without becoming emotionally entangled? What sets this situation apart from his previous experiences? Was it merely because they were married?

The answer eluded him, and he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. There was something inherently different about his feelings for Penelope, something that defied easy explanation. Perhaps it was the intimacy that came with being married, the knowledge that their lives were irrevocably intertwined. Or maybe it was the way she challenged him intellectually, igniting a spark within him that he hadn't anticipated.

Anthony had always prided himself on his self-control and rationality. Yet, here he was, grappling with emotions that seemed to defy both. He couldn't dismiss his feelings for Penelope as mere physical attraction, not when his heart quickened in her presence and his thoughts often drifted to her when he should have been attending to his responsibilities.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if it would alleviate the inner turmoil he felt. Love was uncharted territory for him, and he grappled with the unfamiliarity of it all. The stability he found in numbers and calculations eluded him when it came to matters of the heart. Anthony knew he couldn't simply will away his emotions, but he was uncertain of how to navigate this uncharted emotional terrain.

At that moment, he remembered that she had been in love with someone else before, and a pang of fear struck him – fear that deep down, she might still hold affection for that man, whoever he was. Anthony couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment toward the man who had once had the opportunity to win Penelope's heart and hadn't recognized it.

His thoughts swirled, a whirlwind of emotions and uncertainties. What if there were remnants of her feelings for that man, lingering beneath the surface? What if he was simply a replacement, a second choice? The thought churned his insides and stoked a twinge of jealousy he hadn't anticipated.

With a heavy sigh, he returned his attention to the ledgers, attempting to redirect his thoughts to the practical matters at hand.

"Anthony?" Penelope's voice called out as she entered his study.

Anthony looked up from the accounting books he was engrossed in. "Yes?" he replied, setting the books aside. "Do you need something?"

Penelope shook her head. "No, not really. I just noticed you were in here and thought I'd bring you some tea. I thought you might appreciate it."

Anthony rose from his chair and walked around the desk to accept the cup she offered. "Thank you, Penelope. Tea can certainly help me make sense of these numbers." He took a sip and then settled into one of the plush armchairs in the room. "It's delicious. What blend is it?" he inquired.

"Chamomile with rosemary," she answered, her attention already shifting to the open accounting books. "There are a few errors in the calculations here. Can I fix them?"

"Please, go ahead," he replied, allowing himself to relax further into the armchair.

Taking a moment to observe her, Anthony watched as Penelope's deft fingers swiftly navigated the pages, performing calculations with ease. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, she looked oddly enchanting, deeply focused on her task. Her lips moved in silent rhythm as she carried out the calculations. Anthony found himself briefly captivated by those lips – rosy and inviting, perfect for kissing.

He noticed she was wearing only her nightgown, which struck him as an intimate detail. Without the confines of a tight bodice, her curves were unencumbered beneath the fabric. It struck him that only a thin layer of material separated him from Penelope, igniting a subtle warmth within him.

"All done!" she declared, rising from her seat and closing the books, breaking Anthony's reverie. "I think the accounts are up to date now."

He offered her a genuine smile. "You're an angel, Penelope. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She chuckled softly. "I suppose you'd continue being terrible at mathematics, Anthony." Her mischievous grin hinted at their playful rapport. "Finished with your tea?"

He confirmed, setting down the empty cup. "Thank you for the tea and your invaluable assistance."

"Did you manage to relax?" she asked softly as she carefully returned the accounting books to their designated spot.

Anthony's curiosity was piqued. "How did you know I was tense?"

Penelope approached him, her hand reaching out to touch his forehead. "Well, one doesn't need to be an astute observer to see it," she explained with a gentle smile, her fingers making contact with his skin. "There's a vein that becomes quite prominent right here when you're stressed."

He responded by gently holding her hand in place, inviting her touch. Her skin was warm and soft against his, carrying a faint fragrance of roses.

"So, I'm an open book?" he mused, a hint of amusement in his voice, as he brought her hand up to rest against his cheek. Penelope's touch felt comforting, her presence a soothing balm to his unease.

"Not exactly," she replied thoughtfully, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on his skin. "Well, when you're annoyed, it's quite evident. But..." She hesitated, her expression introspective.

"But?" he prompted, intrigued by her insight.

"But other emotions, you're adept at concealing," she continued, her voice gentle. "You hide them well."

Her words seemed to stir something within him, and he unconsciously released her hand as if her touch had grown suddenly warmer. "If I'm concealing them so well, how do you know they're hidden? Shouldn't they remain concealed?" he quipped, attempting to mask his unease with a playful tone. He rubbed his neck absently, a subtle gesture that betrayed his discomfort.

The truth was, Penelope's astuteness had caught him off guard. He wasn't accustomed to discussing his emotions, let alone acknowledging them openly. Her ability to read him with such accuracy made him feel vulnerable, like a secret he had buried was being unearthed against his wishes.

Anthony had spent a lifetime building walls around his feelings, erecting barriers to protect himself from the unpredictability of emotions. And now, here was Penelope, gently dismantling those defenses with her perceptive insights.

Sensing the shift in his mood and the undercurrents of caution, Penelope leaned in, her fingers gently trailing over the nape of his neck. She had learned to navigate the delicate territory of his emotions, knowing when certain topics could lead to his withdrawal.

"You're still quite tense," she observed, her fingers skillfully unraveling the knots of stress that had taken residence in his shoulders and she noticed the tightness around his neck. With a gentle chuckle, she offered, "You remind me of Atlas."

"Who?" Anthony inquired, briefly opening his eyes that he had instinctively closed to better savor her touch.

"From Greek mythology. The one who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders," she clarified, her hands continuing their soothing motions.

A chuckle escaped him. "It's a fitting comparison, I suppose."

Penelope's touch gradually eased the tension in his muscles, and he found himself relaxing into her care.

"You know," she began, her voice softening, "you don't have to carry everything alone, Anthony. I'm here. We entered this marriage to support each other. So, lean on me."

"If you keep employing those magical hands, I suppose we could delve into that conversation," he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes.

"How about you take your shirt off? It would allow me to access your back more effectively."

A mixture of surprise and anticipation flickered across his expression. Her request caught him off guard, and yet, the prospect of her touch was undeniably enticing.

He met her gaze, a silent exchange passing between them. Slowly, he complied, removing his shirt and leaving his upper body exposed to her attentive ministrations.

"Is this better?" he inquired, a touch of vulnerability in his voice.

Penelope's admiration for his physique was ceaseless. She had no frame of reference to compare him with, as Anthony stood as the first unclothed man she had ever encountered. Statues and paintings couldn't capture the true allure of a masculine form, and they certainly didn't do justice to Anthony's splendid physique.

Her fingers resumed their work, kneading away the residual tension in his muscles. "Much better," she confirmed softly. "Just relax, Anthony."

The contours of his back held an undeniable definition, sculpted through the practice of fencing and boxing. Though his chest remained hidden from view, the image of him covered in a delicate veil of hair that cascaded downward was etched vividly in her mind. Contemplating that intimate aspect of her husband made Penelope feel warmth bloom across her neck, her breath catching with each irregular inhale. As her hands worked to untangle the knots within his muscles, her thoughts swirled, melding the visual with the tactile in a dance of desire.

Anthony allowed himself to surrender to the sensations, finding solace in the trust he was placing in her. The weight of responsibilities, even if only temporarily, was lifted, and in that moment, he truly leaned on her as she had invited him to do.

"Oh, Penelope... oh, right there... you do that so well," he moaned, his voice a mixture of pleasure and relief. But his moans did little to help Penelope maintain her focus. Despite her efforts, her thoughts swayed amidst his reactions.

After a few minutes of her skilled ministrations, she concluded the massage and eased away from him. However, before she could fully withdraw, Anthony's pull drew her close, his lips kissing her hands tenderly.

"Your touch is truly divine. I'm feeling considerably better," he confessed, his gratitude sincere and palpable.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she inquired, her gaze avoiding his exposed form.

Anthony regarded her, his mind harboring a notion he'd harbored while watching Penelope engrossed in her calculations.

"I'm uncertain. But I can certainly offer something for you," he mused, his words infused with a subtle undercurrent, the ambiance within the office shifting.

"What?" Penelope's whisper caught the shift, her senses heightened by the altering atmosphere.

"I can demonstrate just how adept my hands are as well," Anthony's proposal hung in the air, the space between them dwindling.

He took a step forward, and Penelope's instincts guided her back, her retreat halted by the desk's edge. The desire to feel Anthony surged through her, yet their current setting - his study - held propriety in check. Their private encounters had always been confined to the bedroom, and the boundaries were distinct.

"I think I should leave," she murmured, her voice carrying both uncertainty and restraint. Despite her words, she made an attempt to sidestep him, only for Anthony's arm to bar her path.

"No, stay," he urged, seeing her determination to escape. His tone shifted subtly, growing more commanding. "It's an order, Penelope."

A teasing smile tugged at her lips, and she responded, "And who decided I heed your orders?"

Anthony's proximity heightened, his face closing in on hers. "You pledged before a congregation and God that you'd obey me," he reminded her, the atmosphere sizzling with tension.

With a hint of defiance, Penelope challenged him, "I have a contract signed by you that says otherwise. You're not my ruler, Lord Bridgerton." A playful glint danced in her eyes, and the space between them seemed to narrow even further.

"You're quite the rebel," he remarked, his lips dangerously close to hers, the subtle scent of rosemary wafting in the air between them.

A soft laugh escaped her, her retort light but meaningful, "Well, you should have contemplated your choices before marrying me."

A tender smile graced his lips, his expression gentle and fond. "Perhaps I should have," he conceded, their banter treading on a line of shared understanding.

The air hummed with unspoken emotions. "What's your plan now that you've come to this realization?" she whispered.

Instead of uttering a response, Anthony's hand glided up her thigh, lifting the edge of her nightgown. Penelope held her breath, sensing the warmth of his touch, the tantalizing proximity of his fingers, even though they hadn't yet grazed her skin.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and it was all the invitation Anthony needed to claim her mouth in a fervent, hungry kiss. The taste of him was a heady blend, akin to the lingering aroma of rosemary.

"The Viscountess forgoes undergarments now?" Anthony's words brushed against her lips, his fingers tracing the outline of her bare skin beneath the nightgown.

"I never wear them when I sleep," Penelope responded, her voice a breathy whisper.

He stifled a groan, the implications of their conversation stirring much more within him than he had foreseen. "I never noticed that."

"You've always been rather inattentive," she replied, biting her lower lip provocatively.

Penelope's essence was undergoing a transformation. The life she now shared with her husband was causing subtle shifts in her very being. She remained intrinsically Penelope, yet a newfound boldness seemed to infuse her spirit. It was as if an uncharted depth within her was being awakened.

Embracing this newfound confidence, she raised her nightgown fully, unveiling herself to him. Anthony's gaze dipped and then returned to meet hers. The intensity in his eyes threatened to ignite Penelope's very being.

Without a moment's hesitation, he claimed her lips in a passionate kiss, his every touch dripping with longing. His yearning for her had grown more intense with each passing day, but it wasn't solely about physical desire. It was a sentiment that transcended mere lust, a realization that emotions he had tried to dismiss were resurfacing in full force.

With every passing second spent with Penelope, the threads of emotional attachment wove stronger, forming a bond that couldn't be denied. Anthony had fought against the burgeoning love, attempting to resist its pull, but now he knew he couldn't fight it any longer. The force of his emotions overwhelmed him, and he found himself surrendering to them. Love wasn't something he wanted to combat; it was something he craved to embrace fully.

Penelope surrendered herself to Anthony's kiss, matching his fervor. The sensation of their lips melding together was intoxicating, a taste that left her craving more. Instinctively, her fingers entwined in his hair, pulling him closer in an unspoken plea.

A deep, primal sound rumbled from Anthony's throat as he felt the tug on his scalp. He reveled in the tangible response Penelope had to him, to his touch. With a deliberate motion, he helped her onto the desk, sending papers fluttering to the floor.

Legs parted, Penelope welcomed him between them, their kiss resuming with an unquenchable fire. His hands cupped her breasts through the fabric of her nightgown, finding a nipple and teasing it between his fingers, a testament to their shared ardor.

"Oh, Anthony…"

He cherished the melody of his name escaping her lips. The sweetness of that utterance resonated deeply, while simultaneously filling him with a sense of pride that was unparalleled. In moments like this, he realized the profound luck he possessed, to stand beside her, to be the one she called her husband.

"Penelope," he moaned, his lips tracing a path down the delicate curve of her neck. "You're still too clothed for my liking."

Without waiting for a response, he pulled away slightly, his urgency palpable as he impatiently tugged at the front of her nightgown. Buttons flew and clattered to the floor, unveiling her ample bosom.

Penelope stifled a startled gasp, torn between shock and the burgeoning fire of desire. His audacious act should have ignited scandal within her, yet it merely fueled the flames of her longing.

Without delay, Anthony began to kiss her breasts, licking at the rosy nipples, coaxing them into hardened peaks. He adored her bosom, the way they spilled from his grasp when he held them. Penelope was a vision of opulence, and Anthony had never felt so tantalized by a woman before.

Soon, his hand found its way between her legs. Skillfully, his fingers navigated the path to pleasure, drawing more moans from her lips. He gently thrust his fingers, keeping a deliberate pace while continuing to lavish attention on her breasts.

"I want you to come in my hand," he whispered, not stopping his touch.

With a subtle arch of his finger, he found a tender point that prompted Penelope to grip his shoulders, her moans growing more intense. Anthony's awareness of striking the right note spurred him to quicken his rhythm. He lavished attention on her breasts, alternating between delicate bites and sensuous licks. As he sensed the grip of her inner muscles around his fingers, he sought her lips, absorbing the sigh of relief that escaped her in a shared kiss.

After a brief pause, Penelope's breath still came in heavy waves, while Anthony's fingers continued their deliberate rhythm within her. Exquisite sensitivity washed over her in the aftermath of pleasure, yet a fervent craving for more lingered. More of Anthony. Her body hummed with desire, a symphony of yearning for her husband.

With a deliberate motion, he withdrew his fingers and licked them, locking his gaze onto hers. His eyes were aflame with desire, and the connection between them intensified.

"Delicious," he breathed, before capturing her lips in a kiss that conveyed the essence of his words.

That simple act sent another surge of pulsating desire through Penelope's core. She had never fathomed that something so intimate could be so profoundly sensual and charged with eroticism. With Anthony, every touch revealed a new dimension of passion and every moment was an exploration of uncharted sensations.

"Anthony... I need you," she murmured against his mouth.

"I need you too, Pen..."

In a matter of seconds, he discarded his pants. With a practiced grace, he drew Penelope to the edge of the desk, her legs parting with a willing invitation. Sealing their longing with another fervent kiss, he melded his body with hers.

His hips moved urgently and forcefully, each thrust heightening the crescendo of Penelope's impending climax. Anthony's lips remained locked with hers, as if he was determined never to relinquish that connection. His tongue delved within her mouth with a demanding fervor, capturing every moan and sigh that escaped from Penelope's lips.

As her legs quivered around his hips, Anthony stood at the precipice of release. In a cascade of powerful convulsions, he spilled into her, his groans murmuring Penelope's name like a fervent prayer.

Drawing in ragged breaths, his gaze held hers. She glowed with a flush, adorned with glistening beads of sweat, yet her smile illuminated her features.

"You've ruined my nightgown," she remarked, eying the torn fabric.

"Don't worry. I'll have the modiste order you a whole new trousseau." He smirked.

"A complete trousseau? Are you planning to ruin more of my nightgowns, Lord Bridgerton?" The question carried a serious tone, but Penelope's eyes were playful.

"Yes. Especially when they happen to obstruct my touch on your skin," he replied, his fingers gently trailing along her arm.

A faint shiver coursed through Penelope's body. Despite the ruined nightgown, a renewed spark of desire for her husband ignited within her. It was as if nothing else in the world mattered except surrendering to him.

"Will it be just the nightgowns, or do you intend to ruin other pieces of my clothing?" She whispered the question, her hands sliding along his arms until her fingers found a resting place at the nape of his neck.

Before Anthony could form a response, a knock echoed through the room, causing Penelope to instinctively cover herself. "Lord Bridgerton?" Humboldt's voice called from the other side.

"Yes?"

"Your brother is here. He has just arrived."

"Benedict?"

"No, sir. Mr. Colin Bridgerton."

"Colin..." Penelope's heart raced at this unexpected news. She quickly adjusted her torn nightgown, her mind racing.

Anthony smiled at her, his attention divided between the surprising revelation and the immediate situation. "Thank you, Humboldt. Could you please ask Penelope's maid to come here? My wife requires assistance at the moment."

"Of course, sir."

With a brief kiss, Anthony stepped away from Penelope and began to re-dress himself. "I'll go see him first, to catch up. His arrival today was certainly unforeseen. But it's a welcome surprise, don't you think?"

Penelope offered a distracted nod, her thoughts clearly preoccupied by the turn of events.

"Are you feeling well?" Anthony approached her, now fully attired.

A reassuring smile graced her lips, dispelling any lingering concern from his features. "I'm fine. Go and greet your brother. I'll join you in a matter of minutes."

With that, Anthony left the room, leaving Penelope alone with her thoughts, contemplating how to navigate the return of Colin into their lives.

Notes:

How will Penelope react to Colin? And will Anthony realize that the man who missed out on winning Penelope's heart is actually his own brother?

Chapter 22: People change

Notes:

Thank you all for leaving comments

Your comments and love for this story makes me keep going!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Penelope stood before her dressing mirror, her heart racing as she replaced the torn nightgown with a more composed dress. Colin's unexpected return from his journey had caught her off guard, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within her. She hadn't seen him in months, and now he was here, back in her life. She smoothed the fabric of her dress, her mind wandering back to the last time they had been together – the time when she had almost confessed her love for him, only for him to announce his imminent departure.

As she adjusted her attire, Penelope couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. So much had changed since Colin's departure, and she was acutely aware that she was not the same young woman who had bid him farewell all those months ago. She had grown, evolved, and now she was the Viscountess of Bridgerton, married to his own brother.

With the help of her maid, Penelope made herself presentable, choosing a dress that struck the balance between modesty and elegance. Her hands trembled slightly as she fastened the buttons, her thoughts racing. She wasn't sure how she should feel about Colin's return. The memories of their unspoken feelings still lingered in her heart, but much had transpired since then.

Taking a deep breath, Penelope left her chamber and began to make her way towards the living room. Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, and she fought to steady her nerves. Her heart beat faster with every footfall, her mind racing through all the possible scenarios of their reunion. Would he be the same Colin she remembered?

As she approached the doorway, she took a moment to compose herself. From the entrance, she could see Colin standing there, a smile on his face as he conversed with Anthony. She hesitated, her emotions warring within her. Her last memory of Colin was filled with unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams, and now she was facing him once again, as a married woman.

Gathering her courage, Penelope stepped into the room. Both Colin and Anthony turned to look at her, their smiles lighting up the space.

A genuine smile stretched across her lips as she locked eyes with her husband first, the warmth in his gaze reassuring her. Her gaze shifted to Colin, and in that fleeting moment, the first emotion that swept over her was relief.

She felt a wave of relief wash over her. Colin was back, safe and sound from his travels. Traveling had its risks, and while she hadn't been privy to every detail of his journey, she had worried about him nonetheless.

Colin was the first to say, "Pen… it's good to see you."

"Colin," she responded with a smile, using the familiarity that had developed between them over the years.

As she approached, Colin rose from his seat, and before she could offer a polite reference, he pulled her into a warm embrace. Startled but pleased by the gesture, she returned the hug, feeling the slight awkwardness that came with the realization that they were now not just friends, but also family through her marriage to Anthony.

An unexpected sensation enveloped her as they embraced. It was a fleeting moment; however, within it, she experienced a mixture of nostalgia and discomfort. Years of yearning for his touch had given way to the current reality. This wasn't the embrace she had longed for before his departure. It wasn't the embrace she thought would make her heart race. It was a comforting hug, but it remained just that - a gesture of affection, and nothing more.

Releasing her from the embrace, Colin offered a friendly grin. "It's been too long. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Colin. I'm glad to see you're back."

Stepping back after their embrace, Penelope found herself instinctively drawn to Anthony. She settled beside him, their fingers naturally intertwining as she sought the solace of his touch. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a reassuring current through her, reminding her that he was her constant and her protector. Colin had been her first love, a chapter of her life filled with unspoken sentiments, but Anthony was the anchor that grounded her. He was her partner.

She glanced at Colin, who was now looking at their joined hands, "So, I missed the wedding, huh?" He asked.

Penelope chuckled softly. "It was a small affair, nothing too grand."

Colin leaned back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "And here I thought I'd be missing out on some delicious food."

"Well, you're not wrong there," she replied with a grin.

"If only someone had sent me a letter beforehand, I could've arranged my return a bit earlier," Colin mused.

Anthony chuckled. "There wasn't much time to prepare."

Colin's gaze shifted between the two of them, and Penelope could sense his genuine curiosity and perhaps a touch of disbelief. "I am aware of that. It took everyone by surprise. You two? Married? I never thought I'd see the day."

Anthony raised an eyebrow, his expression slightly challenging. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Colin's cheeks flushed, and he stumbled over his words. "I mean, you two… it's just that… I didn't expect it. You didn't seem to have much in common."

Anthony's response was measured but firm. "Appearances can be deceiving, Colin. There's more beneath the surface."

Colin looked taken aback and a bit embarrassed. "I didn't mean to offend. I just… well, it's a surprise, that's all."

Penelope spoke up, her voice gentle. "Colin, there's no offense taken. People change, circumstances change. Anthony and I found a connection that goes beyond what might be visible."

Anthony's grip on her hand tightened, and Penelope met his gaze, her eyes filled with affection. She wanted Colin to know that their relationship was built on more than what he might have perceived.

Colin cleared his throat, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "I'm sorry if I came across as insensitive."

Penelope shook her head, her smile reassuring. "It's all right, Colin. We're happy."

Colin's expression softened, and he looked between them. "I can see that. You both seem… content."

Anthony nodded, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, we are. Now tell us about Greece. How was the tour?"

As Colin launched into an enthusiastic description of the breathtaking landscapes and historical marvels he had encountered, Penelope's thoughts wandered down a labyrinth of emotions. She felt an unusual amalgamation of sentiments, a merging of her past, present, and future, all converging at this very moment.

She realized she was no longer carried away by the winds of nostalgia when Colin spoke, no longer grappling with the sense of having fallen from a horse. It was different now, seeing him as a man she had once loved, rather than the distant unattainable figure from her past.

And then, there was Anthony – the man seated beside her, her husband by marriage of convenience. She couldn't help but reflect that she had always assumed that if she were to bear the name Bridgerton, it would have been due to Colin, not Anthony. Yet here she was, finding a connection that was perhaps unforeseen when they embarked on this journey.

She stole a fleeting glance at Anthony, his features softened by the gentle candlelight, and the affectionate smile he exchanged with Colin. Over time, she had come to treasure the partnership she and Anthony had forged, the understanding and camaraderie they had nurtured. Her heart swelled with a newfound appreciation as she realized that even within the framework of a marriage of convenience, there was a unique beauty to be discovered.

Her mind drifted back to the intimate moment they had shared in his office, a memory that ignited a warm ember within her. The intensity of his desire for her was undeniable, a truth that not only flattered her but also kindled a sense of confidence she had never felt before. The knowledge that a man as compelling as Anthony desired her was a gratifying realization.

As their conversation meandered, Penelope found herself captivated by the man who was now her husband. The depth of their shared passion was no facade; it was a reality that resonated in every glance, every touch. The anticipation of the approaching night, where she would be enveloped in his protective embrace, caused a faint blush to grace her cheeks.

Her thoughts turned to the intricacies of arranged marriages. Did other women navigate a similar tapestry of emotions, or was there something more profound woven beneath the surface of their interactions with their husbands? She wondered if there existed an unspoken connection, a shared journey that surpassed mere convenience.

In that very moment, as Colin's tales wove through the air and Anthony's voice harmonized with his brother's, Penelope found herself at the intersection of her heart's deepest yearnings and the unexpected turns of destiny. She gazed from Colin to Anthony, understanding that regardless of the origin of her journey, it was the destination that truly held significance – a journey she was prepared to embrace wholeheartedly.

The breakfast table was adorned with an array of delicious foods, and the Bridgerton family gathered eagerly around it. Penelope sat besides Anthony, her gaze fixed on Colin as he animatedly recounted his travels. His gestures were expressive, his eyes alight with the memories he shared.

Violet Bridgerton's attentive expression reflected her maternal concern. "Oh my son, I can't help but worry about you gallivanting off to distant lands," she admitted, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

Colin's smile was warm and reassuring. "Mother, I promise I took every precaution possible. And I returned home safe and sound, as you can see."

Benedict, the ever-curious older brother, leaned forward with an air of longing. "There's something magical about discovering new places and experiencing different cultures. I can't say I'm not envious."

Hyacinth's eyes widened as she leaned in. "Did you come across any treasures, Colin? Ancient artifacts or hidden gems waiting to be uncovered?"

Colin chuckled, "Not exactly treasures, Hyacinth, but I did come across some awe-inspiring archaeological sites and historical landmarks."

Gregory's youthful enthusiasm couldn't be contained. "I want to be the next adventurer in the family!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with dreams of far-off places.

Laughter and chatter filled the air as the siblings engaged in the conversation. Penelope found herself captivated by Colin's stories, his words painting vivid pictures of the places he had visited. She glanced at Anthony, who seemed content to observe the family's interactions.

Amidst the lively exchange, Violet's concern lingered. "Colin, promise me you'll always prioritize your safety," she implored, a mother's worry evident in her gaze.

Colin's grin was both endearing and mischievous. "Mother, you have my word."

Giggling, Penelope's gaze shifted to Anthony again. He was a quiet observer, allowing his family to revel in Colin's tales. Their eyes met across the table, and a silent understanding passed between them. There were unspoken things between them, but with each passing day, Penelope felt their connection growing stronger.

Anthony's smile reached his eyes as he looked at her, and Penelope felt a warm flutter in her chest. A sense of calm washed over her, soothing any lingering anxieties. With a subtle motion, she reached out and placed her hand over his on the table, her fingers intertwining with his. A newfound depth of feeling settled within her. It was a sensation that grew with time, like roots taking hold in her heart. She knew that there was something blossoming between them, something profound and enduring.

Yet, even as she basked in the joy of the present, a whisper of uncertainty niggled at her thoughts.

She questioned whether he felt the same way – if he sensed the shifting dynamics between them. But Penelope quickly decided that it was better not to dwell on it. They had something special, a connection that went beyond words, and she was determined to cherish it for what it was. In her eyes, it was already the most precious thing she had ever experienced. Their partnership, the mutual understanding, and the undeniable pleasure they shared were treasures that she doubted could be replicated elsewhere.

