Testing Audio -DK Principessa

by kibass91

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19. Courting Penelope Anne

Summary:

"He surely looks mad, dashing the way of a lady's carriage but he is beyond rational thought."

Season 3 (Part II) rewrite featuring the courtship Penelope and Colin deserved and the character development that was impossible to show in only 8 episodes

Chapter 1:

-- Saturday, November 4, 1815

Colin steps in the direction of Penelope's hasty flight off the dance floor, determined to chase her down.

A firm hand in the crook of his elbow stops him. He snaps his head around and pauses when he sees Eloise. The soft blue of her gown glows under the candlelight but it is her face that garners his attention. She looks incensed and disbelieving simultaneously.

"El, what is it?"

She nearly drags him off the dance floor. Members of the Ton step out of their path as she steers him down the wooden stairs. Pushing past a group of gentlemen without bothering to acknowledge their grumbling, Eloise gets close enough to him and says, "Have you taken leave of your senses, brother?"

He does not get a chance to reply before she yanks at the fabric of his coat to turn him towards the left.

"Eloise," he protests. She cuts him off.

"Mama is going to have your head," she hisses, still tugging fiercely at his coat sleeve.

She drags him to a dark corner of the ballroom. Several eyes follow them into the pillar's shadow. Colin did not realize how strong his sister was until the moment she stops abruptly and all but shoves him against the wall. She appears visibly furious with clenched teeth and her free hand balled into a fist.

"While I am not one to abide by the Ton's rather distasteful and illogical rules," she snaps at him, speaking in a sharp whisper to not be overheard. "Far be it for me to scold you for such behavior but despite how I ignore societal protocol on a regular basis, still I am shocked that you would interrupt a dance between two people rumored to soon be betrothed!"

"I had to speak with her," Colin declares quietly, snatching his arm from her enraged grip that digs near painfully into the skin of his arm. "I still must. She did not–I do not believe she understood what I had to say. It is urgent."

Eloise's face burns bright red, embarrassment and anger flashing brightly across her blue eyes.

"What could possibly be so urgent that you risk social ruin for Penelope?"

"Do not say her name with such derision, Eloise," Colin barks.

His sister steps back in shock, either in response to his tone or his words. The loudness of his words is enough for the people on either side of the pillar to cease pretending they are not attempting to eavesdrop.

Colin spares them no mind. He is not prone to anger or histrionics. As such, he has never raised his voice at Eloise before; in spite of how she drives him to the edge of insanity with her stubbornness and opinions. At the first signs of hurt leaking into her expression, Colin feels guilt grow in his chest. The rage drains from him, yet his panic and irritation remain.

"I apologize for my tone," he tells her, stepping into her space to keep their conversation private, "but I do not have time to explain this to you completely, El. I must go after her."

Eloise looks shaken and conflicted. She is the second woman in his family to fall victim to his malcontent and sharp words tonight. He will have much to make up for in the morning.

"Colin–," she begins, but he sees a flash of copper and red curls disappear from the corner of his eye. He whips around to see Penelope's curls disappear around the doorway of the entrance hall, and he knows that he will miss his opportunity if he does not make haste.

"El, I have to go," he says, already moving in reverse to follow her. "My apologies, sister. I will be home soon and I shall grovel then."

"Colin, wait! "

He ignores her calling after him, too consumed with side-stepping other ball attendees. He walks swiftly, nearing a run as he rounds the corner to the entrance hall. He sees the flash of her red hair as the carriage door slams shut. Colin gives up maintaining decorum and breaks into a run towards the carriage from the back of the entrance hall, but he is too late to stop it. The horses' hooves click-clack against the pavement, taking Penelope farther and farther away from him.

For a moment, he stands there watching her carriage move across the cobblestones and he is overwhelmed with this suffocating feeling that everything worthwhile is leaving him behind.

He has no purpose and now he might not have Penelope? It is unconscionable. He cannot let her leave. He simply cannot.

When the carriage makes an east-bound turn onto the main throughway, a burning spreads in Colin's chest. His breath comes rapidly and his eyes blink against the sudden sting of tears.

He cannot fathom his life without her friendship. What is his life without Penelope in it?

Even whilst traveling in Greece he was never actually alone. Penelope wrote to him. He would send her pages of words and he simply knew that she would always respond. His family was always tired of his long letters and saccharine story-telling after receiving several, but Penelope never did. She proved to be his steadfast company via missives for months as he traveled. He cannot tolerate a world where she could not write to him. Her lack of replies incited excessive concern. Benedict and his mother assured him that she had not fallen ill, which only caused her lack of correspondence to worry him more.

His journey through France, Italy and Spain was fraught with loneliness. His original intent was to travel for over eight months, and instead he only made it through four before he had an overwhelming need to return home, to confirm that she was well. He constantly felt the absence of something important. He was restless and melancholy in places where he should have been fueled by wonder.

There was no Penelope present in his travels this time around; no one he could write to and share his discoveries with. She is always the first person to come to mind when something humorous occurs, or he learns something fascinating. Her lack of response to all of his letters unsettled him enough that he returned home, unprompted, to the surprise and delight of his family.

Her carriage disappears down the drive.

Colin stands there, frozen with terror and indecision.

If she marries Lord Debling, their friendship must end. He cannot be her friend once wed. Propriety dictates such. He cannot speak to her as freely as he has if she is a wife. He could not snark with her on the edges of ballrooms. He cannot make her laugh or smile or ask her feelings on important matters. If she marries anyone, Penelope Featherington would no longer be his. She would belong to another. She would be separated from him permanently by the Church and high society.

The thought of her being inaccessible to him withers something deep inside his soul.

To marry Lord Debling, Penelope would no longer be his Pen. She would be Lady Debling. And Lord Debling would not be there for her. He would eagerly board a ship for his first love out in isolation, and Penelope would be left alone in an estate without company. She cannot marry him. He could never understand her wit, her charm, her warmth and the way her smile makes his chest swell with joy. He cannot allow it. He could never be what Penelope needs.

A realization dawns on Colin. By God, he is in love with her. What a fool he has been. He has been consumed with the expectations of high society, putting on this facade of being the charming third son, and he failed to comprehend that he is in love with his dearest friend.

The sound of the horses' hooves fades into the night air and Colin runs with nary another thought. He is not a runner by nature, preferring horseback and fencing for his exercise but Colin has never quickened his stride more. He is in love with her.

He surely looks mad, dashing the way of a lady's carriage but he is beyond rational thought. His boots hit the ground too solidly. His pants are too closely tailored and stiff for this level of exertion.

He'd sworn off women for over a year. He guarded his heart. Bedded women in foreign cities and brothels while promising himself that there would never be a repeat of his infatuation with Miss Thompson. It seemed so easy to ignore how disconnected and distant it all felt when he was awash with the rush of sex and the newness of it all. Coming back to Mayfair full of delusions that he was a new man and could rake about town without having to feel anything. He should have known. The first conversation with Penelope shook the belief that he could be completely uncaring. Shame and self-consciousness had trickled in with one ire-filled gaze from her at the Queen's luncheon.

His love for her had come about so slowly and organically that he'd been oblivious to his feelings until it amounted to this all consuming desire to be at her side in perpetuity. Her kiss shook him loose inside. The thought of her marrying someone other than himself makes him burn with jealousy.

He is in love with her.

When he rounds the corner, he can see her carriage in the distance and he hastens his pace. Colin thought his chest was heaving beforehand but it is nothing compared to how out-of-breath he feels now. It is to his great fortune that the carriage is moving leisurely. He is able to catch up to it in minutes.

"Driver!" he yells. "Wait!"

Colin spies a footman at the rear of the carriage looking at him askance, but the servant raises his voice to alert the men at the front.

"Aye sir!" he calls, "Driver, halt!"

Colin slows to a jog, breathless and grateful that they stopped for him. He doesn't take a moment to catch his breath before he swings open the carriage door. Penelope gasps, her blue eyes widening in surprise. He takes in the tear tracks staining her face, and her swollen eyes. Seeing her cry makes his chest burn for reasons other than his mad sprint.

"Penelope," he begins, gasping for air.

She stares at him, aghast. He sees the moment her shock turns into dismay, and the windows to her soul shutter closed within her blue eyes. "I do not wish to speak with you," she states. The frosty tone of her voice causes dread to swirl into his intestines.

"Please," he says, begging. She does her best not to look at him directly. The hurt and fury emanates off her in waves. She has been through hell tonight, and his appearance cannot be helping matters. "Let me in."

His voice breaks and he can see the effect it has on her. She does not speak again, but she relents. She scoots back in her seat to give him room to enter. Colin heaves himself into the carriage without pause. He does not want her to change her mind if he hesitates.

He can feel the sweat beading along his hairline. His feet ache and his heartbeat continues to race. She taps on the roof of the carriage and says, "We shall stop at Bridgerton house first."

"Yes, Miss."

The whinnying of the horses and the renewed rattle of the carriage does not break the tense silence between them. She averts her gaze, waiting for him to regain his breath and composure.

"What do you want?" she questions, voice clipped.

"Did Lord Debling propose?" he blurts. Her eyes snap to him, blindsided by his audacity. Anger bleeds into her countenance.

"What business is that of yours?"

"I need to know!" Colin exclaims, "Did he propose?"

He is beside himself. She cannot be engaged.

"It is odd," she tells him, staring in irritation and confusion. "When I asked for your help in finding a husband, I did not realize that also meant you might try to deny me one as well."

"It is my business because I care about you," Colin says, bristling. "You cannot marry that man! He will leave you, and he is too –too particular ." She does not seem amused nor convinced by his statement.

"He is…," Colin is at a loss for words. His normal eloquence and charm abandon him in his time of need. She cannot marry Lord Debling. "He is just not right for you, Pen!"

"He did not propose," she states. "In fact, he rejected me because of you."

Colin is taken aback. She is incensed. It is an emotion he is becoming all too familiar with from her this season. He detests that it has been so frequently aimed in his direction.

"The scene you caused led him to believe you have feelings for me," she continues. Penelope makes a markedly derisive sound. She says, "An idea so preposterous, I do not know what to do besides laugh." She is once again on the verge of tears.

"Now," she says, "will you please let us ride home in silence and leave me alone?"

"I cannot," Colin protests immediately.

"Please!"

"I cannot!" he responds, visceral and panicked. He will lose her if he does not gather the bravery to ask. His mother's voice echoes in his head. One of them has to have the courage to say something, and since her feelings are unknown to him, it shall have to be him.

"Because," he begins. Colin hates how his voice shakes. If he has the wherewithal to garner passage across a sea while on his own, then he can prostrate himself before a woman. "What if I did have feelings for you?"

"What?"

"I have spent so long trying to feel less, trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be," Colin admits, "And for a moment I thought I had succeeded. But Pen, these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings. Feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you, about that kiss."

Penelope looks stunned. She stares at him, uncomprehending. He pushes on. She must understand what he is trying to say. "Feelings like dreaming of you when I'm asleep," he tells her, "And in fact preferring sleep because that is where I might find you."

Colin moves closer to her. His knees bump into her own. He can see her chest rise and fall more rapidly at his nearness. "Pen, it is a feeling that is like torture. Feelings that I cannot, will not, do not want to give up..."

"Please," she loudly interrupts. "Do not say things you do not mean."

"But I do mean it!" he exclaims. She sits back against the wall of the carriage in shock. "It is everything I have wanted to say to you for weeks ." They do not quarrel this way. Raised voices and impassioned speeches are a new layer to their relationship. He is not a fighter by nature. Far more sensitive and soft-hearted than he wants the general populace to ever know, but he must make her see him as a possibility.

He is in love with her.

"But…," she sputters. He has thrown her into world order into chaos with his proclamation. She flounders under the weight of shock and confusion. "Colin, we are friends."

"Yes, but we–," Colin seeks to argue. He wants to fight her until she believes him, but his courage wavers in the face of her disbelief. It strikes him then that his feelings could be one-sided. He cannot lose her to another. To watch her marry another man is the epitome of torture, but he may not have a choice if she does not hold him in the same regard. It seems he may lose her no matter what. "I–forgive me. I do not know what I was thinking."

Colin does not know how to hide his devastation. What does one do with their body when they are rejected? He slides back onto his own bench, trying to hide the way his eyes flood with tears.

"Are you quite serious?" she asks, voice shrill. Colin blinks his tears away so he can see her. She looks fit to be tied. An array of emotions flit across her facial expression before she seems to settle on incredulity. "That is all it takes for you to change your mind?"

"What?"

"You! You decide to knock my world askew and the second I question you, you cower from me."

"Pen, I told you I have feelings for you and you responded with words cementing our friendship." Colin cannot keep track of this conversation. How can she be mad that he took her words respectfully despite his vehement disagreement? "Is that not your rejection? What else am I supposed to do besides accept it?"

"I did not reject you!" she shouts. Penelope Featherington shouted at him. Colin stares in abject shock as she continues, "I stated a fact and questioned your intent! We are friends. You have never shown any romantic inclinations towards me before this moment, so why should I not ask you about this abrupt change?"

"You are being argumentative when there is no need," he snaps. "If you do not share my feelings, you could simply declare it." Colin has never experienced the conflicting desire to throttle someone but also kiss them at the same time. If this vexation is what Kate and Anthony feel regularly, he now understands why their blood always runs hot.

"Do not mock me with your impatience, Colin Bridgerton."

"You are being particularly vexing, Penelope. I am not in jest!"

"Why should I believe you?" she returns. "You have been inconsistent since the beginning of the season and the utmost tumultuous company! This conversation alone demonstrates how easily you say things and then retract your stance as soon as you are challenged. How am I to trust that your declaration is earnest?"

"I would never claim to have feelings for someone so dear to me without it being honest. How could you think so little of me and my character?"

"Your character? You speak of the man who has wandered through ballrooms, luncheons, and dinner parties heaping trite words of praise onto every debutante that crossed your path in recent weeks?"

"I have not engaged in such conversation since we kissed."

"I am not finished," Penelope snaps, her voice like a whip through the air. Colin's mouth shuts of its own volition. Penelope has always been kind and soft-spoken in his presence. Even when being verbally attacked by the Ton's sneering Cressida Cowper, she never expressed such rage.

Seeing the fury burning in her eyes makes him realize that he might be safer while silent.

"You returned to Mayfair presenting yourself as this uncaring, ill-discerning rakish flirt with no true consideration to how your words and actions affect those around you. What am I supposed to think of your character, Colin?"

The words of Lady Whistledown's second pamphlet of the season rattles around in his head:

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, August 1815

And then there are some who take the embrace of change a step too far, as with Mr. Colin Bridgerton, who seems to have embraced a new personality entirely. But one must wonder, is this new character the real him, or simply a ploy for attention? And does Mr. Bridgerton even know?

Nightmares plagued him after her words latched onto his deepest insecurity and displayed it for the occupants of his world to see. Does he know himself, indeed?

Eloise suggested something similar to him when inquiring whether keeping all his secrets made for a lonely life. Hearing Penelope, undoubtedly his dearest friend apart from his siblings, imply the same things makes him flush with shame.

Coming back from his travels, he aimed to carry himself with a presence similar to Anthony and Benedict. It seems that the people who knew him the best were continually unimpressed with this new armor he'd covered himself in - first Eloise, second his mother, and now Penelope. He dreads to think of what Daphne shall have to say when she and the Duke return to Hastings House in the coming days.

"I–," Colin stutters and then stops. "Pen, I am sorry. I did not mean to be careless with my affections or lack thereof–."

In a display of pique, Penelope slaps her hand onto the padded bench. Though it makes nary a sound, the motion is sharp enough to surprise him. "You never mean to be careless, Colin!" she tells him, ill-tempered. "You do not intend to hurt anyone. You loudly declared me all but ineligible and unworthy of marriage at the end of last season, but now you chase me out of a ballroom to claim you are thunderstruck with feelings for me. Pardon me for having to suspend disbelief."

He has never been so thoroughly and deservedly dressed down in his life.

She refuses to look at him. He sits, speechless and shaken. Embarrassment suffices his entire being. Colin knows that most men in his position would respond with wounded pride, but he simply feels the rise of desolation in his spirit. His eyes water, against his will.

"What can I say to make you believe that I am in earnest?" he asks, hating how his voice shakes. Part of him prays that she does not notice how exceedingly vulnerable he is at this moment, but the other part is desperate for her to understand how real and honest he is with his regard for her.

"I do not know," she responds after a tense moment. Penelope's voice makes his heartache. He can practically hear the pain in her voice. "Truthfully, Colin I–," she pauses to inhale, "--you seem to know me as little as you know this new version of yourself."

"You think I do not know you?" he asks. Colin is affronted at the insinuation. They have grown from children into adulthood together. He speaks with her more than anyone outside of his own family. He cannot fathom this notion that he does not understand her, but Penelope remains visibly unmoved by his incredulity. She sits there, shoulders rigid and hands wrinkling the fine silk of her skirts.

Colin feels her gaze on him, and he cannot help but realize that she finds him wanting.

"What is my preferred flower?" she asks, finally.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Which color am I most fond of? What is my favorite dance? What was the last book I read?"

Colin's confusion must be clear on his face because she lapses into silence abruptly. He feels dread and guilt pool into the depths of his stomach when it sets in that he does not know.

"Penelope–," he begins, but she raises a hand to stop him. Her eyes mist over. The color shining so blue and desolate that he is struck breathless by her beauty and pain. He sees her small, pale fingers tremble behind the sheer gossamer of her fingerless gloves.

"Your favorite flowers are orange blossoms," she tells him, voice shaking. "Their scent reminds you of the summer season because the orangery at Aubrey Hall is the place you love to sit and write in your journals."

Colin stares.

"Pastel yellow is the color you are most drawn to. Your favorite dance is the waltz because you secretly love the closeness and romance of it. Those are the same reasons why your preferred book is St. Irvyne by Percy Bysshe Shelley. It is philosophical, romantic, and features adventure. It is a stellar novel, but you act as if you have not reread it often enough that the leather is worn and you can quote the text at length."

Colin has never seen Penelope weep before, but he is witness to it now. Her shoulders tremor. She clutches her hands to opposite elbows. Penelope does little to hide the tears as they track down her face, smearing the rouge on her cheeks.

Colin, usually the one so quick with a charming word, is speechless.

He has known Penelope since he was one and ten. Her yellow cap knocked him flat off his horse. In this moment, her knowledge of him metaphorically does the same. It becomes clear that Penelope has held him in high regard for a long time; much longer than he ever expected and certainly much longer than his weeks of realization about his romantic inclinations towards her.

His impulsivity to declare himself has caused great harm to someone he realizes he's been in love with for far too long without his notice. He went into this moment, ill-prepared to take accountability for the wrongs his past self committed and without the proof he needed to soothe her understandable fears about him. Penelope has been his greatest supporter, and he took her for granted.

"I did not realize how intricately you know me, but I suppose I should not be surprised. You are excessively attentive and astute. Whereas I have misused our time together and failed to retain the intimacies of your mind." He does not know if the regret he feels about his obliviousness comes through, but he hopes it does.

"Therein lies the problem for me. I know you," Penelope replies, "I know almost all things one could possibly know about another within the boundaries of propriety and friendship, but you do not know me. I may lack the beauty of other debutantes in the Ton, but if dignity is all I have, then I shall guard it fiercely. I would have accepted Lord Debling's proposal out of sheer practicality and lack of options. If I am to be a spinster, then I will be one with my self-respect intact."

Penelope seems to steel her resolve. Colin watches her lift her chin and smooth her skirts. She meets his eyes directly. "I refuse to be with a man who does not know me."

"I will learn, then," he responds, tone firm.

"Colin–," she tries to interrupt, but he stops her by sliding towards her. He decides that earning his maid's ire, by dirtying his trousers, is worth it to kneel before her, submitting himself to her. He takes her hands in his own and holds her gaze.

"I will learn," he says. "I will court you openly, proudly, and without hesitation should you accept my suit, Penelope. In fact, if I knew you would allow it, I would ask you to marry me to prove my intentions are without deception and uncertainty."

"Colin!" she gasps. Her hands squeeze his own in a subconscious response to his statement.

"I promise to court you properly so there will be no doubt to the veracity of my words," Colin states. "I may be slow to recognize my feelings, Pen, and I do not know the intimacies of your mind, but I know your heart. You are a good person, one who loves deeply. I swear to spend the rest of my days discovering you if you grant me the chance. Of all the foolish things I have done and how flawed I am as a man, I do not forsake a vow."

Colin stares at her, resolute. Her blue eyes shine with renewed tears as they meet his own. He can feel his heartbeat quicken as she remains wordless.

A loud knock atop the carriage breaks the intense gaze they share. They both startle.

"We are at your house," she says. Penelope glances out of the window, seemingly relieved to be free of the tension of his declaration.

"Oh God," he responds, desperate to continue their conversation in private. He knows she will run from his attention should he leave. "Can the driver not keep on driving?" He peers out of the curtains to glimpse the purple wisteria lining the iron-wrought gates at the front of the Bridgerton house.

"Colin," she replies, exasperation clear. The two exchange another look and Penelope allows him her first smile of the evening. She is flustered by but amused at his comment. He shall take that as a victory after this fraught conversation.

He observes her for a long moment. She is overwhelmed and pensive. Patience is not his strong suit, but he understands that he has given her much to think about. Perhaps, it is better for him to leave her to her thoughts at this juncture.

"I know that I have given you reason to be overwhelmed tonight," he says. "I will depart to allow you time to decide how we shall proceed."

Colin steps out of the carriage door being held ajar by a footman. He straightens his coat, vest, and cravat. He brushes the dirt off the knees of his trousers to allow them both a moment of reprieve from the intensity of the evening. Penelope stares at him as he straightens. He holds out a hand to her. She pauses, but then places her hand into his.

"I am serious in asking for your permission to court you. I will leave you to your thoughts."

He kisses Penelope's gossamer-covered hand long enough to see her suck in a trembling breath before she pulls her hand away.

"Goodnight, Pen. I shall call on you soon."

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

-- Saturday, November 4, 1815

For the second time, the Featherington carriage takes Penelope away from him. However, he watches it depart with hope instead of desperation. Colin turns on his heel and strides towards the doors of his home.