Strangely, the fact that she had entered into a marriage with Anthony fully aware of his extramarital affair, of his mistress and the arrangement between them, provided an unexpected sense of security. It was as if the transparency, however unconventional, formed the foundation of trust between them. She had willingly embarked on this journey, knowing the truths that others might shun, and that unusual honesty curiously made her feel safe.

Yet, even as Penelope allowed herself to revel in the harmony of the moment, a lingering awareness nudged at her conscience. For while her husband seemed to share his life with her openly, she held secrets from him – more than she would have cared to admit. The imbalance weighed on her, and she grappled with whether revealing those hidden parts of herself would be the right course of action.

As she sat amidst the laughter and familial affection, Penelope's thoughts became entangled in the web of her own decisions, her heart torn between her desire for complete honesty and the fear of unsettling the delicate equilibrium they had found.

The revelation of her true identity as Lady Whistledown was something she had chosen to keep hidden when she decided to marry Anthony, a decision born out of apprehension rather than deceit. She knew that unveiling this truth to Anthony was a risk she wasn't yet willing to take. While their relationship had blossomed in its own unique way, the idea of confessing her double life as the notorious gossip columnist gnawed at her. She had heard him speak of Lady Whistledown in less than flattering terms, often referring to the mysterious hand that penned the weekly columns with disdain and caution. Would he react the same way if he knew the writer's true identity was his own wife?

One particular concern lingered in her mind: would Anthony accept her desire to continue writing as Lady Whistledown? Or would he see it as an endeavor too perilous for her to engage in? It was a risk she had been unwilling to take, fearing that his overprotective nature might lead him to stifle her creative outlet. As the breakfast conversation flowed around her, Penelope's internal battle raged on, torn between the desire for transparency and the fear of potential consequences.

Then there was Colin. She had been truthful with Anthony about her past romantic inclinations, but sharing the revelation that the object of her past affections was his own brother was an entirely different matter. The notion of confessing her feelings for Colin, even in the distant past, felt like an unnecessary complication. She concluded that it was best left unspoken. No one else knew of her long-kept sentiments, not even Colin himself. Why risk disrupting the delicate balance she was building with Anthony over something that was now firmly in the past?

As the breakfast conversation continued to swirl around her, Penelope found solace in her inner reflections. The decision to withhold these truths, while heavy, was one she believed necessary to preserve the harmony she had found in her marriage.

Dear gentle readers,

I brought to you news that certainly will make unmarried daughters flutter their fans with excitement!

None other than the third son of the famed Bridgerton family, Mr. Colin Bridgerton, has reappeared in London after months of exploring the exotic lands of Greece.

Mr. Bridgerton, already renowned for his appearance, now returns to us with a skin tone more golden than gold itself and a charm that is practically tangible. It appears that his beauty has been touched by the hands of Greek gods, dear readers.

One can imagine that the debutantes of the Ton, are busy devising strategies to capture the attention of this highly sought-after gentleman. The upcoming Cowper family ball promises to be a true spectacle, where young women will have the chance to cast their glances and smiles in the direction of Mr. Bridgerton.

As silk dresses waft through elegant halls, the social season heats up with anticipation for what is to come. Who will be the lucky debutante to win the heart of the handsome and adventurous Mr. Bridgerton? What secrets has he brought back from those distant lands?

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS

28 APRIL 1815

Anthony strolled into the living room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Penelope sat by the window, her fingers deftly working on an embroidery project. She looked up as he entered, a warm smile lighting up her features.

"Penelope," he greeted her, his voice carrying the familiar resonance that made her heart flutter.

"Good afternoon, Anthony," she replied, setting her embroidery aside and turning her full attention to him.

He came to a stop in front of her, his expression thoughtful. "I thought I should inform you that I'll be heading to the club with Benedict and Colin this afternoon, but I'll return for dinner."

"Of course, Anthony. If you wish to spend more time with your brothers at the club, I understand. Colin has just returned, and there must be much to catch up on."

"Actually, I would prefer to have dinner at home with you. I must admit, I'm a bit weary of hearing Colin's tales of his travels. Eloise is right when she says Colin becomes rather tedious after a while."

Penelope chuckled at his honesty. "Oh, Anthony, don't be too hard on him. He's excited about sharing his adventures with all of you."

"I know, I know," he conceded with a grin. "But a man can only hear so much about ancient ruins and Mediterranean sunsets before his enthusiasm wanes."

She laughed, finding his perspective amusing. "Well, I suppose there's truth to that."

He stepped closer to her, his gaze warm and affectionate. "You know, I love the sound of your laughter," he confessed softly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

Penelope blinked in surprise, feeling a slight tingle at the spot where his lips had touched. They rarely exchanged such open displays of affection outside their conjugal chamber. She looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat as a rush of emotions coursed through her.

Before she could fully process her feelings, he straightened and gave her a warm smile. "I'll be off, then."

As he turned to leave, the door swung open, and Humboldt entered, followed closely by Portia. Penelope's mother entered the room with an air of self-assuredness, as though she owned the space.

"Penelope, my dear, how lovely to see you," Portia greeted.

"Hello, Mother," Penelope replied with a polite smile, rising from her seat.

Anthony turned to face Portia and bowed slightly. "Lady Featherington, always a pleasure."

"Lord Bridgerton, I trust you're in good health?"

"Indeed, I am," Anthony replied. "Well, ladies, I fear I must take my leave now. I shall leave you both to your discussions."

He nodded to them both and turned to depart, his steps carrying him toward the door. However, before he left the room, he paused and turned back toward Penelope. His expression softened as he approached her, and he gently placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

"Take care, Pen," he murmured, his voice carrying a tenderness that was meant for her ears alone.

Penelope felt a rush of warmth at his gesture. She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting the appreciation and affection she held for him. "You too, Anthony."

With that, he gave her a final nod and a small smile before turning to Portia. "Lady Featherington, until next time."

Portia inclined her head in acknowledgment.

As he headed to the door, Penelope's heart raced, and she knew that something within her had shifted, something that she wasn't entirely prepared to comprehend just yet.

"Colin Bridgerton is back, and you didn't think to inform me?" Portia accused, her words a hushed reproach after Anthony's departure.

Penelope blinked, found herself taken aback by her mother's tone. "I apologize, Mother, but I was unaware that you held such keen interest in my brother-in-law's return."

"Colin Bridgerton is back, and yet I had to learn of it from none other than Lady Whistledown!" Portia persisted, her voice carrying an edge that implied she hadn't fully registered her daughter's response. "Tell, Penelope, why did you not deem it necessary to share this piece of news with your own mother?"

"My quill ran dry, and I was unable to pen you a letter regarding his arrival. However, it appears you've already been informed through Whistledown, as you mentioned." The tone in Penelope's voice held a trace of irony.

"Spare me the sardonic tone." Portia's interruption was swift.

Suppressing a chuckle, Penelope simply shook her head. "Might I inquire as to the source of this abrupt fascination with Mr. Bridgerton?"

"Need I spell it out for you? He is a man. And he remains unmarried."

"Mother, you can't seriously be considering..." Penelope's gaze bore into Portia's, met with nothing more than a casual shrug. "For heaven's sake, Mama, Colin won't even spare a second glance at Prudence!"

"One cannot be certain." Portia brushed off her daughter's skepticism with a graceful gesture. "Prudence possesses virtues aplenty and stands as an eminently suitable prospect for matrimony."

"Kindly enlighten me with just one of those virtues."

Portia opted to overlook her daughter's question. "I have a feeling that the forthcoming Cowper ball presents the perfect occasion for us."

"I thought you were reserving your efforts for Lord Debling."

"Oh, spare me the mention of that man. Prudence dared to take a promenade with him, only to discover that all he could discuss were archaic volumes gathering dust in his library."

"So, you mean to imply you've relinquished the idea of marrying Prudence to him?"

"Certainly not. These are dire times, Penelope, and thus we must explore every potential avenue for securing your sister's future. Prudence will wed either Debling, the second Bridgerton, or even the third."

Suppressing an eye-roll, Penelope attempted to remain patient.

"Have you forgotten that Colin endured the fiasco involving Marina? Do you genuinely believe he would consider rekindling an association with our family in pursuit of marital prospects?"

"Oh, if only that woman hadn't been so forthcoming with her words!" Portia vented her frustration before regaining her composure. "However, this time we have a resource we previously lacked."

"And what might that be?" Penelope inquired, her suspicion evident.

A glint appeared in Portia's eyes.

"You, my dearest daughter. The Viscountess Bridgerton who, whether you embrace it or not, wields influence over your brothers-in-law and could offer prudent counsel concerning their matrimonial endeavors. Furthermore, for reasons unbeknownst to me, Lord Debling finds your company agreeable, thus affording you influence over him as well. And it is this influence we shall leverage to our advantage, my dear."

"I implore you, Mother, exclude me from this scheme."

The glint in Portia's eyes spoke volumes about her determination to orchestrate an advantageous match, regardless of the wishes or emotions of those involved. "You underestimate the power of influence, my dear. You have a unique connection with them, and I daresay you could guide them toward choices that benefit our family."

Penelope's voice held a note of exasperation as she addressed her mother's proposal. "Mother, I must insist that I will not play a part in manipulating my brothers-in-law's feelings or decisions."

Portia's brows furrowed in a mixture of surprise and irritation. "Penelope, you cannot simply dismiss this matter with a wave of your hand. Your sister's future is of utmost importance. We are your family. Where's the loyalty?"

Penelope's gaze hardened, her resolve clear in her eyes. "My loyalty lies with my brothers-in-law as much as it does with you. I will not be a pawn in a scheme that disregards their feelings."

Portia's voice took on a sharp edge, her patience fraying. "You are being naive, Penelope. Life is not a romantic novel. Practicality and strategy are necessary."

"I am not dismissing practicality, Mother. I am advocating for a path that respects the feelings and choices of all involved. I believe that there are better ways to secure Prudence's future without resorting to manipulation. Now I must respectfully ask that we cease this discussion."

Portia's frustration was now tinged with a touch of disbelief. "Are you truly suggesting that you will defy me in this matter?"

Penelope's expression softened, but her resolve did not waver. "I am asserting my own beliefs and principles. I will not engage in such a plan."

"You are my daughter, Penelope. I deserve respect as your mother."

"You will always be my mother, and I will always love and respect you. However, I cannot continue to engage in discussions about this particular topic."

A tense silence settled between them, the air charged with unspoken tensions and opposing desires.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on, Portia's eyes narrowed as she assessed her daughter's determination. "This newfound defiance is unlike you, Penelope."

"People change." She held her mother's gaze.

With a curt nod, Portia turned on her heel and left the room. As the sound echoed in the room, Penelope let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

In that moment, Penelope realized that she was no longer the young woman who would quietly acquiesce to her mother's wishes. She had found her voice and her strength – and she was ready to defend what she believed was right, no matter the cost.

Notes:

People really change. Pen is become more and more aware of her love for Anthony.

LW reveal is coming!

Angst is coming!

Chapter 23: More than meets the eyes

Notes:

Hello, everyone!

I've brought a quite interesting chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

After bidding farewell to Penelope and leaving her in the company of her mother, Anthony made his way to the gentlemen's club to meet his brothers. As he stepped through the entrance, he was met with the sight of Lord Debling, who was quick to approach him with a polite greeting.

"Lord Bridgerton," Debling acknowledged with a cordial nod.

Anthony reciprocated the nod, with the facade of politeness he deemed necessary for such encounters. "Lord Debling, good day."

"I trust Lady Bridgerton is in good health?" Debling inquired, his tone laced with a subtle hint of interest.

Anthony's brows furrowed ever so slightly. He wasn't pleased that Lord Debling seemed to be taking an interest in his wife. However, he maintained his composure and replied, "Yes, she is quite well, thank you. "How was the promenade with my sister-in-law?" he inquired, attempting to shift the topic. "I assume you both had an enjoyable time, didn't you?"

"Quite well, Viscount Bridgerton, thank you. I must say, your sister-in-law, Miss Prudence Featherington, is a charming companion."

Anthony's response was punctuated by a forceful pat on Debling's shoulder, more robust than was customary. "I'm pleased to hear that you enjoyed your time with her. I can hardly wait to witness your transformation of Miss Featherington into Lady Debling."

"I would not wish to rush into anything," Debling replied with a sly smile.

"Of course, of course. One should never rush into matters of matrimony. Perhaps your chosen one isn't in London, Debling. What if she's in another country, huh? You did mention visiting Italy recently, didn't you? Maybe a return trip is in order."

Debling, however, was not so easily deterred. "I assure you, I have no inclination to depart from London." he continued, "but I must say, Viscount, you seem to have found an exceptional match in Miss Penelope Featherington, now Lady Bridgerton. You are fortunate to have known and married her."

Anthony's eyes bore into Debling's, a hint of possessiveness in his gaze. "I am well aware of my good fortune," he replied, his words layered with unspoken meaning. "If you'll excuse me, I shall now seek out my brothers," Anthony stated curtly.

"Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Have a pleasant day," Lord Debling replied.

Anthony turned without another word and made his way to his brothers, his expression clearly vexed. Benedict promptly poured him a glass of brandy. Seated, he downed his drink in a single gulp. His brothers didn't press for explanations, understanding the need to let him regain his composure. Anthony remained irked by Debling's presence, but he was determined not to let it mar the afternoon he intended to enjoy with his brothers at the club. It had been a few months since the Bridgerton trio had shared such moments.

Anthony chose to broach a topic of recent interest. "Colin," he began, "have you had the pleasure of reading Lady Whistledown's latest article?"

Colin rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm afraid so," he replied with a sigh. "Thanks to her, I now have a swarm of debutantes and matchmaking mamas chasing after me."

Benedict couldn't help but smirk. "As if you don't secretly relish all that attention."

Colin chuckled, shaking his head. "I've matured, dear brother. These days, I find more satisfaction in nurturing my love for travel than in entertaining thoughts of women or marital commitments."

Anthony raised an eyebrow."Does that mean you're planning another journey soon?"

Colin nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Now that I've had a taste of it, I can't bear the thought of staying anchored to one place for too long."

Benedict chimed in, "It seems Lady Whistledown has taken quite a fascination with you, Col. She seems to mention you frequently."

Anthony laughed heartily. "Well, if you ever decide to take the plunge and marry, Colin, I daresay Lady Whistledown would make quite the intriguing prospect."

Colin chuckled along with his brothers. "From what I've heard, she might be a widow, for no one has ever discovered her true identity."

"So, both of you are convinced she's undoubtedly a woman?" Benedict asked, keenly interested.

"I'm not entirely certain about that," Anthony responded.

"In my opinion, it must be a woman." Colin said. "Women have a penchant for meddling in gossip. It's as if it's ingrained in their nature."

"You can't seriously believe that only women engage in gossip. Benedict here is a prime example." Anthony challenged, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother.

Benedict wrinkled his nose in mock offense. "I must protest. My 'gossip,' if you can even call it that, consists of cultured discourse and intellectual pursuits."

His other two brothers erupted into laughter.

Anthony had missed this, spending time with his two brothers, engaged in conversation and laughter, their familiar banter bringing a sense of comfort and belonging.

After a moment, as the laughter subsided, Benedict, ever observant, turned to Anthony. "I saw you talking to Lord Debling, brother. Is everything alright between you two?"

Colin, intrigued by the exchange, chimed in, "Am I missing something here?"

Anthony dismissed their concerns with a casual wave of his hand. "Oh, it was just a brief exchange of greetings." To change the subject, he inquired, "So, Colin, what tales from your travels do you bring us today?"

Colin leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now that you mention Debling, I can't help but recall something I overheard during a brief stop in Venice before my journey to Greece."

"About Debling?" Anthony leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "What tidings did you come across?"

Colin nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I'm afraid, his reputation in Venice is less than stellar. It seems his escapades have earned him quite the notorious label."

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, has he been up to?"

Colin's eyes twinkled with mischief. "He took an interest in a married noblewoman. A rather scandalous affair, I must say. Things took a turn for the worse when the husband found out and Debling had to make a hasty retreat from Venice."

Benedict's eyes widened in disbelief. "You don't say."

Anthony's lips twitched into a cynical smile. "I always suspected Debling wasn't a man of honor."

Benedict turned to Anthony. "What are you going to do about him, then? Especially when it comes to Penelope?"

Colin leaned forward, curiosity brimming. "Debling showing an interest in Penelope?"

Anthony's expression darkened. "Indeed. He's been frequenting our house and taking every opportunity to praise her and seek her company."

Benedict laughed softly. "Brother, I believe you're experiencing a bout of jealousy."

Anthony's jaw tightened. "I have reason to be suspicious of Debling now. Perhaps it's time for Lady Whistledown to expose his true colors once and for all."

Benedict leaned back in his chair. "That would certainly put a damper on Debling's pursuits."

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If only Lady Whistledown were here to weave her magic."

A playful grin danced across Benedict's face. "Who's to say she isn't among us right now?"

Laughter erupted from the brothers, filling the room with warmth. Anthony turned to Colin. "Well, since you've brought us this valuable information, why not share the tale with the Ton? Who knows? It might just reach Lady Whistledown's ears."

Colin's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "You think she'd find it worthy of her column?"

"There's only one way to find out." Anthony replied with a shrug.

"And you, Colin, claiming that only women have a penchant for meddling in gossip. Almost ingrained in their nature, right?" Benedict teased.

"I'd call it hypocrisy," Anthony remarked, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

Colin chuckled, offering a nonchalant shrug as he countered, "I don't suggest it must be a woman solely due to the gossip, but rather because the writing is too refined to be attributed to a man. It's the sensibility in the words that makes me lean that way."

"Are you implying men can't be sensitive?" Benedict chimed in, a little offended.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, interested in Colin's response, who said, "Yes, you're quite sensitive, Benedict. But are you, by any chance, Lady Whistledown?"

Benedict replied with a sly grin, "I can neither confirm nor deny anything."

"I don't think Benedict would have the intelligence to be Lady Whistledown," Anthony remarked, eliciting a playful "hey" of protest from Benedict.

Colin grinned, unperturbed. "Exactly. Whistledown's writings are sharp, witty, and dripping with irony."

"For a time, I considered that Lady Whistledown might be Eloise," Benedict remarked.

Anthony and Colin burst into laughter.

"Eloise? You must be jesting!" Anthony said, still laughing.

"Why not? She likes to write!" Benedict defended his theory.

"Eloise is certainly sharp-witted, but I doubt she'd be chronicling Baron So-and-So and his mistress, for example," Colin responded.

Anthony nodded, "Precisely. Lady Whistledown delves into scandals and intrigues, not political matters."

"So, who do you think she is, then?" Benedict asked.

Anthony leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. "Perhaps it's not someone from the upper echelons of society. It could be a servant, one who goes unnoticed while attending the Ton's events."

Benedict considered this for a moment. "But Lady Whistledown's insights are astute, almost as if she were an insider. A servant wouldn't have access to such information. Or even the time to write."

Colin nodded in agreement. "Benedict is right. Whistledown must be someone embedded in society, someone with access to all the parties and events, someone in the know."

"Likely an unmarried young woman, or a married one, but childless, someone with plenty of leisure to attend all these functions," Benedict suggested.

"And someone exceedingly intelligent. The writing is eloquent, laced with irony. She leaves people questioning whether they've been praised or slighted. That's not an easy feat," Anthony remarked.

Benedict chuckled and nodded in agreement. "But how does she gather all this information? Does she eavesdrop behind closed doors?"

"I doubt it's something so overt. Anyone, especially a young lady, eavesdropping would arouse suspicion," Anthony responded.

"It must be someone who goes unnoticed, someone to whom people pay little attention. Someone we would never suspect." Colin said.

At that moment, Anthony's thoughts began to wander, and he couldn't help but consider someone who perfectly fit all the characteristics they had discussed: Penelope, his wife.

Anthony watched as Penelope carefully selected a hat to complement her outfit. "Off to somewhere special?" he inquired, his tone light as he leaned against the doorway.

Penelope glanced up, her fingers stilling in their task as she met his gaze. "Oh, just heading to the church," she replied, adjusting the hat on her head.

"The church?" Anthony raised an intrigued eyebrow. "I didn't realize you were such a fervent devotee. You seem to be going quite often."

Penelope's nimble fingers hesitated for a moment before she continued her adjustment. "Well, you know, I find solace there. And it's important to give back to the community."

Anthony regarded her with thoughtful curiosity. "Solace, you say? I suppose I never took you for a deeply religious person."

A subtle blush colored Penelope's cheeks, but she managed to maintain her composure. "There's more to me than meets the eye, Anthony."

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "That there certainly is, my dear."

A brief pause hung between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Penelope?" Anthony's voice retained its gentleness, but his intent scrutiny remained.

She glanced at him, her guard momentarily down. "I've just found that spending time at the church allows me to reflect and find purpose. And I do enjoy contributing to charitable endeavors there."

Anthony closed the distance between them, his gaze an unwavering anchor. "You know you can talk to me, don't you? If something is on your mind."

A genuine smile graced Penelope's lips. "I appreciate that, Anthony. But really, it's just a personal preference. You know me, always trying to do my bit."

He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch a comforting warmth against her skin. "Very well. Just remember that I'm here if you ever want to share."

Penelope nodded, the reassurance in his eyes warming her heart. "Thank you."

As Anthony turned to leave, an unsettling feeling lingered in the depths of his thoughts. There was an unspoken weight to Penelope's church visits, something she hadn't fully disclosed. Her mother's recent visit had evidently left its mark, and Anthony couldn't help but wonder about the nature of their conversation. Whatever it was, it seemed to have taken a toll on Penelope.

He knew that he and Penelope didn't always engage in profound discussions about their innermost struggles and concerns, but he wished she would turn to him when faced with adversity. He wanted to be her confidant, the person she relied on in times of trouble. He longed for the intimacy that came with sharing one's burdens.

But for now, he would respect her need for personal time at the church, even though he yearned to be that pillar of support she could lean on. Anthony understood that trust and vulnerability were built over time, and he was willing to wait for the moment when Penelope was ready to share her worries and fears with him.

Anthony sat in the library, a copy of "Pride and Prejudice" open before him. As he began reading, he couldn't help but let his mind wander back to that conversation that he had with his brothers about Lady Whistledown a couple days ago.

Anthony's brow furrowed as he remembered. Colin was the one who suggested that Lady Whistledown was probably a woman. He'd argued it wasn't just about gossip but the quality of the writing that convinced him. And Anthony knew that Penelope was an avid reader, her intelligence shining through every conversation they had. She was sharp-witted, sarcastic, discreet, and certainly not one to draw attention to herself. She was the cleverest woman he'd ever met. Could it be possible? Could Penelope be Lady Whistledown?

But the idea seemed preposterous. Penelope was no mysterious gossip columnist; she was his wife. He knew her better than anyone, and surely he would sense if she were leading a clandestine life as Lady Whistledown. Still, the notion hung in his mind like an uninvited guest, a shadow of doubt creeping over his certainty.

He tried to immerse himself in the world of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, in their sharp banter and misunderstandings, but his mind stubbornly returned to Penelope. Did he truly know her as well as he believed? It was a disconcerting thought, one that threatened to undermine the foundation of their marriage.

With a sigh, he closed the book, unable to concentrate on the words, his mind swirling with thoughts of Lady Whistledown and the possibility that his own wife, Penelope, might be the enigmatic writer. It was a notion that both intrigued and confounded him. Penelope possessed the intelligence and wit required for such a role, but the idea of her concealing such a secret from him seemed implausible.

Unable to contain his curiosity, he left his chambers and made his way to Eloise's room. His sister was out with Hyacinth and Violet, leaving the room empty. He began to sift through Eloise's belongings, searching for her collection of Lady Whistledown's pamphlets. He picked one up and began to read, his eyes scanning the brilliantly constructed sentences and the elegant presentation of ideas.

He dedicated a few minutes to scrutinizing the texts, and as he perused some of the biting comments, a thought nagged at him: Could these words possibly have been penned by Penelope? He had heard her speak on countless occasions, observing how she skillfully presented truths in a manner that left others in doubt, wondering if they had been praised or slighted. She possessed a finesse for delivering sharp remarks that was undeniable. The more he read, the more he marveled at the words on the page. Could Penelope truly be the author of these insightful pieces?

A peculiar mixture of pride and wonder washed over Anthony as he entertained the notion of his wife, Penelope, hunched over her writing desk by the soft glow of candlelight, channeling her intellect into these clandestine pamphlets. The mental image of her engrossed in such a pursuit only intensified his desire for her, igniting a passion that smoldered beneath the surface. It was strangely sensual to imagine Penelope as the mysterious writer, wielding the power to keep society on its toes with each publication.

But he quickly shook his head, dispelling those enticing thoughts. Penelope as Lady Whistledown? It seemed far-fetched, even though the idea possessed a captivating allure. If she were, Anthony couldn't help but wonder, would she have written about Marina, an act that had caused profound pain within her own family? Could Penelope truly have sacrificed her cousin's chance at marriage to shield his family from manipulation?

As Anthony grappled with these perplexing questions, he couldn't deny the depth of Penelope's friendship with the Bridgertons. Her connection to Eloise dated back to their earliest years, and her affection for his family was undeniably genuine. Yet, he found himself torn by uncertainty. Could that same affection drive her to undermine Marina's prospects, all to safeguard the interests of his family?

If she were truly Lady Whistledown, would her visits to the church be related to it? He couldn't help but feel uncertain about this, especially since Penelope hadn't seemed entirely forthcoming about what was troubling her. It could very well have something to do with Portia's insistence that Penelope take concrete steps toward securing a match for Prudence. Anthony knew how relentless his mother-in-law could be on this matter and understood the anxiety it stirred in Penelope. He didn't want his wife to be burdened by such worries. Perhaps it was time to limit Portia's visits to the Bridgerton household.

But what if Penelope's church visits weren't precisely about that? Anthony pondered, all the while feeling guilty for doubting his wife. She had always been busy tending to her duties as a wife and viscountess, and perhaps she just needed some time alone with her spiritual solace. It felt wrong to doubt her. Yet, doubts continued to swirl relentlessly in his mind.

There's more to me than meets the eye, Anthony. Her voice echoed in his head, intensifying the doubts. What more could there be to Penelope than met the eye?

Notes:

Notice that I'm already wrapping up the storyline with Lord Debling and, at the same time, raising Anthony's suspicions about LW. Also, observe how much our viscount admires his wife. He's one lucky guy to be married to her.

The Colin/Penelope drama hasn't been forgotten. It's coming and will bring anguish.

Chapter 24: Revelation

Notes:

Hi there!

Did you guys miss Penthony?

I had some health issues. Since I write a lot, I sometimes get wrist tendinitis flare-ups on my dominant hand, which makes it impossible to write. But I'm on medication, and the pain is getting better.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Penelope sat alone in her private writing chamber, the dim candlelight casting flickering shadows on the parchment before her. Her quill hovered over the paper, the final lines of Lady Whistledown's latest column poised to be inked. This particular piece had been a troublesome one, and Penelope's brow furrowed as she considered the consequences of her words.

The subject of this article was none other than Lord Debling, a figure entangled in a web of rumors and scandal that reached even the highest echelons of society. Thus, she deliberated on the moral implications of penning words that could potentially tarnish his impeccable reputation.

Debling was a man of considerable prestige and wealth in the Ton, his personality cloaked in an intriguing enigma. After spending several years abroad and recently returning, he had earned a reputation for engaging in sophisticated conversations. His charm was undeniable. Nevertheless, Penelope couldn't shake off what Eloise had confided in her a few days earlier about Debling. It appeared as though the man always had the right words, prompting Penelope to wonder if his personality was genuine or simply a well-crafted character, a facade.

Even in the absence of certainty regarding the authenticity of his public persona, Penelope couldn't deny his uncanny ability to captivate those around him. Her own mother had invested considerable effort in fostering a match between Debling and her sister, Prudence. It was a connection that had the potential to elevate her family's standing in society.

Yet, Penelope couldn't allow her sister's fate to be bound to a man whose reputation seemed far from honorable. True, Debling had not displayed dishonorable behavior toward her personally, but the whispered tales of his passionate liaison with a married woman in Venice were nothing short of scandalous. Moreover, he had fled from that city with his reputation intact, leaving the hapless woman to face shame and dishonor before her husband and society at large. He had acted as though the woman meant nothing, and that ignited a spark of anger within Penelope.

As Lady Whistledown, she felt a responsibility to stand by the women in society and ensure that men did not escape the consequences of their actions too swiftly. It was her duty to reveal the truth, regardless of its potential to disrupt the carefully constructed plans of her matchmaking mother.

Taking a deep breath, Penelope made her decision. She would publish the column. The ink from her quill flowed onto the parchment, sealing Lord Debling's fate in the eyes of the public. As the last word was written, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her choice. The consequences would be significant, not only for Debling but for her own family as well. Portia's aspirations of arranging Prudence's marriage to him would certainly shatter. Nevertheless, it was the correct course of action. Penelope couldn't permit her sister to enter into matrimony without being aware of Lord Debling's past.

Penelope stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting her bonnet and making sure her appearance was impeccable. She was getting ready to head to the church to drop off her latest Lady Whistledown pamphlet so that the printer's boy could pick it up and get it printed. The morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over her dressing table.

As she applied the finishing touches, Anthony entered the room, catching her reflection in the mirror. "Penelope, I'll accompany you to the church this morning," he announced, surprising her.

Penelope turned to him, astonishment and curiosity on her face. "Anthony, that's unexpected. May I ask why the sudden interest in joining me?"

Anthony gave her a small, enigmatic smile. "Well, my dear, after hearing you speak about charity and the importance of giving back to the community, I've found myself inclined to nurture my more spiritual side."

Penelope felt a lump form in her throat. His explanation was both surprising and unsettling. She had planned to discreetly leave the Lady Whistledown pamphlet at the church, but with Anthony so close, that plan seemed impossible.

Stammering slightly, she replied, "Oh, that's... that's wonderful, Anthony. I'm delighted that you're taking an interest in such matters."

Inside, her mind raced, trying to come up with an alternative plan. There was no way she could slip the pamphlet into the prayer bench with Anthony right beside her. She needed to devise a plan by day's end. But what approach should she take?

Anthony merely nodded, seemingly content with her response. "Then it's settled. I'll come with you this morning. Shall we?"

Penelope had no choice but to accept her husband's company with a forced smile, her thoughts racing as she contemplated how to carry out her mission.

The carriage rolled along the cobbled streets as they made their way back from the church. Just as Penelope had predicted, Anthony remained steadfast by her side, leaving no opportunity for her to discreetly slip the paper containing Lady Whistledown's text beneath the Bible on the church's prayer pew.

Anthony broke the comfortable silence, commenting, "It was a pleasant morning, Penelope," he remarked.

Penelope smiled, "I'm glad to hear that, Anthony."

He glanced at her thoughtfully. "I must admit, I expected the church to be fuller. It seemed rather empty today. Is it always this empty in the morning there?"

Penelope adjusted her bonnet, her heart racing as she contemplated her response. "I actually prefer it when the church is less crowded. It makes me feel more at ease."

Anthony raised an eyebrow, concerned flickering in his eyes. "I can't help but worry, Penelope. This part of Bloomsbury isn't the safest, and ladies walking alone can attract unwanted attention."

Penelope quickly reassured him, "Oh, but you needn't worry, Anthony. Nothing has ever happened to me."

He remained resolute. "We can't leave it to chance. From now on, I intend to accompany you every time you go to church."

Penelope was taken aback by his announcement. "Anthony, you needn't trouble yourself with such a duty. I'm sure you have more pressing matters to attend to than acting as my chaperone."

Anthony's voice was firm. "I insist, Penelope. There is nothing more important than ensuring your safety."

"Anthony, it's really not necessary…"

"There's nothing more to discuss, Penelope. It's settled."

"Very well." She finally acquiesced.

He took a few moments to study her closely. Penelope could feel his intense gaze, which made her squirm slightly on the bench as she tried to maintain a composed expression.

"It almost seems as though you don't want my company at the church," he remarked, his eyes narrowing. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Penelope's heart skipped a beat, momentarily startled by his direct question. She quickly gathered her wits and replied with a smile, "Oh, Anthony, you know me too well. I was just concerned that I might be interrupting your day. That's all."

Anthony's expression softened as he reached out to gently touch her hand. "Penelope, you needn't worry about that. Your well-being is of the utmost importance to me. I'll always make time for you."

"Thank you, Anthony. You are truly kind." She forced a smile and looked out the window, thinking about how she would manage to deliver Lady Whistledown's pamphlets with Anthony accompanying her to the church. She was in dire need of reworking her entire strategy to ensure the survival of her business.

She had to come up with a new plan, especially for the pamphlet resting discreetly in her décolletage that needed to be delivered today to keep Lady Whistledown's column on schedule.

The Smythe-Smith musicale filled the hall with its painful melodies, and among the guests, Penelope and Hyacinth occupied their seats. The musical, notorious for its lack of musicality and the accompanying torture to one's eardrums, was an annual tradition that drew attendees like moths to a flame. It was a peculiar spectacle where the guests endured the auditory suffering as probably a mark of endurance.

That evening, only Penelope and Hyacinth were the only Bridgertons present. All the other relatives had declined the invitation for obvious reasons. Penelope felt immense relief when Anthony decided not to attend the concert and announced that he would spend the night at the club with his brothers. She interpreted that as a sign that it was the perfect time to put into action the plan she had meticulously devised to deliver the pamphlet to the printing press that very night.

As the discordant notes and scales swirled around them, Hyacinth emitted the first audible sigh, drawing the attention of those nearby. Penelope leaned in and whispered with a smile, "Hyacinth, you do realize people can hear you, don't you?"

She responded with an eye roll, her voice hushed. "I highly doubt anyone can hear a thing over the monotony of this music."

Penelope couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, admiring the young girl's sharp wit. "Well, at least you received an invitation to this concert. It's not often that young girls make appearances at such social events."

Hyacinth lightly squeezed Penelope's hand. "Thank you for defending my case before the grand jury. You were an excellent advocate."

"Grand jury?" Penelope furrowed her brow.

"Anthony and my Mama. They still think I'm too young to make public appearances, you know. Perhaps they assume I won't conduct myself appropriately."

"Oh!" Penelope smiled. She appreciated Hyacinth's cleverness, which only endeared the young girl to her more. "I suppose it wasn't such a challenging case to defend. Besides, you're excellent company."

"You too, Pen," she replied with a smile, then sighed, "But despite your efforts, I must say I had hoped my debut in society would happen at a grand ball or something of the sort, not endure such a tedious concert."

"Oh, come on. It's not as terrible as all that." Penelope tried to argue. She believed it was her moral duty to attend the event and support the quartet of girls who, year after year, willingly subjected themselves to the challenging task of entertaining an audience, despite their limited musical talent.

Hyacinth leaned closer, attempting to maintain discretion, and inquired, "Do you often attend concerts like this, Penelope? And how do you manage not to succumb to boredom?"

Penelope couldn't contain her laughter, and it escaped a bit louder than she intended. She quickly covered her mouth, her face reddening as people around them cast curious glances.

"Excuse me, miss, but we're trying to listen to the concert," grumbled an older gentleman behind the two of them.

Hyacinth turned around and responded before Penelope could say anything, "We are too, sir, but it's rather hard to concentrate on this tedious music, isn't it?"

Recognizing the potential for further confrontation, Penelope decided to diffuse the situation. She whispered to Hyacinth, "Why don't we go grab some lemonade? A refreshment might be just the thing we need."

Hyacinth's eyes brightened, "Thank heavens."

Her response elicited a smile on Penelope's face as they walked away to fetch the refreshing lemonade.

Penelope moved gracefully through the crowd at the Smyth-Smith concert, offering polite smiles and engaging in conversation with various guests. It was a skill she had honed over the years, but tonight her thoughts were far from the music and chatter. Nervous anticipation gnawed at her as the time for her plan to deliver Lady Whistledown's pamphlet to the printing press approached.

She found Hyacinth, who was engrossed in a conversation with Lady Danbury, and leaned in to speak quietly. "I think we might head home early, Hyacinth," she said. "I'm feeling a bit unwell."

Hyacinth glanced at her with concern. "How are you feeling, Pen? Is it something serious?"

Penelope nodded, forcing a small smile. "It's just a migraine. I'll be fine."

Lady Danbury chimed in with her characteristic bluntness. "I can't blame you, my dear. This music is positively torturous tonight."

Penelope and Hyacinth both chuckled in agreement. "Indeed," Penelope replied. "Well then, I'll bid you goodnight, Lady Danbury. Shall we, Hyacinth?"

Once inside the carriage, Hyacinth turned to her with a mischievous grin. "I hope you're not using your 'indisposition' as an excuse to sneak away for some secret adventure, Penelope."

Penelope smiled back, trying to conceal her nervousness. "Of course not, Hyacinth. I just need some rest."

Hyacinth giggled. "Very well, but if you're off on some daring escapade, I want to hear all about it later."

Penelope smiled again. Hyacinth's intelligence surpassed her outward appearance. There was no doubt that when she grew up, she would become an exceptional woman.

As the carriage rolled through the dimly lit streets, Penelope couldn't help but feel a growing sense of trepidation. She couldn't shake the anxiety that accompanied her clandestine mission.

At home, Penelope reiterated her 'indisposition' and excused herself for the evening. Upon realizing that everyone had gathered in the living room, awaiting dinner, Penelope swiftly entered the kitchen, noticing its emptiness. She retrieved the concealed traveling cloak from its hiding spot behind a cupboard and discreetly slipped out through the back door.

Swiftly, she boarded the waiting hired carriage, her heart pounding with nervousness. The rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves echoed her racing pulse as they sped toward the printing press. Penelope's anxiety was palpable as she reached her destination and executed her plan flawlessly, delivering the pamphlet and then departing the scene.

The journey back in the carriage was considerably calmer. As Penelope walked into the house through the back door, a smile played on her lips. The atmosphere in the house was serene, and she imagined everyone was likely gathered in the drawing room after dinner.

At that moment, hunger didn't grip her, so she decided it was time to retire. She still wore a faint smile as she entered her room, shedding her traveling cloak and letting out a relieved sigh. Her plan had worked perfectly. However, that sense of relief vanished abruptly when she turned towards the bed and found Anthony waiting there, his arms crossed, his expression stern and unwavering.

"Have you come from somewhere, my dear?" he murmured.

"Anthony!" Penelope gasped, her surprise evident. "I thought you were at the club."

"I was," he replied, his voice calm, "but I decided to come home early to have dinner with you."

"Oh, did you? How considerate of you. It was unnecessary, really." Penelope attempted to maintain her composure, even though her nervousness betrayed her.

As he uncrossed his arms, he drew nearer to her. "My mother mentioned that you weren't feeling well after the concert."

"It was just a minor discomfort, really. Nothing serious. You needn't worry."

"What's interesting," he said softly, his fingers gently caressing a curl of her hair, "is that I went upstairs to check on you, and to my surprise, your room was empty, and your bed appeared untouched. In fact, there was no sign of you anywhere in the house."

"I...I went for a walk… for some fresh air."

"Really? Humboldt didn't see you leave. In fact, no one seems to have witnessed you exiting the house. Tell me, Penelope, did you happen to discover the secret of walking through walls?" His voice was serious, his gaze piercing.

Penelope struggled for words, her usually quick wit seemingly failing her in this moment.

"Well, when I left through the back," she managed to say, "there wasn't a single servant in the kitchen."

"And you took a walk?" He pressed. "By yourself?"

"Yes," she replied hesitantly. "It was just a short walk."

"And who, please tell me, was that person I observed alighting from a hired carriage just now? A doppelganger of yours, perhaps?"

Penelope felt trapped, her defenses crumbling under the weight of Anthony's relentless questioning. She had exhausted her reservoir of excuses.

"No more excuses to give, Penelope?" Anthony's voice hung heavily in the air.

She attempted to respond, but her words eluded her, swallowed by the gravity of his suspicion. Her thoughts raced, seeking the right words to explain her recent actions. If she couldn't provide a convincing explanation, Anthony might suspect an affair or something even more sinister. With a nervous tremor, she lowered her gaze, unable to meet Anthony's piercing eyes. Her palms grew clammy, sweat trickling down her trembling hands.

Then, the next words he uttered sent shockwaves through her heart. "Or should I call you Lady Whistledown ?" Anthony's voice was a whisper, carrying the weight of revelation.

"What?" Penelope stammered, caught off guard once more. "Wh-What are you talking about?"

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Anthony's lips. "I know, Penelope. There's no need to hide any longer. I know your secret."

Penelope's astonishment was palpable. Had she left behind a trail, a clue that had led to the unveiling of her carefully guarded secret identity? She had always been meticulous in her writings, believing no one would ever suspect her.

"How? How did you find out?" Her voice was barely a murmur now. Denying the truth seemed futile; she needed to understand her lapse in secrecy, to better prepare for the future.

"It was quite simple," Anthony began, his gaze unwavering. "Lady Whistledown possesses a remarkable intelligence, and the only person I know who matches her intellect is you. I analyzed some of the old pamphlets and realized those words were yours, Pen. The conclusion was not difficult to reach."

Penelope's astonishment deepened. He had unraveled her secret simply by dissecting her written words? It was a revelation that left her even more stunned.

"Anthony... But how?" Her surprise lingered.

"I've known your sharp intellect intimately, Penelope," Anthony confessed. "I recognize the way you speak and your wit."

Penelope's shock was etched across her face. Anthony had scrutinized her closely, delving into the nuances of her personality. No one had ever observed her in such detail, nor had anyone drawn such conclusions about her. Not even Eloise, with whom she shared a close bond, had uncovered her secret.

As she gazed at her husband, admiration for his perceptiveness welled within her. Without warning, she seized him by the collar, their lips colliding in a fervent kiss.

Anthony's equilibrium nearly faltered as her passion pushed him forward, but he wasted no time in responding. With both hands gripping her firmly, he pressed her against the nearest wall.

With one hand, Anthony maintained his firm hold on Penelope, keeping her securely against the wall, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her dress, seeking her eager and moist depths. He explored her tender flesh unreservedly, savoring the sweet moans of pleasure that escaped her lips, tantalizingly close to his ear.

Returning to capture her lips in a fiery kiss, Anthony's fingers maintained their rhythmic dance, each exquisite touch against that sensitive spot pushing Penelope closer to the edge of pleasure. She felt consumed by him, every fiber of her being responding to his every touch, as though Anthony had become her master in the art of pleasure.

While he had once shown her how to find her own satisfaction, nothing could compare to the sensation of her husband pressing her firmly against a wall, coaxing passionate moans from her with the skill of his fingers. His strong, unwavering grip, cradling her as though she were weightless, paired with the gentle finesse of his fingers delving deep into her core, created a flawless fusion of sensations.

She trembled in Anthony's strong embrace, her body quivering with desire. With a loud cry of relief, she shattered into numerous fragments, dissolving like water cascading from a waterfall. It was an intense, gratifying, and exhilarating experience. Were it not for his unwavering support, she might have crumbled to the floor as the waves of ecstasy washed over her.

When she finally gazed up at him, her breath still coming in rapid bursts, he bestowed a knowing smile and, with a gentle kiss on her lips, whispered, his voice husky with desire, "You truly are remarkable."

Penelope's fingers brushed against his cheek, tracing the lines of his face. "And you are the most astute husband a woman could ask for."

Anthony smiled and brushed a stray strand of hair away from Penelope's face, his touch gentle and reverent, "We have much to discuss, Lady Whistledown."

Notes:

In the next chapter, we'll see the conclusion of Lord Debling's plot.

The issue of Penelope's crush on Colin will come to the forefront soon. I'm trying not to make it too dramatic, but I must confess I have a soft spot for Mexican telenovelas and enjoy a bit of drama. So, you should expect, at the very least, miscommunication and characters jumping to conclusions.

Chapter 25: Struggles

Notes:

Unfortunately, the chapter I had planned became too long, and I had to split it again into two parts.

So in the next chapter, we will continue with Debling's plot and a touch of emotion.

Chapter Text

The serene ambiance of the room, illuminated by the fireplace, provided the perfect refuge for Anthony and Penelope as they lay side by side, conversing. Her head rested gently on his chest, and he stroked her red locks.

Anthony chuckled softly after Penelope shared the intricacies of how she ensured Whistledown's column reached the church for printing."It's truly remarkable, Penelope, that you managed to create Lady Whistledown all on your own. All that secrecy and those cutting words. How did you pull it off?"

Penelope responded with a little chuckle, "Well, it wasn't a straightforward task in the beginning, I must admit. But over time, I discovered ways to craft and disseminate those pamphlets while preserving my anonymity."

Intrigued, Anthony inquired, "But what led you to write? What was your inspiration?"

Penelope let out a soft sigh and sat up, locking eyes with him. "I've always felt like an invisible figure in society. It seemed like no one truly heard me or considered what I had to say, not even within my own family. However, with Lady Whistledown, I found my voice." Her expression turned serious as she continued, "People pay attention to the words behind the pen, even when they remain ignorant about the person wielding it. It's as if, finally, I could be heard and make an impact, even if it was through the veil of anonymity."

Anthony looked at her with a blend of admiration and tenderness, deeply valuing her courage and unwavering determination to unearth her voice, even in the shadows.

"It's truly incredible what you've achieved." He pulled her closer into his embrace, continuing, "I'm genuinely proud of you." His fingers tenderly stroked her hair as he added, "But as remarkable as your work is, it's also dangerous. I can't help but worry about your safety."

Penelope nodded, acknowledging his concern, but her determination remained unshaken. "I understand your apprehension, Anthony, but I find contentment in what I do. I have no intention of giving up."

Despite her assurances, Anthony persisted, his concern etched deeply on his face. "Still, I can't help but think it's too risky, Penelope."

Intrigued, Penelope lifted her face to meet his gaze, asking, "What do you mean by that?"

Choosing his words carefully, Anthony explained, "Perhaps it's worth considering if it's really worth exposing yourself like this. Your effort is truly remarkable, but it's undeniably fraught with dangers."

"I won't give up writing, Anthony."

Anthony furrowed his brow, his voice tinged with discomfort. "Won't you even consider my perspective?"

Penelope's response remained unwavering, "Not if your intention is for me to stop writing."

Anthony sighed deeply, his frustration becoming increasingly evident. "For heaven's sake! Be reasonable, Penelope!"

Penelope's irritation intensified, prompting her to rise abruptly from the bed. She hastily grabbed her robe to conceal her nudity, her voice laced with anger as she retorted, "Believe me, I'm being more than reasonable by engaging in this conversation with you, even when Whistledown is none of your concern!"

"None of my concern? I am your husband!" Anthony exclaimed, his bewilderment evident.

"So what? Whistledown isn't about you. I was writing before we got married, and I intend to continue writing!" She crossed her arms, resolute.

Anthony took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and massaged his temple to maintain his composure. When he reopened his eyes, his tone had calmed. "You've angered influential people, even the queen herself. Please, be rational and consider, Penelope."

"Consider? Do you think I've been doing anything else all this time? I always carefully consider the impact of my words on others' lives," she remarked. "I'm not one to be swayed by emotions. I make calculated decisions about what to write. I created Whistledown on my own and have been managing it by myself all this time. I refuse to give up now!"

Anthony couldn't help but feel exasperated by her unwavering determination. "You're putting your own safety at risk, Penelope. Furthermore, this could spell trouble for our family!"

Penelope stood her ground, her voice unwavering, and her gaze piercing him. "You have no right to resort to such tactics, Anthony! I've always had our relatives' safety in mind. I've made numerous sacrifices to ensure the Bridgertons' peace of mind!"

As Anthony absorbed her words, a wave of regret washed over him. He knew he had chosen his words poorly. "Forgive me for not selecting my words more carefully. I didn't mean to insinuate that you lack concern for others. In fact, I deeply admire your consistent generosity and care for people."

Penelope remained standing with her arms crossed, not responding. She comprehended his concern, but relinquishing something that was her intellectual property was not in her plans.

Carefully, Anthony rose from the bed, approaching her. He kissed her on the forehead and held her in his arms.

She allowed herself to be embraced but kept her arms crossed.

"Let's return to bed," he suggested. "We don't need to discuss this any further right now."

Penelope nodded, and they silently made their way back to bed, holding each other. Several quiet minutes passed before Anthony broke the silence, asking something that had weighed on his mind since discovering her true identity, "Why did you choose to reveal Marina's pregnancy in your column?"

For a moment, a veil of guilt descended upon her. After a prolonged silence, she turned to him and replied, her voice trembling with inner turmoil, "I... I didn't have another option, Anthony."

He observed her closely, eager for a more detailed explanation.

Penelope continued, her voice tinged with uncertainty, "I couldn't bear the idea of Colin marrying without knowing the truth about Marina. I couldn't let him be deceived like that."

Anthony nodded slowly, his expression softening. "I understand, Penelope. It must have been a painful decision for you, torn between loyalty to your family and ours."

Penelope sighed deeply, her voice revealing her inner turmoil. "I truly had no other option, Anthony. If I had revealed the truth directly to Colin, he would have confronted Marina, and it would have all become public knowledge. The Featherington family would have suffered greatly if the truth had come out that way. Plus, my mother would never have forgiven me."

"Your mother knew, then? She was aware that Marina was manipulating Colin into taking responsibility for a child that wasn't his?" Anthony's words carried a hint of anger.

"Anthony, I implore you to forgive my mother for her actions. I know it may be hard to understand, but sometimes women are forced to make choices in desperate circumstances."

Anthony's anger gradually transformed into empathy as he witnessed the turmoil in her eyes. He gazed at her and tenderly squeezed her hand, whispering softly, "It's alright now. I won't hold any grudges." Anthony sighed, "We're fortunate to have you, Penelope, preventing a more significant tragedy. I believe we'll be forever grateful for that."

Penelope smiled sadly and nodded. "If there was another way to avoid complicating things, I would have chosen it, Anthony. But the only option was to reveal it through Lady Whistledown, a neutral source." After a sigh, she added, "At least Marina's situation is resolved now. Her children will have a name and a good education."

A heavy, contemplative silence filled the room. Then, Anthony leaned in slightly and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for prioritizing truth and the well-being of my family. I understand it wasn't an easy decision for you, but it was the right one."

Penelope responded with a melancholic smile. Despite Marina's situation being resolved, the weight of the column's publication still occasionally weighed on her.

Suddenly, Anthony chuckled and teased, "You certainly praised Colin quite a bit in your column, Penelope. Should I be jealous?"

She swallowed nervously, trying to hide her discomfort. "Well, the Bridgertons have always been beloved, Anthony. Colin has always been a favorite of society. My words simply reflected that."

Anthony nodded with a agreeing smile. "That's true. However, I can't deny that Lady Whistledown's column has undoubtedly boosted our family's reputation."

"I believe not. You should thank your parents for naming their children in alphabetical order," she laughed, "it certainly added attention to all of you."

Anthony chuckled and gave her hand a small kiss. However, his smile softened, and he assumed a serious expression. There was something else he wanted to ask Penelope. It was something that had been bothering him for a few weeks now when he read about her or their marriage in Whistledown.

"Penelope," he began cautiously, "why do you occasionally use such harsh language when referring to yourself in your column?"

Penelope briefly lowered her head before raising it again, her voice carrying a poignant tinge of resigned sadness. "Are some of the words I've used untrue, Anthony? Or are they simply a reflection of the perceptions others have of me?"

Anthony felt a sharp pang of pain clutch his chest as he sensed the weight of resignation and sorrow in her voice. Gently, he cradled her chin and whispered softly, "You never needed to be this unkind to yourself."

Penelope's gaze momentarily veered away from him, seeking distance from his touch. She replied with a composed demeanor, "Had I chosen to praise my own virtues in the column, it would have unquestionably drawn undeserved attention."

Anthony persisted, his tone tinged with genuine concern. "You could have employed milder language, Penelope."

A soft, melancholic laughter escaped Penelope's lips as she revealed, "Anthony, you need not fret over me." Her words carried a depth of sincerity as she continued, "There's nothing as dreadful as what I've endured in the past. Today, I've come to terms with it."

"Still, there was no need to claim that I was performing an act of charity when I first asked you to dance," he remarked.

Penelope sighed gently, her gaze briefly lowering before meeting his eyes once more. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes as she replied, "Well, I wasn't entirely wrong, was I? After all, it wasn't my natural grace, intelligence, or, least of all, my beauty that captured your attention, Anthony. It might not have been charity, but I sensed there was more to your sudden desire to dance with me. And I was right. You saw me only as a potential piece in the arranged marriage scheme you were orchestrating."

Anthony felt a twinge of guilt as he absorbed her words, fully aware of their truth. He couldn't deny that he wasn't much different from the other gentlemen who had overlooked Penelope during the seasons when she was available for marriage. Confronting his own shortcomings left him deeply disheartened.

"Penelope, I must offer my apologies..." he began, searching for the right words to convey his remorse.