A servant opens the doors for him.

"Is my family awake, Carlton?" he asks the footman as the door shuts solidly behind him. With the outside world unable to see him, he loosens his cravat and unbuttons his waistcoat.

"Miss Eloise returned a short time ago. Lady Bridgerton and Miss Francesca are together. It seems Miss Francesca playing the pianoforte awakened Miss Hyacinth and Mr. Gregory," Carlton responds. "They are all in the private drawing room."

"Excellent," Colin says, removing his coat. "If you'll excuse me."

"Sir," Carlton answers politely. The footman takes his abandoned coat before bowing. Colin departs. He climbs the stairs, taking two at a time due to impatience. He can hear the chatter of his family as he moves towards the door.

Stepping inside, he sees his mother still in her ball finery standing near Francesca at the side of their pianoforte. Hyacinth leans against their mother in her nightdress; her form appears drowsy. Mother's arm rests around Hyacinth's waist in a sideways embrace with her chin pressed atop of Hy's head. Gregory stands near the fire in his nightshirt, his sprained arm tucked into a sling. Eloise stands apart from them all, her gaze distant.

"Family," Colin says. The chatter in the room subsides as they all turn in surprise. He clears his throat, stricken with nervousness. "I have an announcement."

Hyacinth, sensing potential gossip, suddenly appears fully awake. She does not move from Mother's embrace, but her eyebrows lift in curiosity.

"What is it, dear?" Mother asks. Her voice sounds oddly strained to him, but he pays it no heed. There are far more important things he must do.

"During morning calling hours tomorrow, I am to ask Lady Featherington for her permission to court Penelope."

There is instant cacophony.

Francesca's face lights up. His mother lets out an audibly relieved gasp which makes Colin's brow tick up in consternation. Pulling away from their mother, Hyacinth releases a shrill noise and claps in apparent excitement. Eloise's jaw falls slack. Gregory exclaims, "You are to court Penelope?"

Colin sees Hyacinth dance a small jig. Her dance makes her sleeping braid swing off her shoulder. "Should you think she will say yes, brother?"

Francesca steps forward to grasp their mother's left arm. She looks delighted.

"I am so pleased," Frannie tells him. "This might be the smartest choice you have made this season." Francesca rests her chin on their mother's shoulder and mother presses a kiss to his sister's temple.

Frannie is not known for her excessive displays of emotions. While she certainly can handle her own amongst the Bridgerton siblings, she is by-far the most reserved of them all. To see her express such joy at his intent to court Penelope validates both his choice and his feelings.

His family loves Penelope as much as he does.

His mother is incandescent with pride. She presses another smiling kiss to Francesca's head before saying, "Oh my dear, this is wonderful news!" Colin knows that if Fran had not been leaning on her, she would have rushed over to embrace him.

Hyacinth is still beside herself. She bounces from foot to foot. "We have known Penelope forever and now she might become our sister!"

Fran leans over their mother's shoulder to make eye contact with Hyacinth. "If she agrees to courtship, do you believe she will have him stop overindulging his coiffure?"

"Overindulging?" he asks, indignant.

Colin smooths a self-conscious hand along his trimmed sideburns. He supposes that he has been fluffing his hair more than he used to. Having the amount of female public scrutiny in recent weeks may have affected his styling more than he realized.

Gregory steps away from the fireplace to get closer to Colin. His brother eyes his hair intently, before he says, "I think it makes him look handsome."

Hyacinth laughs and says, "I rather think he resembles a pirate. He has certainly stolen the attention of enough young ladies to be accused of being such. His hair becomes more indulgent each time he is squawked about by any of the maidens in town."

Frannie's noise of agreement makes Colin blush. It seems even his younger sisters saw his rakish behavior to be worthy of ridicule. He thought he embodied the charming, well-traveled rogue well, but apparently he left much to be desired. So much for his assertion to Penelope that charm could be taught.

"Penelope has been fond of Col long enough to look past his coiffure, I am sure," Hyacinth declares. Colin blinks at her. What in the blazes? Did Penelope admit as such to Hy? How could she possibly know that his feelings were reciprocated?

"Fond of?" Gregory asks, taken aback. "You mean to say she already has feelings for Col?"

"She has been fond of me?" Colin speaks over his younger brother. "Has she told you in so many words, sister?"

If Penelope confessed her regard to Hyacinth, then he shall never live down his ignorance.

Hyacinth stares at him in reply, blank-faced. She glances between himself and Gregory before she rolls her eyes with such impertinence that he fears she may blind herself.

"Mama," she says, sounding affronted. "You cannot possibly scold me for mocking my brothers when they say things such as this."

Hyacinth is smart as a whip, and devilishly cunning, but can be markedly single-minded at times. Had Penelope truly been so obvious with her affection that even Hy had noticed? He might deserve to be mocked for the rest of his life after all if so. The urge to strike himself out of embarrassment appears.

Blessedly, Frannie interrupts his rueful thoughts. "I should think her fondness is a good thing, brother. All the more likely she will say yes!"

"I am sure of Lady Featherington's agreement," Colin replies. "I do not dare answer on behalf of Penelope. I have quite learned not to speak definitively of things I do not know for certain."

"Considering you did not know she was fond of you before tonight, I applaud you for refraining from speaking on her behalf," Hyacinth says, her voice curt.

"Hyacinth," their mother scolds. "Your tone is unruly, dear."

Colin notices that his mother objects to the derisive tone and not the expressed sentiment. The desire to throttle his past self emerges once more. He really has been oblivious.

"What of Lord Debling?" Francesca inquires. "Was he not intent on proposing?"

Colin swallows. He is altogether uneager to share the details of the scene he'd caused. His mother would harangue him without pause, and she would have every right. He intends to save that particular scolding for when his nerves are not already overwrought.

His good grace for being brow-beaten with his follies is at its limit.

He clears his throat and says, "Their courtship concluded rather suddenly this evening."

There is a drawn-out moment of awkwardness where they all stare at Colin. He hears the tick-tock of the grandfather timepiece chime on the opposite side of the room as they wait for him to expound upon his statement. Colin keeps his mouth shut. He can feel the blush rise on his face until he is wholly unable to meet their eyes.

Mother takes it upon herself to break the silence, "How fortunate for you, dearest."

Her dry tone informs him that she knows something is awry. Mercifully, she refrains from asking him for more information. Hyacinth, however, is frank with her sarcasm.

"How fortunate indeed, brother."

Colin feels his ears burn hot.

"Rather suddenly is certainly a turn of phrase for what occurred," Eloise speaks, voice tinged with resentment. Colin hates that he is partially the cause of her reticence. They seem to be more at odds this season than they ever have.

While he is admittedly closest to Daphne, he always carried a soft spot for Eloise. The two of them bonded over their equal yearning to travel and the way they feel they must compete with the elder siblings sharing their sex. He neither wants her to feel despondent nor fear that he does not care deeply for her approval.

But this is Penelope.

He cannot give her up because of a conflict between them, especially when he still does not know why their friendship is in shambles. Colin and Eloise meet eyes. She sighs deeply.

"You plan to pursue her? Knowing that we are quarreling?"

"My feelings for Penelope are not contingent on your disposition, El," he replies. "I would love nothing more than to have your blessing, but she is–spectacular as a person and she is also one of my greatest friends. I would like to make her my wife, if she'll have me."

The bold proclamation garners several reactions.

From Frannie's gasp of, "Your wife?!" Hyacinth's squeal of, "I shall have another sister!" To Greg's sigh of, " Another sister. I am hopelessly outnumbered. Someone besides Daphne needs to marry soon."

And finally to Eloise's cry of, "Colin, you do not know her!"

Colin is tired of having his ignorance thrown in his face tonight. No one can offer more recrimination for his failures than that which he harps on himself. "I have been told that I do not know her quite enough this evening," he states. "I shan't hear it from you."

Eloise, poised to begin a tirade, stops and looks bewildered.

"What?" She asks. "Who told you—"

Her words are cut off by Hyacinth as she interjects, "We have known her for years! How could someone claim she is unknown to you?"

Colin drags a hand across his face in exasperation. Reliving the scolding from Penelope is not high on his list of things he'd like to do, but this is his family. He is safe here. They will love and protect him relentlessly. He just has to withstand their teasing. Remembering how utterly he'd failed Penelope during their friendship saddens him. He never again wants to be the reason someone feels unappreciated and unseen.

He must do better by her. He must do better by everyone he loves.

"Penelope told me as much herself when I declared my feelings," he admits, sheepishly. "I have much to learn, which is why I intend to court her."

Eloise looks stunned. She opens her mouth, furrows her brow, and then closes her mouth. Colin does not understand why her face crumples with tears, but she leaves the room without saying another word.

He watches Eloise all but flee. He contemplates going after her, but he thinks time to herself may better serve her. There is significant vulnerability when feeling overwhelmed, and knowing Eloise, she would not want an audience while emotionally overcome.

His mother offers a sigh which gains his attention. "I will check on her shortly, dear," she says.

Francesca releases their mother's arm. Mother walks across the room to his side. "I am glad Penelope was so forthcoming with you, my dear. Honesty is important within the bounds of any courtship."

Mother places the back of her hand against his cheek. This time, he does not pull away from her. Colin closes his eyes, allowing her love to soothe his frazzled spirits.

"She has not accepted me yet, Mother," he replies, quietly. "It seems I have a number of things to repent for."

Mother's thumb brushes tenderly against his cheek. She does not speak. Her affectionate gesture helps lessen the tightness in his chest. His remorse runs deep. He remains anxious for Pen's answer. He fears losing her and Eloise's regard. He dreads what the Ton will have to say about his actions tonight. Colin feels far too much, but Mother is a still well. Her touch offers a stronghold where he is not likely to be swept away in the current of all his feelings.

Francesca's voice punctures his moment of peace. "What is your sour look for?"

Mother drops her hand from his cheek. Colin looks at Francesca, only to follow her gaze to Gregory. His younger brother looks forlorn. He idly picks at the fabric of the settee.

"What is it, Greg?" Colin asks. Gregory looks up at him briefly before looking away. He looks put-out, akin to the time Mother told him that he could not have any fruit jellies before supper.

"I cannot–." Gregory lets out a sigh. "I cannot believe you will likely be married before I am old enough to grace even one tavern with you."

Colin smiles. He understands Gregory's melancholy all too well. He went through the same envy when he was too young to join Anthony and Benedict on their adventures.

"I am sorry about that, brother," he says, "Let us not predict too far into the future, I must first convince her to accept my suit."

"It is Penelope! Unless you have done something exceedingly idiotic, I imagine she will say yes after some genuine groveling," Hyacinth tells him. "I can assist. Mama tells me that I am rather brilliant at discerning ways to change a person's mind."

Colin knows his mother meant that as both a compliment and an expression of dismay. Hyacinth could swindle Bonaparte himself out of home and country.

"It makes my heart swell with the amount of faith you have in me, Hy," he replies. "Though I appreciate your offer of assistance, I think it best to determine my own method of groveling."

Colin turns back to his brother's drawn countenance.

Gregory often gets left behind. Colin has been consumed with his own problems and gives little thought to how disconnected his younger brother must feel from himself, Anthony and Benedict. "Greg, shall we ride together after I return from calling on Penelope?"

Gregory's face shines in reply. It never occurred to Colin how something so simple could affect another so immensely.

"Mother, may I?" he asks.

Mother is barely able to contain her smile at Gregory's eagerness. "Of course, my dear. That sounds like a wonderful afternoon."

Colin lets his fondness show as Greg grins at him.

"How about you and Hyacinth head up to bed?" she asks, motioning them towards her. "It is late and all the excitement now may deter you from feeling festive tomorrow. Come children, let us prepare for our rest. Francesca dear, I will send your lady's maid to assist you."

"Very well, Mama," Frannie replies. Colin accepts her fleeting kiss on his cheek as she walks past him. "Goodnight brother." Hy smacks a loud kiss on his opposite cheek making him chuckle.

Francesca sweeps towards the door, her ball gown swishing with each step. Hyacinth grabs Frannie's hand as they exit the drawing room. Gregory is quick to follow with a swift, "Sleep well, brother!" tossed over his shoulder.

Colin stops his mother before she can disappear through the doorway.

"Mother, is Benedict in residence?"

"I believe he went to White's with some gentlemen earlier this evening," she answers. "He did not return home with us in the carriage."

He is not surprised. Benedict being home this early after a ball was uncommon if he did not return home directly in their family's carriage. Despite being past midnight; his brother's hours ran far later during his revelry.

"Ah," he acknowledges, "Goodnight Mother."

Mother appears to want to say something else, but she refrains. Instead, Colin receives a smile and a soft, "Goodnight, my dear."

-- Sunday, November 5, 1815

Sunday morning dawns through the window of his study with a cloudless sky. Colin sits at his desk, pensive and restless. His dreams last night were filled with Penelope. They ran from the sweet as he thought of their kiss and how much he yearns to repeat it to the unsettling where she rejects his suit and marries another.

Colin is sure that she shares his regard. He remains uncertain whether his apologies shall be enough to erase his prior carelessness. To know that she held him in such regard, and then had to witness him nearly wed her cousin and flirt with all things in a day dress for years–well, it certainly makes his stomach turn.

He experienced only two months of her being approached by other gentlemen of the Ton, and he was nearly combustible with the burn of jealousy and possessiveness. How she withstood years of his ignorance is unfathomable to him. He cannot imagine what it will take to prove himself to her.

A knock pulls him from his thoughts. He turns from the window to peer at the door as it opens. Mother steps in, wrapped in a dressing gown with the hem of her nightdress brushing her ankles. Her hair is twisted into a sleeping braid.

"Mother," he says. "What brings you here? It is early yet."

She steps inside the room, closing the door behind herself. Colin stands from his desk. He rounds the side of it so he can take her hand and escort her to a chair. She thanks him wordlessly and allows him to help her settle into an armchair.

"Shall I call for tea?"

"That would be wonderful, dearest."

Colin rings the bell on the wall to call for a servant. They arrive with haste. He orders a tea tray and the maid quickly takes her leave. Colin spends minutes righting his journal's placements on the desk and putting his quills into their holder. He finally settles himself into an armchair adjacent to his mother when he runs out of things to distract himself with.

"I take it that sleeping proved elusive?" she asks.

Colin opens his mouth to respond, but before he can answer, a maid sweeps back into the room. She sets up the tea service, pouring a cup to both their preferences. Colin nods and the maid curtsies before walking out. The door snicks closed behind her.

He takes a moment to sip his tea before he gives her a wry smile. "What revealed my secret?"

Mother chuffs at him, amused. "Seeing you in the study at dawn was indication enough. You are not known for being an early riser, dearest." Colin must admit she is right. "What ails you?"

"Mother," he groans. He should have anticipated this. She displayed restraint last night, but clearly his reprieve from questioning had come to an end.

"I have eight children, Colin and I remain well versed in each of their personalities and behavior," she replies. "You seemed shaken when you returned home, do not deny it."

"How is it that you seem to know everything?"

"I am a mother. My purpose is to be attentive to my children's needs and desires," she tells him. "Talk to me, dear."

Colin takes a fortifying sip of his tea. The sugar and milk swirl through the brew in a perfect assimilation of sweetness. Perhaps, Mother is the best person to converse with about his burgeoning courtship. She married her best friend for love and she understands the workings of the female mind better than he or any of his brothers ever shall.

Colin places his tea cup back on the tray.

"Penelope was rather frank with me," he says, voice quiet. "I confessed my feelings for more than friendship to her, and she proceeded to scold me without compunction." He can hear the consternation in his own voice. Mother can read him like a book. There is no chance that she fails to observe his insecurity.

"Care to explain further, darling?" she questions. Mother sets aside her own barely-touched cup of tea to extend a hand to him. Colin takes it into his own hands. Her touch grounds him. She continues, "I know my children, and though I liken Penelope to one of my daughters, I was not privy to this conversation."

"She inquired if I knew her preferred flower, color and book, and in truth, I had no answer to her question because I did not know."

The admission feels fraught. He hates that he spent so much of their time together being blind.

Mother pauses for a long moment. He can see her thinking about how to respond. She wants to spare his feelings, but resist invalidating Penelope's. Colin is grateful that she holds his intended in such high personal regard.

"Those are rather intimate questions, perhaps–," she begins but he interrupts her with a squeeze of her hand.

"She knew my answers," Colin explains. "Every one of them, she had the correct response for and the reasoning for why they are my preference." He remains shocked at how astute she was. He never recognized how observant she was to remember such fleeting conversations. "Things I confessed to her in passing chatter and in letters. I somehow revealed my most vulnerable thoughts and she remembered all of them. She took note of the things that I love."

"Oh Colin," Mother says, breathless with softness for him. Colin eyes water in response. He hates how utterly tender he feels right now. What kind of man is he? When being paid attention to by a lady is enough to turn him into an emotional wreck. Is this what it is like to be noticed? To not feel as though he could disappear and not be missed?

"Mama," he begins, near choking on his own surge of thoughts and feelings. Mother clutches his hand tightly. He does not call her by a casual moniker often. The last time he can remember calling her such was months after the birth of Hyacinth; when Anthony took on the responsibility of father and estate manager during her period of desolation. He remembers sneaking into her bedchamber in the dead of night; fearful that her sadness would take her from him too. He sobbed into her skirts, clinging to her because he felt bereft without her comfort. It was one of the first times his Mother resurfaced from her sadness to clutch him to her chest. Something in her awakened at his cries that night. It was the beginning of her starting to see life beyond father's death.

"I have spent years of my life feeling unseen," he continues. As the third son without even a possible claim to being heir or being the spare as they deem the second son, his only contribution to high society was found in his charm, his handsomeness, and his access to funds. People rarely saw him as he is. The one likely to weep at the theater. The one who loved discovering food and foreign cultures.

"She sees me, Mother," Colin says. "I never realized that someone could choose to believe my idiosyncrasies were important and worth remembrance. Then here I come, trampling through metaphorical rose bushes to declare love to a woman I have been blind to and ignorant of since I was a child when she is on the precipice of being affianced to a Lord. To think that I have made her feel the same way I have felt for so long incites great shame."

Mother squeezes his hand, attempting to offer consolation where there is not much to be found. "It would have been a practical match, not a love one."

"That brings little comfort, Mother. She had an appropriate suitor at my behest and I ruined her chances with my impulsive histrionics. She had all the right to say her piece."

"What histrionics, dear?"

Colin blushes deeply. His ears are aflame with embarrassment, but he is honest with her. "I inserted myself into a dance between her and Lord Debling."

Mother's mouth gapes. "Oh Colin, please tell me you speak in jest!"

"I cannot," he replies, contrite. "Mother, I caused quite the scene. I am sure it will be reported in Whistledown's next publication. I may have put her in an even more untenable situation with my behavior last night as I did last season."

"Last season? What do you speak of?"

"After I uncovered the scheming of her cousin, I was thoroughly in my cups. I said some foolish things to Lord Fife and Lord Cho, and Penelope overheard the lurid declaration."

Mother presses the heel of her free hand to her temple in stress. "Dare I ask what you said?"

"Nothing I can ever repeat word-for-word but I all but labeled her unworthy of courtship," he confesses. Mother rolls her eyes heavenward as he continues, "If any man had done that to one of my sisters, I'd have boxed them in the streets, genteel manners be damned."

The fact that she offers no objection to his last statement emphasizes how badly he'd behaved. Mother abhorred violence. She understands the gravity of his words on a lady's options immediately. Colin is the idiot who spoke without consideration.

"Colin, you cannot undo what has been done," she tells him. Her audible and visible disappointment over his actions makes his shoulders hunch inwards.

"I am aware," he admits. "I fail to comprehend how I have spent so long being aimless with myself but privileged to have such a great friend, and I did not realize how important she is. Am I that simple?"

"You are not simple, Colin Bridgerton!" Mother states. "Perish the thought. You are misguided at times, yes. Sometimes you lack awareness of what is happening around you, but primarily, dear, you expend too much energy consumed by trying to be like your elder brothers."

"I have no desire to be like Anthony, especially the way Anthony was before he wed Kate."

"Being with Kate allowed Anthony to restore the youthful joy and effervescence he lost when he was thrust into the role of Viscount at eight and ten. He has always naturally been more serious since he was a child, but he loves passionately and deeper than you realize," Mother responds. "Becoming the viscount, seeing his father lose his life, and having to help me raise seven children changed him. Benedict is of sound mind and capable, but he too bears a responsibility that you do not need to carry by birth order alone."

"Mother, what are you trying to say?"

"My dear, I–," Mother stutters to a stop. He waits as she gathers her thoughts. "I reckon you do not realize a lot of things about high society. It was unseemly for Edmund and I to have eight children, indeed. Once Anthony and Benedict were born, society determined that we had fulfilled our duty. Having a third son is not something most in the Ton would do. While society confirms your thoughts, your father and I had very different reasonings for conceiving you."

"Such as what?" he asks. Colin does not intend to speak disparagingly of himself, but he longs for something to do, something to contribute. "I have no true purpose. I exist. I travel, consume numerous biscuits, breathe, and spend money without a single skill to truly offer the world. What good am I to anyone?"

Mother inhales sharply. She scoots forward and grasps his hand with both of her own. "Colin, your father and I had you out of love!" she protests. "You were not a necessity, you were a choice . A conscious choice to birth you and all our children that followed because we wanted more of our love to be in this world."

Mother is beside herself. Colin never meant to cause her distress. He only wanted to share his perspective. He leaves at the end of each season in search of meaning and connection. To depart from home where he feels lost in the mix and to venture to a place where he is completely unknown and still, he feels untethered.

"Do you–-we waited five years to have you after Benedict!" Mother says, "Do you have any idea how much love was poured into your formation? You do not need to offer the world anything except for your existence. You were formed from love and you are a living representation of the choice your father and I made to stand against what high society deemed agreeable."

"I have little to offer a wife except for my affection."

"Perhaps that is all she needs."

"How can that be enough, Mother? I can provide for a family with my inheritance, but what of accomplishment? What of having a life's work? Shall my wife never be made proud by what I can do?"