She gently interjected, her voice brimming with understanding. "Oh, Anthony, please don't misunderstand me. I'm not lamenting our arrangement. In fact, I'm profoundly grateful. You provide me with financial stability, freedom, and pleasure. I find contentment in the arrangement we share." Her warm smile attempted to reassure him, but it did little to alleviate the overwhelming sense of shame that gripped him.

Anthony couldn't help but wish he could turn back time and be a better man. He genuinely regretted not taking a sincere interest in Penelope and making her his wife, as societal norms dictated. He lamented not being perceptive enough to recognize the remarkable woman who had practically lived next door all along.

He offered a gentle smile and tenderly caressed her face with his fingers, speaking softly, "I want you to know that, to me, Penelope, you've had immense significance."

The words 'I love you' hovered at the edge of his tongue, yet he found himself unable to utter them. He feared that expressing such emotions at that moment might be misconstrued as pity.

"As are you to me, Anthony." she murmured, holding him in her embrace. "Thank you for making my life easier to live."

As Penelope drifted into slumber within his protective embrace, a lone tear traced a path down Anthony's cheek. Holding the woman he cherished so deeply, he acknowledged his inability to shield her from every hardship life presented. Moreover, he grappled with the profound unease that he may have inadvertently contributed to her struggles.

Dear gentle readers,

It is with great delight that I unveil a tantalizing tale that has languished in the hidden recesses of London's high society. The dashing and enigmatic Lord Debling, renowned for his captivating allure, seems to harbor a fiery past he would prefer forever veiled in shadow.

Credible whispers, wafting to us from the Venetian canals, suggest that Lord Debling engaged in a passionate liaison with none other than a married lady amidst the picturesque alleys of the Italian city. It appears our young gallant was willing to stake all on a scorching affair, yet, as the fates often decree in such affairs, secrets rarely linger hidden for long.

The betrayed husband unearthed this clandestine romance, and the repercussions proved catastrophic. Debling was compelled to make a hasty exit from Venice, abandoning both the love he had found and the seductive ambiance of the city adrift on water.

Now, the pressing query that hangs in the air is this: What other enigmas might Lord Debling conceal? If he were capable of enmeshing himself in such a scandalous tryst, one can only wonder what other intrigues he may be orchestrating beneath the tranquil surface of his life in London.

Our hearts and intellects shall hunger for additional revelations, dear readers, and rest assured, that I shall ever be vigilant in my quest to unveil the most profound mysteries and expose the deepest shadows lurking within high society.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS

10 MAY 1815

Anthony sat in the drawing room after breakfast, engrossed in reading the Whistledown pamphlet when Penelope entered. He looked up at her, a sense of pride evident in his expression.

"Did you enjoy what you read?" She asked in a hushed tone, drawing nearer to him.

"Immensely." He set the pamphlet aside and pulled her close by the waist, whispering, "I've never been prouder of your words." Penelope blushed, and he continued in a normal tone, "I had hoped that Whistledown would catch wind of the Debling gossip and write about it."

"Oh, so you were already aware?" Penelope was surprised. "How did you find out?"

"Well, my dear, it seems you're not the only one with insider information," he replied with a mischievous smile.

"Who was your source, Anthony?" She inquired. "You must tell me."

Anthony toyed with the idea of teasing her a little longer but couldn't resist spilling the beans, admitting, "Colin. He heard the stories about Debling when he passed through Venice."

"Ah, so you men are truly gossipmongers, huh?" She chuckled. "I never imagined you engaged in such activities. Is this how you spend your time at the club?"

Anthony laughed. "Something along those lines. But I must confess that Benedict is the biggest gossip among the three of us."

"Really? Perhaps he learned from his older brother," she said playfully, and Anthony fought the urge to kiss her right then and there in the middle of the family's drawing room.

To avoid giving in to desire, he commented, "Well, now I hope Debling will finally be put in his place and refrain from making advances toward my wife or any woman, for that matter."

"I believe he'll have a lot to ponder after this publication," Penelope remarked. She still didn't know how people would react to the text, but she had a feeling she would find out soon at the event that afternoon.

Penelope and Anthony exchanged surprised glances, their curiosity piqued as they observed Debling's seemingly unshaken demeanor in the face of Whistledown's words. To their astonishment, he appeared not just unaffected but rather pleased as he gracefully mingled with the salon's attendees during Granville's art presentation.

Anthony leaned in closer, his voice hushed with intrigue, "It appears Debling possesses a thicker skin than we anticipated, or perhaps he's putting on a facade for the sake of appearances."

Penelope nodded, her brows furrowing with a mixture of unease and bewilderment. They couldn't help but wonder about Debling's true intentions and how this unexpected twist might unravel within London's intricate social circles.

A few moments later, Anthony stepped away to engage in conversation with some gentlemen outside the room, leaving Penelope briefly on her own. Contemplating an escape from the bustling crowd to seek solace, she ventured into a corridor adorned with fewer patrons admiring the artworks. And it was precisely at this moment that Lord Debling, with his charming demeanor and a smile that could beguile, materialized before her.

"Lady Bridgerton," he began, his voice smooth and his eyes gleaming with an intensity that couldn't be ignored. "It's always a pleasure to encounter you at these social events. At least I have someone with whom I can engage in intriguing conversations."

Penelope offered a tense smile, recalling the gossip she had heard about him. She could no longer view him through the same lens as before. "Lord Debling, I always appreciate our discussions on literature."

Debling moved closer, his eyes locked onto hers. "I believe our connection goes beyond mere words on a page, Lady Bridgerton. Perhaps our relationship could even transcend mere friendship."

Penelope was taken aback by his audacity. She didn't expect him to speak to her in this manner, but she responded with unwavering determination. She immediately felt uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her and speaking. "Lord Debling, my friendship is the extent of what I'm willing to offer."

Unrelenting, he persisted, his voice melodious. "You possess captivating beauty. I noticed it from the first day I laid eyes on you. Furthermore, I see how intelligent you are, and that challenges me. You challenge me. It is my desire that we discover something deeper than mere conversations between us. I believe both of us can benefit from something more..."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're referring to," Penelope replied, somewhat incredulous that he was actually going down this path. Perhaps the fact that they were in an almost deserted corridor had given him the courage to act so recklessly and indecently.

"I believe you know, Lady Bridgerton. With the God-given intellect you possess, I'm sure you've already understood my intentions." He dared to touch her arm, gently tracing the fabric of her dress sleeve.

Penelope recoiled abruptly, taking a few steps back, offense shining in her eyes. "Lord Debling, you are aware that I am married."

Debling appeared unfazed by her response, nonchalantly shrugging and saying with disdain, "Oh, Lady Bridgerton, you should be aware that your husband maintains a mistress. Her name is Sienna Rosso, in case you are curious. If he does not uphold the sanctity of marriage, why should you?"

Penelope was taken aback by the depth of his knowledge. But it was expected for him to possess such information; after all, men conversed freely in their clubs, and they undoubtedly mentioned their own extramarital affairs. A wave of shame washed over her. Once again, Anthony's infidelity was impacting her public life. With considerable effort, she inhaled deeply and responded with controlled anger.

"Lord Debling, your conduct is utterly inappropriate, and you should feel ashamed for engaging in such discourse with a married woman."

Swiftly, she distanced herself from him, exiting the corridor and rejoining the crowd, where she came face to face with Colin.

He observed the tension on her face and inquired with concern, "Pen, is everything alright?" After noticing Debling emerging from the same corridor that Penelope had just left, Colin pressed further, "Did Debling say something that upset you?"

Penelope shook her head briskly, reluctant to create a public scene. "No, Colin, it's fine. I was merely searching for Anthony."

Anthony arrived a few seconds later, instantly noticing his wife's demeanor. He warmly embraced her, whispering in her ear, "Is something amiss?"

Penelope deflected the conversation, offering him a smile. "No... I just wanted to step outside for some fresh air."

He sensed that something was awry but decided not to press her in that moment. Instead, he gently proposed, "How about we head home a bit earlier, then?"

Penelope nodded in agreement, grateful for his understanding.

As they journeyed back home in silence, Penelope battled fiercely against the tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks. The crushing shame of knowing that others were privy to Anthony's affair with Sienna bore down on her heart. She grasped the painful reality that she couldn't intrude into her husband's private affairs, for their marriage had not been forged on such grounds. Yet, the way it gnawed at her soul was profoundly distressing.

Amidst the shame, another emotion loomed large within her: jealousy. It was a feeling she had never anticipated, but now it clung to her like a relentless shadow. Penelope, with startling clarity, realized that she didn't want to share Anthony with anyone else. In that moment, all she yearned for was to possess him entirely, to be the sole occupant of his heart.

Chapter 26: Confrontation

Notes:

Hello!

This chapter is shorter compared to the others, but in compensation, it's filled with emotions. I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony sat in his office, engrossed in the pages of Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice." His expression was a mix of amusement and surprise as he was engrossed in a particularly witty exchange between the two main characters. Suddenly the door to his study swung open, and Colin entered with a friendly smile. Anthony quickly closed the book.

Colin's surprise was evident as he glanced at the book in Anthony's hand. "Well, brother, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be reading Jane Austen."

Anthony cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed, "Well, what could I say? it's a good book."

Colin took a seat and looked at his brother thoughtfully. "You've changed, Anthony. In a good way, I mean."

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Changed? How so?"

Colin leaned forward, his expression more serious now. "I've noticed a remarkable transformation in you. You're more open, more willing to embrace joy. It's... surprising, but in a pleasant way."

Anthony smiled, "It's thanks to Penelope. She has a way of bringing out different aspects of me."

Colin's demeanor turned serious, and he cleared his throat. "Actually, Anthony, that's what I came to talk to you about. Something I witnessed at the Granville art exhibition."

Anthony's curiosity was piqued. He set the book aside, leaning forward to listen more attentively. "What happened at Granville?"

Colin hesitated for a moment. "I saw Penelope leaving one of the corridors looking rather disturbed, and Lord Debling followed her. It seemed like he had said something to upset her."

Anthony's features tensed as he absorbed this information. "Did you overhear anything?" he asked, his protective instincts kicking in.

Colin shook his head. "No, I didn't hear anything specific, but it was clear that something had upset her and she didn't want to talk about it."

Anthony's jaw tightened as a surge of anger coursed through him. He felt a surge of protectiveness. If Debling had dared to make any indecent advances towards Penelope, he swore to himself that he would make the man pay with his own fists. "She didn't say anything to me about Debling."

Colin suggested, "Maybe she's trying to avoid conflict, but I thought you should know, Anthony."

Anthony took a deep breath, realizing it was time to put an end to Debling's insinuations about Penelope once and for all. He stood up, grabbing his coat and hat.

Colin looked concerned. "Where are you going?"

Anthony replied with determination, "I'm going to settle this matter, Colin."

Colin's worry deepened, and he offered a piece of advice, "Before resorting to violence, Anthony, try talking first. If Penelope wants to avoid a conflict, you should understand her perspective."

Anthony nodded, though his anger still smoldered beneath the surface. "You're right, Colin. I'll tread carefully, but if Debling has crossed a line, he'll find me more than willing to defend my wife's honor."

Sensing his tension, Colin placed a calming hand on his brother's shoulder, offering a word of caution. "Anthony…Think carefully before resorting to violence."

"Do not worry, brother." He placed his hat on his head and offered a smile that could have been seen as the calm before the storm, saying, "I'll talk to Debling as a gentleman should."

With that, he left his office, ready to confront Lord Debling and ensure that Penelope's peace and safety were preserved.

Anthony entered the White's club with purposeful strides, his intent fixed on conversing with Debling and uncovering what had caused Penelope distress. His eyes roamed the dimly lit room until they settled upon Debling, engrossed in discussion with Fife in a corner.

As Anthony moved closer, their words became impossible to ignore. Despite the boiling anger coursing through his veins, his curiosity overpowered it. He concealed himself behind a closet, determined to continue eavesdropping.

Fife leaned in, remarking, "Debling, it appears luck has abandoned you. Whistledown has recently divulged your Venetian escapades.That's all people discuss. How are you handling the repercussions of this?"

Debling's response was a casual chuckle, an air of nonchalance. "Well, perhaps Whistledown did me a favor. Now the ladies are fully aware of my intentions."

Fife couldn't resist a sly grin as he teased, "Is that a reference to Penelope Bridgerton? Rumor has it you've taken a special interest in her."

Anthony tightened his fists upon hearing his wife's name but stood his ground. There was something inside him driving him to listen to Debling's closing words.

Debling's demeanor shifted, his tone more earnest. "My interest in her is authentic, Fife. I've never encountered a woman like her. She possesses intellectual prowess far superior to many people I've encountered. I must admit, this has left me quite intrigued."

Fife, still wearing a hint of skepticism, arched an eyebrow. "Who would have thought that the former Mayfair's wallflower could be so intriguing?" He extinguished his cigar, took up a glass of beer, and just before taking a sip, he gestured with his finger towards Debling, making a comment. "But you may be out of luck there, old chap. Lady Bridgerton seems quite smitten with her husband. I can't imagine her succumbing to your charms."

Debling leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his face as he spoke. "I won't be discouraged. I can't wait to uncover what she hides beneath those layers of fabric."

That was the final straw for Anthony. He burst into the room, his temper flaring. Without a word, he delivered a powerful punch to Debling's jaw, sending the man sprawling backward in his chair and igniting a brawl that would settle their differences once and for all.

Anthony didn't waste a moment; he lunged at Debling with a fierce determination. His fists flew like a whirlwind, each punch driven by the anger he had harbored for so long. Debling, caught off guard by the sudden assault, tried to block and counter Anthony's blows, but the Bridgerton's fury was relentless.

Chairs were overturned, and glasses shattered as the two men grappled and exchanged punches. The other gentlemen in the room tried to intervene, but the violence was too fast and too intense.

A particularly powerful punch from Anthony landed squarely on Debling's nose, and blood spurted from it like a crimson fountain. Debling stumbled backward, crashing into a small table laden with cigars and liquor bottles, sending them crashing to the floor in a cacophonous display of destruction.

The room was in chaos, with shouting and the sounds of breaking furniture echoing throughout. Anthony and Debling continued to exchange blows, neither willing to yield. It was a brutal, no-holds-barred brawl, fueled by anger, jealousy, and wounded pride.

In the end, it was the club's staff and some of the other gentlemen who managed to separate the two combatants. Both Anthony and Debling were bruised and battered, their clothing disheveled, and their pride wounded. The room was left in shambles, a testament to the intensity of their clash.

Anthony had made his point clear: Lord Debling would not be allowed to pursue Penelope any further.

"Keep your distance from my wife and my family, you bastard!" He spat the words at Debling, breaking free from the arms that held him back. "Or mark my words, the next time, it won't only be your nose I'll be breaking!"

With those seething threats, he stormed out of the room, his heart still pounding with fury. But beneath the anger, there was a deep satisfaction that he had finally put an end to Debling's relentless pursuit of Penelope. The other club members, left in a state of stunned silence, watched as Anthony Bridgerton made his exit, each step resonating with the weight of his determination and righteous anger.

Penelope hurried into Anthony's dressing room, her face etched with worry. She had heard about the altercation on her way back from Lady Danbury's house. Inside the room, she found him reclined in the bathtub, his face bruised, and a gash on his arm. Her heart clenched at the sight.

Anthony managed a faint smile, despite the pain throbbing through his face, and attempted a jest. "You should have seen the other fellow."

Penelope said nothing, moving closer to him. She gently took the sponge from his hand and began to tenderly wash his body, her touch both soothing and caring. Anthony relaxed under her ministrations, the tension slowly seeping out of him.

After a moment of silence, she finally spoke, her voice soft with concern. "What happened? Why did you get into a fight with Debling?"

Anthony sighed, wincing slightly as she cleaned a particularly nasty bruise. "He said some dishonorable things about you. But my fists taught him how to treat a lady."

"You could have been seriously hurt," Penelope commented, concern creasing her forehead.

"But it wasn't anything serious. However I think it might have been worse if I'd heard what he said to you at the Granville exhibition." Penelope's eyes widened as she realized he knew. Anthony shook his head and asked, "Why didn't you tell me he bothered you?"

"Because it wasn't really serious. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Debling alone with you in a deserted corridor... it could have ended badly. I don't trust him."

Penelope's expression shifted to one of nervousness. "Anthony, there has never been anything between us. Nothing happened. I would never break our vows."

Anthony gazed at her seriously. "I know that, Penelope. But you should have told me that Debling was being indecorous with you."

She looked down, her hands trembling slightly as she washed his arm. "I didn't want to cause a scandal, and it wasn't worth you getting into a fight on my behalf."

Anthony gently grasped the hand she was using to wash his arm, forcing her to look at him. His voice carried a note of severity. "Everything is worth it when it comes to you. I would set London ablaze if it meant ensuring your peace of mind."

She felt deeply touched by the intensity of his words. "Thank you. No one has ever defended me with such determination."

Anthony's expression softened. "You don't need to thank me. You are my wife. It's my duty to take care of you."

A small smile played on Penelope's lips, and she teased, "Well, you know that now I'll have to write about this brawl in Lady Whistledown, don't you?"

Anthony chuckled, his spirits lifting. "Oh, I know that. You must tell everyone that I handled my fists quite skillfully."

Penelope giggled and continued washing his body. As the warm water and her delicate touch began to work their magic, Anthony felt a growing heat in his lower abdomen. Desire simmered within him, growing with each caress.

Penelope couldn't help but notice his arousal and commented, her surprise evident, "You're injured, Anthony."

His voice was low and husky as he replied, "I'm wounded, not dead."

Penelope blushed and carried on washing his chest. Anthony's clear desire, though boosting her confidence, still managed to leave her slightly flustered. It amazed her that she could spark such desire in her husband.

With her free hand, Penelope's gentle caress traced Anthony's abdomen, descending toward his groin, her touch a careful, intimate exploration. He surrendered, throwing his head back, his eyes closing as she confessed in a whisper, "You know, I'm not one to revel in violence, but I must admit, your defense of my honor against Lord Debling filled me with an unexpected delight. Your display of protection and masculinity left me..." Her words lingered, unspoken but laden with meaning.

Anthony's eyes fluttered open, capturing her hand, guiding it to his lips, where he placed the most delicate of kisses on her skin, and then whispered, "aroused?"

She didn't respond and simply gazed at him, her breathing growing heavy. He took the sponge from her hand, tossing it somewhere in the room, and whispered in a low murmur, "Get in."

Without waiting for more words, Penelope swiftly undressed and eased into the bath. The water level rose as her legs gracefully slid over Anthony's muscular thighs, their bodies melding together in an intimate and fervent embrace.

Guttural moans of pleasure emanated from both of them, filling the air. Penelope's inner fire blazed, and Anthony cherished the exclusive privilege of merging with his wife's delightful warmth. His strong hands found purchase on her hips, expertly guiding their movements within the confines of the bathtub.

The raw power of desire surged through the direct contact of their skin, creating an electrifying connection. Her hands roamed over Anthony's sculpted chest, her fingers sensually tracing through his chestnut hair. Discovering stability in his shoulders, she leveraged them to control her movements, ascending and descending with a tantalizing slowness.

Anthony cradled Penelope's face in his hands, his gaze filled with an overwhelming intensity. Their lips met in a fervent kiss, a fusion of pent-up longing and unrestrained desire. Their tongues engaged in an erotic dance known solely to them, while the bathwater continued to envelop their bodies in its liquid caress.

Their motions were measured, reflecting the fiery passion they shared. The lust burned slowly, transmuting into an inferno that consumed them from the inside, an ever-intensifying flame stoked with every caress and touch.

Penelope sighed, her breath catching amidst Anthony's ardent kisses. She buried her hands in his dark locks, gripping him tightly as they surrendered to this moment of pleasure and profound connection. Penelope undulated atop him, causing the bathwater to overflow, the liquid spilling onto the floor like a witness to the ardent passion they professed.

Grasping his face in her hands, she inquired, "Do I give you pleasure?"

Anthony groaned and responded with labored breath, "Pen, do you really want to talk now?"

"Answer me," She demanded, tightening her inner muscle around his member.

Anthony let out a strained groan, closing his eyes, and eventually replied, "Yes, Penelope. Yes!"

She lifted her hips, momentarily breaking the connection between their bodies. Anthony's eyes opened, silently begging her not to stop moving. She fixed her gaze on him, spoking. "I want to be the sole one in your life. The sole one by your side," she declared, before settling back onto him, riding him carefully, increasing the cadence of her movements, whispering, "The only one on top of you."

"You already are," he whispered, holding her close. "You are my one and only, and I'm yours, Penelope. All yours."

Upon hearing that, she moved her hips faster, creating splashes in the water-filled bathtub. The knowledge that Anthony would belong solely to her overwhelmed Penelope, enveloping her heart and soul with a profound sense of ownership.

Anthony's body signaled his impending climax, yet he yearned for her to find pleasure first. With the devotion of one who knew every facet of his beloved's desires, he located the precise point that sent shivers of pleasure through her, bestowing upon her an overwhelming ecstasy. Penelope writhed atop him, her breasts pressing against his chest, completely succumbing to the wave of pleasure, her voice chanting his name like a sacred mantra.

Finally, Anthony let himself succumb to the ecstasy of the moment, surging deeply within her, marking her as his with a profound and possessive gesture.

As their rapid breaths gradually steadied, Penelope smiled at Anthony. He tenderly brushed aside the damp strands of hair clinging to her face, his eyes brimming with adoration. In that moment, enveloped by the vibrant energy of passion and shared intimacy, he whispered, "I love you."

Notes:

Finally, Anthony said the three little words we've all been waiting for for centuries!

In the next chapter, our couple will have a necessary conversation.

Don't forget Colin's drama that is yet to surface.

Chapter 27: Baring hearts

Notes:

Oh, I can't believe we're near the end of this story! I'm going to miss writing this so much!

I'm gonna post a new Polin fanfic this week. It's going to be a short story with fluff and angst. I hope you all can also follow its updates.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The dim candlelight cast dancing shadows across the room as Penelope and Anthony remained in the bathtub, seemingly frozen in time. Water droplets glistened on their skin, and an almost palpable silence enveloped them. Penelope's blue eyes were slightly widened as she stared at Anthony, desperately trying to absorb the weight of his words.

The silence hung in the air, heavy and almost unbearable, as if time had come to a standstill. It was Penelope who broke the silence, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "What did you say?"

With a tenderness that matched the flickering candlelight, Anthony spoke, "I said I love you."

Penelope's heart raced, and she searched his face for answers, her voice filled with both hope and trepidation. "What do you mean by that?" She dared to ask the question that had been lingering in her mind. "Are you saying that because of what we just did?"

The vulnerability in her voice was evident, as if she feared that his declaration of love was merely a response to their intimate moment. She needed to know the truth, to understand the depth of his feelings, and she couldn't bear the thought of misunderstandings or misinterpretations in this delicate moment.

Anthony gazed deeply into her eyes, his gaze unwavering. "I mean exactly that, Penelope. I love you," he replied sincerely. "I can't hide it any longer."

Penelope absorbed his words, her thoughts swirling in the no longer warm water around them. Without a word, she rose from the tub with graceful and deliberate movements. She grabbed a towel, started to dry herself, and then dressed. Anthony watched her, a hint of anxiety creeping over him. Had he ruined everything by confessing his love so suddenly?

Following suit, he stepped out of the bath, struggling to dress with one hand, his injured arm causing some difficulty. Penelope, her silence speaking volumes, helped him button his shirt with a gentle and reassuring touch. Anthony tried to avoid her gaze. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life. He never imagined that uttering three little words would have such a profound impact.

Once they had both dressed, Penelope suggested, her gaze still somewhat evading his, "I think we'd better move to the bedroom. It's growing chilly here, and you might catch a cold."

"You're right. Let's go to the bedroom," he agreed, his voice revealing a mix of emotions he couldn't quite hide.

Anthony felt a pang of disappointment. He had bared his heart, confessing his love, and had hoped for a more immediate response. Penelope's reaction left him uneasy, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had misjudged her feelings. The seconds that passed between their departure from the bathroom to the bedroom felt like hours, filled with unspoken tension and unfulfilled expectations.

In the dimly lit bedroom, Anthony made his way to the edge of the bed and sank down, the aches and pains from the earlier fight beginning to resurface. His bruised face throbbed with each heartbeat, and the superficial cut on his arm stung as it came into contact with the fabric of his shirt. He settled into the softness of the bed, and Penelope, her eyes now focused, began to rummage through a drawer, searching for something.

"I found it!" she suddenly exclaimed, triumphantly raising a small tube of pain ointment in her hands. "It's the same ointment Gregory's doctor gave us. He was always getting into scrapes, just like you." She approached him with a reassuring smile and said, "Take off your shirt, please."

Anthony complied, slowly peeling off his shirt as Penelope took a step closer. Her touch was gentle as she applied the ointment to his bruised ribs, stomach, arm, and then his face. Each stroke of her fingers felt like a soothing balm to his wounded heart. In the hushed intimacy of the moment, they remained wordless, letting their unspoken emotions swirl beneath the surface, hoping that actions would convey what words couldn't.

"I believe you'll start feeling better soon," she said softly, closing the lid on the ointment.

Anthony managed a genuine smile, the ointment's soothing tingle bringing relief to his physical pain, if not the emotional turmoil that still lingered. "Thank you, Penelope," he expressed his gratitude, gently squeezing her hand. "I'm already feeling much better."

With the physical wounds addressed, the room seemed to fill with a growing anticipation. Penelope couldn't delay the conversation any longer. "When did you realize you were in love with me?" She asked in one breath, her eyes locking onto his.

Her curiosity was driven by a mix of hope and apprehension, unsure if Anthony's confession of love had been a spur-of-the-moment outburst or something deeper. She yearned to understand the depth of his feelings, to know if they mirrored her own or if Anthony had simply allowed himself to be carried away by the intense emotions of the recent events.

Anthony's gaze met hers, and for a moment, the world outside their intimate space ceased to exist. He took a deep breath, his chest still bearing the remnants of the pain he'd experienced in his confrontation. "It wasn't a sudden revelation," he began, his voice carrying the weight of honesty. It was gradual, as if you were slowly filling a void in my heart, making it whole." Penelope fell silent once more.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but uncertain. "What does this mean for us, for our arrangement?"

Anthony looked at her with a contemplative expression. "Honestly, I don't know, Penelope," he admitted. "Does anything have to change?"

She pondered his words for a moment, her gaze searching his face. Then, in a muffled tone, she asked, "So, if nothing changes, does that mean you'll continue seeing your mistress?"

Anthony froze, his eyes momentarily avoiding Penelope's before returning to meet hers. "No," he said firmly, the word hanging heavily in the air. "I haven't been with Sienna for months. And a few weeks ago, after the opera incident, I ended things with her."

Penelope's eyes widened in surprise. "Why?"

Anthony hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "At first, I thought it was to protect our marriage, to keep up appearances. But then I realized it was because I was in love with you. I haven't touched her since our wedding."

Penelope's heart swelled with emotion at his confession. Unable to contain herself any longer, she enveloped him in a warm embrace. Their lips met, sealing their love with a kiss that spoke volumes. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice full of sincerity and affection.

As Penelope's words washed over him, Anthony's heart swelled with relief and happiness. He kissed her again, this time with even more fervor, their lips locking in a passionate embrace. "You make me the happiest man in the world by saying that, Pen," he whispered against her lips, his voice filled with sincerity and love. He then pulled her into a warm, tight hug, resting his head where her shoulder met her neck, inhaling the soothing scent of freshly showered water that clung to her skin.

"Let's go to bed; you need to rest," Penelope murmured, her voice a tender invitation. The two of them snuggled under the covers, their bodies intertwined, Anthony clinging to her as if he never wanted to let her go again. He had found his true love, and the prospect of being separated from her was unthinkable.

In the comfortable silence that enveloped them, Penelope spoke softly, her voice laced with empathy and understanding. "I imagine it couldn't have been an easy conversation you had with Sienna, given your history together, but I'm glad you made that decision." She tightened her grip on Anthony's arm around her, conveying her relief and support.

Anthony sighed, the weight of the recent confrontation with Sienna still lingering in his mind. "It wasn't a pleasant conversation, I must confess," he admitted, "It was challenging, but I believe she'll find her way. Sienna is a resilient and independent woman," he replied, his tone holding a hint of admiration for his former lover. Nonetheless, Anthony was content that their chapter was firmly in the past. He pulled Penelope close, whispering, "My focus now is on our future together."

"Absolutely," Penelope affirmed. "Let me make it crystal clear that in this future of ours, I have no intention of sharing you with anyone else."

Anthony chuckled softly, leaning in to place a tender kiss on her cheek. "No need for that, my love. Although I must admit, I didn't know you had this possessive side."

She turned toward him, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that sent shivers down Anthony's spine. "What can I say? You bring that out in me," she confessed, her voice a whisper filled with desire.

"I do?" Anthony responded, his smile tender as he gently caressed her face.

Penelope, her expression mischievous, climbed on top of him, her eyes dancing with playful intent. "Yes, you've transformed me, Anthony," she admitted with a sultry smile, her fingers tracing delicate patterns across his chest, cautiously avoiding his bruises to prevent any pain. Subtly, she pressed her legs against his side, a seductive invitation in her actions.

"I'm injured, Pen." he observed, his breath beginning to grow labored as her touch grazed on his skin.

She chuckled softly and replied, "You may be injured, Anthony, but you're certainly not dead," she countered with a teasing glint in her eyes. "In fact, it seems like you're very much alive now. I can definitely sense your vibrancy pressing against my skin."

Suddenly, he rolled her onto the bed, eliciting a surprised gasp from her lips. Penelope sighed as she felt his weight pressing down on her.

"I'm most certainly not dead, Lady Bridgerton," he murmured, his voice filled with a seductive confidence that sent shivers down her spine.

Standing before the mirror, Anthony examined himself, his eyes tracing the once-vivid bruises that had now faded into a subtle, greenish hue on his skin. The bruise served as a reminder of the lengths he was willing to go to safeguard his wife's reputation.

After the brawl with Debling, he had to cover the costs of the club's damaged furniture. However, he did it with a sense of contentment. Following the altercation, Debling hastily departed from London, enveloped in a whirlwind of gossip and disapproving glances that were certain to tarnish his reputation for a considerable duration. Anthony hoped to never encounter him again.

From behind, Penelope wrapped her arms around him in a tender embrace. She stepped beside him, offering a compliment that made his heart swell. "You look exceptionally handsome today, my lord."

"I had to put in extra effort to match my wife's beauty," he replied, a charming grin playing on his lips.

Penelope chuckled softly. "Your efforts are indeed remarkable." His arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer in a warm, affectionate embrace.

"Are you ready? Shall we be on our way?" Anthony inquired. It was the night of the Cowper house's final ball of the season. Both of them were looking forward to leaving London soon and escaping to the tranquil countryside for the remaining days of summer.

"Yes," Penelope replied, turning away to put on her gloves. "But we'll need to give Colin a ride. Your mother's carriage is already filled to capacity."

Anthony sighed playfully. "Well, that's a shame. I had entertained the idea of spending the entire journey kissing you, right up until we arrive at the ball," he admitted with a sly grin. "But I suppose I'll have to save that for a more private moment, away from my dear brother's eyes."

"Anthony!" Penelope giggled, patting his arm, pretending to be scandalized.

He grinned mischievously. "Oh, come on. I know you had the same idea."

"I reserve the right to remain silent," she retorted, walking towards the door. "Shall we?"

Anthony followed her, and before long, they were all comfortably settled in the carriage. As the vehicle carried them toward the Cowper house, Colin and Penelope delved into a lively discussion about his recent travels. Anthony chose to observe them, his fingers entwined with his wife's, a contented smile gracing his lips. He couldn't help but revel in the realization that Penelope seamlessly and harmoniously occupied her place in his world, within his family.

Their arrival at the Cowper house marked the grand finale of the season, evident in the opulent decorations that adorned the mansion. It was clear that the Cowper family intended to leave a lasting impression with their extravagant hosting of the season's final ball.

The grand ballroom was a dazzling display of elegantly dressed guests, their laughter and animated conversations filling the air. Penelope had already enjoyed a dance with her husband, engaged in lively discussions with fellow attendees, and now, as a refreshing thirst overcame her, she gracefully made her way to the drinks table, where a crystal pitcher of lemonade awaited her.

As she sipped the lemonade, a sense of satiety washed over her, yet an underlying discomfort had lingered in her body for the past few days. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that exposed a need within her, seemingly insatiable. Dealing with it was uncharted territory, and it left her feeling vulnerable and inadequate. Her thoughts seemed to gravitate more than ever towards the moments she shared with her husband, only serving to intensify the ever-growing sense of longing.

As she scanned the room, her eyes inevitably landed on Anthony, who was engaged in conversation with another gentleman. Her gaze lingered on him, but her thoughts were anything but innocent. Memories of their intimate moments together flooded her mind, and she felt a rush of heat that spread through her body.

Penelope's fingers tightened around the delicate fan in her hand, her heart racing. It was a peculiar sensation, to be surrounded by people and yet feel as though she were in a world of her own. She wondered if other women experienced such intense desires, such consuming thoughts about their husbands.

With a discreet sigh, she tore her gaze away from Anthony and tried to focus on the conversation happening around her. But it was difficult to concentrate when her mind kept drifting back to the stolen moments, the heated glances, and the passionate embraces they had shared.

She shifted uncomfortably in her gown, the fabric suddenly feeling too constricting. She found herself stealing glances at Anthony again, his profile sharp and alluring. The desires that simmered within her were both thrilling and bewildering. She had never imagined feeling such intense longing, such undeniable need for a man.

Penelope's cheeks flushed as her thoughts spiraled deeper into forbidden territory. She chastised herself internally, wondering if she was the only one who struggled with such desires, if she was alone in her vulnerability. She couldn't help but wonder if she was behaving like a reckless romantic or if these emotions were a normal part of being a wife.

The music swelled, and couples took to the dance floor, swirling and twirling in graceful arcs. Penelope's gaze inadvertently met Anthony's, and for a brief moment, it felt as though their private world collided with the public spectacle of the ball.

Anthony's discerning gaze had not escaped the subtle changes in Penelope's demeanor. Her attempts at composure were evident to him, and he couldn't help but be attuned to her unease. He noticed the faintest hint of discomfort in her expression, the way her fingers clutched her fan with a tension that belied her outward elegance.

He excused himself from the group of gentlemen he was conversing with and made his way toward her. "Are you feeling well, my dear?" he inquired softly, his voice a reassuring murmur in her ear.

Penelope managed a polite smile, though her eyes betrayed a hint of relief at his attention. "Oh, it's nothing, Anthony. I suppose the room is just quite warm."

He leaned in, his breath warm against her earlobe. "Would you like some fresh air? There's a more private drawing room nearby where you can take a moment to freshen up."

She nodded, grateful for his understanding. As they made their way to the quieter room, Anthony gently guided her, his touch warm and comforting against her arm. Once the door closed behind them, the murmur of the ballroom faded into the background, leaving them in relative solitude.

"Now, my love, you must tell me what's truly bothering you. I can sense that something is amiss."

Penelope hesitated, her eyes darting away momentarily before she attempted to deflect the conversation. "It's just the excitement of the ball, I suppose."

His gaze remained steady, unyielding. "Penelope," he said firmly, "I know you well enough to know when something is truly troubling you."

She chewed her lip, her apprehension palpable. Finally, she let out a sigh of resignation. "It's these thoughts, Anthony. Thoughts I can't seem to escape."

"Thoughts?" he repeated, his tone gentle but probing.

She glanced at him, her cheeks flushed. "Intimate thoughts, Anthony. About us."

He went quiet, his expression inscrutable as he processed her words. "And these thoughts make you uncomfortable?"

Her eyes brimmed with a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability. "Yes. I feel… sinful. As if I'm not behaving as I should."

Anthony stepped closer, his voice a low rumble. "Penelope, you have nothing to be ashamed of. These desires, these feelings, they are not sinful. They are a natural part of being human, of being a woman, of being in love."

She met his gaze, her eyes searching his for understanding. "You're not… upset with me?"

A ghost of a smile curved his lips. "Oh, my dear Penelope, far from it. In fact, I find myself struggling with similar thoughts."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You do?"

He reached out, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. "Yes, Penelope. I desire you, more than I ever thought possible. And I want you to know that these feelings are not improper or wrong. They are real, and they are a testament to the connection we share."

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The sensation sent a thrill coursing through her, erasing any doubt or insecurity. As he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against hers.

"You know, my dear," he began, leaning in closer to her, "I believe I've had my fill of the ballroom for the moment. What do you say we take a brief respite and linger here a while longer?"

Penelope's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and scandalized amusement crossing her features. "Anthony, we're in someone else's house, surrounded by dozens of people mere feet away."

He grinned mischievously, his voice low and intimate. "Ah, but there's a door separating us from all those people, and the only person you need to concern yourself with is me."

Her cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and intrigue coloring her expression. "Anthony, you can't be serious."

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. "Penelope, all I want is a few moments alone with you, to help you relax and unwind. We deserve a bit of privacy, don't you think?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but his fingers against her skin sent a shiver through her. His gaze was unwavering, his desire evident. Before she could utter another word, his lips descended upon hers in a kiss that left her breathless. As he pulled back, his voice was a soft murmur against her lips. "Trust me, my love, there's nothing improper about taking a moment for ourselves."

Penelope's resolve wavered, her heart racing as she met his intense gaze. His touch was a magnet, drawing her closer to him both physically and emotionally. The rational arguments faded in the face of the affection and desire she saw in his eyes.

"Anthony, I…" she began, her voice faltering.

He silenced her with another kiss, "Shh, Penelope. Let go of your worries for just a little while."

With his hand in hers, he led her towards a more secluded corner of the room, where an elegant settee awaited. As they sank into its plush cushions, Penelope's mind swirled with a mix of apprehension and longing. She knew that this was a bold move, that they were bending the boundaries of decorum, but she also felt the undeniable pull of their connection.

"Anthony, what if someone sees?" she whispered, even as her fingers interlocked with his.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Let them talk, my love. Let them wonder. Right now, it's just you and me, and that's all that matters."

Her mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts, from the impropriety of their actions to the simple, undeniable truth that she loved this man with a depth that went beyond anything she had ever known. She marveled at how their relationship had evolved, from a marriage of convenience to something that filled her heart with warmth and passion.

The sound of the music and laughter from the ballroom seemed to fade away as he pressed his lips to hers once more. As the kiss deepened, the world outside their private bubble ceased to exist. Penelope's reservations melted away, replaced by a heady mixture of desire and surrender.

His hands moved delicately, exploring her with a familiar touch that elicited soft sounds from her. When she felt his hand glide beneath her dress, her breath caught in anticipation. Penelope whispered his name, "Anthony..."

With his focus on bringing her pleasure, Anthony kissed her tenderly. As their lips parted, he gazed into her eyes with a depth of emotion that left her breathless. "Penelope," he murmured, his voice filled with a raw intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Her voice trembled as she replied, "Anthony..."

The minutes passed like fleeting seconds, their stolen embrace an oasis of intimacy amidst the grandeur of the ball. Anthony's hands, strong and reassuring, moved with a tenderness that made Penelope's heart ache with longing. She surrendered herself to the sensation, the world outside vanishing entirely as their bodies pressed closer together.

Finally she reached her peak, her muscles tensing and then relaxing in his embrace. A gentle blush colored her cheeks and bosom as she gazed into his eyes, her expression filled with intimate satisfaction.

Anthony's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he whispered, "I can hardly wait for us to return home together and fulfill our 'duty'."

Penelope couldn't help but chuckle at the dual meaning of his words, which held a promise. "It appears that we have a lot to do, my lord."

He extended a helping hand, assisting her to rise from the couch. As she stood, she took a moment to straighten the skirt of her dress, smoothing out any wrinkles. Meanwhile, Anthony endeavored to make her hair look more presentable, his fingers gently brushing through the locks with care.

As soon as Penelope composed herself, they heard a knock on the door, causing her to startle, her eyes widening. Anthony gently held her hand and gestured for her to answer the door while he quickly adjusted the cushions.

When Penelope opened the door, she found herself face to face with Cressida Cowper, who appeared quite irate. "Oh, it's you? What on earth have you been doing inside all this time?"

Before Penelope could respond, Anthony's voice came from behind her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and joined her at the doorway. "I apologize, Miss Cowper. My wife wasn't feeling well, so I brought her in here to rest and freshen up. I trust you're feeling much better now, my dear?"

Penelope turned her face to meet her husband's mischievous smile and nodded, saying, "Yes, I'm feeling much better."

"Apologies for any inconvenience, Miss Cowper. The room is all yours now," Anthony added politely.

Cressida looked at them both with a mix of amazement and understanding dawning on her face. Penelope struggled to contain her laughter as Anthony took her hand and led her away from the drawing room. In the hallway just before returning to the ballroom, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

She gently broke the kiss, a playful scold in her eyes. "Anthony, we're just a few steps away from the other guests. Someone might see us and start gossiping."

Anthony's unwavering smile persisted. "The worst that could happen is we end up in Lady Whistledown's column." Grinning knowingly, he drew nearer, his voice a seductive murmur. "Luckily for me, I'm married to Lady Whistledown herself."

Penelope couldn't help but laugh, her attempt at irritation falling short. "You're becoming quite smug about knowing her true identity."

Anthony's strong arms wrapped around her, filled with affection. "Well, it's immensely satisfying not only to know Lady Whistledown's real identity but also to come home to her every day." Then, as he held her close, Anthony whispered softly, "I'm grateful that we no longer harbor secrets from each other."

In his embrace, Penelope hesitated for a moment, her thoughts racing. She couldn't help but think of Colin, the fact that Anthony remained unaware of her past infatuation for his brother. The weight of that secret pressed upon her, and as they returned to the bustling ballroom, she wrestled internally with the decision to confess.

Ultimately, she chose to keep her past feelings for Colin to herself. Her love for him had been fleeting and unreciprocated, a chapter of her life long sealed. Revealing it now might only complicate their harmonious relationship, and the love she shared with Anthony meant too much to jeopardize it over a distant memory.

So, as they reentered the lively ballroom, Penelope carried her secret quietly, cherishing the beautiful present she had with Anthony.

Notes:

The angst is about to begin!

Chapter 28: The Inner Storm

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony and Penelope were engrossed in a lively conversation after their moment in the Cowper family's drawing room. Their laughter and shared understanding filled the ballroom, an unspoken declaration of their love and the unbreakable bond that had grown between them.

Seeing his younger brother approaching them, Anthony greeted with a jovial tone. "Brother! Running away from matchmaking mothers, are you?"

"I managed to evade a few," Colin replied with a smile. "Whistledown certainly gave me a hard time with its endless articles about my singleness."

Anthony chuckled and shared a meaningful look with Penelope, who subtly took a sip of her champagne, concealing her smile behind the glass.

"But I didn't come here to talk about that," Colin shifted the topic. "I came to request a dance with your esteemed wife, brother."

Anthony responded warmly, "You should ask her directly, Col. Penelope doesn't require my permission to dance with whomever she pleases."

Colin turned to Penelope, his hand extending gracefully. "Would you do me the honor of dancing this waltz, Pen?"

She gave Anthony a brief look of uncertainty. Her hesitation was due to the fact that just a few minutes ago Colin was in her thoughts, bringing a bit of discomfort as it was a reminder of the secret she was hiding from her husband.

Anthony offered her a reassuring smile, "Go ahead, my love. You're in excellent company with Colin."

With a smile, she accepted Colin's invitation, her steps guided by a mix of emotions. As they waltzed away, Anthony remained behind, watching the two with a contented expression.

Moments later, Violet joined him with a gentle smile. "Anthony, my dear, isn't Penelope looking lovely tonight? I sense there's something about her that's changed... I can't quite articulate it, but it's as though she's radiating. Her skin, her hair, they're gleaming. She looks absolutely enchanting, don't you think?"

Anthony briefly glanced at his mother and replied, his attention returning to the bustling dance floor. "Yes, she is," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

"I'm truly grateful to call her my daughter-in-law."

Anthony's chest swelled with a mixture of happiness and relief. Seeing Penelope seamlessly fit into his family had been one of his greatest desires. "I'm glad to hear that, Mother."

Violet's eyes followed her son's gaze before returning to him. "They make a splendid pair on the dance floor, don't you agree, my son?"

"Indeed. Their dance is quite captivating."

Violet's expression turned contemplative for a moment before she shared an unexpected insight. "It's funny, but I always had the notion that it would be Colin and Penelope forming a couple, you know."

Anthony's brows furrowed in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

She shrugged, her gaze wandering back to distant memories. "Well they were so close as children, and Penelope always seemed to hold him in high regard." Violet's smile returned as if dismissing her own musings. "But, as it turns out, I was mistaken. Now you and Penelope are married and appear genuinely content together. She patted his arm affectionately. "I'm happy for you, dearest. You've chosen well."

Violet spotted an acquaintance across the room and gracefully excused herself, leaving Anthony to his thoughts. He fell into a pensive silence, absorbing his mother's words, a disturbing thought beginning to form in his mind.

As he continued to observe Penelope and his brother dancing, their smiles and easy camaraderie, Anthony was struck by a poignant realization – the person Penelope had once fallen for, the one who had held her heart in her youth, was his brother Colin.

She had never disclosed the man's identity, and Anthony had never dared to inquire, but now he knew. Colin had been the object of Penelope's unrequited affection.

The revelation landed on him like a weight in his chest. An unsettling sense of discomfort settled in, leaving him feeling strangely unbalanced and uncertain about how to process this newfound knowledge.

The soft melodies of the orchestra continued to embrace the ballroom, but for Anthony, the world around him felt suspended. His gaze remained fixed on Penelope and Colin, their graceful dance like a shared secret, their smiles like a cruel reminder of a past he had not been part of.

As Penelope danced with Colin, she couldn't help but notice that his presence no longer stirred the same emotions it once did. In the past, being close to him had filled her with anxiety, especially when he would ask her to dance at a ball. Those moments had made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world, wrapped in the arms of the man she had once loved. But now, as Colin gracefully twirled her around the room, Penelope realized that those feelings were no longer there. Instead, she felt a sense of comfort, knowing that she would soon be reunited with Anthony, the man who truly held her heart.

"You've certainly improved your dancing, Pen. Have you been practicing?" Colin inquired.

"Thank you for noticing. Your brother and I dance at every ball we attend, and he's an excellent dancer," she replied with a warm smile.

"You know, my brother wasn't much of a dancer. I see you've made quite an impact on him, Penelope. I've never seen my brother smile so much. I'm glad you're in his life," He commented.

"Your brother's happiness means everything to me, Colin."

As the waltz carried them apart for a moment and then brought them back together, Colin made a remark. "I can't help but wonder if you've been concealing your true personality all this time, or if it has only flourished since your marriage."

"What can you mean?"

"You seem more confident, bolder... I can't quite put my finger on it, but you're not the same Pen I used to know."

"I'm always true to myself, Colin, but it's certain that I won't remain the same forever."

Colin smiled as the waltz came to an end, and he still held her hands. He spoke with a touch of emotion in his voice as he bowed, "Anthony is a fortunate man. I hope he realizes that."

"He truly is," Penelope responded, curtsying gracefully before moving away to find her husband. In those brief moments apart from him, an overwhelming longing had already taken hold of her.

Lately, she noticed a subtle shift in her demeanor, a growing attachment to Anthony beyond the ordinary. It wasn't just her body responding with desire; Penelope felt her inner emotions constantly in turmoil. Perhaps it was time to consult a doctor to determine whether these physical and emotional sensations were indicative of an underlying ailment.

As she approached him, she noticed the tension in his expression. "Are you feeling well?" she whispered, drawing nearer to him.

"I'm perfectly fine." He changed the subject. "Did you enjoy your dance with my brother?"

"Yes, immensely." She smiled, "Colin is an exceptional dancer, just like you, although you both have different dancing styles."

"Yes, I've come to realize that I'm not Colin," Anthony responded, his voice holding a gravity that left Penelope slightly puzzled, sensing that something was awry.

"Are you sure you're fine? You seem a bit tense," she asked in a gentle tone.

Anthony smiled at her. "Why wouldn't I be fine?" he replied before adding, "I'll be in the smoking room for a few minutes. Call for me if you need anything."

He walked away, leaving Penelope with a growing sense of unease, her heart burdened by worry about whatever might be troubling her husband.

In the dimly lit smoking room, Anthony sought refuge in a secluded corner, distancing himself from the animated conversations of other gentlemen. His mind was still reeling from the revelation, and he needed solitude to process it fully. He delved into his memories, searching for instances where he had witnessed Colin and Penelope interacting, desperately seeking any clues that could validate his suspicions.

It was an undeniable fact that Penelope had shared a close bond with Colin since their childhood. Anthony had always attributed this to their proximity in age, understanding that they often spent time together engaged in conversation. Now, he meticulously dissected every recent interaction between the two, unable to shake the gnawing feeling that each exchanged smile, every shared glance held a deeper, hidden meaning.

A memory resurfaced, one where Penelope had casually mentioned exchanging letters with Colin while he was away on tour. Though it wasn't customary for a lady and a gentleman to correspond without an established relationship or familial ties, Anthony had never perceived their interaction as unusual, given Penelope's strong connections to the Bridgertons. But now, this newfound information felt like an unmistakable clue, pointing to the possibility that Penelope indeed harbored romantic feelings for his brother.

Suddenly, another memory hit him like a ton of bricks – the revelation by Lady Whistledown regarding Marina's pregnancy. Anthony ran his trembling hands through his hair, bewildered by how he had failed to connect the dots. Penelope's profound affection for Colin had been right in front of him when she had disclosed her cousin's pregnancy. Now he realized that it wasn't merely her concern for his brother being manipulated that drove Penelope to reveal such a weighty secret, it was an emotion so strong that she had been willing to jeopardize Marina's future to protect Colin.

Now he understood the constant praises she bestowed upon Colin when writing as Whistledown. The endless compliments about his remarkable qualities.

Anthony couldn't help but feel a pang of pain as the realization settled in. The depths of Penelope's feelings for Colin had been concealed in plain sight, a profound love that he had failed to recognize, casting a shadow of doubt over his own actions and choices.

A gnawing sense of inadequacy consumed him, like an unwanted specter haunting his thoughts. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was merely the second choice, the alternative that Penelope had settled for after her first love, Colin, had eluded her grasp. Doubts gnawed at his mind, fueled by a seething jealousy that scorched his insides. Why hadn't she confided in him sooner? Why had she concealed this crucial piece of her history?

He yearned to delve deeper into Penelope's past, to understand the intensity of her previous feelings for Colin. Yet, he also recognized that confronting her in the midst of the ball would be a disastrous misstep.

A slow-burning anger began to smolder in his chest, a fire stoked by his own insecurity. He longed to be the sole occupant of Penelope's heart, the one to kindle those deep, passionate emotions within her. He longed to be her first and only love, just as she was his.

As he tried to process his feelings, an unwelcome interruption shattered his contemplation. "There you are!" The voice belonged to none other than his brother, the last person Anthony wished to encounter at that moment.

Pain, anger, and confusion swirled within him, threatening to engulf him entirely. He fought to maintain a facade of composure, offering a strained smile to his brother.

Colin effortlessly closed the gap between them, settling in beside Anthony. "What's troubling you?" He inquired, "Penelope mentioned you seemed rather tense, so I thought I'd check on you."

He didn't appreciate that they had been discussing him. Irrational anger threatened to consume Anthony's heart as he realized just how close his brother had become to his wife, to the point of confiding their concerns in each other. "I merely sought a moment of solitude, which apparently is proving elusive." his tone sharper than he intended, the weight of Penelope's concealed history with Colin still pressing on his thoughts.

Colin arched an eyebrow, sensing his brother's unease. "Anthony, what's truly happening?"

Realizing he had been too brusque, Anthony softened his tone. "I'm merely dealing with a headache. I suspect I may have imbibed a bit too much champagne."

"Shall I fetch you some food? Sometimes, a headache can result from an empty stomach after indulging in spirits."

"No, Colin, it's unnecessary." He rose from his seat. "I believe I'll leave the ball early."

"In that case, I'll accompany you. I've had my fill of matchmaking mothers for one evening." Colin stood, prompting Anthony to remember that he had provided transportation for his brother. Going home now would likely involve enduring Penelope and Colin's cheerful chatter, as they so often did. The prospect churned Anthony's stomach uncomfortably.

"You know, Colin, I'll need to make a stop at White's Club. Why don't you and Penelope proceed home, and I'll arrange for a carriage later?"

"You're heading to the club? But you just mentioned a headache," Colin appeared genuinely surprised.

"It seems to have passed. Could you kindly inform Penelope that I'll be returning home late tonight?" He requested, and his brother nodded in agreement. Finally, Anthony departed the smoking room. At that moment, he didn't feel ready to face Penelope. The turmoil of emotions within him threatened to erupt, and he needed solitude to gather his thoughts and contemplate how to navigate this newfound revelation that had the power to shake the very foundation of their marriage.

Anthony lay in bed, bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight that filtered through the curtains. His eyes, wide open, stared at the ceiling, but his mind was far from restful. Anthony felt trapped in a whirlpool of tormenting thoughts.