Mother sighs. She appears pensive for a long moment. To his shock, her eyes shine with a softness and vulnerability she does not often show.

"Dear, most ladies marry for security," she says. "They focus on making advantageous matches because love matches are truly rare. It is a requirement for a woman to look for a man who can provide financial security in lieu of romance. But, if you were to glimpse the heart of any lady in the Ton, you would see a woman craving a man who loves her without pause. You were born because of how much your father and I loved each other. I find it would be most fitting, indeed, if your life's purpose is to humble yourself before your wife and future children to earnestly and fiercely love them."

"Can loving someone truly be an acceptable purpose?"

"I believe that love is the greatest part of being a person," Mother responds, quietly. "Only you can determine if that is a path you will be fulfilled walking."

The two of them sit in a long, contemplative silence. The sound of the house staff beginning their days slips under the panels of the door with soft footsteps, wheeling trays, and the sounds of laundry baskets being shuffled down the hall. Their tea has grown stone cold during their conversation, but Colin feels less strung out.

Mother's meddling never disturbed him as much as it did his elder brothers. He always had more of an attachment to her than he did to father. Her presence often offers him great comfort and perspective.

"Thank you, Mother, for speaking with me at length."

"Of course, dearest."

Mother pats his hand and then stands from her chair. She smooths her dressing gown and makes sure her braid has not unraveled. "Might I suggest you call your valet to bathe and dress? Kate and Anthony should be arriving home during the morning hours today, and Daphne has sent word from Clyvedon that they should be arriving in London in two days' time at most."

Colin nods in agreement. She walks towards the door. As she prepares to exit, Colin feels the urge to ask her one more pressing question.

"Mother," he calls. She peers at him over her shoulder, her hand set on the door handle. "Do you think Penelope will forgive me?"

Mother smiles at him, somehow knowing. What she knows is beyond him, but Colin attributes that to how strangely the female mind operates.

"I rather think she will," she replies. "Most are not easily drawn into vexation over things that are not important. It is your prerogative to prove you are worthy of her forgiveness should it be available to you."

Mother swings the door open and walks out. Colin stands, gathering himself. He is startled by her sudden reappearance from behind the ajar door. "One last word of advice dear," she says. " Give her a day to breathe. Attend calling hours on Monday morning, but send flowers and a note signaling your intent to call."

"Should she be satisfied with only a note?"

"You declared your intention to court her. Your feelings came as a surprise to her. Let her be pensive before you stand before her again."

Colin stares at his mother. He remains unconvinced that not appearing in the Featherington drawing room for an entire day is a good idea. Lest she thinks he really was in jest about his feelings.

As always, Mother predicts his thoughts.

"Intentionality and consistency are far more romantic gestures than grandiose displays, Colin. She already knows that you are a romantic. What she does not know is that you can cease operating on impulses alone, and that you will be present when she needs you."

It is nearing the noon hour when a carriage pulls up in front of Bridgerton house. Colin hears the thunder of feet as Hyacinth runs down the hall to greet Kate and Anthony on their return. His mother's shoes click against the tile at a rapid pace. She has more decorum than Hyacinth, but she also has longer legs.

Colin rounds the corner of the entrance hall and sees his mother stride forward to embrace Kate. "Oh, my dears!" she welcomes them joyously.

Anthony comes around the corner dressed handsomely in a blue coat and dark blue patterned waistcoat. He carries an air of contentment and happiness these days. While still serious, he smiles regularly. Hyacinth's curls bounce along her shoulders as she leaps into Anthony's arms.

"Finally, you arrive!" she cries. Anthony lifts her into the air, swinging her around which makes her laugh. "I have missed you, brother."

Anthony sets Hy down, grinning. He accepts a hug from their mother. "I could get used to such long journeys if every return was like this."

Gregory steps forward and Anthony boggles at his arm. "What in the blazes happened to you?"

Gregory blushes and shrugs. "A balloon got the best of me?"

"A balloon, Greg?" Anthony asks, laughing. His eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement, but he turns his attention to Colin when he steps into his space. Anthony claps him on the shoulder, tugging at the curls on the back of his head. Colin grins at him in greeting.

"Brother," Anthony says. Before he can continue, Colin spots Benedict rushing inside. He wonders where he has been all evening because he certainly did not return home last night.

"Brother!" Ben calls. Anthony switches his attention to Benedict. Colin shakes his head as they embrace. He hears their murmuring.

"And from where have you returned?"

"Just out for a morning stroll," Ben replies, evading Anthony's look. Colin laughs under his breath before he flicks the back of his brother's head. Ben flinches at the impact, but he laughs when Colin speaks.

"A morning stroll, indeed."

Benedict winks. He can get away with such an action because he embodies affability and flirtatiousness with an ease Colin has never been able to master. When Colin winks, he thinks he looks like a self-absorbed ninny.

"Where is Eloise?" Anthony asks, stepping back beside Kate.

Kate glows in the browns and blues of her sari. Anthony certainly married a stunner.

"She went to a friend's for morning calling hours," Mother responds.

Benedict throws an arm across Colin's shoulder. The mischievous look in his eyes makes Colin dread the words he will speak. "I read a curious piece of news in Whistledown this morning."

It seems his instinct towards dread was correct. Colin purposefully avoided the morning delivery of the scandal sheet. He is not eager to see what Lady Whistledown writes of his behavior. He sweats behind his cravat from nerves.

"Mm hmm," Colin hums, noncommittal. Hyacinth, Francesca, and Gregory stare at him, expectantly.

He sees Kate glance between himself and the other four who were present last night. "Oh? Do share."

Benedict raises his eyebrows at Colin. Colin swallows hard. He is nervous that his brothers will think him foolish. The insecurity rears itself and he feels his earns burn blood hot.

Anthony asks, "What is it?"

"Brother, you must tell them!" Hyacinth bursts out. Colin takes a breath. He realizes that he is being foolish. He loves Penelope. She is worth facing any and all scrutiny or insecurities. He opens his mouth to share his news when Hyacinth steamrolls over him. "You delay, so I shall! Colin is to court Penelope Featherington!"

Mother covers her smile with a gloved hand. Hyacinth's jig resurfaces while Anthony snaps his gaze towards Colin. Colin grins. He is excited and proud of his love for Penelope, but he expected his brother's surprise. Kate blinks at him in shock before a bright smile crosses her face.

"Hyacinth may be the most excited of us all," Mother tells Kate and Anthony.

"I would like it known that I am in high spirits as well," Colin interjects.

"I should hope so," Benedict says, squeezing Colin's shoulders with an affectionate laugh. He seems surprised, but accepting. "Whistledown made no mention of courting. She simply told the tale of you interrupting a dance and then being seen running after a carriage. Congratulations brother, you have performed the Bridgerton scandal of the week."

"Don't be so sure of that, brother. It is only Sunday," Frannie says, making them all laugh.

"My word," Anthony says, "has she accepted your suit?"

Colin shakes his head. "Not as of yet," he replies. "There was a conversation and now I await her decision, but she did not reject me flat out."

"Well, that is good," Kate says.

Anthony clears his throat as he steps out of Kate's vicinity. Colin feels his hand grasp his shoulder as he speaks, "It seems that we brothers have much to catch up on, indeed." Anthony turns him and Benedict away from their family and towards the closed office doors that are a few feet down the corridor.

It seems he is in for some questioning from his elder brothers.

Colin chuckles as Anthony herds him towards the study with Benedict in tow. Benedict slings his arm around Anthony's neck as Colin is shuffled with them. "What else did I miss?" Benedict inquires, low volume.

Colin hears Gregory behind them. "I am one of the brothers as well." Remembering his promise to do better, he pauses as Hyacinth snipes, "I think of you as the family pet."

As Greg replies, "That is so unnecessary–" Colin calls out to him. His little brother looks at him immediately, surprised.

"Greg, we shall call for you shortly," he says. Gregory smiles so widely that his dimples appear. He nods firmly, his curls mimicking the movement.

"Aye Greggy!" Benedict calls, "Give us a few!"

Colin gets dragged into the office by Benedict's grip on his coat and the door closes at Anthony's hand. Colin is ushered to a seat by Benedict as Anthony pours a finger of brandy for all three of them.

"How was the extended trip, brother?" Benedict questions. Anthony carries all three glasses to the table. Colin reaches forward to accept one; knowing he will need it to bolster himself for this conversation.

"Devon was very well, but we have more important topics to discuss." No one ever claimed that Anthony mastered the art of subtlety. He was the human embodiment of thundering through the rose bushes to get what he wanted, and damn anything that tried to stop him.

"Here, here," Benedict says.

He sips from his brandy and Anthony elbows him in the ribs. Benedict laughs.

"We shall return to you and your mischief shortly, Ben," Anthony informs him. "But firstly…Colin, explain. " Ben chuckles at the blatant curiosity in Anthony's tone. Anthony raises his eyebrows. Colin has never known his brother to pursue gossip, but he supposes that this would warrant some investigation.

With no small amount of dismay, Colin figures if his own brothers are astounded by the discovery of his feelings, then Penelope's response to his confession appears reasonable.

"No furtive looks necessary," he tells them. Colin drinks from his glass. He can feel Anthony and Benedict exchange glances.

"You intend to court Miss Featherington?" Benedict clarifies.

Colin responds, "Indeed, brother."

It is the first time that he says so without hesitation. He has to get used to being steadfast in his decisions. Penelope will accept nothing less. She is keen to detail. There is no chance she would miss his hesitation should he do so at an inopportune moment. He is in love with her. He cannot sit here and shrink from declarations when he is challenged.

Penelope will allow nothing less than his confidence in his feelings. She deserves nothing less than full confidence.

"Come now, you must admit, it is all rather sudden," Anthony says.

"What was sudden was my last courtship and betrothal," Colin admits. "So I cannot blame either of you if you are prone to think me foolish." Colin pauses for a moment, staring into his glass to gather his thoughts. "My feelings for Penelope are not a thunderbolt from the sky. I have known her for a very long time, and perhaps, I have always felt something for her."

Colin lifts his drink again before he says, "My only foolishness this time was not realizing it sooner."

Anthony blinks at him amazed before a boyish grin appears on his face. Benedict looks thrilled and deeply amused. "Have you said these words to her?"

"The final part with a request to court her yes, but I do not believe she fully grasps the depth of my feelings for her," Colin replies. " It did all happen rather…swiftly."

"Swiftly?" Anthony fires back, suddenly alert. It seems Colin's words have inspired conflicting feelings in his brother. He looks torn between feeling proud and being protective of Penelope's virtue. "Because you've compromised her, Col?"

"If he did," Benedict interrupts, "do you plan to duel your own brother?"

Colin tips his glass at Benedict in acknowledgement and takes a long drink. He would laugh at the insinuation because Penelope and he have done little more than kiss once, but Anthony looks like he does not know how to react. Anthony's temper has leveled out since he wed, but Colin has no desire to taunt his protective instincts.

"I do believe Mother removed all of the pistols from the home after our incident with Simon," Benedict continues, chortling. Colin cannot help the snort that escapes him. Anthony cracks a smile himself.

"Penelope is essentially family. I may not duel him," Anthony says, "but I would plant a couple facers for not being a gentleman. There best not have been any tupping involved."

"Do not be crass, Ant," Colin objects. "I was respectful and only wished to reveal my feelings. I do confess that she was rather vexed and shouted at me."

"Penelope shouted?" Benedict and Anthony exclaim simultaneously. They appear riveted by his tale. He should have known his elder brothers were secretly enthralled by gossip. They may not read Whistledown as religiously as their mother and Hyacinth (when she can steal it from the rubbish bin), but they certainly enjoy tilting their ears in the direction that it's being discussed.

"Justifiably so. I have been rather careless with her reputation," Colin says. "I often dragged her into private conversations without proper supervision and spent inordinate times whispering to her without intending to claim her. Between us brothers, we were unchaperoned in that carriage during our talk. If anyone inquires, then her lady's maid Rae was present and watchful."

Anthony appears to be struck mute by disbelief. Benedict is grinning in delight.

"Did you know about these escapades?" Benedict asks.

"I had no idea," Anthony replies, voice an octave higher than normal. "Other than the mess with the previous Lord Featherington before he was ousted for being a crook!"

"What a deviant you are, Col. I never would've thought it possible."

"Nothing untoward ever happened! Although, her upset was mainly because I stupidly told Fife that I would never dream of courting her."

Benedict and Anthony stare at him, agog. Colin feels his blush return. When they both burst into laughter at his expense, he rolls his eyes but lets them have their fun. It has been quite some time since he has witnessed Anthony this mirthful. Benedict is nearly braying in laughter.

"You really have made quite the mess of this, Col," Anthony tells him, still choking on guffaws. "This is about as bad as I had it when I nearly married the wrong sister."

"Best of luck coming back from that one, brother." Benedict is bent over, clutching Anthony's coat while continuing his amused hysterics.

Colin winces. Bridgerton men are rather a mess when it comes to love and decisions.

"Ben, you think it is amusing now. I cannot wait to see what idiotic things you happen upon when you meet a woman you wish to marry," Colin says. Benedict wipes tears of mirth from his cheeks. "I plan to send her a floral arrangement and a note. Mother suggested I give her time to reflect. I shall call on her tomorrow."

"I would recommend bringing a weighty coin purse. The dearth of your mistakes may require you purchase the entire florist's stall."

"Whilst you visit the florist, perhaps Ben may be inclined to share where he was on his morning stroll," Anthony says, sly. Benedict chokes on the dregs of his brandy at the statement. It is Colin's turn to laugh at his brother.

"Colin caught the attention of all the debutantes and I found myself charming a rather beautiful widow at the Hawkins ball."

"Another mistress?" Anthony asks, unimpressed.

"Are you preaching to me about mistresses, Ant?"

"Not preaching, merely advising that a wife may be a better option."

"Married life has changed you, brother."

"Do not get him into a mawkish state, Ben."

"I take offense to that. I am not mawkish ."

"Anthony, you waxed poetic in letters about Kate's silky curls while on your first honeymoon."

"That is called appreciation for beauty and plain good taste."

"Will the two of you cease squabbling and call for food? I am ravenous," Colin interjects, feeling his stomach rumble. It feels like it has been ages since they broke their fast this morning. Anthony stands and goes to ring the bell on the wall as Colin gets up to pour another drink for them all, "Can one of you retrieve Greg? I told him that he was welcome to join us."

Without standing, Benedict leans back in his chair and bellows, "Gregory! Come hither, brother!"

The sound is loud enough to startle both himself and Anthony. Colin almost drops a glass. "Benedict, are you mad?" Anthony says, "Do not shout at him."

Benedict sits up straight in his chair as Colin resumes pouring drinks. "When Eloise squawks, it is entertaining but when I call for my littlest brother, it is a sign of madness."

Their conversation pauses as the study door opens. Gregory's wild curls are visible first before he peeks fully around the corner. "Brothers, you called for me?"

"Yes!" Anthony says, "Come in and shut the door! Cook is preparing us a mid-day meal. Col needs our assistance to romance Miss Featherington."

Colin is aggrieved by his brother's words. "Must you say it as though I am hopeless?" Colin carries the drinks over to the table. Gregory plops down at the table, eyeing the beverages curiously.

"You rather are, brother," Anthony teases. The cheek of his brother! Colin is far more romantic than Anthony has ever been.

"Do not even think about touching that brandy, Greggy. Mother would have my head."

Gregory looks put-out by Anthony's instruction but not enough to object. He seems pleased to be included in one of their study gatherings, even if he is too young to partake completely in conversation and alcoholic beverages. Servants fill the room, bringing pitchers of water and trays of hearty sandwiches to share.

The four brothers descend upon the food quickly. Colin makes a plate with four thick cured meat sandwiches. There is a brief argument about who gets to have the last of the strawberry fruit jellies on the table. Anthony rules in favor of Gregory. Anthony has a notable weakness for Greg and Hy; they are more so his children than his siblings.

Mid-day meal passes with contented conversation. Gregory tells Anthony about his fall from the roof, and nearly scaring the life out of Mother. Benedict talks about the recent business dealings. Colin eats and drinks in the presence of his siblings.

Once lunch has been consumed, the four of them focus their attentions on assisting Colin woo Penelope. They spend twenty minutes deciding what type of parchment he should use, and then discussing the color of the ink before Colin loses patience.

"Are either of you to help me write this missive?"

"You seek Anthony 's input on a love letter?"

"I shall have you know I am very passionate."

"You are a man of action, brother. You are rubbish when it comes to speaking to inspire romance. Does that terrible recitation of Byron's work escape your mind?"

"I dare say Byron was the bigger issue."

Colin despairs of them. He asks, "Are either of you familiar with floral meanings?"

"Tulips mean passion," Anthony responds. Colin rolls his eyes. They are all too familiar with how much Kate adores tulips, and subsequently, Anthony's obsession with purchasing them for her.

"Roses mean love?" Benedict says, uncertain.

"The two of you are of no use," Colin sighs.

"I think you should send ranunculus," Gregory says, absently. "They signify charm and attraction."

Anthony, Benedict and himself stare at Greg utterly flummoxed.

"What?" Gregory asks, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

"Something to share with us, Greggy?" Benedict's tone is rife with mischief. "Has a young lady caught your eye?"

The growing grin on Anthony's face makes their little brother turn bright red. Colin cannot believe that Greg knows more about floral meanings than they do.

"No!" Gregory exclaims. "I simply listened when Mother and Daphne talked at length about the meaning of certain flowers."

"My word," Anthony responds, "Any chance you know a flower that translates to "forgiveness"?"

"You only just returned from an extended honeymoon! Have you vexed her already?" Gregory asks and Benedict collapses with laughter at the shocked look on Anthony's face.

"Can we focus our attention? I am attempting to woo a lady," Colin states before they can veer off track any further. "Do you think any of Daphne's booklets remain?"

"After El took over her bedchamber?" Gregory replies, "I assume she's repurposed them for kindling."

After a raid of the library and some assistance from Francesca, they retrieve one of Daph's abandoned floral dictionaries. The four of them spend the early afternoon hours pouring over Daphne's booklet of florals before Colin makes his choice.

Colin ruins a whole stack of parchment before he completes a letter to Penelope that he is proud of. The conversation around him is rapid and ever changing, but the chaos soothes him. He focuses on his writing, letting his brothers' antics dwindle to the back of his mind.

They allow him to scribble freely. He appreciates their blatant ignoring of his frustrated sighs, crumpling of paper and the way his feathered quill scratches out half-finished lines and misspelled words.

Eventually, he leaves the other three to their raucous conversation as he heads to the florist stall. By the time Colin deposits his floral arrangement and wax-sealed note in the hands of a footman, it is nearing supper time. He watches the servant cross Grosvenor Square in the direction of the Featherington house before he forces himself away from the window. He is swept into a boisterous dinner with his family.

There is little he can do but wait until tomorrow and hope that his gift is well-received.

Dearest Penelope,

Amid our conversation last night, I vowed to seek your hand in courtship. I fear that you will attribute my declaration of fondness to an overindulgence of the ratafia, a surge of impulsivity, and the beguiling nature of late night encounters.

I would like to express that my romantic regard for you remains unchanged in the bright light of day. Please accept this bouquet as a small token of my affection and intent.

Until I discern which flowers you favor, I will send every kind imaginable. Admittedly, I sought out one of Daphne's booklets on florals to select a bloom that reflects this stage of my heretofore unaccepted offer of courtship. While my siblings (particularly Anthony) subjected me to mockery at my overt eagerness, the thought of your smile blossoming in response to my gift was enough to sustain me.

I apologize that the flowers are not expertly arranged. I desired to give you something I'd created myself. The florist was rather displeased at first. I dare say I destroyed a few delicate blooms while putting this together. I made sure to leave extra coins as reparations for the inconvenience.

Unintentional destruction aside, I pray that you feel the affection present in my efforts.

This gift is meant to express my intentions more so than charm you with my floral arranging capabilities. I chose ranunculus and alstroemeria blooms to represent your radiance, my ever-growing attraction to you, and the devotion I feel for our friendship.

I shall call on you during morning hours tomorrow.

Hopefully yours,

Colin

-- Sunday, November 5, 1815

Fraught silence blankets the Featherington dining room. Even Mr. Dankworth, who notably lacks some social graces, remains quiet as he eats their morning meal. Penelope can barely stomach the food on her plate; it all tastes bland in wake of her desolation.

Her sleep was restless and fitful. She could not get Colin's words to stop ringing through her mind. Could it be true? That he finally sees her as a woman worthy of his affections?

Things between them have been confusing. Knowing the taste of him and the softness of his lips has only deepened her yearning for him. Foolishly, she thought perhaps a kiss would let her bring this obsession with Colin Bridgerton to a heel. Instead, it has been her ruin.

Hearing that Lord Debling could never love her shattered any meager hopes and dreams she had for married life. Devastation, unlike any other, descended as she prepared herself to accept a life of little touch, distant companionship, and all the privacy that she could ever need for Whistledown, but she despaired of having.

Already, she lived a lonely life in this yellow and green wallpapered estate, and she seemed destined to live a lonely marriage as well. Practicality was logical, but it bled all joy and passion from her soul. Penelope craved love. But it was a love she desperately desired from a single person.

She always found herself searching for his curls in a room; simply to see where he was. It was not intentional, but instinctual. People subconsciously search for people they love. The downside of being with a practical man of science was that he noticed behavior. When Lord Debling recognized her affections for Colin, it was the end of her only viable courtship. She could not blame him for ending their dalliance. Penelope was equal parts relieved and despairing.

She could not have a loveless marriage, but she also could not have the love of her life.

Or so she thought, until Colin Bridgerton himself chased down her carriage to breathlessly declare his feelings by saying, "What if I did have feelings for you?"

The shock has yet to abate. She feels mad with it all. Hearing him declare his feelings for her brought her to the heavens, but then, reality set in as he seemed to shrink when she did not respond the way he wished her to.

It allowed Penelope a harsh moment of clarity about Colin and his impulsive nature. She could not risk the remnants of her heart in a situation where he was unsure of his feelings. He was to be her decimation, whether he returned her romantic regard or not. But the thought of him promising her the love and attention she so desired, only for him to change his mind…that would send her into an irreversible melancholy.