He returned from the club only when he was certain that everyone had retired to their slumber. He dreaded encountering Penelope, gazing into her eyes that had once sparkled with affection for his brother. Fortunately, over the past few days, Penelope had been retiring to bed earlier, and her sleep was notably prolonged. He attributed it to exhaustion from the demanding and intense social season.

As he entered the bedroom to rest, he found her already in a deep slumber, her snores filling the room. Anthony had contemplated the notion of seeking refuge in his old bachelor room, the place where he used to sleep before sharing the main bedroom with Penelope. However, he dismissed the idea, fearing it might arouse her suspicions, prompting her to inquire about what troubled him. He had no inclination to engage in a conversation about his emotions with her, not at this moment. Anthony hadn't yet fully processed everything he had unearthed, and his thoughts remained in turmoil.

The emotions within him were still simmering, and he wanted to avoid any conflict. However, he acknowledged that if he were pushed to confront Penelope, he might lose his temper, unable to contain his frustration over her keeping such a crucial secret from him. So he donned his nightclothes and settled beside her, but sleep eluded him

He couldn't help but feel a profound sense of unease. The knowledge that Penelope had once been in love with Colin, his own brother, weighed heavily on his heart. It felt as though he were the second choice, the fallback option she had settled for to secure her future. He turned to look at her sleeping beside him, her expression serene, her dreams seemingly undisturbed. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil that raged within him.

What gnawed at Anthony even more was the belief that Colin might have been a far better match for Penelope than he ever could be. Colin embodied the essence of the perfect gentleman. He was nothing like Anthony, who often acted brusquely and displayed impatience when dealing with people. No, Colin was the embodiment of charm – polite, friendly, and an incurable romantic.

Colin's pure heart was evident in his willingness to marry Marina, even though he knew she carried another man's child. Unlike Anthony, he wouldn't have orchestrated an arranged marriage just to continue his rake lifestyle. Anthony couldn't help but think that if Colin and Penelope had embarked on a romantic journey together, his brother would have fallen in love with her from the very first day. Colin would have recognized Penelope's worth right from the start.

However, none of this was possible now because his brother remained oblivious to the woman willing to do anything for him, allowing Anthony to eventually call Penelope his wife. If only Colin hadn't been so blind, the reality they faced today might have been vastly different.

As Anthony gazed at her, a sense of melancholy washed over him. He recognized his own hypocrisy in passing judgment on Penelope in this manner, given his own involvement with Sienna at the time of their marriage. Even if his relationship with Sienna had not escalated physically while he was married to Penelope, Anthony understood that merely being committed to another woman besides his wife – regardless of Penelope's awareness and acceptance – was sufficient reason for him to be deemed a scoundrel. What moral high ground did he have to critique Penelope's actions?

With a weary sigh, he acknowledged that the crux of the matter lay in the fact that Penelope wasn't engaged in an affair with Colin, but she had loved him. At some point, she had genuinely loved him. While he had fallen deeply in love with her, she had harbored feelings for another man, for his own brother.

It pained him to think that while he had been building a future with her, she had been loving someone else. Doubts crept into his mind like shadows, questioning whether her feelings for him were genuine. She had told him that she loved him, her words sincere and heartfelt. But doubt lingered. What if she had said it out of pity? What if she had merely reciprocated his feelings because he had spoken first, out of obligation rather than genuine emotion?

With another heavy sigh, Anthony rose from the bed and crossed the room to stand by the window. He gazed out into the night, his eyes lost in the darkness of the sky. Penelope's kisses, her declarations of love – they had felt so genuine. Perhaps it was unlikely that she was lying about her feelings. But then again, Penelope had been adept at keeping secrets, honing her skills as the mysterious Lady Whistledown.

Anthony felt conflicted, torn between his love for Penelope and the uncertainty that now clouded his perception of her. Did he truly know the woman he had married?

The night stretched on, offering no easy answers to the questions that tormented his restless mind.

Notes:

God, that was difficult to write, and it will become even harder with the next chapters. I hope you guys won't abandon our couple during this challenging time.

Chapter 29: Heartfelt conflicts

Notes:

Hi, everyone. This chapter is a bit tense, but before you read it, please pay attention to what I'm about to say. Some people have been dissatisfied with how things are unfolding in the story, so I want to provide some clarification.

The characters in this fanfic have different personalities from those in canon. I've taken the poetic liberty that every fanfic writer has when dealing with character development.

Anthony is a man navigating his first love. It's normal for him to feel insecure, not knowing if Penelope truly loves him, despite her saying so. There's a sense of inferiority in him. He also has those prideful personality traits. He believes that because he was upfront with Penelope from the beginning about Sienna, she should have done the same.

In a way, Anthony believes he took the chance of Colin and Penelope being happy together, even though he's not sure if his brother ever loved Penelope at any point. He's jealous too.

He's not perfect, okay? He's hypocritical. He makes mistakes. He's not Prince Charming. He's complex. He doesn't have the emotional range of a teaspoon.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The following morning, Penelope found herself having breakfast with her family, yet the absence of Anthony at the table weighed heavily on her heart. A lingering sense of unease haunted her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss with her husband.

Penelope had awakened to find Anthony's side of the bed empty. Inquiries with the servants revealed that her husband had departed shortly before breakfast, leaving no hint as to his destination. She couldn't help but be annoyed with herself for oversleeping that morning, nearly missing breakfast. Lately, she had been feeling more fatigued than usual, and the previous night's ball had required her to dance and stand on her feet for hours. She took a begrudging bite of her toast, silently lamenting that had she risen at her usual time, she might have had a chance to see Anthony before he left.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and she poured another cup of tea. The ball the previous night had been an exceptional experience for both Anthony and her. After their candid confessions of love, it appeared that their relationship had taken a significant step forward, their bond deepening. Penelope felt content and joyous with this new development in their lives, yet it couldn't quell the unsettling feeling in her chest that something was wrong with her husband.

After finishing her breakfast, she made her way to the drawing room, hoping to distract herself with a book. However, her concentration on the words was feeble at best. The restlessness clung to her thoughts like a persistent shadow, and her chest felt burdened, as if a lump had formed in her throat, impeding her ability to relax. Her thoughts, once again, gravitated toward Anthony.

She recalled falling asleep the night before, waiting for Anthony to return from the club. Humboldt had informed her that he had come back in the early hours of the morning, long after everyone had retired for the night. For a fleeting moment, an unwelcome thought crossed her mind, wondering if it had anything to do with Sienna, if Anthony had relapsed into his relationship with his former lover. However, she swiftly dismissed the notion, remembering the heartfelt words Anthony had spoken to her during their intimate confession bathed in candlelight. He had professed his love for her so ardently, and Penelope believed that Anthony wouldn't betray her, especially not after revealing his deepest feelings.

Her mind raced, trying to fathom the cause of Anthony's distress. Was it a household concern or perhaps Debling's story that was haunting him again? But if it were something of that sort, why wasn't he discussing it with her? Penelope couldn't comprehend it, and the uncertainty only deepened her anxiety. She rang the bell, requesting some sweets. Lately, anxiety had led her to eat more than usual, not to mention the headaches she occasionally suffered from.

As she savored a few éclairs, Penelope decided it was high time she had a serious conversation with Anthony to understand what was transpiring. She couldn't afford to wait for him to work through his emotions until he was comfortable sharing with her, as she had in the past. His sudden and erratic behavior had left her profoundly unsettled, and she couldn't delay any longer in unraveling the mystery. They had entered into marriage to support one another, and it didn't sit well with her to know that her husband was grappling with something distressing and keeping it locked within himself.

As the day wore on, Anthony's absence became an ever-increasing weight on Penelope's heart. Night fell, and she had anticipated his return for dinner, but instead, she found herself spending the evening with her family, participating in the usual lively banter and conversations. However, her mind remained far from the joviality around her, preoccupied with thoughts of her husband's whereabouts. She had inquired about Anthony's absence with Benedict and Colin, but her brothers-in-law, absorbed in their own concerns, could offer no insight.

After dinner, the Bridgerton family gathered in the living room, eager for a friendly board game. It was at this moment that Anthony finally returned home, his expression wearied and troubled, casting a somber shadow over the earlier merriment.

Hyacinth, full of enthusiasm, extended an invitation to her elder brother, Anthony, encouraging him to join the board game. "You can play with us, Anthony, but this time, you won't be Penelope's partner. She's already teamed up with Colin."

Colin chimed in with his own jest, smiling. "And I couldn't be happier about it. Penelope and I make quite the team."

Penelope responded to Colin's smile with genuine warmth, then turned her attention to her husband. "So, will you join us?"

"No, I have matters to attend to," Anthony replied tersely, his tone frigid, as he abruptly left the room.

Colin leaned closer to Penelope, his voice tinged with concern. "What's going on with him?"

"I don't know," Penelope admitted, her worry settling firmly in her heart. "I'll check if he needs any assistance. Please, go ahead and start without me."

As she quietly entered his office, she found Anthony there, sipping on a glass of brandy. She approached cautiously, sensing something amiss, and spoke in a gentle, concerned tone. "Anthony, I have a feeling that something is wrong, and it's been troubling me. What's going on?"

His face displayed a veneer of discontent as he got up to pour another drink, evading her initial inquiry. "Nothing's wrong, Penelope," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

But Penelope was persistent. "Anthony, I know you too well. Something has happened, and even Colin noticed..."

The mere mention of Colin's name stoked a simmering anger within Anthony. His jaw clenched, and he halted in the middle of the room. After a tense moment, he turned to her with a piercing gaze. "It's him, isn't it? Colin is the man you loved?"

Penelope paled at Anthony's direct question, her response faltering. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't try to deny it," he demanded, his voice firm. "Is it him?"

With a deep breath, she made a decision. There was no use in concealing the truth any longer. She didn't understand how he had discovered it, but honesty seemed the best course of action. "Yes, it's him. Colin is the man I was in love with."

Anthony fell silent, pouring himself another glass of brandy. Inside, he seethed with anger. How could she have smiled so fondly at Colin? How could she have dared to love another man while she was married to him? Hurt, wounded pride, and a sense of betrayal surged within him.

"Is that what has upset you?" she asked, breaking the silence. "Is that why you spent the entire day away, leaving me worried and not knowing where you were?" Irritation tinged her voice. While she understood that this revelation was not easy for him to digest, Penelope had hoped for a sensible conversation instead of his avoidance.

"Why did you agree to marry me if you loved my brother?" he demanded, turning to face her, his eyes filled with a tumultuous mix of emotions.

"Because you proposed an arrangement that benefited me," she chose honesty. After all, their initial marriage wasn't built on love. "My infatuation with your brother was nothing more than an unrequited fantasy, Anthony. So, I needed to secure my life, and I'm content that I did that and found true love with you."

Even though she told him she loved him, Anthony still felt hurt. "But did you still have feelings for him when you married me?"

"Why does that matter, Anthony? I'm married to you now. Even if I had some feelings for Colin back then, it would mean nothing more today. Don't you understand that it's you I love? Why care about the past?"

"This matters to me! You have no idea how painful it is for me to know I married a woman who was in love with my own brother!" He exploded, releasing the tension that had been building up since the previous night.

Penelope took a step back at his sudden anger. She could sense he was hurt too, but it didn't stop her from getting worked up about the way he was speaking to her. "You had a lover!" she threw at him. "How can you accuse me of anything when you had a lover when we got married?"

"You knew about her from the beginning! I never hid my true intentions, Penelope! I've always been an open book to you! But you're the one being reserved, keeping information and guarding secrets!"

"You're being a hypocrite! Don't you see?" Her voice trembled with anger. "You chose me as the only person who wouldn't threaten your lover, remember? You chose me because I was merely a wallflower, Anthony and now you demand things from me as if I had committed a moral failure?"

"And you accepted my arrangement because it was advantageous for you, didn't you? I didn't see you complaining about the conditions that were established!" He retorted and laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. "Since the beginning of our marriage, you've kept secrets. And here I was thinking Lady Whistledown was the biggest one. You've always kept things from me!"

"I'm not obligated to share everything about my life!" Penelope flared up again. Emotions were bubbling up within her as well. "My feelings are private and concern only me! I wasn't obligated to bare my soul and heart to you just because we were getting married."

"You should have told me after I declared my love to you, Penelope. You should have trusted me when I opened my heart and soul to you." His voice trembled, filled with anguish and sorrow. "My affair with Sienna never came close to what I think you felt about Colin. You should have told me you loved my brother."

"What I felt for Colin is in the past, Anthony," she spoke softly, trying to dissipate the growing tension. "Please, understand that. It is you that I love now."

"Now.." Anthony repeated, his voice filled with frustration and hurt. "You should have told me from the very first day. I'm your husband, and you should have told me."

Penelope lowered her gaze, her eyes fixated on the floor, the weight of her omission heavy upon her. She felt a deep sense of shame for hiding the truth from him. The fear that revealing her past feelings for Colin might jeopardize the happiness they had found together had led her to keep this secret, and now she regretted that choice.

She spoke, trying to appeal to reason, "What difference would it have made, Anthony? If I had confessed my feelings for Colin, would it have changed anything? You wanted an arrangement, Anthony, and we entered into it. If love grew between us amidst it all, shouldn't we cherish these moments and leave the past where it belongs?"

A heavy silence hung in the air, their eyes locked in a tense exchange. Anthony turned away and poured himself another brandy, the tension in the room palpable. After a sip, he exhaled deeply and turned back to her, his tone tinged with bitterness as he accused, "Now I understand why you revealed Marina's pregnancy in Whistledown. You were jealous and wanted Colin all to yourself, didn't you?"

The accusation struck Penelope like a blow, and she felt a surge of offense. With unwavering determination in her voice, she refuted, "That's not true. I made that decision to protect Colin, not out of jealousy. I couldn't bear to see him deceived that way."

"It's quite the altruistic concern you have for my brother, Penelope," Anthony sneered, his voice low but dripping with sarcasm and anger. "You even went against your family's interests to secure Colin's peace of mind."

Penelope met his gaze head-on and stated firmly, "None of that matters now, Anthony. Marina is married and her children are safe. Their future is assured."

"Barely," he retorted, his bitterness unabated. "This could have ended disastrously for your cousin, but you didn't seem to care, did you? Not when Colin's happiness was at stake... I mean, your happiness, wasn't it? Since you had hopes of marrying him, didn't you, Penelope?"

"What are you trying to imply, Anthony?" Indignation coursed through her, her defenses rising. "Are you suggesting that I deliberately sabotaged Colin's engagement for my own selfish desires?"

"I don't know, Penelope," he replied coldly, his trust in her wavering. "You tell me. What were your true intentions? Perhaps it's better if you say nothing. I'm not sure I can believe whatever explanation you offer."

Her gaze remained unwavering, hurt by his lack of trust. "I've never given you a reason to doubt my words."

"Actions speak louder than words," he retorted, his tone heavy with doubt and disappointment.

As the seconds ticked by, Penelope could feel the lump in her throat growing larger, symbolizing the growing chasm between them. The tension in the air had become almost palpable, their relationship teetering on the brink of rupture. They stood at an impasse, their deepest wounds exposed, and the path to healing appeared shrouded in uncertainty.

"Anthony... how... how can we mend this?" She stammered, her voice trembling, desperate to hold back tears, while he drained his brandy in a single, forceful gulp. "How can we resolve this situation?"

In a swift and furious motion, Anthony closed the physical distance between them, and Penelope could feel the warmth of his brandy-laden breath on her face. His voice, filled with simmering anger, sliced through the heavy atmosphere. "Tell me, Penelope, do you ever think of him when we share a kiss? When we're together in bed, is he the one who fills your thoughts?"

Penelope recoiled, the question a profound offense that left her feeling both hurt and mortified. "How could you ever think that of me?" She exclaimed, her voice quivering with righteous indignation.

He repeated the question, his gaze digging deeper, a swirling mix of anger, insecurity, and anguish taking hold of him. "Am I mistaken?"

As their eyes locked, Penelope found herself unable to recognize the man who had so passionately professed his love for her just a few days earlier, the man with whom she had spent her every day for the past several months, wholeheartedly dedicating herself to him.

In a measured and resolute tone, she declared, "I'm going to bed. Do not even think about coming to my room. My door will remain closed." With those words, Penelope left the room, her heart heavy with sorrow.

Anthony slumped into his chair, overwhelmed by the weight of misery and regret that washed over him in the aftermath of his impulsive and bitter words. The glass of brandy slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor, but he paid it no mind. At that moment, nothing seemed to hold any significance. He had, in a fit of irrational anger, torn apart the very source of his happiness. It was as though he had single-handedly dismantled the delicate structure of their love, and he was left with nothing but the crushing weight of his own actions.

Penelope lay alone in her bed, tears flowing silently down her cheeks. She couldn't escape the haunting realization that she should have shared the truth about Colin with Anthony at some point, but she never fathomed it would lead to this heartbreaking moment. Her youthful passion for Colin had once consumed her, but it had long lost its significance. Penelope couldn't erase Colin from her past; he had become a cherished figure, a love akin to that of a brother.

She reminisced about her wedding day, the day she thought she'd embrace a tranquil married life with a man who'd protect and care for her. Yet, life had unfolded unexpectedly, and she had fallen deeply in love with Anthony. Each passing day had only deepened that affection, surpassing any romantic notions she'd held about Colin. Anthony had become the embodiment of love, exceeding her wildest expectations.

The word "love" reverberated in her thoughts, but it was now stained by the wounds inflicted by Anthony's painful words. She acknowledged his hurt, yet the full extent of his agony remained a mystery to her. His words had driven a sharp, agonizing wedge into her heart.

As Penelope continued to cry herself to sleep, a heavy sense of foreboding enveloped her. She questioned if their marriage was irreparably damaged. The seeds of distrust had taken root, leaving her adrift in uncertainty about what the future held for both her and Anthony.

Notes:

I wanted to give Penthony human characteristics. We humans don't always react correctly to events that take us off our track. We jump to conclusions, we dive into misunderstandings and misinterpretations. We make mistakes. We hurt each other. But we also have the capacity to learn and forgive.

Chapter 30: Lost in Anguish

Notes:

The end is near.

Thank you guys for every comment and kudos so far.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Anthony awoke with a disorienting feeling, his body weighed down, and his mind shrouded in fog. For a moment, he couldn't place where he was and glanced around, attempting to regain his bearings. His head pounded with pain as he raised it, only to let it sink back onto the pillow, where he massaged his temples in an effort to ease the ache.

"Good morning," Sienna's voice reached his ears, causing him to lift his face once more. He was startled to realize that he was in her house.

"What... what happened?" He mumbled, struggling to sit up and surveying his surroundings with confusion.

Sienna, her expression laced with concern, approached him. "You were quite drunk when you left the White's last night, stumbling about. So, I brought you here to ensure your safety."

Anthony blinked, trying to piece together the events of the previous night, but everything remained hazy. Recalling the aftermath of his argument with Penelope, he found it unbearable to remain at home for long, so he sought refuge at the club. After consuming a few bottles of alcohol, the rest of the night became a hazy, indistinct blur in his memory. He noted that at least he was still dressed and promptly got up, retrieving his coat and hat.

"Would you like something to eat? Perhaps some tea?"

"No, thank you. I need to go," he replied as he fastened his boots. He was eager to leave Sienna's house without being noticed, especially given the regrettable circumstances of waking up there in his intoxicated state from the previous night. Thoughts of Penelope plagued his mind, and he contemplated the potential consequences of this information, fearing it might inflict further harm upon his already deeply fractured marriage.

Sienna cautiously inquired, studying his expression. "Anthony, is everything alright? Did something happen to leave you in such a sorry state last night?"

"Thank you for looking after me yesterday," he deflected from directly answering her questions, "I believe I may have indulged too much in drink, but I'm grateful you were there to assist me."

"Of course I would help you, Anthony. I just wanted to ensure that everything is genuinely alright with you."

"It is, Sienna. I appreciate your concern," he assured her with a smile. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I must make haste."

As he left Sienna's house, the fresh morning air surrounded him, his mind still clouded with fragments of memories from the night before.

The club exuded an air of serene illumination, an oasis of tranquility for those seeking a brief respite from the world's tumultuous currents. But for Anthony, serenity and peace had become elusive phantoms, departing from his life alongside his happiness, with no sign of returning.

Within the confines of his own mind, he endured a personal torment, where thoughts of remorse, guilt, and self-reproach relentlessly haunted every corner. Anthony was not one to indulge in self-pity, but he recognized that, in this moment, he deserved to bear the weight of his actions and the pain he had inflicted on the love of his life.

When he reached home after leaving Sienna's house, he promptly took a bath and groomed himself, banishing the lingering alcohol odor that had enveloped him. He mustered his resolve and ventured to Penelope's room, his heart heavy with the intention to beg for her forgiveness. However, she adamantly declined to see him, choosing instead to sequester herself within her chambers. He understood that her reaction was justified, given the harsh words he had uttered, and he respected her need for space. Deeply remorseful, he acknowledged the necessity of allowing her the time to process her emotions and decide whether forgiveness was a path she would eventually tread.

Faced with the prospect of remaining at home, surrounded by inquisitive relatives inquiring incessantly about Penelope's well-being, Anthony hastily donned his hat and coat, seeking refuge at White's club. It had become a frequent haven for him, offering a semblance of solace amidst the turbulent storm of his emotions. However, he resolved to exercise caution, ensuring he wouldn't overindulge in alcohol again and find himself in the embarrassing predicament he had woken up to that fateful morning.

Minutes later, Benedict approached him in silence, his eyes traversing from the whiskey glass resting on the table to the smoked cigars, to the partially consumed bottle of beverage, and finally to his elder brother's countenance. Benedict's expression became etched with concern, creases forming on his forehead as he meticulously observed his brother's physical state, noticing the distant, troubled look in his eyes.

"Anthony, what's going on? Mother mentioned you haven't been home since yesterday, and Penelope is sequestered in her room, claiming to be unwell. Can you please tell me what's happening between you two?" He inquired with a sincere tone of concern.

Anthony let out a weary sigh, raising his gaze and finally registering his brother's presence. He had been ensnared in the depths of his own anguish for the past few minutes, barely cognizant of his surroundings. Benedict seated himself beside him and echoed his question.

Anthony hesitated, still grappling with the embarrassment of his recent actions. "I had a disagreement with Penelope."

Benedict's brow furrowed. "Disagreements are a natural part of every marriage, brother. I believe you can work through this. You and Penelope share a profound love, that much is evident."

A faint, joyless chuckle escaped Anthony's lips, his smile devoid of its usual vigor and sincerity. It was a bitter, hollow laugh, one that tempted him to drain the whiskey bottle in one swift motion. "I'm not entirely convinced of that, Benedict," he confessed, leaning over to pour himself another glass.

Benedict leaned in closer, his worry deepening. "Is it a grave matter, then? Can you enlighten me on what transpired?"

Anthony hung his head, the weight of shame bearing down upon him, making it arduous to articulate the cruel words he had uttered. "I'm uncertain... I'm uncertain if she can find it within her to forgive the hurtful things I said last night."

Benedict gently rested his hand on Anthony's shoulder, conveying solace and support. "Penelope loves you deeply, Anthony. If you genuinely show remorse, I believe she will find it in her heart to forgive."

"I'm not sure if I deserve that forgiveness, brother," Anthony confessed, his voice heavy with self-doubt. "Perhaps my penance is to suffer to mend my shortcomings. Maybe my place is in hell, and I don't deserve to attain paradise alongside Penelope."

Benedict's concern deepened as he observed his brother's despondent state. It was the first time he had witnessed Anthony in such profound melancholy. Not even when their father had passed away he displayed such grief. In reality, as the new head of the household, Anthony had buried his sorrow along with their father and shouldered the responsibilities of their family and his title.

After a moment of contemplation, Benedict reached out to touch his brother's hand, prompting Anthony to turn and meet his gaze. "I've known you my entire life, Anthony. Despite your temperament, I know you would sacrifice everything for any one of us. Your love may not always be expressed through affection, but it's evident in every decision you make for our family." Anthony held onto Benedict's hand, taking in his words.

Benedict continued, his voice warm and reassuring, "What surprised and delighted me in these past few months was witnessing your transformation into a happier person. You needed that change, to live life without feeling it was an overwhelming burden. I believe this transformation is thanks to the bond you share with Penelope. In a peculiar way, you two have found love and understanding in each other." He squeezed his brother's hand, as if the gesture could underline his sincerity. "Penelope loves you. I see it. Everyone sees it. And I know you love her too. Regardless of what you've done, go to her and beg for her forgiveness. Kneel, do whatever it takes, but don't let that woman, with her deep and genuine love for you, slip away."

Anthony nodded, his determination resolute as he absorbed Benedict's heartfelt words. He rose from his seat, a sense of purpose guiding him home to make amends with Penelope. However, beneath his determination lurked the weight of uncertainty, as he questioned whether he could ever forgive himself for uttering words that had caused such hurt to the woman he cherished. Uncertainty remained his constant companion as he journeyed back home.

Penelope lay upon the bed, her eyes bearing the unmistakable marks of tears, her face contorted by pain. Sadness was her only companion since the heated argument with Anthony the previous night.

On that day, she had no desire whatsoever to step outside her chambers on this particular day. Her usual sources of joy now felt unappealing, their luster dulled by the weight of her emotions. Even food, which typically eased her anxiety, refused to settle in her stomach. The inner torment was so oppressive that she had vomited up whatever morsels she had attempted to consume earlier.

Engulfed in this abyss of melancholy, she barely registered Eloise's entrance into her room. Penelope had resorted to telling her family that she wasn't feeling well to ward off visits and the inquiries she wasn't ready to address, but with Eloise, she couldn't employ that ruse. Her friend knew her too intimately.

Eloise, filled with concern, quickly crossed the room and perched herself on the edge of the bed, enfolding Penelope in a comforting embrace. In hushed tones, she inquired, "What happened? Did Anthony hurt you?"

Penelope hesitated, torn between her yearning to confide in her friend and the fear that unveiling the details of their argument would expose her hidden secret about Colin. She was determined not to further complicate their already precarious living situation, unsure of how she would navigate her married days with Anthony should this tense atmosphere persist.

"It was a misunderstanding that escalated into an argument," Penelope finally uttered cryptically, choosing to withhold further information.

Eloise arched an eyebrow, her concern deepening as she probed, "Penelope, you'll need to be more convincing if you expect anyone to believe that explanation."

A small, rueful smile escaped Penelope's lips at her friend's no-nonsense approach. "I'm being honest, Eloise. It truly was just a disagreement, and I plan to talk to Anthony. We'll sort things out."

Eloise scrutinized Penelope's face, her gaze penetrating, as she gently prodded, "Then why do you look like you've been crying?"