The hazy, love stricken view of Colin died last season when he said such foul words without compunction. She once believed that he could do no wrong. His obliviousness to her love was an even more rude awakening. She'd loved him for years. A childhood infatuation which slowly evolved into something more tangible as she discovered his personality, his dreams, and his humor.

She has loved him since the moment they met, and Colin, she understands with dread, has only recently seen her as a person in her own right without the label of his little sister's best friend.

Her soul rattles inside her. Two heartbreaks in one night made her lash out in anger and weep in front of him. Colin's blue eyes had been wide with dismay, asking for forgiveness and trying to convey his earnestness.

Penelope felt untethered in the wake of his request to court her. She could scarcely believe that she was awake, and had not simply lost consciousness to dream up this surreal scenario where Colin proclaimed that he would court her "openly, proudly, and without hesitation."

His parting kiss to her knuckles made her tremble with want. She so desperately wanted him to be serious in his pursuit of her. She cannot take another misunderstanding or misinterpretation of his actions and words.

Writing the newest edition of Whistledown in the dim candlelight of her bedchamber proved to be more difficult than ever. Her mind ran in so many conflicting directions and ultimately, she chose to report only the scandalous scene between him and her on the dance floor without saying a word of his request for courtship. Penelope snuck out of her estate, hired a hack, and delivered her writings to Madame Delacroix with haste.

Leaving out the contents of their conversation posed significant risk, but other than the servants, no one had been around to witness him climb into her carriage. She had brought shame and humiliation on her family name quite enough this season. Her Mama is already in the doldrums over losing the attentions of Lord Debling. If she caught word of Colin's sudden declaration of feelings, she would be relentless in forcing Penelope to agree to his suit.

Despite rehashing the happenings of last night repeatedly, she cannot bring herself to believe him. He made a fool of her years in a row, and although she will never stop loving him, she chooses to respect herself more. Penelope refuses to shrink herself for Colin Bridgerton ever again.

He'd certainly seemed passionate and forthcoming during their conversation, but he also swore to always protect her and then declared her unworthy of courtship to several gentlemen within the same hour last season.

She will not fall for his charms this time.

If he truly meant it, then his actions shall have to speak for him. She knows he is a good writer, and even better with his flirtations. While Colin is not a rake, she would be foolish to think he lacked experience with women. He already had most debutantes in the Ton fluttering their fans in his direction, even if he lacked a title. He is good at conversation, possesses a handsome face, and he uses his charming words to dazzle. From her own experience words truly wield great power and Penelope has had quite enough of his pretty yet empty words.

She'd cleaved herself open as a sacrifice for Colin too many times. She refuses to be swept away by his handsome face and kind eyes. He is a good man, indeed but he has not been good to her .

The look on his face as he said, "I shall call on you soon" is burned into her memory. Those parting words drives a spike of anxiety and hope into her chest. Did that mean he would call today? Or did he simply mean some unknown day this week?

She hates the uncertainty. What if he woke up this morning and realized that he'd confused romantic regard with the discombobulation of the ratafia? She could not remember seeing him with any glasses, but her attention had been focused on Lord Debling and how her stomach curled inward at the thought of maybe kissing him one day.

Penelope eats the eggs and toasted bread on her plate absentmindedly. She feels exhausted, elated, confused and terrified all at once. It seems that putting aside love for someone and trying to retain dignity is beyond taxing. It is only just past nine in the morning, but Penelope considers taking a nap after she finishes breaking her fast.

Unable to consume another bite due to anxiety, Penelope places her fork onto her plate and wipes her mouth with her cloth napkin. She stands up. Five sets of eyes affix to her person.

"If you'll excuse me," Penelope says, "I am still rather tired. I shall return to my bedchamber."

"A night of ruining a courtship was exhausting, I take it?" Prudence says, voice acerbic.

"You did dance rather a lot. I suppose you are not used to such exertions," Philippa says, her voice cheerful. Pen does not know if Philippa intends for her words to come across as cruel but that does not change the fact that they do. Mr. Finch is a simple man, but he is kind. He looks sad on her behalf as the implications about her size land.

Penelope does not respond. She finds that she has little desire to argue with them today. Her emotional fortitude is in shambles over Colin. Her sisters' unkindness hardly affects her. Her unusual lack of response must anger Prudence because her next words are razor sharp with insult.

"Perhaps if she was used to such exertions, she would have more viable suitors. Cutting a graceful figure can help with finding a husband."

Mr. Dankworth looks uncomfortable and stays silent until Prudence sends him a cutting glare. He clears his throat and says, "Dear, you are ravishingly beautiful indeed. Seeing your fine countenance made falling in love with you the easiest thing in the world."

He does not say anything to insult Penelope and she is breathless with gratitude. Mr. Dankworth does not argue with Prudence but he goes out of his way to refrain from speaking negatively of Penelope. While it is not someone defending her directly, it is a kindness she has never known from anyone else.

"I might take a morning rest as well. I was dreadfully ill all night," Philippa states. "The new Lord Featherington makes quite a ruckus inside my body."

"Seeing as I am likely to be carrying the new Lord, and with far more grace than you, I shall like to speak with Mama about new house decorations while you rest yourself."

Penelope lacks the energy to address their snide behavior. She curtsies without another word and leaves the dining room.

She tries to nap but simply ends up laying in her bed staring at the canopy. The day passes in a slog of her cycling through feelings. When calling hours come and then go with no sign of Colin, Penelope weeps. The moment the clock strikes the dinner hour, officially ending all opportunities for him to present himself, Penelope's heart breaks.

She should have known.

What were the odds of the object of her affections suddenly seeing her as a romantic interest after eleven years of friendship? She truly has been played the fool despite her assertions in the carriage. Although she attempted to remain steadfast against the charm of his words and presence, there was a part of her that blossomed in the wake of his impassioned speech.

Perhaps it was the fault of the romantic in her; the silly girl who consumes romance novels with reverence every opportunity she has. Maybe it is time for her to stick to books of fact and rid herself of the delusions of courtship and passion being a part of her life. Her studies can enrich her mind. Learning about real things would not crush her heart and fill her with endless dreams of a friend coming to desire her as his wife.

With the funds from Whistledown, she can live a decent life in the country.

She is loath to bring her mother into her Whistledown business, but she cannot supply money without her knowing the truth. While cold and distant, her mother is a shrewd and intelligent woman. It is only because her sisters consume so much of her attention that Penelope has yet to be caught out.

She cannot hide the truth from her Mama much longer anyway. Spiriting away to the country and away from the season would remove her from all her gossip sources. Penelope does not know how long she can continue the scandal sheet successfully even if they remain in London. As her seasons on the marriage mart are to come and go, she will eventually be expected to no longer attend balls and social functions out of shame for her failure to find a husband.

At nine and ten years of age, the Ton has already begun to look at her with slight distaste and derision. Penelope estimates she will have a limit of two, perhaps three, more years of presenting herself as a suitable candidate for wifehood before she is labeled officially on the shelf.

Perhaps she can publish thrice a week? She could alter her publishing schedule to Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays? But publishing too often may cause the Ton to lose interest. Truthfully, there is only so much gossip that occurs in the span of a week and she does not want to oversaturate her market.

No, she will keep to twice a week but alter her printing days to Mondays and Thursdays. Thus, she can gather the weekend gossip as well as the fresh gossip from early week gatherings as well. Penelope plans through the dinner hour without leaving her room. If she is to be a spinster, and possibly live as a caretaker to her coldhearted mother for the rest of her days, then she must prepare herself.

Penelope carefully moves the floorboards to assess her funds. She counts her money and finds herself surprised by how much she has amassed in a relatively short time. She neatly arranges her old copies of Whistledown, stacks her bills and bags her coins. Once organized, she places the floorboard back into place and covers it with her rug.

With no article pending for a few days, Penelope finds herself lost for a moment. She does not wish to spend her night mourning Colin. The only thing more pressing in her mind is trying to repair her relationship with Eloise.

Perhaps, El would respond to a letter? Penelope avoided society and reaching out to her while they summered in the country. This proved a mistake because it seemed to solidify Eloise's ill opinion on her character, and somehow led to a friendship between her and Cressida Cowper.

She will write to Eloise. It may go unanswered, but she has no recourse. To lose both Colin and Eloise forever would be a torturous reality. Gathering her writing supplies, Penelope sits at her desk to write.

Eloise,

I do not know if you are willing to read my letters, but I write you in hopes that we can mend our friendship. I confess that I should have handled things differently, but I believed I was protecting you, no matter how ill-thought out my plan ultimately was.

I never sought to hurt you. I kept your confidence in every way that I possibly could. Nothing you have shared with me beyond that moment has ever made it into my publication.

Whistledown is a voice. A way for me to have my thoughts and opinions heard by people who render me utterly invisible and irrelevant. I did not expect for my publication to have the power it now possesses. What I did, although with good intentions, was wrong.

I have much to apologize for. Would you consider speaking with me?

With love,

Pen

Penelope reads over the letter. It is too simple, but she does not want Eloise to think she'd rather write an apology than give her a genuine one face-to-face. A knock at her bedchamber door pulls her from her thoughts.

"Miss, might I enter?"

Her lady's maid Rae has a distinct voice that is soft, but kind. Rae is witness to almost all of her secrets. She knows about her meetings with Colin. She has seen her move in the dark of the night to get to the printers. Rae has kept her confidence. Usually, she welcomes the maid's presence, but she does not desire it right now.

"I am not fit for company, Rae," she says, speaking towards the closed door. "I shall call you when I am ready to undress for bed."

"I understand, Miss Penelope, but I insist."

Rae is not one to openly push. Penelope is both intrigued and irritated about what could possibly be so important. Heaving a sigh, Penelope creases the letter to Eloise and sets it onto her desk.

"Very well," she says, "You may enter."

Rae steps into the room quickly and the first thing Penelope sees is a large crystal vase filled with orange and white blooms, sprigs of green poking out between them. The bouquet is large, but slightly misshapen and clearly put together by unfamiliar, if not clumsy hands.

"What is this?"

Rae, normally reserved and quiet, wears a beaming smile as she uses her foot to shut the door.

"They only just arrived for you, Miss."

"For me?" Penelope gasps. "Whatever for?"

"They were delivered by a Bridgerton footman." Penelope dares not breathe. The sudden surge of shock, hope and elation under her skin makes her shiver outwardly. Rae continues, "The flowers and letter are from Mr. Colin Bridgerton, Miss."

Penelope stands to take the vase from Rae. The flowers are beautiful but clearly put together by a novice. Penelope wonders which florist stall he purchased them from because while charming, they were not professionally settled.

"A letter?"

"Yes, Miss." Rae hands her the wax sealed missive and takes back the flowers. "I'll set these on your bedside table."

Penelope is too busy tearing into the letter to pay much attention. Her heartbeat steadily rises as she reads. His written words speak to every doubt and insecurity she has wallowed in today. Perhaps he understands her mind more than she thought he did. Penelope cannot contain her tears as a slow, reality-defying tide of hope claws its way from under her once dead dreams.

I would like to express that my romantic regard for you remains unchanged in the light of day. Between the start of the season and last night, how had he come to feel these feelings? What has changed? Could one kiss have affected his world this much? The touch of his lips set something in her body aflame. She had never felt such cascading sensations in her entire life.

Their kiss inspired her spine to tingle in ways she did not understand. She wanted things before, of course, but it did not compare to this intense desire to touch him and have him touch her in return. Was there a chance he experienced the same deep yearning she did? Could a few seconds of physical connection truly alter the course of a friendship once set to remain an unrequited love in secret?

The taste of him had made her feel drunk and wobbly. The hint of apple brandy on his breath and the way their mouths moved together with a lusciousness to his lips that rendered Penelope astounded during the encounter, as well as each time she relived the kiss in her mind and dreams.

While my siblings (particularly Anthony) subjected me to mockery at my overt eagerness, the thought of your smile blossoming in response to my gift was enough to sustain me. He communicated his desire to court her to the Viscount?! He requested help from his siblings? Did all of the Bridgertons know of his inclinations toward her person? Either Colin is genuine in his pursuit or he has taken leave of all his senses.

Hopefully yours, Colin. Her mind screams in adulation. He wants to be hers?

Oh, but he does not know about Whistledown. She feels ill at the thought of his reaction. He does not hide his distaste for her publication. His anger is justifiable with all she has done wrong. Her intention was never to harm the Bridgerton name, but they find themselves embroiled in scandal frequently. She already shows favor to them by filtering as much out as she can without drawing suspicion.

Bridgertons rarely go without notice. They are revered in high society, which means that eyes are frequently upon them. Penelope could not exclude them entirely, or they would surely be accused by the Queen of being the author. Such accusations already landed on Eloise, and Penelope had to risk ruining her best friend to redirect the Queen's attention.

Her plan worked, but it cost her the trust and respect of her best friend. Eloise is a force unto herself, but she expresses her hurt and rage with sharp words and pointed silence. Colin is notoriously protective of those he loves. Of his brothers, he is the least inclined to excessive anger, but she has seen his protective instincts ablaze when a neighbor boy of one and ten shoved a 3-year old Hyacinth. Colin boxed the boy's ears and sent him running after a stern talking to. He'd been five and ten at the time, on break from Eton. It was the first and only time she ever saw him willing to move to violence.

Colin must be broiling with rage over his sister's reputation being slandered, even if she escaped with little of her status being affected. She can only imagine what he wants to say to Lady Whistledown.

Until I discern which flowers you favor, I will send every kind imaginable. She reaches a hand out to trace the delicate petals of the ranunculus. The greenish white blooms are soft to the touch. The alstromeria flowers look vibrantly orange against her pale skin. The thought of him sending flowers after flowers until he discovers her unique love for the jasmine blooms is unfathomable. Shall he truly dedicate himself to her so thoroughly?

I desired to give you something I created myself. Her heart pounds as she imagines his clumsy attempts to follow the florist's instructions to put together the bouquet.

To reflect your radiance, my ever-growing attraction to you, and the devotion I feel for our friendship. To think he finds her radiant? That he grows increasingly attracted to her, Penelope Featherington? It baffles the mind. He is devoted to her, even if it only specifies friendship? Does he truly hold their connection is such regard that he is willing to state that he feels devotion for it?

This gift is meant to express my intentions more so than charm you with my floral arranging capabilities. Colin is a grandiose person. He believes in dramatic declarations. When he announced his proposal to Marina, it was a sudden and loud affair. The way he chased her out of the ballroom to declare himself was another grand gesture. She has never seen him pursue romance in the quiet way. To have him wait, explain himself in reassuring and plain language was a shock of its own.

I pray that you feel the affection present in my efforts. He is not one for patience. She still does not completely trust that he is serious in his suit, but the likelihood of this being a cruel impulse wanes. He purposefully waited to send word. She was saddened by his lack of appearance earlier today, but now she is grateful that he abstained. She can admit that if he'd shown in the drawing room this morning, filled with romantic words, that she would have thought him still operating on impulse. To see him carefully plan, let all of the heightened emotions of last night fully settle, and then take a measured action was a balm to her frazzled spirits.

This is a side of Colin she is wholly unfamiliar with.

Penelope sits on her bed, unable to stand any longer. She remains breathless with surprise. She reads his letter again, eyes devouring his words over and over to make sure it is still real. Eventually, Penelope folds his letter carefully along the creases and places it into the drawer on her nightstand.

I shall call on you during morning hours tomorrow. It seems she will be entertaining Mr. Bridgerton in only a number of hours.

-- Monday, November 6, 1815

Penelope rises with sun on Monday. Her nervous energy wakes her at dawn, and she decides to take her breakfast in the silence of the Featherington garden. Typically, her mother does not emerge from her room until eight o'clock, and she rarely shows herself before being dressed for the day so Penelope is free to enjoy herself.

Sitting outside in her dressing gown and nightdress is positively scandalous, but Penelope enjoys the burgeoning sunshine and hearing the sounds of the city come alive. London air is not fresh, but it is crisp enough this morning to fully wake her. She takes her time, drinking her tea and eating scones with fresh jam and eggs. She hardly ever gets to break her fast in peace. If her mother is not talking about their plans for the day, then her sisters are present and yapping incessantly about things that bore Penelope to tears.

After the chaos of her weekend, Penelope finds herself hopeful about today. Colin promised to call on her this morning. Though she is still skeptical, she cannot surpress the way her heart beats faster at the thought of his handsome face arriving at her home.

Penelope finishes her breakfast and stands from her seat. Rae appears as she enters the doors of the house. "Can you prepare a bath for me, Rae?"

"Of course, Miss," Rae responds. "Do you have a soap you prefer today?"

"Something calming, perhaps? Maybe my jasmine or clover soap?"

Rae nods and then leaves to go gather bathwater. It will take time to heat, so Penelope returns to her bedchamber. The morning passes far too slowly, and far too quickly at the same time. Penelope bathes in clover-scented soap and water. Rae helps her wash her hair.

"Which dress, Miss?"

Penelope wants something simple, but eyecatching. She does not want to look as though she is trying overly much, but at the same time, she hopes to make him admire her. Rae helps her look through her wardrobe, flipping past ornate ballgowns and heading to her hung daydresses. Penelope decides on a lavender-colored, empire waisted day dress with small, white embroidered flowers patterned across the fabric. The square neckline emphasizes her bust line, and the shape of the skirt makes her hips look nice.

Rae braids her hair into a bun, fastening sparkling hair pins in place to complete the updo. She takes the heated curling iron and loosely curls the strands around her temples. Rae applies a soft amount of rouge to her cheeks and rose lip salve to her lips. The finished look is rather simple, but Penelope feels confident in her own skin.

She tugs on a pair of lace, fingerless gloves and deems herself ready. She glances at the clock, noticing that it is nearing the beginning of calling hours.

"How do I look, Rae?"

"You look beautiful, Miss."

"Do you think he will find me desirable?"

"He would be a blind fool not to," Rae answers. Penelope meets her eyes in the mirror, and she smiles. Her lady's maid is quite simply the best. While Rae starts her cleaning chores, Penelope heads out of her bedchamber.

She can hear the murmuring of voices from the downstairs drawing room. As she gets closer, she is unsurprised to hear both her sisters. They never seem to be at their own homes despite being married, and no longer required to be at the Featherington estate every day.

Penelope takes a deep breath, relaxes her shoulders and then strides into the drawing room. Mr. Finch greets her with, "Good day, Miss Penelope!" Mr. Finch remains unshakeably cheerful. Mr. Dankworth nods his head at her. Prudence raises an eyebrow and Philippa looks ready to fall asleep in her morning cup of tea. Being in the family way has certainly hit one sister much harder than the other.

Penelope spots her mother, standing near the tall window.

"Mama," she says. There is a long stretch of silence where Penelope hears the crinkling of parchment. She lets her eyes drift down to her mother's hip, where a copy of Whistledown is clutched to her side. Her mother does not turn at her call, so Penelope continues, "Mama, Mr. Bridgerton is to call on me today."

That gets her attention. Her mother turns, and Penelope catches sight of the tight pucker of her mouth and the deep furrow of anger between her eyebrows. Penelope swallows hard.

"Mr. Bridgerton?" Mother asks, her voice near frozen with calculated calmness. "Is this about the dramatics reported in Whistledown yesterday?"

"Do you really believe that Mr. Bridgerton will show up for you?" Prudence asks, sneering over her cup of tea. She does not look impressed with Penelope's statement.

"You truly have started a dalliance with Mr. Bridgerton?" Philippa asks, shocked. She still seems half-asleep with the way she leans into Mr. Finch's side, but Penelope's words clearly caught her attention. The two of them fall silent when their mother moves from the window, shaking the Whistledown pamphlet with derision.

"This is how I hear of my daughter fleeing a ball and her carriage being chased after by a gentleman?" she asks, "You hide out in your room all day and let me read about it in Whistledown!"

Penelope holds her ground. "I did not much feel like talking after all that occurred at the Queen's ball. Resting my spirits seemed more important at the time. I thought you would be happy to hear someone of Colin's status chasing after me."

Her mother stops in front of her. She lets out a bitter laugh. "Happy? Is that what you think this is?"

"What else could it be?" Penelope replies. "A man was beside himself enough to chase after me."

"You think I should be happy about you possibly being even more disgraced in society because a man followed your carriage, and only yourself and the footmen know what happened between the two of you?" Her mother's tone is blistering with incredulity. "I thought you hid in your room to avoid our conversation of your prospects! Lord Debling was a reasonable match. A reach, to be sure, but with all his eccentricities, it was a secure match."

"Lord Debling confessed he would not love me, Mama!" Penelope cries. "He said that he could never love his wife because nature took too much of his heart. Is that the life you wish me to have?"

Her mother loses all patience. "You lost a secure match and for what?" she asks, snide. "To play out a fancy on the neighbor boy, who happens to be the most desired man of the season?"

"I do not think it unreasonable that he could care for me. Do you really hold me in such low regard because I do not fit the standard you have set in your mind?"

"You should be seeking a life of security, Penelope!" Her mother all but yells. Her eyes blaze. "Love and romance are not the reality for most women of the Ton; especially not for you who is in her third season and has not had a single gentleman caller except for Lord Debling."

Her mother paces along the floorboards, clearly agitated.

"Do you not remember how the Bridgertons treated us little better than dogs when Marina's scheme was uncovered?"

"Rightfully so, Mama!" Penelope responds. "You planned to have her entrap Colin, knowing that she loved another and was with child. If a gentleman tried to swindle our good graces like that, you would have responded with the same ire they did."

"Do not speak to me with such disrespect, Penelope. You've been out all hours of the night with no chaperone, and no one to confirm whether you were ruined or not by this behavior." Mother says. "If your plan was to use womanly wiles to entice a gentleman, it requires you to be seen by another! Instead, your potentially scandalous and ruinous behavior has been printed for all of Mayfair to see."

"Mama, nothing happened."

"It does not matter if nothing happened or not, Penelope Anne," her mother snaps. Penelope wants to disappear from the room out of sheer humiliation. It is one thing to have these thoughts about yourself, but to have her mother outright mock her worth as a person shoved a knife deep into her heart. Her mother has been unkind before, but this is blatant cruelty.

Her mother continues, "What matters is that an eligible bachelor disappeared after causing a scene, and you have likely ruined yourself for a fantasy. Colin Bridgerton will never seriously court you!"

"Excuse me! " The loud voice from the drawing room door startles everyone. Her mother jumps in response, and Penelope recognizes the voice immediately. She has never heard Colin Bridgerton irate before but she thinks she is witness to it now. Her humiliation is all-consuming. What did he hear? She can hardly believe that he is present now, despite saying that he would be.

"Mister Bridgerton is here, ma'am!" Mrs. Varley yells, running after Colin as he storms into the room.

Penelope's eyes jerk in the direction she heard him. She loses her breath at the sight of Colin. He wears a finely tailored dark blue coat, cream colored cravat and a dove gray patterned vest. He carries a lush bouquet of flowers in his hand. He is a handsome sight but it is the look of outrage on his face that makes Penelope gasp. He is visibly furious with tight lips and a furrowed brow.

Philippa and Prudence choke on their tea as Colin sweeps into the room. Her mother's voice becomes shrill with false welcome; trying to cover her rage from only seconds ago. "Mr. Bridgerton, what a unexpected delight."

"I am surely unexpected to you, Lady Featherington, but I sent word to Penelope last night that I would be calling on her today." His words and tone are cutting. Colin takes a moment to pass the floral arrangement to Mrs. Varley, who takes it without a word.

Her mother loses color in her face as he continues, "Since we all seem to be speaking so freely–."

Her mother interrupts him, "That was not meant for your ears, sir."

"I am still speaking!" Colin snaps, his voice ringing with authority. Her mother steps back, shocked. Penelope sees her sisters eyes widen. Mr. Finch and Mr. Dankworth both wince. They all remain completely silent. Colin's nostrils flare as he shifts his stance to take up more space. Penelope does not think he even notices how his physicality changes. He stands between her family and herself. She can only see his profile.

"To start, I call today to seek your formal permission to court Miss Penelope, but before I do so, you shall hear words that you clearly need to." Colin's voice echoes with suppressed anger. It makes Penelope shiver inside. She covers her mouth in disbelief. He is declaring himself to her mother? "I seek to court her because I care for her, she has no need to use her womanly wiles, as you say, to try and entrap me. I am already hers, if she will have me."

Penelope feels her soul awaken in response to his words. She can scarcely believe her ears. Even when he announced his betrothal to Marina, he was not this visceral or emotive.

"I asked to court her because my feelings are genuine. Were you not so narrowly concerned over your own standing, you might have seen that Penelope is, and has always been, the most eligible amongst your family. In the future, I advise you not to sully her name or character due to your blindness of her value."

Colin steps closer to her mother, shoulders wide. Her mother is speechless. The Whistledown pamphlet remains crinkled in her hands. "Now, do I have your formal agreement to court Penelope or shall I stand here and list all the reasons why I would make a suitable husband for her?"

Suitable husband?! He wants to marry her! Penelope's heart cannot handle this whiplash. She has been a watering pot all season with her fitful tears, and this weekend in particular has been emotionally fraught. She fights to maintain composure as she waits for her mother to respond. Penelope has never seen her mother so taken aback. She huffs out a breath, shaky but still tryring to save face in the wake of his dressing down.

"You are free to pursue her hand, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Excellent," Colin replies. He tugs on the lapels of his coat. "Since that has been settled, I seek to call on her now."

Without fully turning his body around, Colin reaches out a hand to Penelope and she takes it in her own on impulse. The warmth of his hand against hers threatens to dissolve what little composure she has left.

"To maintain propriety, we shall stay in the drawing room," he continues. "I am sure you will find that we have no need of six chaperones, so I invite those with negative opinions or sour thoughts to take their leave."

Her mother's jaw drops at his audacity. Penelope's mouth falls open as well. Gentlemen usually are not so blatant and forthright about taking control of a situation, especially when they are not formally engaged or already married. Penelope has never seen nor heard of anyone putting her mother in her place quite so succinctly.

"Perhaps," Colin says, his tone tight, "the housekeeper is the best option available."

The look on her mother's face confirms that she understands the suggestion was little-more than a barely concealed order from Colin. His dismissal of her mother and her sisters could not have been clearer. Colin tightens his grip on her fingers for a second before he lets their hands drop. Over a minute passes while Colin and her mother stare each other down, neither willing to yeild.

After another moment, her mother straightens her shoulders and nods.

"Come ladies," she says, "Let us retire to the upstairs drawing room. We shall have the staff bring tea for us all."

Penelope watches as her mother sweeps from the room, her stride angry and her countenance drawn in poorly hidden embarrassment. Prudence and Philippa are hustled from the room by their husbands; all of them struck silent by the scene they just witnessed. It may be poor character for Penelope to be overrun with vindication, but she cannot stop herself from feeling it.

She stands there, shaken. Mrs. Varley shuts the drawing room doors and hands the bouquet back to Colin. She curtsies, and then proceeds to sit herself in the farthest corner of the room to chaperone from a distance.

Colin wishes to strike something. He can scarcely believe what he'd overheard. He knew of Lady Featherington's poor opinion of Penelope, but he did not know how baldly she would speak ill of her own daughter. To her face, nonetheless!

Hearing those damnable words as he was led towards the drawing room by Mrs. Varley shocked him into action. He could not let such ridiculous assertions stand. What an assasination of his character! What a disgrace to her own child's character! Mother would never say, or even think, such things.

Perhaps, he has no real right to protect her as he did, but his temper blazed the second he heard Lady Featherington say he would never seriously court Penelope. No wonder Pen thought he was in jest. If these are the kind of thoughts being foisted upon her by her own mother, then he could understand her disbelief all the more.

Colin squeezes the stems of his bouquet so tightly that he fears he has destroyed them before he can gift them to Penelope. Letting out a harsh breath to calm himself, Colin turns to Penelope. He stops, amazed. She looks resplendent.

The soft lavender color of her dress makes her pale skin glow. She is simply adorned with a braided bun, loose red curls framing her face, lace fingerless gloves and plush pink lips. While she is beautiful, her expression is drawn with humiliation and sadness.

"Oh Pen," he says. Colin walks over to her and as he approaches, her face crumples in abject pain and her tears break free. He hustles to her side without hesitation. He carries the bouquet in his left hand. Standing to her side, he places his wrist on the small of her back and takes her right hand in his own.

Colin leads her to the settee on the opposite side of the room from Mrs.Varley. It is close to the windowseat that she favors. He helps her settle into a seat. Colin places the bouquet on the side table before he sits down beside her.

Penelope tries to hide her face from him. He cannot let that stand. Colin reaches out and damns propriety by touching his fingers to her chin. She resists for barely a moment before she lets him turn her face back to him.

"You do not have to hide from me, Penelope," he tells her, dropping his hand to his lap. "I am sorry if I overstepped. I should not have spoken to your mother that way."

"Do not apologize," she says, adamant and tearful. Penelope seems overwhelmed. She presses a hand to her chest with a shaky inhale. Colin reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve a handkerchief for her. "You do not realize how much that meant to me. What you said to my mother."

Penelope's small left hand stretches across the cushion. Colin glances between her eyes and her hand before he shifts closer to her. Their knees brush. Colin flips his left hand over where it rests against his thigh. He shall not force her to take his hand, but the opportunity is there for her if she so desires.

Penelope places her hand in his, and Colin does not hesitate to wrap his hand around her small fingers. Pen's eyes flood with tears and Colin's heart aches for her. He hates to see her so upset.

"No one has ever stood up for me like that," she admits.

Colin decides then that if she agrees to marry him, they will ship Lady Featherington off to the countryside of Ireland and only send her a dinner invitation once every five years if she is fortunate.

The withered and lost look on Penelope's face makes him sad that she has never experienced a mother's love. His mother was quite possibly his favorite person up until falling in love with Penelope. He wonders if he can get his mother to wrap Penelope in her affection. He shall speak with her about it.

"Oh, Pen, I will always stand up for you," he replies, quietly. "If you allow it, that is."

The gentle tease garners him a weak chuckle but she continues to cry. Her sniffles hurt his soul.

"May I?" he asks, reaching for her cheek with his free hand. She nods.

He cups the side of her face and uses his thumb to brush a way her tears. More fall, so he uses the handkerchief to help clean her face. "I may form a complex if you continue shedding tears every time I am nearby."

Penelope huffs out a laugh as she presses her cheek into his hand. After a moment where their eyes connect, Mrs. Varley clears her throat gently, and they separate. She takes the handkerchief to freshen herself.

Colin reaches to the side table to grab the bouquet he brought. She blinks at him when he presents the flowers to her. "These are for you, Pen."

Her face lights up and Colin feels his chest tighten at her joy. She looks amazed as she gingerly takes them from his hand. The pink, white and purple flowers offset her hair and dress beautifully. Seeing her stick her nose in the flowers to sniff them brings a smile to his face.

"No gentleman has ever bought me a bouquet before," she says, her wonder clear in her tone. She traces the ribbon lightly and smooths a finger across the petals of a light pink Gerbera daisy. Colin squints in confusion.

"Did you not receive my gift and letter?" he asks.

"I did receive them," she says. She must sense his confusion because she turns to him with a slight grin. "It is quite a different experience having a gentleman hand deliver them to me. I loved the flowers from yesterday as much as I love these, Colin."

They share another smile.

"Although, I confess your floral arrangement was quite terrible," Penelope says, teasing. Colin's mouth drops open in surprise, before he laughs. Her good humor seems to be returning. Pen's impish grin is beyond adorable. He much prefers her teasing him than crying.

"The cheek on you, Pen!" he tells her. She hides her giggles behind the bouquet in her hand.

"It was only my first attempt at it. I am sure they will improve." Colin reaches out to touch the side of an oriental lily. Her blue eyes, still rimmed with red, follow his fingers.

"I cannot take credit for this bundle," he says, "The florist was not keen to let me faff about in her fresh deliveries today." Penelope's smile wavers for a moment. She appears torn between delight and surprise.

"You truly intend to send more?" she asks. Colin may not be as well versed as Eloise in reading her expressions, but even he can tell that she is trying to hide how much she loves the thought of receiving more flowers from him. It saddens him to realize how little adoration and romance she has been privy to.

"Yes, I will," he says. "I may not send them everyday, but I will be sending as many as I can until I discover which is your favorite. I can tell you like these, but I have not yet supplied your favorite bloom, I take it?"

Penelope stares at him for a moment. So many feelings flash across her blue eyes in rapid succession–hope, joy, fear, wistfulness. Colin did not know that a bouquet of flowers and a simple show of consistency and devotion would provoke this type of response.

It seems his mother was right once again.

"No, they are not my favorites," she admits. She returns to playing with the ribbon whilst wearing a soft look. Colin wants to put that happy, indulgent smile on her face every day for the rest of his life.

"I should've made a list and started from A."

Penelope laughs. "How orderly."

"Indeed."

"Quite a banal approach, Colin," she replies with strange emphasis. Penelope stares at him intently and he knows he's missing something. He cannot figure out what she is trying to tell him without her simply saying the words. It irritates him that he cannot yet read her fully.

"That is fair," he says. "I went based on the meanings instead."

She sighs. He shall have to review her words later to figure out what she'd hoped he would hear in them, but for the time being he seeks to give her his undivided attentions.

"The flowers are beautiful, Colin," she says, fondly. "What is this bouquet meant to tell me?"

"The florist advised me that this combination of florals translates to 'You are always on my mind .' Considering how often I think of you, I thought the sentiment appropriate."

Penelope's eyes shine with feeling. Her lips part and he remembers how soft they were during their kiss. Her expression calls to him. Colin finds himself moving closer, their knees barely touch, but it is enough for him to feel the heat of her skin beneath her skirts.

Penelope's eyes darken at his approach. Her breath quickens as she flickers her gaze between his eyes and his lips. Colin can practically feel her want wash over him. When he gets closer, her breath stutters and makes her chest rise and fall most appealingly. He gazes at her long enough to see her eyes drop down to his mouth again. When she bites a tiny corner of her lips, Colin must fight to control his impulse.

It takes everything in him not to grasp her jaw, turn her head and plant an open-mouthed kiss on her lips. Instead, he gently removes the bouquet from her hands and places it back onto the side table.

"Colin…," she says, voice trailing off as he turns back to meet her gaze. Penelope swallows hard and her eyebrows scrunch together in a small motion. Her face does a terrible job of hiding how much she wants to be kissed.

"Did you read my letter?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies.

"Then I hope you know that I stand by what I said."

"Did you really ask your brothers for help?"

"I did. My whole family is aware of my intent to court you. They are overjoyed."

"Even Eloise?" Penelope asks, quietly. Colin hates to see the sadness gather in her face once again, but he will not lie to her.

"She did not have much to say when I told her yesterday."

Penelope looks devastated. "I see."

Colin is not a person who seeks to fix things in other people. He meddles when his siblings are being idiots, but he usually allows them to stumble and resolve their own issues. It is clear to see that this months-long disagreement between Penelope and Eloise greatly impacts them both. Eloise's strange friendship with Cressida Cowper, and Penelope being left on the side of ballrooms without a companion leaves him baffled.

"I know you are melancholy about this rift with you and El, but in time, I believe that your friendship will recover," he tells her. He hates seeing them both at such odds. What in the blazes could have caused them to abandon each other? Eloise remains protective and concerned over Penelope. He remains uncertain why they cannot mend their relationship with a conversation. What could have transpired that it required months of distance between people who loved each other as much as Penelope and Eloise?

"Would you want to talk about what transpired between the two of you? I may be of help?" His mother always says that talking about problems in confidence can offer clarity. He wants Penelope to trust him with her vulnerabilities. He is close to both her and Eloise; perhaps he can grant perspective in some way.

Penelope's face pales. She stutters, "I–Colin."

"Or not," he says, hiding the way her mistrust hurts him. "I can stay out of the quarrel."

Breathe, Colin. Her reluctance to talk is not about him. Her and Eloise have been equally reluctant to speak with him about their argument. He has noticed how neither will tell him anything despite how often he asks.

"It is not anything you have done, Colin," she says, trying to reassure him. "The argument was extremely personal, and I find that I am still emotionally fraught over it. However, I swear to you, I will tell you when I am ready. Is it alright for us to wait just a bit longer?"

Her reassurances help settle some of his insecurities about how she perceives him, but he worries over both of them. Colin nods. "Of course, that is alright. Let us change topics. How have you been?"

Penelope looks visibly relieved. She clears her throat gently. "The last few days have been trying. As you overheard, my mother has been decidedly upset about what happened at the Queen's ball," she says, "Thankfully, my sisters both being with child has affixed most of her attention."

"They are both with child?"

"Yes," Penelope responds dryly. She seems to reciprocate his shock.

"I see." With a furtive look towards Mrs. Varley, Colin leans in close as he whispers, "I am unsure whether to offer my congratulations or my condolences."

"Colin!" Penelope chokes on a laugh. Her amusement delights him.

Mrs. Varley clears her throat loudly and pointedly.

Colin leans back to an appropriate distance and straightens his coat, trying not to laugh. He and Pen share a conspiratorial smile. She keeps her voice low and intimate to ensure the housekeeper cannot hear her words.

"It is quite odd. I already knew they were tumultuous creatures but their moods have been even more unpredictable as of late," she tells him, eyes alight with sharing her gossip. "Mr. Finch is beside himself with joy. He is rather great as a brother."

"I confess we never crossed paths much."

"I would imagine not," Penelope replies. "He and his parents are quite the investors in a local cheese shop."

"Cheese, you say?"

"Apparently, few things can outshine a sharp cheddar." Her tone makes Colin chuckle. Her humor remains one of his favorite things about her. She can always make him laugh.

"Do not besmirch an excellently made toasted cheese," Colin says. He pauses for a moment as he thinks about how long ago his last meal was. "Those do sound rather good at the moment. I might have to request one from Cook this afternoon."

"Colin," Penelope laughs. "Are you hungry? Would you like to ring for some tea and biscuits?"

"I rarely say no to biscuits, Pen."

"It is a shock that you have not eaten your way into the poor house."

"Thankfully, Anthony is rather good at managing our finances to keep my food supply continuous."

He watches her stand and ring the bell for a maid. As she requests tea and a plate of biscuits from the kitchen, Colin finds himself curious. "Do you think there are such things as cheese biscuits?"

"I am unsure if I want to know," Penelope replies. "I do think scones are tasty with some cheddar, but I believe biscuits should remain sweet instead of savory."

"I am quite fond of sweet biscuits. Cook has been preparing tons of cinnamon biscuits as of late. Ever since Benedict dared Gregory to eat an entire plate of them which ended in him being violently ill, I have had endless amounts of them." Penelope covers her laugh with her hand.

"Though, from what I recall, you prefer cake. Possibly lemon or almond?" Colin asks her.

"Well, yes. Almond cake is my favorite. The one Lady Bridgerton had prepared for Eloise's last birthday party was divine."

"You cannot go wrong with cake of any flavor, to be fair."

"Only a bottomless pit like you could ever say such a thing."

Their tea service arrives with little fanfare. Colin watches her make a cuppa; noting that she likes only one sugar and extra milk in her tea. They sit as close as Colin dares with the hawk eyes of Mrs. Varley upon them.

"Have you ever had a cake not to your liking?"

"We did have a questionable cook once upon a time…" Penelope responds, impish.

"Pen!" Colin cannot help but laugh.

"You asked! The only cake I dislike is chocolate cake."

"Are you mad? You dislike chocolate ?" Colin is scandalized. Who in the blazes dislikes chocolate? What kind of woman has he fallen in love with?

"It does not appeal."

"Do you simply not like chocolate cake or chocolate in its entirety?"

"I frequently gave Eloise all of the chocolates I was allowed to have."

"I guess everything about you could not be perfect," he says. Penelope chokes on her tea at his flirtation. "I shall remember to give you candies instead of chocolates as a token of affection." She appears both stunned at his assertion, but also pleased.

"You assume that I shall accept your suit?" Judging by the way she blushes, he is positive she shares his regard. He will not tell her as such aloud, but he knows she will say yes to him one day. He cannot blame her for making him earn her favor. She is the first woman to not simply bow to his charms, even though she has feelings for him.

It is quite frustrating, but also quite fun. He will woo her senseless.

"The word hopeful seems more fitting. Assumption sounds quite…negative."

"You truly are something remarkable, Colin."

"I am unsure if you meant that as a compliment or not, but I am choosing to selfishly take it as one."

They spend minutes eating biscuits and drinking tea. Colin has spent many social gatherings at Penelope's side being blessed with her charm and her wit. It is a markedly different experience to romance a great friend. He does not have to put on any airs with her. Courting Penelope is their friendship set aflame. The flirtation comes naturally, and even more importantly, she will never judge him for the way he gleefully gossips with her.

"Kate and Anthony returned home yesterday. Their extra time on honeymoon only increased their obsession with one another."

"Oh! Will Lady Bridgerton be moving to a dower house soon?"

"Between you and me, I do not think she will move out until the end of the season. I think Kate loves having my mother close, and as much as Anthony grumbles about all of us being underfoot, he seems to not want us all to move residence either."

"That's certainly considered unfashionable in the Ton, but I rather think it's sweet of the Viscount."

"I believe my brother would descend into shouting if I called him sweet," Colin says. Imagining the look on Anthony's face should he call him sweet has Colin in stitches. "Perhaps I will do so just for the entertainment."

"Colin!" Penelope replies, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Can you imagine?" Colin asks. "He would immediately be thundering about the house, trying to convince everyone of how masculine and terrifying he is. I can just picture him in a strop."

The two all but collapse into giggles over the thought of Anthony throwing a fit. Penelope's face is pink from trying to smother her laughter. Colin's eyes water from the amusement of it all. Their whispering is interrupted by Mrs. Varley clearing her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Penelope. I gave you a bit more than social grace allows, but it is past time for Mr. Bridgerton to take his leave."

Colin looks up and realizes he's stayed long beyond the appropriate length of a morning call. He stands when he catches sight of the time. He reaches out a hand to assist Penelope off the settee. She looks up at him, and Colin finds himself breathless at the sight of her.

Her pale skin glows in the afternoon light. Her fine face, bright blue eyes, and her bare collarbones make him swallow. She truly is a vision to behold.

"I know that I must depart, but I sincerely hope that you accept my suit," he tells her. Colin grasps her right hand and lifts it to his mouth. He kisses her hand softly with their eyes locked. While holding her small fingers, Colin slips a tightly folded parchment into the palm of her hand. Penelope's eyes widen when she feels it, but she discretely takes it from him as he lets her hand go.

Colin raises an eyebrow as they drop hands and she offers him a tiny nod in acknowledgment.

"I shall take my leave. Might I meet you at the park tomorrow for a promenade?" he asks. "My family has decided to picnic there for the day, and I would be honored to take you for a stroll."

"Will a promenade be admissible tomorrow, Mrs. Varley?"

The housekeeper nods in agreement from the corner of Colin's eye. "I shall attend as chaperone. We shall meet you there at half past two."

"Wonderful," he says. "Good day, Mrs. Varley. Please give my regards to your family, Pen. I shall see you soon."

Penelope appears delighted by his distasteful tone towards her family. They share a grin before Colin bows to her. He turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Colin returns home and calls for his valet to help him dress for horseback. The moment Colin steps into the drawing room at Bridgerton House, he sees that his brothers are all dressed in riding gear. His mother is the only other person in the room. Benedict is the first to spot him as he strides through the door.

"Brother!" Benedict calls as he stands. "Good to see you back from courting so late. By the smile on your face, I take it that things went well?"

Colin's anger resurfaces abruptly and Benedict raises his eyebrows in question.

"Lady Featherington granted me permission to court Pen," he says. "Of course, she did not agree before she embarrassed the tarnation out of poor Penelope."

Anthony folds the newspaper he was perusing, and sets it on the table. Gregory turns to look at him as well. His mother glances up from her embroidery, but does not say a word. "It is a good thing I arrived right as calling hours began. The insinuations I overheard were enough to set me ablaze with anger."