Penelope let out a weary sigh, her emotions having overwhelmed her in recent days, rendering even the smallest triggers capable of bringing her to tears. "I've been incredibly emotional lately. It seems like everything sets me off."

Eloise nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I remember how you reacted a few days ago when you saw that adorable bunny on the street."

Penelope couldn't help but pout in recollection. "It was an exceptionally cute bunny."

Eloise tightened her embrace, a genuine, warm smile gracing her features. "I sincerely hope that whatever's troubling you and Anthony gets resolved soon, or I may have to have a very stern conversation with my stubborn brother."

A grateful smile broke across Penelope's face, touched by the unwavering loyalty of her friend. "Thank you, Eloise. Your support means everything to me."

While the two continued to embrace, Penelope found solace in her friend's presence. However, their moment of comfort was abruptly interrupted as the door swung open, revealing Mrs. Wilson standing there.

"Lady Bridgerton, there is a visitor for you," Mrs. Wilson announced.

Penelope sighed and spoke, her voice tinged with weariness, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilson, but I'm not in a position to receive visitors at the moment. Whoever it is, kindly ask them to return on another day."

The housekeeper hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, "Well, ma'am, I'm afraid this person insists on seeing you and claims she won't leave until she speaks with you. She also mentioned that you would be interested in talking to her."

Penelope exchanged glances with Eloise, her heart sinking at the unexpected visitor. She turned back to Mrs. Wilson and inquired, "Who is it?"

"Miss Sienna Rosso, my lady."

Eloise furrowed her brow. "The actress from the opera? But why on earth would she want to see you here?"

A cold shiver ran down Penelope's spine, and her heartache intensified. She sighed and turned back to Mrs. Wilson, her decision made. "Please, escort her to the drawing room. I will speak with her there. Also, please, summon my maid to assist me in preparing." The housekeeper nodded and exited the room.

Eloise, her concern evident, asked, "Pen, would you like me to accompany you?"

Penelope appreciated her friend's offer but knew she had to handle this meeting with Sienna alone. She approached Eloise and held her hands, gratitude in her eyes. "I need to speak with her privately, El. But if I require your support, rest assured, I'll call for you."

Eloise nodded, giving her friend's hands a reassuring squeeze before departing. Penelope was left alone, her heart heavy, as she braced herself to confront Sienna and whatever revelations or challenges she might bring.

As Penelope silently entered the room, Sienna was engrossed in studying the painting above the fireplace. It depicted a moment frozen in time, capturing Penelope and Anthony in a rare state of intimacy that Granville had skillfully managed to immortalize. A sense of nostalgia washed over Penelope as she fondly remembered that day. Despite its long and tiring periods of having to remain perfectly still, Anthony had made every second precious. She sighed, her heart aching for the time when each moment had been filled with the warmth of her husband's love.

Sienna eventually turned, her eyes locking onto Penelope's presence in the room. Without missing a beat, she shifted her attention back to the painting, her demeanor oozing an air of superiority as she casually appraised the artwork, delivering a sharp and sarcastic remark, "The life of a Viscountess, how utterly fascinating."

Not allowing herself to be drawn into the snide comment, Penelope chose to cut to the chase. "I highly doubt your presence here is to discuss the intricacies of my life, Miss Rosso. So please, tell me, why are you here?"

Sienna's gaze shifted from the painting to Penelope, her eyes sweeping from head to toe in an assessing manner. "I can't fathom why Anthony would end everything because of you," her voice held a mix of disdain and wounded pride.

"Is that why you're here?" Penelope inhaled deeply, her composure intact as she responded, "Perhaps you should contemplate moving forward, Miss. Rosso. Clinging to unrequited love is detrimental to one's well-being. Believe me when I say, you will gain nothing by tethering yourself to the past. Just move on."

Sienna's voice grew increasingly resentful and infused with anger. "I didn't come here to seek your advice."

Penelope, however, persisted with empathy, "You possess both talent and intelligence; you don't need a man to find happiness. Your own unique path in life awaits you."

Sienna hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by Penelope's unexpectedly compassionate approach. Nevertheless, she refused to yield and instead offered a sly smile. "I am trying to move on, Lady Bridgerton, but it's quite a challenge when your husband shows up at my doorstep."

Penelope stood there in disbelief, her face etched with incredulity. "What are you talking about? Anthony would never do such a thing."

"Are you truly that naive? Oh, how innocent you are." Sienna feigned concern. "Do you honestly believe in a man who planned to marry you just to continue with his mistress?"

Penelope fell into a stunned silence, her thoughts warring within her. She knew it was highly unlikely for Anthony to engage in such behavior. Despite his anger and frustration, she was certain he loved her deeply and would never inflict such pain upon her, especially knowing the devastation it could bring.

"Miss Rosso," she took a deep breath, redirecting her attention to Sienna, "I understand you're hurting due to the circumstances involving Anthony, but I implore you not to let it define your life. You are more than your romantic entanglements. I've witnessed your exceptional performance at the opera, and your talent is undeniable. Please, prioritize your own well-being and pursue your dreams and aspirations."

Sienna took a step back, her surprise evident in the widening of her eyes. Penelope's words had managed to penetrate a hidden part of her that she hadn't anticipated. She had come with the intention of inflicting pain and deriving some twisted satisfaction from it, but her plans had sorely underestimated Penelope's response to her insinuations about Anthony.

It was as if those words had slipped out involuntarily, and she found herself saying, almost to herself, "You're not the person I thought you were."

Sienna then hesitated, torn between leaving and staying. She turned her back on Penelope, as if preparing to exit the room, but a sudden change of heart brought her back to the center of the room. With deliberate movements, she placed Anthony's pocket watch on the nearby table. In an uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability, Sienna met Penelope's gaze briefly, her eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. "I suppose it's time to bid farewell," she said, her voice tinged with resignation and perhaps a hint of regret. With that, she left the room in silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air.

Penelope remained seated, her body frozen in a state of shock. Her wide, unblinking eyes remained locked onto the object placed before her on the table. It was a familiar item, one that held deep sentimental value within the Bridgerton family. She knew all too well that Anthony never left the house without that watch—it was an heirloom passed down through generations, a cherished relic from his late father.

As she stared at the watch, a wave of pain washed over her, threatening to engulf her in a sea of emotions. It was not just a timepiece; it was a symbol of heritage, of tradition, and of Anthony's unwavering presence in her life. Its absence from his person spoke volumes, leaving a void in the room that was as palpable as the ache in her heart.

Silence hung heavy around her, broken only by the ticking of the watch, a relentless reminder of the passage of time and the uncertainty that now clouded their once-steady existence. In that poignant moment, Penelope grappled with the implications of Sienna's gesture and the void it had left in her heart, wondering if this was the beginning of the painful end of something she had held dear.

Anthony returned home with a fierce determination to mend the rift that had formed between him and Penelope. Love for her surged within him, and he was resolute in his desire to keep their past from poisoning their relationship. His steps, as he ascended the staircase, echoed the urgency that pulsed in his heart.

Upon reaching the landing, Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper, approached. Before Anthony could utter a word, she delivered a somber message, "You've returned just in time, sir. Lady Bridgerton asked me to hand you something."

Anxiety coursed through Anthony as he inquired, "Hand me what?"

With solemnity, the housekeeper handed him his father's pocket watch. "A young lady, Miss Rosso, came to deliver this to her."

Shock washed over Anthony's face as understanding struck him. Penelope must have assumed he had reunited with Sienna. His heart twisted with anguish, and he implored, desperation lacing his voice, "Where is Penelope now?"

Mrs. Wilson shook her head. "I don't know, sir. She packed her belongings and left, my lord, but left no clue about her whereabouts."

Anthony sank heavily onto the stairs, burying his face in trembling hands as tears flowed freely.

"My Lord?" Mrs. Wilson called out, her voice tinged with concern, but he was devastated. All he wished for was to find Penelope and rectify the grave misunderstanding. However, now he felt overwhelmed by the dire predicament they were entangled in. His tears continued to stream down his face as he stood up, his steps laden with an unbearable burden of anguish and sorrow.

Notes:

Don't worry; the anguish is coming to an end. In the next chapter, light will emerge from the shadows.

Chapter 31: Light Beyond the Shadows

Chapter Text

Eloise entered the gentlemen's club alongside her brother Benedict, drawing disapproving glances from the men in the room. The atmosphere was thick with cigar smoke, and the chatter came to a low murmur as she passed through. Some of the gentlemen exchanged raised eyebrows and hushed comments, clearly unaccustomed to seeing a lady in their midst.

Suddenly, a stern-looking servant moved to block her path, his disapproval evident in his gaze. "I'm sorry, miss. This is a gentlemen-only club. Women are not allowed here."

Eloise's eyes flashed with irritation, but before she could respond, Benedict stepped forward, a firm authority in his voice. "We have a family emergency to attend to," he explained curtly, sparing Eloise from the need to argue her presence.

The servant, though still dubious, reluctantly allowed them to pass. As they ventured further into the club, Eloise kept her head held high, refusing to be daunted by the hostile reception. Her eyes swept over the opulent decor, a mixture of curiosity and disdain in her gaze.

The walls were adorned with hunting trophies and old-fashioned portraits, and the heavy wooden furniture exuded an air of faded grandeur. Eloise couldn't help but think how such places were relics of a bygone era, male relics that needed dismantling.

She whispered to her brother, "Benedict, how do you stand coming to this place? It's like a museum of men's vanity."

Benedict smirked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Well, I suppose some of us find solace here. But today, we're here to find Anthony and put an end to whatever madness has gripped him."

Eloise nodded, her determination returning. She was on a mission to locate her brother and set things right, no matter how out of place she felt in this exclusive gentlemen's enclave. Finally, she found him seated in an armchair in the corner and made her way toward him. "Ah, there you are!"

His eyes widened at the sight of his sister in such surroundings. "Eloise, what are you doing here?" He exclaimed, concerned, standing up. "This is a gentlemen's club; you shouldn't be here." He turned to Benedict. "Why did you bring her? Have you gone mad?"

"I didn't want to bring her, but she insisted," Benedict explained. "You know how she is, Anthony. If I hadn't brought her, she would have come on her own and climbed in through a window if necessary."

"I wouldn't be here, dear brother," Eloise interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention, "if you were at home, ready to beg for Penelope's forgiveness for whatever you may have done, instead of drowning your sorrows here." She spoke with sternness, and Anthony was struck by the resemblance she bore to their own mother when scolding her children.

"That Miss Rosso showed up at our house and spoke with Penelope," she informed him, and Benedict's eyes widened, as he was unaware of this information. "Whatever happened, you need to fix it and explain to my friend that you love her, that you would never betray her."

"How do you know I didn't betray her?" Anthony lifted his head, intrigued.

"Because you love her. I've grown tired of seeing the silly looks you give her, as if you were astounded by your own luck in marrying her. I refuse to believe you'd hurt my friend like this."

"I didn't betray her, Eloise. I truly would never do that. It was a terrible misunderstanding." He felt it was all his fault, as he had left Sienna feeling hurt. It seemed that every right action he took backfired on him.

"I figured as much. So go and make things right with Penelope."

Anthony lowered his head, defeated, murmuring, "I don't know what to say to her, don't know what to do..."

"You know what to say, but you're ashamed to face your own actions," Eloise commented gently. "But you need to do it. She's at her mother's house. Go after her," she added when she saw he wasn't moving, "Now, Anthony!"

He took a deep breath and nodded, grabbing his coat and hat. Eloise sighed in relief, looked around, and asked, "Can I have a sip of that?" She pointed to a bottle of liquor on the table. Anthony gave her a reproachful look. "Fine. Can I at least try one of those cigars?" She inquired, hopeful. "What? I'm just curious about what it's like to smoke one."

"As if I didn't know you sneak off to smoke in the garden. Isn't that right, Ben?" Anthony remarked, buttoning his coat and glancing at Benedict, who avoided his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the decor.

"So, since you already know, it won't hurt if I try one of these." She picked up one of the cigars.

"Come, Eloise. You've spent enough time here." He took the cigar from her hand and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her toward the exit, with Benedict following behind, trying to suppress a laugh.

Portia glanced out the window once more, her eyes scanning the surroundings with a sense of anxious scrutiny. "You're absolutely certain that no one witnessed you arriving with all those bags?" Her voice, filled with concern, was hushed as if she feared eavesdroppers.

Portia had returned home just a few minutes ago after a leisurely stroll. Upon her arrival, Varley informed her that her daughter, Penelope, had shown up unexpectedly a couple of hours earlier, accompanied by all her belongings. Penelope had taken refuge in her old room. The news left Portia surprised and slightly bewildered.

Without delay, Portia summoned Penelope to her presence and began to inquire about the reason behind this sudden and unplanned visit. Her daughter, however, remained evasive, declining to provide any specific details. She simply stated that she needed some time to think and sort things out. Portia felt a growing urge to press for more information but hesitated.

Then, a sudden concern crossed Portia's mind, prompting her to ask her daughter if anyone had witnessed her arrival with all the luggage. Penelope shook her head in denial. Nevertheless, she rushed to the nearest window. She peered anxiously outside, scanning the neighboring houses for any signs of curious onlookers, worried that their private affairs might be exposed.

Penelope reiterated her earlier response, her tone now tinged with a touch of exasperation. "Mother, I've assured you already. I was discreet, and no one saw me."

Satisfied with her daughter's reply, Portia stepped away from the window, her fingers smoothing the fabric of her dress. "I just hope we can avoid any scandal or appearances in Whistledown. She's been rather merciless lately, destroying reputations more than usual."

Penelope sighed, fatigue evident in her eyes. "I'm well aware of it, Mother. I'll retire to my old room for some rest now."

Portia appeared surprised and probed further, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Rest in the middle of the day? Are you feeling unwell?"

She shook her head. "No, just weary."

Portia persisted, her curiosity unabated. "And are you not going to enlighten me about the reason behind your arrival with all your belongings?"

She hesitated for a moment, but then she responded firmly, "No, Mother. I just need some quiet to collect my thoughts. It's nothing serious."

Penelope lamented that Lady Danbury had already departed for the countryside. Her original intention had been to seek refuge with her dearest friend. Now, however, her only option was to retreat to her mother's home. Although it held few fond memories for her, it seemed a more preferable choice than remaining at the Bridgerton residence and facing her husband.

"Take a seat," Portia requested suddenly.

"Mother, I'd really rather not..."

"Sit down, Penelope," Portia's voice carried a newfound resolve.

With a sigh, she reluctantly took a seat, and an uneasy silence enveloped the room. Despite their familial bond, both seemed uncertain about the dynamics of their relationship at this moment.

"So, how are you holding up?" Portia finally asked, breaking the lingering silence after a few moments.

Penelope looked at her with surprise. "Mother, there's no need for this. We don't need to converse. I simply want to lie down for a while."

"No, Penelope. I am your mother, and you need to talk to me. You are clearly going through something difficult in your marriage."

"How do you know it's related to my marriage?" Penelope asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Why else would you arrive here with all your luggage if not for some trouble with your husband?" Portia replied, her tone carrying a mixture of concern and sympathy. She let out a deep sigh, her maternal instincts taking over. "I understand that your husband must have done something to cause you this much pain. But, my dear, I want you to know that you can stay here for as long as you need. Take the time to gather your thoughts and then confront the issues with him."

Tears welled up in Penelope's eyes as she was moved by her mother's understanding. She found herself cursing her emotional responses, which had been pushing her to the brink of tears lately. It appeared as though even the slightest thing could bring her to cry now, and she attributed all of this to the ongoing situation between her and Anthony. She struggled to find the right words to express her gratitude.

"Mother..." Penelope finally managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion.

Her mother continued, her practical side surfacing. "Of course, there is one condition, my dear. It's imperative that you don't make any public appearances, especially not in front of the neighbors. In fact, I believe it's in your best interest to remain indoors and avoid the windows." Portia's expression turned stern as she mentioned the potential scandal. "Can you imagine the chaos if word got out that the Viscountess Bridgerton is separated from her husband? I shudder to think what that woman would do with such information." She pursed her lips in disapproval, a reference to the notorious gossip columnist, prompting an involuntary chuckle from Penelope. Portia's nature was, after all, unwavering.

However her actions at that difficult moment spoke volumes, and the fact that she didn't press Penelope for details about her unexpected arrival was a testament to her mother's understanding and support.

"Thank you, Mother," Penelope finally replied, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Unexpectedly, Portia rose and sat beside her, embracing her in an unexpected gesture. It took a few seconds for her to reciprocate, wrapping her arms awkwardly around her mother. Portia held her firmly, Penelope heard her mother's heartbeat. Embracing was not a common practice between them, so it initially felt unfamiliar. However, after a few seconds, she began to melt into the hug, and tears welled up in her eyes, escaping without her ability to restrain them.

When her tears subsided, Portia pulled away just as Varley informed them that Lord Bridgerton was at the door. "Do you want me to get rid of him, or should I let him in?"

Penelope shook her head negatively. She still wasn't ready to see or speak to Anthony. Portia nodded and got up resolutely, heading to the entrance to greet her son-in-law.

"Lady Featherington! Where's Penelope?" Anthony inquired as soon as he laid eyes on her.

"My daughter is unwell and won't be receiving you, Lord Bridgerton. I ask that you leave." She pointed to the door, but he didn't budge.

"I came to talk to my wife, and I won't leave here until I've spoken to her."

Portia's voice remained firm. "You will leave now, or I shall have to call the police to remove you from the premises, Lord Bridgerton. I won't allow you to bother my daughter after you've treated her poorly."

Anthony was taken aback and asked, ashamed, "She told you what happened, then?"

"No, she didn't tell me, but one doesn't need to be exceptionally astute to grasp that you've done something rather foolish," Portia remarked with a touch of dry humor. "Men like you are prone to doing that."

"That's why I need to talk to her. I need to beg for her forgiveness. I love your daughter, Lady Featherington. I love her with all my heart!" Anthony was tormented. "She is the light of my life, and I cannot stay away from her. I simply cannot." Ashamed, he confessed, "I made mistakes with your daughter, but I would never betray her. She means everything to me, and I would never hurt her like that. Please, I need to tell her this." He lowered his head, his shoulders slumping in a gesture of utter defeat. He felt like he was losing Penelope with each passing moment.

If she had sought refuge with her own mother, in a house that held unpleasant memories, it meant that Penelope was truly hurt by him. Anthony knew she wouldn't leave forever; eventually, she would return to her role as Viscountess. She would remain married to him, as they were forever bound by matrimony. But the prospect of spending the coming years living every day with the knowledge that he had hurt his great love consumed Anthony from within.

Suddenly, he felt Portia's hand on his shoulder. He raised his face and met his mother-in-law's gaze, which seemed to regard him with almost a maternal gesture.

She spoke with a soft tone, an attempt to comfort him. "Lord Bridgerton, please, walk away. Penelope is a fair and intelligent woman. If she has distanced herself, it's because she needs time to think. She will only speak to you after she has carefully considered things. Rest assured, she will come around."

Anthony lowered his head. "The problem is… I'm afraid of losing her... I'm afraid Penelope won't want to speak to me again."

"It is a possibility, my lord," She responded calmly. "Penelope is a clever woman, and she understands that she shouldn't tolerate mistreatment. She recognizes her own worth. Nevertheless, I am confident in her love for you, and I believe she will eventually find it within her heart to forgive you. I hope you can also forgive yourself and do everything in your power to redeem yourself in my daughter's eyes." Suddenly, her voice turned firm again, her fingers pressing in his shoulder. "Because if you hurt her again, Lord Bridgerton, I swear I will make your life a living hell."

Anthony couldn't help but chuckle. Despite his differences with Portia, it was gratifying to know that she protected her own daughter. He was confident that Penelope would be well taken care of in that house.

"Very well, Lady Featherington, I will go, but I'll return every day to try to see her. I can't stay at home just waiting. I'll come every day until she's ready to talk to me. I can't stay away from her for long."

"I wouldn't expect any less of you." And for the first time, she gave Anthony a genuine smile before he finally left.

Hidden behind a sculpture, Penelope listened to every word exchanged between Anthony and her mother. Her heart ached, torn between the desire to rush into his arms when he professed his love and the pain of the hurtful words he had uttered the night before. Tears flowed down her face, and she shut her eyes tightly, her fists clenched. She loved him with every fiber of her being, there was no denying that, but the wounds he had inflicted ran deep.

She knew that if she were to approach him now, they would embrace, and they would kiss, but those moments wouldn't erase the pain she had endured. Anthony's harsh words still echoed in her mind, and she needed time to mend her wounded heart before confronting him.

Her emotions urged her to follow him, to let him know that she still loved him, but her intellect prevailed. Anthony needed to reflect on his actions and truly understand the gravity of his mistakes. Forgiveness couldn't be granted simply because he felt tormented in this moment. He had to earn her forgiveness, prove that he deserved it. With a heavy sigh, Penelope stepped away from her hiding place behind the sculpture and made her way to her old room. She needed solitude to sort through her thoughts and decide how her marriage would proceed from this point forward.

Over the next few days, Anthony made it a point to visit Portia's house daily, leaving little tokens for Penelope – her favorite sweets, books she might enjoy and fresh flowers. He didn't intend to buy back her affection through these gestures; rather, he wanted to remind her of his love and his earnest desire to bridge the gap between them.

One sunny day, after returning from Portia's house, where he had left a book for Penelope, Anthony decided to take a walk in Hyde Park, seeking solace in the open air.

After his numerous visits to White's Club due to the distressing situation he found himself in, he stopped seeking solace in alcohol. Instead, he dedicated himself to taking care of his physical and emotional well-being. His goal was to show Penelope, upon her return, that he was actively working on becoming a better person.

Since her departure, he had thrown himself into his duties as a viscount. He often spent his time alone, lost in his thoughts. He practiced fencing with Benedict or boxing with Will Mondrich, who was on the verge of opening a club. This new club might provide Anthony with an alternative to White's, which held unpleasant memories for him.

Anthony also immersed himself in reading the novels Penelope cherished so dearly. He had already finished reading "Pride and Prejudice" and had now moved on to Byron, one of the poets she held in high regard. He hoped that delving into Penelope's world through these books would, in turn, bring him closer to her.

He read them in his old bachelor quarters before bedtime. He couldn't bring himself to occupy the master bedroom without Penelope. The bed felt cold and unfamiliar without her warmth. He had made a silent promise that he would only return to sleeping there if he could hold her close in his arms once more.

Summer still graced London, and he recalled that he and Penelope were due to leave for Aubrey Hall the following Saturday, where they would spend the rest of the summer and finally have their delayed honeymoon – a chance they hadn't gotten when they first wed.

While this thought held a hint of sadness, given that Penelope had yet to speak to him, it failed to dampen his determination. Even if it meant that his family would initially depart for the countryside without him, he would stay in London, patiently awaiting Penelope's return to his embrace, and eagerly anticipating the many years they would have ahead to spend idyllic days together at Aubrey Hall.

As he strolled through the park, savoring the scenery, he unexpectedly encountered his brother, Colin. He had avoided speaking to him in recent days.

The first time they spoke, right after Penelope had left, Anthony had been rude to him, leaving his brother with a confused expression, not understanding what he had done to deserve such treatment. Colin had no idea that his only mistake was being the first man Penelope had loved, even though he had no knowledge of it.

Anthony felt a twinge of guilt for his harsh words to his brother and unkind thoughts about Colin and Penelope. So he had actively avoided being in Colin's presence and had made excuses to avoid joining him in fencing practice. Now he regretted his actions and continued to avoid talking to his brother, unable to face his own shame.

After a moment of tension, Colin broke into a warm smile, "Can I join you?"

Anthony nodded in agreement, and he and his brother strolled together in the serene park, where the gentle ripples on the lake mirrored their unspoken thoughts. They watched as people fed the ducks, their presence blending into the peaceful scene.

Deep down, Anthony harbored an irrational fear of speaking with Colin and uncovering any hidden or current feelings his brother might have for Penelope. The prospect of finding himself entangled in a love triangle with his own flesh and blood troubled him deeply. However the tension Anthony had anticipated between them turned out to be less palpable, and he discovered himself genuinely relishing his brother's company.

"I'd like to apologize for my erratic behavior in recent days, Colin," Anthony finally gathered the courage to speak.

"Shall we take a seat over there?" Colin pointed to a nearby bench, temporarily distracted by his surroundings.

"Did you hear what I said? I want to apologize..." Anthony spoke as soon they settled down.

"Anthony," Colin gently interrupted, "there's no need to apologize to me. I understand you're going through a difficult time, and I don't want you to feel remorseful for reacting in ways that might be unexpected. We humans don't always have control over our emotions when our peace is shattered, and I comprehend that. I may not know the specifics of what you're facing, but I want you to know that I hold no resentment."

Anthony gazed deeply into his brother's eyes, touched by his sincerity. Colin possessed a pure heart and boundless decency, qualities that would undoubtedly make any woman fortunate to have him as a partner. He rested a hand on Colin's shoulder and confessed, "You are undoubtedly a better man than I, brother."

"I've striven to emulate your example, Anthony," Colin responded. "If I've grown into the man I am today, it's partly thanks to the values you instilled in me. Despite the challenges you've faced, I'm grateful for having had you as the paternal figure we all needed."

At that moment, Anthony found himself at a loss for words. He felt a lump forming in his throat, but a genuine smile broke through, compelling him to embrace his younger brother tightly.

"Will you be heading to Aubrey Hall for the remainder of the summer before your upcoming tour?" Anthony inquired after releasing him, aware of Colin's plans to embark on an adventure to India.

"Of course, I am. I miss our pall mall matches," Colin replied with a nostalgic smile. "Will you be joining us on Saturday?"

Anthony hesitated in his response, his thoughts drifting to Penelope and their unresolved issues. Colin noticed his reluctance and admitted, "Actually, brother, I didn't happen upon you here by mere chance. In fact, I came with a message from home." Anthony furrowed his brow, and Colin continued, "Penelope has returned home and requested your presence. I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner, but I thought we both needed a moment to talk."

A torrent of emotions surged within Anthony. His heart raced, and a whirlwind of anxiety and hope flowed through his veins. As he rose to his feet, Anthony drew in a deep breath and said, "You did the right thing, Colin. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return home to my wife."

Chapter 32: Rekindled love

Notes:

The end is near!

Chapter Text

Anthony stepped into the house, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as he contemplated the prospect of facing Penelope after days of separation. Fear clung to him like an old, unwelcome companion, and he couldn't help but wonder if the impending conversation would either lead to a path of shared happiness or plunge them both into tears and sorrow.

Each deliberate step up the stairs felt like a journey into the unknown, an ascent towards a pivotal moment in their marriage. Anthony took his time, allowing his racing heart to gradually steady, though the anxiety still clung to him like a shadow. He couldn't predict how Penelope would react to his presence or what words she might choose to speak.