"Dare I ask?" Anthony stands up as well.

Colin feels the rage flare in his stomach once again. He clenches his fist. "She essentially told Penelope that I would never court her unless she used her wiles to entrap me."

There are four audible gasps from his family members. Benedict says, "Her own mother said such a thing?"

His mother is a paragon of social graces, but he sees her face twist into a grimace as she says, "I detest that woman."

"It will never be sensible how Lady Featherington birthed two idiots first and then somehow was blessed with Penelope," Anthony states. He looks outraged. "The since passed Lord Featherington was also rather useless and distasteful as a man."

Gregory says, "I hope Penelope is alright. Did you tell off Lady Featherington, brother?"

"I was stern with her, but until we are at least engaged, I cannot tell her off as I truly wish to," Colin replies, teeth clenched. "The absolute nerve of that woman. Pen was in tears."

Anthony says, "It is hard to imagine you being stern with anyone, Col."

"This may come as a surprise, but I do possess a full range of emotions. Rage being one of them," Colin's voice drips with sarcasm and irritation. "I will not have my wife spoken to in such a manner."

Benedict snorts. "Control yourself, brother. She is not your wife yet." Colin shoots him a dirty look. Benedict grins at him, unperturbed.

"Did Penelope agree to courtship?" Gregory questions.

"She is receptive, but I fear she still questions my feelings. I shall have to romance her."

"Have you a plan for this romancing?" Benedict asks.

"The beginnings of such, but I shall keep it to myself for the time being," Colin admits. "Shall we go riding? I find myself in need of some vigorous exercise. My irritation with her mother remains and it is making me rather restless."

Anthony, ever the competitor, asks, "What say you to a race?"

Colin bares his teeth at his brother, jokingly irate. "I hope you are all in a losing mood."

They gather their items and start for the door. Benedict reaches out to sling an arm around his shoulders. Their mother stands from her armchair.

"Boys, do be careful!" she tells them. Her endless concern for her children in the wake of Lady Featherington's display sends a wave of gratitude down his spine.

"Yes, Mother," comes from four different voices. She gives them an exasperated sigh, hands on her hips. They all line up to press a kiss to their mother's cheek as they head towards the stables.

Penelope watches Colin leave and she feels her knees nearly give out. No one has ever stood up for her as such. The way he defended her person and then comforted her. If Penelope lacked decorum, she would have thrown herself into his embrace. The urge to kiss him felt impossible to control during his call.

His thumb caressing her cheek. The way he stared at her lips with dark eyes. How his throat bobbed when he drank his tea. Penelope thought she was suffering from the vapors. She was glad her face was pink from all the crying, otherwise he'd know just how much he made her blood rise and run hot.

Sitting so close to him, she could smell his soap and cologne. He smelled masculine with a cedar edge that Penelope found rapturous. The warmth of his body being so close made her flush. She had never been so aware of her own skin. Every time, their hands clasped and his knee bumped her own, Penelope had to fight to keep her senses.

Despite her overwhelming attraction, their conversation was as easy as ever. She loved the way his eyes lit up, and how expressive he was while listening to her gossip. He may hate Whistledown but he clearly was unopposed to sharing hilarious anecdotes or secrets with her.

Penelope smooths her dress and delights when she remembers the tightly folded letter that Colin slipped into her hand before he departed. She tucks the missive into the side of her bosom so she can spirit away to her bedchamber and read it in privacy.

Before she can take her leave, Mrs. Varley reenters the room and says, "Another caller for you, Miss Penelope."

She cannot fathom who else would come to see her until Mrs. Varley continues, "A Miss Eloise Bridgerton." Penelope's mouth falls open in abject shock as Eloise walks into the room. They stare at each other–Penelope shocked speechless and Eloise sparking with rage.

"I shall leave you two," Mrs. Varley says, and then she briskly leaves the room, shutting the drawing room doors firmly behind her. There is a tense silence as she and Eloise stare at each other before Penelope speaks.

"Did you receive my letter from last night?" she asks, and Eloise loses her temper immediately.

"My brother!" she exclaims. The loudness of her voice makes Penelope startle. "Are you quite serious?"

"Eloise–"

"I knew you sought a husband," she spits out, "but this is beyond the pale!"

"This is new to me as well," Penelope protests. "I have not hidden anything more from you."

Eloise paces furiously, muttering under her breath. Penelope is not sure she wants to know what she says. Eloise has been imaginative her whole life and having three elder brothers gave her knowledge of swear words no lady should ever know.

"For how long have you had feelings for him?" Eloise asks. Penelope does not know if the truth will further enrage her, or make her see reason. "Do I even want to know?"

Penelope chooses to be honest. Eloise is already distant and apoplectic. She would notice a redirect immediately if Penelope tried to change the topic. It is about time that she knows anyway.

"I have been in love with him since the day I met him, El."

Eloise stops in her tracks. Penelope recognizes the shock and dismay written across Eloise's face. "You have had affections for my brother for one and ten years?! You did not think I deserved to know?"

Penelope tires of being yelled at today. She is not alone in failing to communicate, and she is not the only one who has made foolish mistakes.

"It is more telling that you never took the time to notice."

A tinge of sorrow and regret flickers through Eloise's blue eyes. She is still riotously angry, but she is not without empathy. "All this time! Why did you not simply tell me how you felt for him?"

"Tell you? Whatever for?" Penelope bites out. "For you to dismiss my feelings?"

Penelope understands that this feels like a betrayal to Eloise. However, Eloise is guilty of dismissing her thoughts and feelings for most of their friendship; especially when it involved thoughts of marriage, children and romance.

"Your opinion on marriage is well established, Eloise. We quarreled not two years ago about how not everyone seeks to dismiss marriage and love," Penelope says. "That issue got swept aside because I came to you distraught after being forced to reveal Marina's schemes."

"You shift the blame to me for our disagreement then?" Eloise asks, incredulous.

"No! I accept full responsibility for the awful way I handled Marina, but Colin would not listen to me. Marina would not listen to me despite how I begged for her to leave Colin alone," Penelope responds, frustrated beyond all belief. "And you are guilty of failing to listen to me when I speak! Why do you think I even started my publication? No one listens to Penelope Featherington. Not even my very best friend."

"Was I in actuality your best friend? You did meet him first," Eloise's tone is as nasty and abrasive as her words. "Was our whole friendship a ploy to attract my brother as a suitor?"

"I was eight years of age when I met Colin! Do you truly think I am that manipulative?" Penelope cries. She cannot handle it if Eloise truly holds her in such low regard. "I am as flustered and confused by Colin's sudden notice as you are. He declared me ineligible publicly less than six months ago!"

Penelope hates that at every turn, she is reminded of how poorly people view her. She does not wish to relive Colin's terrible behavior from last season because it is plain that he seeks to make amends for it. After today, she cannot in good conscience believe that he is doing any of this to be cruel. He asked her mother for her permission, for god's sake. While she is hesitant to be romanced by him due to her secret, she can feel how honest he is being.

It will take her time to come to terms with how his perspective has changed. It does not help that every person in her life continuously confirms her doubts and hesitancy with their words. To hear such an accusation from Eloise renders her heartbroken.

"This is madness, Penelope," Eloise says, not looking in her direction.

"El, it was a childish infatuation, but not something I could ever fathom to become real." she replies, hating how her voice shakes. Penelope is tired of crying. "You were my best friend; you still are even if those feelings are not shared. I love you . You were the one person who knew all of me."

"Not all of you, clearly!" Eloise looks close to hysterics. "Does he know? That you are Whistledown?" Her voice drops into a sharp whisper at the end.

"Of course not! I doubt he even suspects. He hardly thought of me as a woman until recently."

"He announced that he intends to court you to our entire family last night," Eloise says. "You cannot allow it until you tell him about who you are."

"Do you understand the level of sacrifice I am making for you?" Penelope asks, distraught. "I told him no the first time he asked, Eloise! And today, I did not accept his suit because he does not yet know. What more do you want from me?"

"Why do you give him such consideration?" Eloise snaps. She looks hurt and angry as she clenches her fists by her side. "You knew of how I pursued Whistledown and yet, you never cared for me enough to say anything."

"Eloise, I refused him because of how wrong I did by you, not because I love him more than I love you," she tells her, exhausted. "I am torn between the two people I love the most in this world and I am trying to be better than I was when you discovered my secret."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Colin seeking to court me is everything I've dreamed of. I am devastated to reject him. I told him directly he does not know me as he should. I did it for my own heart and out of respect for you." Penelope sits. She no longer has the wherewithal to have this discussion and stand. Righting her wrongs seems impossible in this moment. She does not know how to cross this chasm of hurt between herself and Eloise.

"Do you have any concept of how terrible it feels to resist the charms of a person you love?" Penelope asks. She cannot hide her despair. "I cannot live with myself if he was to marry me without knowing of my secret, but he persists in his pursuit of me because he is not blind to the fact that I carry great feelings for his person."

Penelope lets herself lean back against the back of the settee. She does not look at Eloise. If she wishes to leave with things so fraught between them, then Penelope will not argue with her. She stares at the ceiling. There are no more words to say and little she can do to change Eloise's mind.

Penelope does not know how long the silence between them stretches, but she startles when she feels Eloise sit next to her on the sofa. The quiet resumes until Eloise leans back against the settee as well.

Tears spring to Penelope's eyes. It has been so long since her and El have been in this reclined position.

"We both know that I have never been in love," Eloise says. Her voice shakes and the anger seems to have drained from her.

"I do not know how to convince you that I am not a malicious person," Penelope tells her, just as quietly. "You despair of me even though I am trying to do better by you."

Eloise inhales and then lets her breath out slowly. "I do not think you malicious." She sounds pensive as she continues, "I just have yet to figure out how to forgive you your transgressions."

"Do you think you will ever be able to?"

"I want to," Eloise answers. The immediate response gives Penelope hope for their friendship. "I require more time."

"Alright," Penelope says. She can accept more time if it means that Eloise will stop acting like she hates her very being.

"Pen," Eloise starts and stops. She pauses and then says, "I am sorry I did not notice your affections for my brother but I cannot accept you as his intended if he does not know the truth."

"If he is being honest about his feelings, I will tell him, El."

"My brother is a bit of a dunderhead," she replies, making Penelope laugh weakly. "But he is also a good man. He is certain of his feelings."

Penelope and Eloise sit in companionable silence for the first time in months. They have much repairing to do between them, but the overlying devastation seems to have been addressed. After a few moments, Penelope sits up and Eloise follows.

They avoid each others eyes before Penelope draws the courage to ask, "Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?" Although she had her morning tea during Colin's visit, Penelope would guzzle an entire new pot if it meant that she could keep Eloise's company.

Eloise stares at her for a second. Penelope sees her swallow and the corners of her mouth turn downward. "I cannot today," she replies.

"I see," Penelope tries to keep the sadness from her voice but she knows that she fails by the way Eloise's eyes widen in response.

"No!" Eloise says, speaking quickly. "I mean, I cannot . I promised this afternoon I would visit Gunter's Tea Shop with Kate. She is on a mission to find an English tea that, as she claims, does not taste like dishwater."

Penelope huffs in amusement. She remains starved for Eloise's company, but the sting of rejection fades. Eloise looks relieved by the change in her expression. "I have to meet her across the square soon, but perhaps we can converse at the picnic tomorrow? Colin did invite you, did he not?"

"He did," Penelope replies. "If you can find a moment, I would enjoy that very much."

Eloise looks like she wants to say something else but she simply nods, stands from the settee and leaves. Penelope has never been so glad to see the end of calling hours for the day. She finds herself quite done with company.

The afternoon passes quickly. Her family returns to the downstairs drawing room. She basks in how they ignore her presence. Her mother refuses to meet her eye. Dinner is silent with exception of cutlery against porcelain. Once she has finished her evening meal, Penelope retreats to her bedchamber.

Rae helps her undress. She cleans her teeth and Rae brushes out her hair before wrapping her locks into curling papers. Feeling rejuvenated now that her corset is off, and her family is shut out of her space, Penelope unfolds the tight square of parchment to read Colin's missive.

Dearest Pen,

I discovered that there are a minuscule number of conversational topics within the bounds of propriety available to courting couples. I was aggrieved by this because I am so used to speaking with you as my best friend and I seek to share all my thoughts with you.

While writing you a letter may be considered scandalous, I am willing to risk it to continue as we were in our correspondence.

Anthony returned in high spirits from his second honeymoon. He and Kate are being rather withdrawn regarding the heir situation, so I have refrained from asking. By the way they look and touch each other, I assume they are with child.

Between you and I, it seems Benedict has found himself a new mistress. He has not named any names but I shall watch him closely when I can. I must know who has caught his attention this time. She is a widow! I wonder if she has children. I do not know how I would respond if my mother ever gains a suitor. Anthony might again be inclined to draw pistols at dawn if a new gentleman made a play for her hand.

Greg and I spent the after supper hours playing marbles. He rather destroyed Hyacinth during our gameplay and I fear that he will suffer swift retribution for his lengthy spell of gloating. Hy does not handle defeat with grace.

Frannie and Lord Kilmartin are an intriguing pair. Surely well matched in temperament, and I rather like him. He provided delightful commentary on Scotland that made it appealing as a possible travel destination. I always thought visiting Ireland and Scotland would be too akin to home to truly enjoy. Rain and overcast skies do not make one think of an excitable holiday. Lord Kilmartin made a few jokes during afternoon tea that makes me believe he has a well-developed sense of humor. He is a good fellow. Frannie blushes every time he sits near her, she is so smitten. It is nice to see one of my sisters have a simple romance. Eloise is sure to be a hellcat when a man attempts to court her.

My family is truly overjoyed with my intent to court you, Penelope. I know I have given you plenty reason to doubt my affection with my past behavior but I swear to you, this is not an impulsive decision.

Truthfully, I never knew a man could be quite so besotted with a lady. Now that I realize my feelings for you, I suddenly understand the obsession. You consume my every thought. I dream of you, the curl of your hair, the softness of your lips which I hope to kiss again. It escapes me how I can feel so many things for one person.

The flowers I gifted you today were an arrangement created by a florist. Yes, the same one who's goods I trampled with eagerness the other day, but she has forgiven me my sins. (I do not jest, but her name is Flora! Flora, the florist. Either floral arrangement is a generational career choice or her mother had a hilarious sense of humor and future-telling abilities.)

She told me that the flowers in this arrangement translate to, "You are always on my mind ." I may tell you some of this during calling hours today, but I expect it will be brief. You must understand that each flower was picked carefully for its meaning. Larkspur is symbolic of a beautiful spirit and strong bonds of love. Snapdragons symbolize devotion.

Oriental lilies, especially those pink in color, depict my gratitude for you. (When I brought these home, I had to nearly wrestle Anthony to keep them. He obsessively buys these for reasons unknown to myself.) Light pink gerberas express my admiration.

Lavender stock (she also called them a gillyflower) represents lasting beauty and affection. These are blooms which I encountered while in Greece. They were one of my favorites because in the Mediterranean region they mean, "You will always be beautiful to me."

Every time you look upon these flowers, I wish you to think of me and know that I am likely thinking of you too.

Hopefully yours,

Colin

Colin Bridgerton is to be her ruin. Penelope is sure of it. She feels a yearning that extends from her mind all the way to her bare feet. She loves him, and he is making her quest to keep him at a distance impossible. How can she say no to this man?

Despite her conflicting feelings over continuing without him knowing her secret, Penelope hastens to her writing desk and retrieves parchment. She writes until her candle dwindles into a puddle of wax. She hopes that tomorrow will bring an opportunity for her to confess her secret to him. She also hopes that she possesses the bravery to say the words when the opportunity arrives.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

-- Tuesday, November 7, 1815

Tuesday morning begins with the ruckus of Daphne and Simon's arrival to the Bridgerton House. Greetings abound. Hearty hugs exchange between siblings. Without preamble, Colin takes the first opportunity available to snatch a curly-haired toddler from Simon's arms. His nephew has wild brown curls, a light brown complexion, and Daphne's nose and smile. Colin is a complete sap for the child.

The squeal Augie lets out when he realizes it is Colin who stole him from his father makes him grin. Augie has a tendency to skip the letters L, R and N in his speech. Therefore Colin's name has simply been shortened to, "Cooie!"

Colin swings him around in a circle before pulling him in to place kisses all over his small face. Hearing joyous baby giggles makes him smile. Augie brings a lightness and cheer to every member of the Bridgerton family, except Eloise who remains unimpressed with babies.

Daphne hands over her parasol to a waiting maid and says, "Brother, do not get him worked up this early!"

"Hush sister, he has the full day to run about, especially at the family picnic," Colin replies, tossing Augie in the air. Augie's laughter makes Daphne smile despite herself. "He seems to have missed his Cooie as much as I have missed him."

Daphne rolls her eyes, but Colin is too busy smacking kisses all over Augie's face to pay her much attention. "And who is at fault for that?" she asks. "You galavant across the continent for months at a time. You are fortunate he remembers your face at all."

Colin perches his nephew in the crook of his elbow. He looks at his sister who glows in the morning sunlight. She is radiant with expectant motherhood. "So you have missed me as well, I take it?"

Anthony invades his space asking, "Col, might you share the baby?"

Using a hand to secure his nephew against his side, Colin sidesteps his eldest brother. "Absolutely not, Ant. You can have him later."

The put-out look that emerges on Anthony's face is reminiscent of Gregory as a small child. Kate cannot contain her laughter as she tugs her husband away from Colin. "Do not pout, my love," she tells him. "Augie will indulge us with cuddles in due time."

"I am the eldest. I should get the first turn."

Colin raises an eyebrow at his brother's petulance. "I am the favorite of the mother and the baby."

Daphne shakes her head at him. "I suppose I have rather missed you eating your way through all of the biscuits in my home."

Augie claps his hands together at Colin's exclamation saying, "Cooie! Biscuit?"

"See Ant, I am the favorite!" Colin takes a moment to rub his nose against Augie's. It makes the baby smile brightly.

"The next baby shall love me more," Anthony replies as he wiggles his eyebrows at Augie, who laughs at his silly faces. Daphne smooths a hand over the small swell of her belly as Colin pretends to munch on a squealing Augie's fingers.

"Not if I win their affection first," Colin answers, "I am much more charming, brother."

"Oh tosh–" Anthony says, but he is interrupted by an irritated sigh from Eloise.

Eloise interjects, "Would you two cease arguing over the fondness of an unborn child?"

Benedict leans over Colin's shoulder to make faces at the baby. Augie reaches behind Colin to squeeze Benedict's nose, making both brothers laugh. "Why? Might you make a play to be the favored aunt?"

"I think I shall love the child more when they can hold a proper conversation. Milk and blankets are not what I deem interesting," Eloise replies with a roll of her eyes. Colin cannot comprehend how she remains unaffected by children. They are living, breathing examples of how a person develops their personalities, skills, and understands the world. Watching them grow and learn is riveting. Books simply pale in comparison.

"It is not only milk and blankets, Eloise," Simon adds. "There is often talk of horsies and cloth nappies too."

Daphne lifts a hand to hide her laughter. Colin chuckles. Eloise scowls at Simon, making him grin innocently back at her. Benedict starts pretending to gnaw on Augie's hand. He appears delighted by the baby's reactions.

"How surprising of you, Eloise," he says. "That talking is your chosen activity to bond with a child."

"Toss off, Benedict," she swears.

Mother gasps, "Eloise! Who taught you to say such things? Have you been allowing her to bet on horses again, Benedict? I imagine she would only learn such atrocious language at the races."

Before their mother can gain traction in her scolding, Daphne steps forward, rubbing her belly absentmindedly. "Shall we break our fast, family?" she asks, "I find myself famished."

All twelve of them traipse towards the dining room.

Settling around the table is a raucous affair. Multiple conversations occur simultaneously as they take their seats and the servants set out a large spread. Colin places Augie on one knee, letting the small child stand on his thigh. Augie smacks his hands gleefully on the polished tabletop. Colin is endlessly amused by his antics.

They share a breakfast plate. Colin spears scrambled egg and helps Augie steer the fork to his mouth. He eats with great enthusiasm, reaching out for more every time he is done. Colin loves how happy he is as he mushes toasted bread in his mouth and looks up at his uncle with a messy grin after each bite. Colin adores children. He can hardly wait to have a family of his own. He can envision a mess of red curly hair and bright blue eyes.

Daphne spreads preserves on a scone as she says, "Mama wrote me of your courtship, Frannie. Lord Kilmartin sounds wonderful. Shall I get to meet him now that we are back for the season?"

Francesca replies, "Yes! He is a very kind man, sister."

"He seemed rather timid when I met him," Anthony says.

Kate shoots him a look. "Possibly because you were puffed up with masculine pride, dearest?"

"I take offense to that," Anthony scoffs. "There was no puffing involved."

"You did seem rather intimidating, brother," Francesa adds.

"If he cannot handle a stern look, then he has no business courting my sister."

Simon shakes his head and says, "It is good to know that I am not the only man who must contend with your withering looks and churlishness."

"Clearly, you were an experimental turn."

"Considering I married her," Simon muses, "does that count as a success or failure on your part?" Anthony looks torn between frowning at being bested verbally and being amused by Simon's impertinence.

"Well played, Your Grace," Kate says, laughing. Simon tips his glass at her.

Anthony does not seem to be fully able to suppress his grin in light of his wife's laughter. Simon can be rather funny at times, especially when it's at Anthony's expense. Kate delighting in his mockery likely soothes some of Anthony's ruffled feathers. His eldest brother is completely besotted by his wife, and unwilling to rebuke anything that makes her happy.

"Please call me Simon. We both wed into this nonsense, so we may as well join forces," Simon tells her. Kate gives him a bright smile in return.

Mother says, "Francesca and Lord Kilmartin are not the only ones courting."

Colin replies, "She is the only one who has accepted her suitor's offer of courtship."

Daphne is clearly surprised. "You are courting, Col? You have not mentioned as such in your letters."

"Yes, it is very new. I intend to court Penelope."

Daphne's face lights up in response. "Who told you?"

Colin stares at his sister, ignoring the way Augie tugs at the sleeve of his coat. "Who told me what?"

"That Penelope has feelings for you, of course."

Eloise chokes on a bite of food. Colin raises an eyebrow in question while his sister stares at Daphne in shock. "You knew of Pen's feelings?"

Daphne responds with an exasperated noise. "El, the girl turned bright pink whenever Colin looked at her for too long. She practically melted into her slippers at his attention! How you remained unaware may be a better question to ask yourself?"

Hyacinth hums her agreement. "That is what I said too, sister. I am only two and ten, and I noticed!"

Eloise lowers her eyes to her plate. She looks pensive and sad to Colin. He cannot deny that he worries over the broken pieces of Penelope and Eloise's friendship. It boggles the mind about what could have possibly separated the two.

Daphne turns back to Colin. "Nevermind how you found out. I am so pleased you decided to pursue her! Simon, do you remember Penelope?"

Simon scrunches his brow. "This is the red-haired young lady, yes?" Daphne nods affirmatively. "I believe you made introductions. She seemed nice enough."

Colin wants to strangle Daphne and Hyacinth. "One of you could have simply told me about her feelings," he says.

" Tell you ?" Daphne asks, incredulous. "You are quite terrible at listening when it is not something you wish to hear. Even when I tell you things directly, I get ignored. Presumably you learned that from Anthony."

"Have I not repented for my misjudgement, sister?" Anthony asks.

Daphne gives him a look and says,"That misjudgement shall haunt you for the rest of your days, I'm afraid. Your behavior last season does not strengthen your plea for forgiveness either as you stubbornly ignored my advice and nearly lost the love of your life."

Chastised, Anthony goes back to his eggs in silence. Kate and Daphne share an amused look. Simon desperately tries to keep a straight face at Daphne's side. Colin feels a moment of pity for his eldest brother, but then he remembers that Anthony deserved the dressing down, and he still managed to get an incredible woman to wed him despite his stupidity.

Frannie pipes up, "Gregory is the only brother who listens."

Gregory sits up straighter in his seat and shrugs his shoulders with a smug smile sliding onto his face. "It took mother a few attempts to reach perfection."

Anthony, Benedict and Colin all roll their eyes. Benedict pitches a grape at Greg's head, which he ducks to avoid. Before Gregory can launch a strawberry across the table in retaliation, their mother says, "Boys, that is enough" in an exasperated tone. They all settle.

"Since Penelope is joining us, might you all refrain from embarrassing me?" Colin asks. He feeds Augie a slice of strawberry with one hand and tries to feed himself with the other hand.

"You are familiar with this family, correct?" Daphne replies, taking dainty bites of her scone.

"Embarrassment via mockery is a form of affection, brother," Benedict adds.

"Gregory would know," Hyacinth says, "I mock him relentlessly."

"That is not the insult you seem to think it is, Hy. It implies that you may actually possess affection for me."

"If I say that I do, shall this give me further permission to insult you?" Hyacinth asks, raising an eyebrow at her brother. Gregory is quite unimpressed. The flat glare he shoots her makes Colin laugh into his toast.

"Hyacinth, be kind to your brother," Mother says with a sigh. Colin wonders if Hyacinth will ever cease antagonizing Gregory. His youngest sister is willful, clever and shrewd. If she is anything like Daphne or Eloise, then she will torment Gregory relentlessly her whole life, but she would turn into a hellion if anyone outside of their home was unkind to him.

Daphne has been particularly protective of Colin for years, but she is the first to point and laugh should he make a fool of himself in front of her. It is only other people, outside of their family, that are not allowed to laugh at him.

Anthony answers, "We will behave while Penelope is with us."

Kate nods in agreement. Colin is relieved because all of his siblings appear to be on the same page. He relaxes, until Kate says, "Do not expect that to continue once she has taken her leave."

"Sister!" Colin complains, "You are to join in on the mockery?"

"Of course, I shall," Kate replies, waving a scone towards him. "I only had Edwina to tease for years. All of you are now potential targets." Anthony stares at his wife in wonder and amusement. Colin cannot help but laugh. She truly does fit right in to their family with little effort on her part.

Daphne grabs Colin's attention by asking, "What flowers shall you purchase from the florist?"

Frannie looks thoughtful. "Might I suggest asters?"

Daphne's eyes light up as she looks at Francesca. "Perhaps blue or yellow irises to go along?"

Their mother places her palms together in excitement. "With some red tulips!" Mother adds, "That would be a stunning combination, dearest. And it signifies hope and passion which are excellent choices for a courtship gift."

Simon says, "Just make sure they are expensive flowers." Everyone else at the dining table is confused by his sly comment, but Daphne blushes and swats him on the arm.

"Oh hush you," she chides affectionately.

Simon grins at her and wiggles an eyebrow at Daphne. "They were effective, were they not?"

Anthony audibly groans from the head of the table. "Please cease flirting lest I become ill."

Francesca tilts her head and says, "This coming from the man who is eating one-handed so you can hold Kate's?"

Benedict laughs out loud in response. Mother hides her amused smile behind her teacup. It always takes Colin by surprise when Francesca contributes to the chaos with sarcasm. She may be more reserved than all of them, but she is a Bridgerton through and through.

Colin answers Daphne and his mother. "I decided on red and orange carnations. They symbolize love and desire. The florist shall help me create a bundle."

Daphne says, "How sweet, brother!" She lets out a short squeal of excitement. It makes Colin feel good that his family is so supportive of his choice.

Daphne, especially now that she is a Duchess, is highly discriminatory about who she lets close. She has great connections and acquaintances but not many that she would label a close friend. Her lady's maid Rose may be the only person outside of their family that she trusts fully. She does have a good relationship with her housekeeper, but in her letters to Colin, she admits that they still clash over how to run certain parts of a household. To know that she adores Penelope pleases Colin greatly.

"You are all quite nauseating," Eloise says.

Benedict raises his fork and says, "I concur, but only out of envy and not repulsion like Eloise."

Daphne looks across the table at her younger sister and says, "One day, you may change your mind about marriage, sister."

Eloise releases an unladylike snort. "I would not bet on those odds," she says. "I would rather read Colin's letters waxing lyrical about the 'aquamarine waters of the Mediterranean' ad nauseam over being forced into eternal union with a titled man who lacks conversational skills."

Colin tenses. His insecurity about his writing is not well-known to his family members. Having Pen tell him that he is a wonderful writer, and then to hear this from Eloise gives him mixed feelings on the matter. He is still unsure whether he believes that Penelope had been so caught up in reading his words that she did not want to put his journal down.

Gregory leans forward to say, "I found his letters to be written quite well. They certainly made me long to plan my own grand tour after Eton."

"They were written well, yes," Eloise admits, surprising Colin. "The topic simply does not inspire me because women are not allowed to travel under their own power. Instead, we must rely on the scribblings of men to see beyond our garden walls."

"It is rather insufferable that women are so limited to the whims of men," Daphne replies. It is Eloise's turn to look surprised. "But there are more men available to you than just those here during the season, El."

Colin is unsurprised by Daphne's assertions. If Eloise took more than two seconds to look beyond her own opinions, she would understand that Daphne used to feel as trapped by the constraints of society as she did. Daphne sought marriage and motherhood because she wanted it; not because it was forced upon her, but that did not mean she was ignorant of the plight of women. Colin heard more than enough rants about women being raised for only one purpose and how men were preposterously blind to the intelligence and capabilities of the fairer sex.

"I do not have confidence those options will appeal either," Eloise says, petulant but less so than she was before. She keeps staring at Daphne with a slight squint to her eyes. Colin is pleased that she is starting to recognize that she might have misjudged her elder sister.

Daphne came to him crying after Eloise had told her during her season on the marriage mart, "It must be exhausting to be so perfect all the time." Those words had truly hurt her feelings to be disparaged in such a way.

Francesca looks at Eloise. "Surely there is one man who's countenance you found appealing?," she asks. "Lord Kilmartin and I do not converse incessantly, but he is a handsome man."

"Handsomeness without intelligence is equivalent to being unattractive as far as I am concerned," Eloise replies.

"Eloise, might you go one hour without disparaging men?" Mother asks.

"Mama!" Eloise sighs in irritation. "Fran suffered from a similar lack of stimulating conversations prior to making her acquaintance with Lord Kilmartin."

Frannie nods. "They were rather frank. I felt as though I was being examined instead of conversed with."

"See! It was not histrionics."

Daphne adds, "I am sure there were some dramatics, El." She pauses for a moment before she says, "Although, I admit that the men of the Ton were lacking in personality during my own season."

Kate laughs into her cup of tea. "The ruffians I sorted through and the poor showing of talent at Lady Danbury's soiree last year on behalf of Edwina rather agrees with Eloise."

Anthony lets out an annoyed sound. "You do realize that two of your brothers are eligible bachelors this season?"

Benedict waves him off. "I beg of you," he says, "do not include me in this."

"Why?" Anthony asks, eyebrows high. "Do you think the hungry mamas shall hear me through the stone walls of our home?"

Benedict leans towards his brother, conspiratorially. "They can sense weakness, brother," he says. "If not for Lady Danbury, I imagine Lady Stowell would have attempted to punt her daughter towards me."

Francesca's insertion of, "Miss Stowell has a pleasing face but she finds music unimaginative. I am quite happy you managed to avoid that one" makes Colin snicker. Frannie would reject someone because of their disinterest in music.

Anthony barks out a laugh. "Really now?" he asks, sly. "There is no other reason you object, brother?" Colin chokes on air, trying not to laugh himself. The insinuation towards Benedict's mystery mistress was well played by Anthony.

Benedict lifts a butter knife and points it at Anthony. "I am not above fratricide."

Anthony snickers, holding his hands up in supplication as their mother gasps, "Benedict Bridgerton!"

"They do take to husband hunting in packs," Simon adds. "Beware of the refreshment table. You go to get a drink and suddenly you are surrounded by feathered fans and lace."

"Oh, not you too Simon?" Mother asks, despairing of them all. A round of chuckles arises from all the men at the table at her exasperation.

"He has always been one of them, Mama," Daphne replies. "He thought I orchestrated running into his person to get an introduction when I was simply trying to avoid speaking with that odious man Berbrooke."

Eloise speaks up, "Col and Ben being eligible does Frannie and I no good. I cannot very well marry my own brother."

"There are some families that bear too close a resemblance," Benedict says.

Mother is quiet for a moment before she says, "We tend to keep our thoughts to ourselves when we come across married cousins, dear."

Ben laughs into his morning tea. A round of giggles overtakes the dining room, Augie laughing with everyone else even though he does not know what is happening. Mother has more restraint and decorum than all of her children, but they certainly inherited their snark from her.

"I will never understand how our conversations devolve so quickly," Colin says, once everyone has stopped snickering. "I just need an agreement you will not frighten her away during a picnic."

"We will all be on our best behavior," Mother replies, firm. The way she narrows her eyes and makes contact with each person displays how serious she is being. "I simply suggest you take her for a promenade instead of keeping her at our tent the full afternoon."

"Thank you, Mother,' he says. Colin uses his free hand to wipe his face clean with a napkin. "I am off to the florist." He stands from his seat, lifting Augie onto his hip. He brushes away any crumbs from the baby off his pant leg before he crosses to the head of the table.

Colin presses a kiss to the curls on Augie's head and then plops Augie into the lap of a delighted Anthony. "Family, I shall meet you all at the park."

A round of goodbyes answers him as he strides from the room and towards one of the Bridgerton carriages.

Colin arrives as the overhead tent is being lifted into place. Servants set up a small table and chairs as his family stands in the sunshine. It warms his soul to see all of them together again, laughing and chattering at full volume.

He handles the bouquet of flowers in his left hand carefully. Flora, now used to seeing him poking around her stall, helped him arrange this bundle. He thinks the arrangement looks rather good. Still not to Flora's level of skill, but not as messy as his first attempt. The orange, red and green blooms make him smile. The bright colors remind him of the dresses Penelope used to frequent at her mother's instruction.

They did nothing for her appearance, but he always thought she looked adorable in them. They also made it quite simple to find her in a crowd.

"Colin!" Hyacinth greets as he comes within their line of vision. Mother, Daphne and Kate all turn to look at him. Their eyes light up seeing the floral bundle in his hands. "The flowers you picked are pretty. I adore the ribbon."

Colin wanted to wrap the stems in a bright orange ribbon, but Flora rejected him. Instead, she tied a pale yellow ribbon around the stems to offset the flowers or some such nonsense. Admittedly, it did look rather good and the color was his favorite, so he took her suggestion without further complaint.

"Thank you, Hy," he says. "I hope that Penelope finds them charming as well."

It does not take more than a few minutes for the family tent to be set up fully and a large, thick blanket set out on the ground in the shade. Colin places his bouquet carefully in the middle of the table as Simon assists Daphne into a chair.

Kate is over on the blanket, helping Hyacinth and Gregory get Newton and Augie settled. Anthony, Benedict and Eloise are setting up the nine-pins bowling set. Francesca and Mother have gone off to promenade. Colin can see them walking in the distance.

Colin looks around for any sign of Penelope. It is only just turned two o'clock, and they are not expected until half past. He finds himself strangely nervous. Yesterday had gone well, but what if he is awkward today and they cannot converse smoothly.

What if she realizes that he is not actually handsome nor charming, and decides not to show up at all? Colin is pulled from his thoughts by a kick to his ankle. He looks down in time to see Daphne's slippered foot retreating back to her chair.

"Daph?" he asks, bemused.

"Brother, calm yourself," she instructs. Daphne motions him towards the chair perched next to her. He looks around and sees that Simon has made his way over towards the trio bickering over the setup of their game. Colin steps around the table and sits next to his sister.

"I can almost feel your nervousness, Colin," she tells him, resting a hand on her small bump. "This is Penelope, why are your thoughts so anxious?"

"I suddenly realized that I have only done this courtship madness once before," Colin answers, "and I was rubbish at it."

Daphne gives him a disbelieving look. "You wish me to believe you have no experience with women?"

Colin stares at her, shocked for a second. Then he remembers she is married, has a toddler and is with child again. "It will never stop being strange that you know about such things."

Daphne scoffs, and says, "Not for lack of society trying to keep me pliant and ignorant of such matters."

Colin laughs at the irritation present in her voice.

"And yes I have experience with women," he replies. "They were without meaning beyond the flesh. This is… Pen . I worry that she may care for me but will come to realize that I do not have many things to offer her."

Daphne reaches out to place a hand on his bicep. "Just be yourself, Colin," she tells him. "That is enough."

Colin is glad that one of them has that confidence. The more his feelings grow and evolve, the more he feels undeserving of her affections. Their interlude is broken when Eloise plops down in a free seat with a glass of lemonade in hand.

Daphne looks between them before she stands from her seat. Colin watches her stretch her back and then call for Anthony. Anthony walks over to them.

"Shall we promenade, brother? We have not had a moment to ourselves to catch up."

"Of course, sister," Anthony replies, offering her an elbow. "Is this a ploy to scold me in private?"

"Have you done anything worth me scolding you?" Daphne asks. Their voices fade out of hearing range as they start walking away. Colin looks at Eloise, who avoids his eyes.

"El," he begins, "shall you be receptive to Penelope today?" She takes a long drink of her refreshment before she answers.

"I will not be obstinate," she says, "but I may make myself scarce."

"It saddens me that you and Pen are at odds."

"You cannot force us to heal our relationship, brother," she replies, quiet. "There was a breach of trust and how I view her has fundamentally altered. It does not mean that I will not forgive her, but I am not ready to fully engage."

"Speaking of trust being breached, I wanted to offer my apologies to you," Colin says. It has been causing him great discomfort to know that he moved so quickly that he never got the chance to tell Eloise first so she was not caught unawares. "This must have been a rather abrupt change."

"Yes," Eloise agrees fervently. "You should have told me you had feelings for my best friend before you tumbled into the drawing room declaring your intent to court her."

"El, I would have if I'd understood my own feelings," Colin responds. He rubs a hand across his chin in contrition. "It was all rather confusing to see her one way for so long, and then have my perspective shifted. Once it all made sense, I either rushed to declare myself or risk losing her to Lord Debling."

Eloise cracks a grin at the clear distaste in his voice as he says the other man's name. She inhales deeply and then releases it slowly. Their eyes meet and Colin sees several emotions flit through her expression.

Sadness, hope, frustration, and trepidation but mostly, he sees acceptance. She is no longer furious with him, he can tell. Whether that acceptance translates to her restoring her friendship with Penelope remains to be seen. It is good to know that their relationship will be alright. Colin truly hates being at odds with his sister.

She is exasperating, but he is extremely fond of her. How bold and audacious she is in her personality and interests fascinates him. She is so confident in who she is. That bullheadedness is both her strength and her weakness. He envies her certainty. Eloise has surely never experienced insecurity a day in her life.

A long moment passes with them staring at each other. Eloise finally says, "Do not hurt her, Colin. I shall shout at you if you act a fool."

Colin did not expect that response. He blinks at her in surprise before he replies, " For being at odds, you are certainly protective of her."

"Do not fret, brother," she answers, reaching for her lemonade again. "I told her as much in regards to you."

Now, Colin is truly intrigued. When had El taken leave of the family to visit Penelope? "You have spoken?" he asks.

She sips at her drink for a moment before admitting, "Spoken is a gentle way of saying things." Eloise finishes her glass and a servant takes it from her hand before she can place it back onto the table surface. She thanks the footman with a soft smile before continuing, "Tempers were high, but I think the conversation did us both good."

"Do you plan to talk to her today?"

"I agreed to find some time to speak with her, yes," Eloise replies. "Do not get giddy, brother. We are working on things, but it may take some time."

"I am happy no matter how long things take," Colin tells her. "You are best friends. And although I will continue pursuing her hand despite your feelings, it would mean a great deal to have your blessing."

Eloise closes her eyes. Colin does not see her cry often, but there are visible tears in her eyes. "Pardon me, I am to go trounce Simon and Benedict at nine-pins," she says. Colin lets her walk away. She dislikes being vulnerable, much less in a public space. He is honestly shocked that she even allowed this conversation to take place.

From the corner of his eye, Colin spots a wave of red curls in the distance. Squinting he can see Penelope's small figure striding in the direction of his family's tent. She wears a beautiful seafoam green dress with cap sleeves and a lace overlay. Her hair is pinned back on the sides with an ornate hair clip, but her curls drape over her shoulders. She is beautiful.

Colin gathers the bouquet and walks over to meet her.

"I can see the Bridgerton tent, Miss," Rae says from her side. She gestures to Penelope's left, and Pen follows the direction of her hand to see a large white tent set up. She can see Benedict and Eloise playing a game of nine-pins with a tall, handsome man that Penelope believes is the Duke of Hastings.

If the Duke is present, that means Her Grace may also be here today. Penelope is unsure if she is ready to interact with the entire Bridgerton family, but there is no way to gracefully retreat at this juncture.

When she moves her stare past Eloise's form, she sees Colin. He stands from his seat. He wears a light blue overcoat, a dark blue and silver patterned vest, and dark blue trousers. His broad shoulders and tall frame fill out his attire delectably.

"Oh, he does look quite handsome today," she mutters to herself, flustered. Rae attempts to smother her smile but Penelope knows that she was overheard. It is not as though she has any secrets from her lady's maid anyway.

"Shall you tell him today, Miss?" Rae whispers.

"I wish to," Penelope whispers back. "I do not know if telling him when his entire family is present would be a good idea. He is terrible at hiding his feelings."

"Fair point, Miss," Rae answers. They both stop talking as Colin comes into earshot. His beaming smile makes Penelope smile in reply. He steps closer but stays at an appropriate distance to offer her his hand.

"Good day, Pen," he says, leaning over to kiss her lace glove covered hand. Penelope shivers at the feeling of his warm lips sinking through the lace. She gulps when his blue eyes meet her own. He really is far too handsome for his own good.

Colin stands upright and pulls a hidden bouquet from behind his back. Penelope inhales sharply at the sight of the bright-colored blooms. "These are for you," he says, handing them to her. Penelope takes them, happily.

"I do enjoy carnations," she tells him. "Thank you, Colin. They are beautiful."

"Come towards the tent," he says, offering her an elbow. Penelope takes it and he begins leading her back in the direction he came from. "Should you like to store your flowers and join me on a stroll around the park?"

"That would be delightful," she tells him.

They pass the trio playing lawn games. All of them call out greetings, including Eloise. Penelope's heart warms at the response from her friend. They may not have fully repaired their friendship but they have made progress.

Rae converses with another maid and they set aside the flowers in a safe place. Hyacinth, Gregory and Kate are enthralled in a game of cards. Penelope is unsure of the baby's name, but he sits quite happily in the lap of the new Viscountess. Once settled, Colin leads her from the tent and towards the path, Rae following at a distance behind. She is farther behind than most chaperones would be.

Colin looks at Penelope and she looks up at him.

"What happened to Mrs. Varley?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"She had duties to the house that kept her from attending," Pen replies. "Rae has chaperoned for me before so I simply brought her instead. My mother did not argue."

"I find I rather like your lady's maid," Colin says, smirking. "She knows how to distance herself and keep a secret." He is delighted by how they skirt propriety. Colin seems to enjoy walking the edge of society's rules when it comes to herself.

"Were you ever punished as a child?" she asks, amused. Colin purses his lips and raises both eyebrows. He then shrugs, full of impertinence. Penelope laughs. They share a grin before Penelope looks over her shoulder at the Bridgerton tent.

"Do you suppose there will be bloodshed by the time we return?" she asks.

"Depends on how many hands of Whist that Hyacinth wins," Colin answers.

"Where did she learn to play?"

"It's Anthony's fault," Colin responds. "He claims he does not have favorites but that is clearly a falsehood."

"They do have a special relationship then?"

Colin gives an affirming hum. "Anthony is the only father figure she has ever known," he says. "He was the first person to hold her after she was born. I remember times when I would hear her squalling from her bassinet that he'd dragged into the office."

Penelope finds herself surprised. Most high society homes were not hands-on parents. Children were generally kept separate, and spent most of their time with a wetnurse or governess."She did not stay with her nurse?"

"She had one," Colin replies, "but Anthony did not want her to be alone." Penelope sees his brows furrow in thought. "I think he was scared that she would suffer unduly because of losing Father."