As he ascended the staircase, Anthony contemplated what he knew of Penelope. She was known for her fairness and her capacity for forgiveness, but he also recognized that he had lashed out at her with harsh words, words that perhaps he didn't truly deserve her forgiveness for. He was willing to fight for it, though. The days spent apart from Penelope had given him ample time for introspection, a chance to dissect the emotions that had fueled his hurtful words. He acknowledged his own insecurities, his anger, and the bruised pride that had clouded his judgment. Anthony was actively working on internal change, determined to become the man that Penelope deserved.

His deepest desire was to share a lifetime with Penelope, filled with all the ordinary, everyday moments that made life extraordinary when lived together. Anthony had witnessed far too many empty marriages, where spouses merely shared a roof, and that was not what he wanted for himself and Penelope. He yearned to wake up to the sweet scent of her filling his senses, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to be welcomed by her loving smile upon returning home, to share meals, engage in late-night conversations, and take leisurely walks by the lake. He craved every mundane aspect of daily life, knowing that, with Penelope, those simple moments would transform into profound experiences, bringing a sense of peace he had never known before.

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he recalled how different his initial intentions had been when entering into the marriage arrangement. Penelope had been intended to be just a piece in the puzzle he had devised. Yet, she had taken him by surprise, and before he knew it, every beat of his heart belonged to her. Her quick wit, her sharp responses, her audacious spirit, her capacity to love and care deeply—these had all been instrumental in his fall into love. It had not been part of Anthony's grand plan, but he couldn't have been happier to have experienced every joyful moment with her.

With a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions churning within him, Anthony came to a halt before the master bedroom door. He recognized that beyond that door lay his opportunity for genuine happiness, a chance to mend the fractures in his relationship with Penelope.

Penelope sat alone in her bedroom, the soft glow of the afternoon sun casting a warm ambiance around her. She leaned back in the plush armchair, her eyes gazing absently at the intricate patterns of the wallpaper. It had been a week since her heated argument with Anthony, a week of solitude and reflection.

She had spent countless hours reflecting on their relationship, on the harsh words they had exchanged, and on the love that still bound them together. Being away from Anthony had been excruciatingly difficult, and she had missed him more than words could express.

She rose from the chair with a deliberate grace, her steps light as she made her way to the bed where they had once woven moments of intense passion and boundless happiness. Her delicate fingers grazed the intricate patterns of the comforter, each stroke a contemplative journey through the labyrinth of her emotions.

In the quiet solitude of their bedroom, she found herself engulfed by a tidal wave of memories. Vivid recollections of their time together surged through her mind – the infectious laughter that had filled these very walls, the whispered "I love you" shared under the moonlight, and the intimate moments that had etched their marriage with a unique and profound beauty. A soft, wistful smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the declarations of love they had whispered to each other right there, on that very bed. It had been only a few weeks since then, yet in the wake of recent events, it felt like a distant epoch.

Penelope's mind wandered back to the painful words Anthony had hurled at her during their last argument. As she spent the days away from him at her mother's house, she replayed their heated exchange in her mind, dissecting each word. She vividly remembered the hurt in his eyes and the insecurity and pain that dripped from his words. She loved him deeply, but it seemed he couldn't fathom it. It struck her that he was a man so accustomed to not being happy that when happiness was within his grasp, he couldn't be sure if it was real. She felt a pang of sympathy for him.

When she had agreed to marry Anthony, she had expected a life of quiet companionship in an arranged marriage. Never had she imagined the tumultuous journey they had embarked upon. Each day had brought new challenges, new feelings she had never anticipated.

With a deep breath, Penelope acknowledged the truth. She had fallen in love with him. It wasn't an immediate realization, but rather a gradual and powerful awakening. His smiles, his embraces, his gestures of affection, and the warmth of his kisses had all conspired to capture her heart.

It was as if, each day, a new layer of his personality was revealed, and Penelope found herself increasingly drawn to him. During her time away, she had come to understand that their connection ran deeper than she had ever imagined. It wasn't just a marriage of convenience anymore; it was a union of hearts and souls. She longed for the shared laughter, the stolen glances, and the nights of whispered conversations they had once enjoyed.

Although the words they had exchanged still echoed in her mind and the pain of their disagreement had weighed heavily on her, the distance from him had offered a different perspective. It had allowed her to see the entire journey of their relationship with newfound clarity.

With a sigh, she caressed her belly, a gesture she had been repeating since discovering her pregnancy. In fact, it was Portia who had discovered it. When one morning Penelope had been unable to keep her breakfast down, her mother immediately summoned the doctor, who confirmed the pregnancy.

Penelope couldn't help but smile as she thought about the baby growing inside her. As she touched her stomach gently, she thought of the new life growing within her. The prospect of motherhood filled her with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She wanted a future where they could raise their child in love and happiness.

Just as she was lost in her thoughts, the door swung open, and there he stood – Anthony, the love of her life. Their eyes locked, and a heavy silence hung in the air. Penelope nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the need for this conversation.

Anthony approached slowly, his expression a mixture of regret and longing. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his, and began to speak, his voice filled with sincerity and remorse.

"Pen," Anthony began, his voice filled with earnestness, "first and foremost, about Sienna... it's crucial for you to understand that I never betrayed you. That night, after our heated argument, I went to the club and ended up drinking far more than I should have. Sienna, seeing my vulnerable state, insisted on taking me to her home to ensure I didn't spend the night on the streets. However, looking back, I realize her intentions were far from noble. The next morning, I awoke in her house, utterly disoriented by the events of the previous night. I'm not absolving myself of responsibility; I shouldn't have let myself get so inebriated. But I swear to you, Penelope, I never laid a hand on her."

Penelope met his gaze, her expression softening as he tenderly brushed his hand against her face. "I believe you, Anthony."

Taken aback by her response, he sought further reassurance, his voice quivering with raw emotion. "Do you genuinely believe me?"

With a resolute nod, she affirmed, "I never once entertained the idea that Sienna was telling the truth. Her words reeked of vengeance, the bitterness of a love scorned." She let out a sigh, her gaze distant. "I comprehend the history you shared with her, and how circumstances didn't align with her desires. When she uttered those accusations, it hit me like a blow, but upon reflection, I knew you were incapable of such actions."

"You hold me in higher regard than I do myself." A hint of sadness tinged Anthony's smile. "Thank you for never doubting me."

A few heartbeats passed before she quietly remarked, "But you doubted me, you doubted my character." Despite her efforts to hide it, a trace of disappointment crept into her voice.

"Penelope," he started, his voice quivering with remorse, "I can't find the words to express how deeply sorry I am for the things I said. I was blinded by anger and hurt, and I lashed out at the person I love most in this world. It was inexcusable, and I regret every moment of it."

Penelope looked into his eyes, seeing the pain etched on his face. She squeezed his hands gently, her heart torn between the hurt she had felt and the love she still held for him. With a sigh, she prepared to share her thoughts and feelings that had weighed on her for the past few days. "You wounded me deeply, Anthony, when you doubted my words, my honest intentions in protecting your brother from Marina's trap. You can't fathom how agonizing that decision was for me, how it tormented me for days on end..." Her voice quivered slightly.

Meeting her gaze once more, he spoke resolutely, "I acted abominably. There's no excuse for my behavior, for I allowed anger, insecurity, and wounded pride to lead me astray. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," he admitted, his voice heavy with remorse, "but I'm ready to do whatever it takes to earn it."

She continued, her voice trembling, "what you said… about Colin… It hurt me deeply. When you asked if I ever thought of him during our intimate moments, it felt like a knife to my heart."

Anthony hung his head, shame washing over him like a tidal wave. He had no words to defend himself, no excuse for the cruel accusation he had hurled at her. All he could feel was the weight of his own abominable behavior.

Penelope reached out, her fingers gently lifting his chin until their eyes met. "You need to know," she said softly but firmly, "that Colin was never on my mind during any of the moments we've shared together. Even before you and I declared our love for each other, I had never thought of your brother in any other way."

Anthony's eyes filled with tears, and he couldn't bear to hold her gaze. "I don't deserve you, Penelope," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "I think I'm a scoundrel. Despite not having slept with Sienna, I broke my marriage vows by having a mistress when we got married. I've been a miserable excuse for a husband, and I'm so sorry for not being a decent man to you from the beginning."

Penelope's heart ached as she witnessed the vulnerability in Anthony's eyes. She let out a sigh and reached out and took his hand, her grip gentle but reassuring. "Do not say that. I've always been grateful for your honesty. You offered me a beneficial deal, one that I had nothing to complain about." She paused, her unwavering gaze fixed on his. "But what I never expected, Anthony, was to fall in love with you during all this time. I never anticipated feeling the way I did when you kissed me for the first time."

Anthony extended his hand and gently caressed Penelope's cheek, his eyes brimming with sincerity. "Me too," he confessed, his voice carrying a deep seriousness. "After that first kiss we shared, Sienna faded into irrelevance. That kiss reshaped my entire existence."

"Really?" Her surprise was evident. "I thought you disliked kissing me because immediately afterward, you ran away, and you didn't face me."

Anthony kissed her hand, his lips warm against her skin. "I'm so sorry, Penelope," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "That was the moment I started to feel confused about our marriage, about you. I was feeling things I hadn't anticipated, and I didn't know how to handle it. I've never been good with words and feelings… I was a fool."

"I believed it was so bad that you had to seek your lover to experience a genuine kiss. I felt so ashamed." She admitted, her voice quivering with vulnerability.

Anthony's heart ached at her words, and he tenderly lifted her chin, guiding her gaze back to his. "Penelope," he spoke softly, "that kiss we shared was nothing short of perfection. It was so perfect that, even now, if I close my eyes, I can vividly relive every moment. All those emotions rush back, as if I've touched a piece of paradise." He drew her face nearer, his lips brushing against hers as he whispered, "If I ever descend into hell, I will do so with a heart content, knowing that I experienced heaven in every kiss with you."

Penelope was taken aback by his words, her eyes wide with surprise. "Where did you learn to be so romantic?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

A tender smile curved Anthony's lips. "I've been reading a lot of Byron, my dear," he confessed, his eyes filled with affection.

Penelope couldn't help but chuckle at Anthony's confession. "Ah, Byron, the eternal poet of passion and romance," she replied, her eyes dancing with mirth. "I suppose I should be grateful to Lord Byron for inspiring my husband to be so eloquent."

Anthony grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, it appears he has accomplished his task admirably if it brings a smile to your face."

She smiled and suddenly leaned in to kiss him, her lips meeting his in a sweet, lingering embrace. "I forgive you," she said, her voice tender.

A rush of relief swept over him, and he gratefully kissed Penelope's hand, "Thank you. I will do whatever it takes to make things right," he vowed, his voice filled with determination. "I want to be the husband you deserve, the man who can make you happy."

Taking a deep breath, Penelope continued, "But Anthony, I need you to understand that I won't tolerate such treatment again. I know my worth as a woman, and if anything remotely resembling this happens in the future, we'll exist as husband and wife solely in appearance. I love you, Anthony, but I won't subject myself to this kind of suffering again."

Her words bore heavily on Anthony's conscience, and he grasped the profound impact of his actions. "Pen, believe me, I won't subject you to such treatment again. These days without you have been agonizing, but they've allowed me time for introspection." He continued, his voice dripping with sincerity, "I allowed fear and insecurity to cloud my judgment. Love is a new territory for me, and the thought that I might have robbed you of a chance to find happiness with someone you've loved for so long, all while harming my own brother... it was a devastating realization."

Tears welled up in Penelope's eyes as she held Anthony's hands tightly. "Anthony, I do love Colin, yes, but as a brother. Nothing I felt for him can ever compare to what I feel for you. Never doubt your place in my heart."

Finally, Anthony's eyes met hers, "I promise that I will never allow my insecurity and fear to come between us again. You mean the world to me, and I cannot bear the thought of living without you."

She drew in a deep breath, preparing to say what still remained unsaid. "These days apart made me realize the pain you felt," she began, her voice carrying the weight of her emotions. "I understand now, and I should have told you about Colin much earlier, but... I was terrified that it might shatter what we had. I was so incredibly happy with you that I couldn't fathom how something from my past could hold such significance..." Her voice trembled as she continued. "Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me for keeping this from you for so long?"

Anthony tenderly kissed Penelope's hand. "There's nothing to forgive. Now I understand that you have a past, but what we share now is our present, and that's what should matter to both of us."

A smile spread across Penelope's face, her eyes brimming with emotion, as she declared, "What I felt for Colin was youthful and fleeting. What I feel for you is profound, intense, and everlasting. You are the love of my life, Anthony Bridgerton."

He kissed her cheek passionately, his heart overflowing with love. "And you, Penelope Bridgerton, are the very beat of my heart, the light of my soul. I love you more than words can express."

Penelope felt her heartache soften as she looked at the man before her. She knew that healing would take time, but she also knew that their love was worth fighting for.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, and she immediately wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm and tight embrace.

Their bodies pressed against each other, fitting together perfectly. Penelope's lips sought out Anthony's, and their mouths met in a kiss of reconciliation. It was a kiss filled with raw emotion and profound meaning, a testament to their bond and enduring love.

As their lips melded together, a rush of sensations coursed through them. The taste of each other, the softness of their mouths, and the warmth of their breath mingled in a passionate dance. It was a kiss that mended the wounds of the past.

Their kiss grew more intense, and Anthony's hands gently explored the curves of Penelope's waist, while her fingers threaded through his hair. Passion ignited between them, but beneath the flames, there was a profound tenderness, a shared longing to mend their relationship and fortify their connection.

Anthony broke the kiss, his voice trembling with emotion. "I missed you every minute of every hour."

Penelope chuckled softly, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness. "It was agonizing to sleep without your arms around me."

With a determined look, Anthony declared, "We won't be apart again. Never again."

She gently urged him to sit on the bed, and as he complied, she leaned in to kiss him lightly. Breaking the kiss, she looked into his eyes and whispered, "I missed you."

"Me too, Pen. I missed you so much," he replied, his voice filled with longing. His fingers found solace in stroking her hair, tenderly tucking a stray strand behind her ear.

She held his hand firmly, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine. "I missed you, Anthony," she repeated, her tone growing more fervent, and he could feel the change in the air, the depth of their connection reigniting.

Anthony's hands, now tender and reverent, trailed along the contours of Penelope's body, each touch igniting a spark of affection and longing. Her skin tingled with anticipation as his fingers danced lightly over her, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Their lips met once more, a fervent and hungry kiss that spoke of their shared passion and desire. It was a merging of fire and tenderness, a declaration of love and longing that left them breathless. Penelope melted into his embrace, her body molding perfectly against his, as if they were two halves of a whole, destined to be united.

With a soft sigh, Anthony's lips began to explore the curve of her neck, his warm breath sending delightful shivers down her spine. Penelope's fingers found solace in his hair, gently pulling him closer, a silent plea for more. He obliged willingly, his kisses tracing a scorching path downward.

The room bore witness to their urgency as they shed their clothes, piece by piece, each garment a hindrance to their fervor. The rustling of fabric and the sound of their heavy breathing filled the air. Naked and unburdened, their bodies pressed together, and they moaned in unison, their desire reaching an intoxicating peak.

In the intimate cocoon of their love, they moved together as if choreographed by their shared passion. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered endearment was a testament to the depth of their connection, a connection that transcended the physical.

As they approached the pinnacle of their desire, time seemed to stretch, prolonging the exquisite torture of their shared pleasure. Their climax was a powerful explosion of sensation, a culmination of the love and longing that had bound them together. They clung to each other, their bodies trembling, their hearts racing, a symphony of ecstasy.

In the hushed aftermath, Anthony and Penelope lay entwined, their breathing gradually returning to normal. Their love had been rekindled, their passion reignited, and in each other's arms, they found solace and completeness.

The room was bathed in a soft twilight, with the curtains partially open, allowing the moonlight to spill onto the bed. Anthony and Penelope lay side by side, their bodies relaxed after an intimate moment shared. The silence was broken when Anthony, with a gentle touch, traced the outline of Penelope's breast, noticing the difference.

"They're fuller," he commented with a satisfied smile.

Penelope turned to him, her eyes filled with tenderness. "It's probably because I'm pregnant," she said, as a happy smile bloomed on her lips.

Anthony suddenly sat up, looking at her with a concerned expression. "Pregnant?" His voice was filled with alarm. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why did you let me touch you like that?"

Penelope sighed and settled onto the bed, her gaze fixed tenderly on Anthony. "Anthony, I missed you," she confessed with sincerity. "I missed every moment with you."

He began to pace the room, concern etched across his face. "You shouldn't have exerted yourself, Penelope, especially with the baby on the way."

"I know, but I feel perfectly fine. I promise you."

"Oh, God, what if I've put the baby at risk?" He muttered, more to himself than to Penelope, his nervous energy driving him to pace the room. "Oh, dear lord."

"Anthony," Penelope chuckled, calling him back to her attention.

"You'll need to take it easy in the coming days. We have to be cautious. Pregnancies are full of surprises. We can't take any chances." He warned her, still pacing nervously.

"Anthony," she called to him again, but he seemed lost in his anxiety, continuing to pace. With a resigned sigh, Penelope picked up a nearby pillow and tossed it gently at him. The pillow hit Anthony, finally breaking his concentration as he turned to look at her, perplexed.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Because it was the only way to get your attention," Penelope replied with a small smile on her lips. "Now, come back to bed."

Anthony complied, though his eyes still held a hint of concern. Penelope reached out and pulled him into a warm embrace.

"Everything is alright," she reassured him gently. "The baby is fine."

"Are you sure?" Anthony asked, his voice softening.

"I'm absolutely sure," she replied with an affectionate smile. Gently she placed his hand on her abdomen, and his eyes widened in disbelief as he touched the slight curve of her belly.

"Did we create a little human being?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

She laughed, her eyes shining with joy. "Yes, we did."

And that night, as the moon continued to cast its gentle glow upon their room, Anthony and Penelope once again professed their love for each other, their hands caressing the belly that held the promise of their future.

Chapter 33: Epilogue

Notes:

Hello!

We've finally reached the end. This story has been a rollercoaster of emotions for me.

When I started writing fanfics last year, I never imagined I would be writing about Penthony. It was quite a challenge to work with this non-canon couple. But it was very rewarding! I learned a lot from Penthony, and I think I expanded my writing skills. I'm still a Polin Stan, but Penthony has definitely earned a place in my heart.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The room pulsated with a palpable mix of tension and anticipation as Anthony, Portia, and Violet encircled Penelope, on the cusp of bringing new life into the world.

The doctor, an island of unwavering focus, issued his final instructions as the pivotal moment drew near.

Pearls of sweat adorned Penelope's furrowed brow, her breaths measured but labored, her eyes locked onto the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention.

Anthony clung to her hand with unwavering strength, a pillar of firm support. Portia and Violet exchanged anxious glances, the weight of impending grandmotherhood resting heavily on their shoulders.

Then, with a herculean effort, Penelope ushered forth the miracle of life. The newborn's cries sliced through the room, and the doctor gingerly cradled the precious bundle of joy that had just made its grand entrance into the world.

With a radiant smile, he announced, "It's a girl!"

Penelope, her vision blurred by tears of joy and exhaustion, gazed upon her daughter. Her voice trembled with emotion as she whispered, "Agatha."

The nurse carefully whisked the newborn away to begin the essential cleaning process, while Anthony tenderly wiped the perspiration from Penelope's brow.

His eyes gleamed with unabashed pride as he softly assured, "You were extraordinary. It's all over now. Rest, my love."

A sigh of relief escaped Penelope's lips, but her respite was short-lived as another wave of agony coursed through her, prompting an unexpected cry of surprise.

Anthony turned to the doctor, concern etched across his features. "What's happening?"

The doctor approached for a thorough examination and, after a few heart-pounding moments, revealed with an amused chuckle, "Well, Lord Bridgerton, it appears another surprise awaits."

Anthony and Penelope exchanged bewildered glances, while Portia and Violet erupted in astonishment.

"Another child?" Penelope murmured, her disbelief palpable.

The doctor nodded with a grin. "Indeed, Lady Bridgerton. Prepare to summon your strength once more."

With an unyielding grip, Anthony clasped Penelope's hand, his resolve etched in the lines of his face. "I'm here for you."

Minutes later, the room resounded with the cries of a second newborn. The doctor gingerly presented the infant to Penelope, his voice filled with jubilation as he declared, "It's a boy."

Penelope, drenched in sweat and utterly spent, gazed at her son with a profound tenderness. She whispered, her voice a fragile thread of emotion, "Edmund," naming him as a tribute to her late father-in-law.

Anthony's heart swelled with boundless joy at the sight of his son. Penelope entrusted the baby to the nurse for the necessary care.

She reclined against the softness of the pillow, her face still glistening with perspiration, and her body bearing the marks of undeniable fatigue. While a diligent nurse meticulously attended to her, Anthony, his fingers laced with a careful concern, gently smoothed her disheveled hair. He poured a glass of water, offering it to her lips to quench the thirst born of her monumental effort.

On the periphery, the grandmothers stood sentinel over their newborn grandchildren, their watchful eyes filled with an overwhelming surge of emotion. They maintained a vigilant eye on the infants' cleanliness, their hearts brimming with affection.

Then each grandmother cradled a precious tiny infant, and with measured steps, they advanced toward the bed where Penelope remained, her composure slowly returning.

She extended her welcoming arms, her gaze now more composed as she embraced her twins.

Overwhelmed with indescribable joy, she gazed lovingly at Agatha and Edmund. A tired but radiant smile graced her face. She turned to the doctor, her voice slightly weakened by the extraordinary effort she had just gone through.

"Doctor, please ensure there are no more surprises waiting to make their debut," she quipped with a touch of humor, her eyes twinkling with exhaustion and joy. "If there are, kindly schedule the birth for next month. I believe I've had my quota for today."

Laughter filled the room, a chorus of relief and happiness at the successful delivery of their children. Anthony couldn't take his eyes off her. He reached out and tenderly caressed her cheek. "You were absolutely magnificent, Pen."

A chuckle escaped Penelope's lips. "I know," she said with playful pride. "Can you believe we've brought not one, but two little humans into this world?"

Anthony's eyes danced with amazement. "No, I'm still in a state of ecstasy," he admitted, his voice filled with wonder. Then, a more serious note crept in. "Oh, God, I don't think we'll ever sleep again."

Penelope glanced at their newborns nestled in her arms, kissing each tiny forehead with infinite tenderness. Her gaze returned to Anthony, her expression filled with love and determination. "But I believe it will all be worth it."

He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips, savoring the taste of their shared happiness. They settled down together, watching their children feed for the first time.

Anthony stood in the softly lit nursery, gazing down at the two tiny bundles, Edmund and Agatha, lay sleeping, each with a shock of red hair that seemed to shimmer in the low light.

They slumbered peacefully, their tiny chests rising and falling in perfect harmony. A wave of emotions swelled within Anthony, a mixture of awe, love, and a profound sense of responsibility.

As he watched them sleep, he couldn't help but marvel at the physical resemblances he could already see in them, traits that echoed both him and Penelope.

Edmund's face bore a striking resemblance to Anthony, with the same strong jawline and a hint of Bridgerton charm in his closed eyes.

On the other side of the crib, Agatha slept with an expression of tranquility, her delicate features mirroring Penelope's beauty. Her tiny button nose and the curve of her lips seemed like echoes of her mother's face.

It was as if they were a perfect blend of their parents, a living testament to the love that had brought them into this world.

Becoming a father had been a surreal experience for him. While he had played a significant role in raising his seven younger siblings, especially Hyacinth and Gregory from infancy, this was an entirely different territory.

These two, peacefully asleep before him, were his own flesh and blood. They were the products of a loving marriage he shared with Penelope, a testament to their enduring bond.

The weight of fatherhood settled on Anthony's shoulders, a profound responsibility he welcomed with arms wide open. These two precious lives now under his care would forever be his priority, a promise to protect, guide, and treasure them throughout their days.

As he stood in the nursery, watching his slumbering children, a deep smile graced his face, a testament to the boundless love and sense of family that had blossomed in his heart.

Just as he was lost in the quiet moment, Penelope entered the nursery with a soft step.

"Are you getting ready for Lady Danbury's ball?" She asked Anthony in a soft voice, careful not to wake their children.

He turned to her, enfolding her in a warm embrace. "Yes, I'll be getting ready shortly. I was just checking in on our little ones." His gaze returned to the crib, an expression of pure adoration etched upon his features.

"I do that too," Penelope admitted, leaning into his comforting presence, her eyes fixed lovingly on their slumbering treasures. "Sometimes, I catch myself just observing them in their slumber, marveling at how both of them ever fit inside me." She chuckled softly.

Anthony hugged her tightly, his lips grazing her forehead in a tender kiss. "They are indeed a miracle. Our miracle."

Penelope reflected on the passage of time. "It's been more than a year since I last attended a ball. The previous season was quite different."

Anthony nodded, his memory retracing the challenging months of her pregnancy when she had stayed with him at Aubrey Hall. "Indeed. It will be a welcome return to society." His curiosity glinted in his eyes as he inquired, "Do you think Lady Whistledown will make a comeback?"

Penelope shook her head with a playful smile. "No, I believe she'll remain in retirement for a while. I have two more important matters to attend to right now." She added a mischievous wink. "But who knows, Anthony? Lady Whistledown may make a return in the future."

He chuckled. "I'll stand by whatever decision you make."

As they prepared to depart for Lady Danbury's ball, Penelope stood before the full-length mirror in their bedroom, meticulously adjusting the final details of her exquisite gown. The emerald silk draped around her figure, catching the light and casting a mesmerizing shimmer with every graceful movement. She fussed with the placement of a delicate hairpin, a subtle hint of uncertainty clouding her expressive eyes.

"Ready to rejoin the social whirlwind of the Ton?" Anthony inquired.

Turning to him, she couldn't help but voice her apprehension, her tone carrying a touch of nervousness. "Do you think I'm dressed properly for tonight's ball?"

He moved closer, his eyes locking onto hers with undeniable warmth, and a soft smile gracing his lips. "Penelope, you look positively perfect."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, accompanied by a gentle blush that graced her cheeks. "You don't need to exaggerate, Anthony."

With a tender yet resolute touch, he rested his hands on her waist, gazing into her eyes with unwavering sincerity. "I'm not exaggerating, my dear. You are, without a doubt, perfect." Their lips met briefly in a tender, affectionate kiss, and as they pulled apart, he added, "you are perfect for the role."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing closer. "What role are you referring to?"

His gaze softened, and he held her eyes with deep affection, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. "The role of the love of my life."