"The Viscount is a very good man," Penelope says. "It is obvious that you take after him."

"You think I am a good man?" Colin asks. He seems surprised by her statement. They come to a stop as he looks at her.

"Yes Colin," she replies, firmly. "I do." He stares into her eyes for a long moment. Penelope does not flinch away. Slowly, a pink tint rises on his cheeks. She cannot fathom what she has done to make him blush, but a quiet confidence settles in his eyes.

He clears his throat and looks away from her. She is charmed by how bright red the tips of his ears are as they stick out from under his curls.

"How fares your mother today?" he asks.

"She seems to still be sulking after how you spoke with her," Penelope responds, "We have not talked much since your visit."

"I am sorry that your mother is so unintentionally absent in her care of you."

"I am grateful you think it unintentional."

"Do you not think she cares?"

"I think she focuses on keeping our family in good standing," Penelope replies. "My impending spinsterhood only tarnishes our name so I am not truly her concern. She told me she expects we shall retire to the country together and I will be there to take care of her."

"It is a good thing then that I am pursuing you earnestly," Colin says, "and will foil her plans to abscond with you to the country."

He is so earnest that Penelope feels her heart clench. She must tell him before he makes any more promises. Her heart could not take it if were to propose and then rescind it out of disgust for her literary persona.

"Colin," she says, stopping him in his tracks abruptly. He stumbles for a second but then turns to look at her in concern. "There is something I need to tell you—" Her words are interrupted by loud barking and shouting. Both she and Colin whip their heads to the right in time as Newton comes sprinting past with the nine-pin ball in his mouth. Hyacinth is in pursuit with Anthony following after her, shouting.

Colin bursts out laughing as his siblings round a line of hedges and disappear from sight. Their loud voices remain audible. Colin turns back to face her, still chuckling to himself.

"My apologies Pen," he says, gathering his wits about himself. "What were you trying to tell me?" Penelope has completely lost confidence. His amused smile leaves her hesitant to darken his good mood.

Perhaps it is cowardly of her, but she decides to hold off for another moment where she is unlikely to be interrupted by thieving dogs. "We can talk about it later," she says, her voice an octave higher than normal. Colin's brow furrows only slightly as she continues, "Let us make our way back to the tent."

He apparently decides to let her change in demeanor go without commentary. Colin offers her his arm again and she takes it. She finds herself opening her fan for something to distract herself. She cannot believe she was distracted by a dog! She needs to get him alone to tell him. Blast him for having so many family members! Penelope gets yanked from her nervous thoughts by Colin.

"I am taking this as a compliment," he says, grinning.

"Pardon?"

"The last time you fluttered your fan that quickly I had escorted you to speak to a group of gentlemen," he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. Penelope realizes how quickly she has been fluttering her fan, and she feels her face heat with embarrassment. "I had no idea I affected your composure to this degree with a simple touch and a smile."

Colin winks, and Penelope whacks him with her fan for his teasing. He laughs.

"Would you like some refreshment, Pen?"

"Uh yes," she stutters, "perhaps lemonade?"

Greetings rise from the tent as Colin and Penelope approach. Kate motions to a chair left free for Pen to sit as Colin walks over to the refreshments set out. The afternoon passes with ease. Raucous conversation and loud laughter keep all of them engaged throughout the afternoon. Colin introduces Penelope formally to the Duke and their son, Augie.

The baby willingly goes into Penelope's embrace, and Colin cannot stop staring at her. "What a handsome gentleman, you are," Penelope tells Augie, making the baby grin at her. He hands her one of his playing blocks and Penelope gasps, thanking him profusely for his gift.

Colin knew she would make an excellent mother, but having the proof of it play out in front of him did something to his chest. He wonders how many children she would like to have? If they marry, how long would she like to wait before trying for a child? Colin knows of the Featherington heir race, so perhaps she would wish to try for a son sooner rather than later.

If they have a son, that means he would become responsible for the Featherington estate until their son comes of age. Perhaps he should start tagging along with Anthony and Benedict when they work on estate management.

Colin watches as Penelope kneels down onto the blanket with Augie. The baby is enraptured by her red curls. The view of her cleavage from this angle is particularly becoming.

"Enjoying the view a bit too much there, brother," Benedict whispers. Colin blushes immediately at being caught out, but not enough to move his gaze away fully.

"Penelope has extraordinary charms," Colin replies.

"So I see," Benedict replies. Colin's gaze goes from his intended's bosom to glare at his brother. Only to realize that Benedict is staring straight at him and not at Penelope. Benedict can barely keep a straight face, and he walks away trying to hide his amusement.

Colin turns back around to see Augie has moved over to his mother, and Penelope is tidying up a stack of playing blocks and a wooden horse miniature. He offers her both hands to assist her from the ground. She takes them gratefully.

"Shall we play a game of cards, Pen?" he asks. His family is sitting at the table with Frannie shuffling a new deck. They walk over to the table together. Mother greets them both with a smile.

"I am not much of a regular card player," she says as Colin pulls out her chair for her, "but I should like to try my hand." He helps her into her seat and then sits in the open one directly to her right.

Twenty minutes later, Penelope has singlehandedly trounced them all at a rousing game of Whist.

"Not much of a card player she claimed!" Anthony is beside himself. Kate has a competitive glint in her eyes sparking as well.

"I do believe we have been hoodwinked," Colin says. He cannot help but laugh. He cannot believe what just happened. She has no idea what competitive rivalry she has initiated.

Penelope looks absurdly proud of herself. "I said I was not much of a regular card player," she replies, "Not that I was thoroughly unable to trounce you if I so desired."

"You imp!" Colin tells her. Penelope turns and gives him a smug smile.

"Perhaps I am an imp," she responds, "but it does not stop me from being victorious."

Colin has never found her more attractive than seeing her confidence and humor blossom in his presence. Penelope straightens her shoulders, pushing her chest out in a move that unknowingly distracts Colin. She clears her throat delicately and reaches out a small hand towards the pile of biscuits on a plate in the middle of the table. "Hand over my biscuit bounty, Mr. Bridgerton."

Colin stretches a hand to the plate and tugs it towards him. Her face lights up, only to twist in disbelief as Colin steals two chocolate biscuits off the plate and shoves them into his mouth. Her jaw falls open in amused outrage. Laughter echoes around the tent.

"Colin!" she scolds as she grabs for the plate. "Those were my hardwon biscuits," she says, pulling her winnings away from him. "I never offered to share."

"You will not relinquish even one biscuit?" he asks after he is done chewing. "Not even for me, your dearest friend?"

"My dearest friend is Eloise," she replies, impertinent, "if she will have me."

Penelope glances over at Eloise and Colin looks at his sister from the corner of his eyes. El wears a timid smile, but she still nods. Penelope's face lights up from within as she continues, "You, however, are a nuisance and far too used to getting your own way with charm and a beguiling smile."

"You think my smile is beguiling, do you?" he asks, flirtatiously. He leans into her space, resting his chin in the palm of his hand to smirk at her.

Penelope seems to realize what she'd said. Her eyes widen. Delighted, Colin watches her face turn pink. She shuffles the cards in her hand nervously and cannot meet his gaze. She is adorable while flustered. He is beyond tempted to pull her close and kiss her, but a kick to the shin from Kate sitting beside him restores his senses.

Penelope's lady's maid approaches. "Sorry to interrupt all the fun," she says, "but Miss Penelope, we should be getting back to Featherington House. We must prepare you for the supper hour."

"Oh!" Penelope exclaims. Colin is also surprised. None of them realized how late it was getting. It is a good sign that she will make a perfect wife for him if they can lose time having fun with his family. "I suppose we should get going then."

Colin stands and then holds out a hand to help Penelope from her seat. Mother speaks with a butler, who starts giving orders to pack up the Bridgerton tent. A few footmen leave to bring the carriages around. Penelope looks surprised when she is pulled into hugs by Kate, Daphne, Hyacinth, and his Mother, but she receives each embrace with a smile.

Penelope and Eloise stare at each other for a long moment. They do not hug, but they do clasp hands for a second before El walks away. Penelope blows kisses to Augie, who blows kisses back at her to her delight. His brothers bow to her in farewell and she curtsies before she turns back to Colin.

"It seems time for me to take my leave," Penelope says, shyly. He admires how the setting sun makes her red curls shimmer and her blue eyes shine.

"I am displeased that our time has come to an end for today," he replies, extending his hand for hers. She smiles at him as he kisses her knuckles for a prolonged moment. "It was long, but felt far too short."

Colin lets his lips linger against her small fingers and her bright blue eyes darken in what looks like arousal. It is a heady feeling to see how her pupils expand in response to his touch. Penelope swallows hard as he lifts his head. It is then that he pays attention to the tight square of parchment tucked into her palm.

He raises his eyebrows at her in question, and he huffs out an amazed laugh when she winks at him. He can confirm that she does not look like a self-absorbed ninny when she does that. Colin's mouth goes dry at how incredibly attractive her confidence and playfulness are to him. As she pulls her hand away, Colin tucks the square safely into his coat pocket.

She gives him a mischievous smile as he pats the pocket twice. Penelope turns on her heel, red curls swishing around her. He watches the curls cover the beautifully pale skin of her neck and back. From behind, her dress laces tantalize him as much as the swing of her lush derriere does.

Penelope is a wonder from both sides of her body.

"Col, make haste brother!" Gregory calls to him. Colin stops inappropriately admiring his intended to make his way over to his family. Benedict, Anthony, and Simon appear far too amused for his liking. He just knows that he is in for a verbal roasting.

Even so, he will accept their mockery if it means that he gets home to read her missive in his bedchamber.

The carriage ride back to Bridgerton House was as Colin expected. Simon, Benedict, and Anthony squished into the same carriage with him, and he was teased within an inch of his life. Their flirtatious interactions had not gone unnoticed.

Though they were full of jest and teasing, all of them confirmed that Penelope seemed as charmed by him as he was by her. It is a relief to know that it is not all inside of his head. After his valet assists him with undressing and bathing, Colin slides on a nightshirt and sits at his desk to read Penelope's missive in privacy.

Dearest Colin,

This is the epitome of impropriety, Mr. Bridgerton. Consider your cheekiness thoroughly noted. That being said, I do love reading your letters. It pained me to receive such beautiful prose about your travels and be too angry to respond. It is quite nice to correspond with you through written missives once more.

The Viscount and Viscountess do seem to delight in their love. I have seen them share kisses on the ballroom floor, uncaring of how they fluster society. It is beautifully romantic. I hope they are with child! I am sure that their child will know endless love.

Philippa and Mr. Finch are simple-minded, but I think they will shower their child with affection. Prudence, one of the more openly cruel people in my world, I fear will not love her baby as she should. I try not to make judgments on their character but I am reticent. At least Mr. Dankworth seems to possess a soul. I can only hope that motherhood will change her.

A widow, you say? Benedict does seem capable of attracting women with barely any effort. I suppose one could blame the bashful artist in him that charms the ladies. He certainly gets swarmed when he stands still for too long in a ballroom. I shall keep my eyes peeled to see if I can identify his new love interest. Perhaps at the next outing, we can gossip on the edges of the ballroom with all the others and try to spy on him. My only request is that we actually laugh. Sneering surely must exhaust the face and I have no desire to develop a likeness to Miss Livingston or Miss Cowper.

Most widows of the Ton have children so I would assume that the lady has given birth. Would you be against seeing your mother with a suitor? Most marriages in Mayfair are not love matches. Perhaps, you might be inclined towards more emotion because your Mama and Papa truly loved each other? The blessing of having one love is only surpassed by the opportunity to find another later in life.

Pistols at dawn? Again?? The Viscount almost dueled someone?! That is a tale I absolutely must hear one day (if you are willing to share). How scandalous!

Did Hyacinth execute her revenge? The Bridgerton trait of competitiveness has certainly met its culmination in her. She shows no fear or hesitation. I fear for Gregory's continued health. Are we sure that he fell off the roof in search of a balloon or was he pushed?

And Colin, you are not alone in revisiting that kiss. From the way your hand felt on my cheek to the press of your warm mouth against mine, I am unable to forget any of it. The way it felt to share space and air and feel surrounded by you?

I do not know how to describe the way our mouths touching warmed me from the inside. The kiss was far too brief to have changed me eternally, but somehow, I know I will never be the same because of it.

I spent years dreaming of what it might be like to kiss another. Reality is so much better than I ever imagined. Perhaps, it was so much better because it was you?

With affection,

Pen

Colin unravels at the end of her letter. To have confirmation that their kiss affected her as much as it did him was everything Colin did not realize he needed. She missed his letters? She found his prose beautiful? She dreamt about their kiss? She thought the kiss was magnificent because it was with him?

He must respond with haste.

Colin swings himself from the slump he was in against his chair. He opens his desk drawer to pull out an ink pot and quill, only for his arm to knock his journal off the desk. Swearing under his breath, he reaches down to pick up the brown leather.

For a moment, he pauses. He remembers seeing Penelope read his private words, she looked shocked and intrigued. Did she really think him a good writer? Colin sets her letter face-up on the desk and pulls his journal to the center.

Maybe he did have some sort of a talent? His family even admitted that his letters were well written; if not a bit rambling. Rambling can be fixed with some edits. Colin eyes his journal, pensive. What if he shows some more of his writing to Penelope? To see if she really believes her assertion about his writings to be true.

There is no one he trusts more to be vulnerable with. He would hope that she would be honest with him about his skill level. Penelope is an avid reader, and her letters are always filled with wit and charm. She would have a good understanding of what may appeal to audiences.

First, he will write a letter to her. Second, perhaps he will share a few of his entries with her the next time they are not in public. With a plan in place, Colin sets his leather-bound journal aside for perusing later and pulls out a fresh sheet of parchment to pen his reply.

-- Wednesday, November 8, 1815

Wednesday afternoon brings the Bridgerton family members out in society to the home of Lord and Lady Malhotra for a luncheon. Eloise scampers off to some hidden corner of the room, possibly trying to avoid speaking with other debutantes. Francesca finds herself being escorted around the open area of the hall on Lord Kilmartin's arm, and Mother chaperoning from behind with Kate.

Colin finds himself in the entrance hall with his brothers and Will Mondrich. He stands close to the wall but with a good vantage point towards the entrance. Benedict is shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Anthony, Simon, and Will are on the outskirts of their group. Although Colin and Benedict are not front and center, there still seems to be an absurd number of young ladies and their Mamas drifting past their corner of the room.

"I must say that I have not missed any part of the London social season. Clyvedon being a day's travel away is a boon." Simon whispers from behind his drink, "We have not been here yet a half hour and already the packs are circling."

Colin laughs under his breath, but he keeps his eyes on the doorway.

"Here I thought avoiding the refreshment table would grant me reprieve," Benedict replies, sighing heavily. "You three are married off; should that not deter some attention from Col and myself?"

"Is that why you are all but ducked behind Simon?" Will inquires, amused. "You planned to use His Grace as a shield?"

"He is taller than I," Benedict says, unrepentant. "My other option was Colin, but he is preoccupied with staring at the entrance of the Malhotra estate as though he can hasten the arrival of Miss Featherington with his eyes alone."

"You should not have worn such fine trousers, brother," Anthony says. "Perhaps they would not be so inclined if you did not look so dashing."

Colin cannot help his amused snort at Anthony's teasing.

"Why are you laughing, brother?" Benedict asks, finally catching Colin's attention for a moment. "Penelope has yet to claim you privately or publicly, so you are still eligible chum."

Anthony snickers. "He is avoiding the gazes of all the hungry mamas present by hiding until his intended arrives."

"I am not hiding," Colin protests, turning his eyes back to the entrance, "but speaking of my intended, I see her entering and looking ravishing might I add."

Penelope wears a medium pastel blue gown, embroidered with small navy and green flowers up and down the bodice and skirt. Her sleeves are light blue, gauzy, and sheer but they seem to shimmer in the sunlight that streams inside. Her red hair is pinned back on one side by a floral barrette covered with blue and green flowers. Her hair falls in russet waves, and she wears a simple diamond necklace with her gossamer half gloves.

Benedict hums from behind Colin. "She does look rather well," Benedict says. "Blue is an excellent color on her."

Colin whips his head around to narrow his eyes at Benedict. "if you should like to keep your eyesight, I suggest you stop appreciating Penelope's charms, brother." Benedict holds up his hands.

"You certainly are touchy, Col," Benedict says, amused.

"He wishes he were touchy," Anthony mutters. All men in their circle laugh, except for Colin who rolls his eyes.

"Possessiveness can either arouse a lady or deter her affections," Simon says. Anthony gives him a look.

"And what would you know about that?"

"Fear not, brother," Simon replies, cheerfully clapping Anthony on the shoulder. "Daphne likes it when I am possessive."

All three brothers groan in disgust. Will starts laughing.

Benedict shakes his head. "Please stop talking about what our sister likes," he says with a repulsed shudder. "I must look her in the face after this."

Colin scrunches his nose in disgust. He turns back towards the entrance and is alarmed when he no longer sees Penelope near the doorway. He scans the room and finds her shock of red hair near the refreshments. "if you will excuse me," he says, straightening his cravat and waistcoat. "I need to go fluster Penelope."

Colin walks off without another word. He is close enough to still hear their conversation.

Will sounds taken aback as he asks, "Did he say he was going to fluster a lady?"

Benedict laughs loudly. "He surely did," he replies. "He seeks to woo his childhood friend."

"What a bold statement! Are such declarations commonplace?" Will replies.

Simon sounds amused and exasperated all at once when he says. "For Bridgertons? Yes. Familial dramatics seem to be inherited amongst this bunch."

Anthony says something that draws loud laughter from the group. His voice sounds waspish, but Colin is too far away to understand the words. He is sure that it was snark directed at Simon. He can hear them partaking in a verbal squabble. Their bickering fades into the din of the room as Colin makes his way towards Penelope.

Penelope stands quietly next to her mother and Lady Winthrop as they engage in idle conversation. Lady Winthrop is a devil of a woman, who mistreats her staff and is openly rude to her daughters. Penelope has no interest in pretending to be sociable with the shrew. Even her mother dislikes the woman, but her mother is all about saving face and establishing connections with people.

Penelope lets her eyes drift across the room, searching for a tall man with chestnut brown curls and a charming smile. As far as she knows, the Bridgertons are to attend this luncheon. Her thoughts are confirmed when she catches sight of Francesca and Lord Kilmartin making their way around the room, arm in arm.

Francesca sees her and shoots her a bright smile. Penelope smiles back at her with a small wave. She sees Lady Bridgerton and Viscountess Bridgerton walking at a distance behind the couple. They all grant her warm smiles.

Penelope jumps in fright when a male voice speaks from behind her, "The last time we stood near a refreshment table," She recognizes Colin's voice only a moment later. She turns around to see him with a handsome silly grin on his face. "You nearly made me swoon."

Penelope huffs at him, amused. She remembers their drawing room lesson clear as day. Now that her heart rate has calmed down, she turns to face him fully. Colin wears a handsome ash-gray overcoat with a tiny floral print vest, a blue cravat, crisp white shirt, and black trousers. His hair shows more of his curls than he has been in the last few weeks, and Penelope finds herself completely charmed.

She raises a teasing eyebrow back at him. He looks delighted by her sass. "By flirting with an imaginary cellist?" she asks. Colin tilts his head, poking his lips out in false pensiveness before he steps closer to her.

He smells like cedar and spice. Penelope tries not to inhale too obviously. He leans down towards her. "It was more so the comment about my remarkable blue eyes."

Penelope cannot lose her senses to this man. She can feel the heat of him, smell him, and his eyes are focused completely on herself. "Hmmm," she hums back at him, trying to regain her wit. "I believed you thought it too direct?"

Colin steps even closer to her. He infringes on the edge of propriety. "I rather like it when a woman speaks her mind." he says, voice low. His words are meant for her and her alone. Penelope's heart rate kicks up in her chest.

"You claim to not shrink from a woman who has her own thoughts and desires?" she asks, standing her ground. Do not sniff him, Penelope Featherington. He may smell delicious and masculine, but retain your dignity.

Colin raises an eyebrow at her as he says, "Well, that wholly depends on the desires."

Penelope raises her eyebrows back at him. "Which of mine would be acceptable then?"

"Only the desires involving myself," he tells her. Penelope's heart skips a beat. He cannot be serious right now. Penelope has never had anyone be this audacious and blatant in their flirting. She needs to maintain her cool. Colin Bridgerton will not fluster her, damn it!

"Just the desires involving you, Mr. Bridgerton?" she asks, demure. What she does not expect is how he boldly steps beyond propriety. He is completely unapologetic as he leans down to her. She watches his blue eyes turn even darker. The room around her fades away and all she can hear and see is Colin.

"Trust me, Penelope, if I claim your desires," he whispers. "All your thoughts will follow."

Penelope's eyes widen and her breath catches. Her stomach clenches low in her belly, which has never happened before in her life. She has no idea what he is insinuating but it feels illicit and erotic. His closeness affects her on a visceral level. She wants to lean into him and kiss him senseless. She clears her throat and pops open her fan to fan herself.

Colin steps away, but his eyes do not lose focus or intensity as he fills a glass with lemonade. He comes back, barely an appropriate distance away from her and he places the glass into her free hand.

"Here Pen," he says. "You seem parched."

Her mouth is rather dry already, but even more so when she gapes at him. Colin's grin is slow and seductive. Their moment breaks when Lord Uro calls out a greeting to him by name. Penelope snaps her fan closed, completely flustered. Colin takes that moment to grasp her now-empty hand and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"I shall return for your hand when the midday meal is to be served," he says. He did not even ask if he could escort her. He just confidently assumed that he would. Penelope cannot even try to fight him on it. She is bowled over by his confidence and flirtations. Colin shoots her one last heated smile before he walks away.

As soon as his back is turned, Penelope gulps down the cool lemonade in her hand. He has left her utterly speechless. She is just gathering her wits about her when an amused voice speaks from behind her.

"Never thought I would see the day that Colin Bridgerton made such a commendable choice."

Penelope is caught wholly off guard as she turns to face Lady Danbury. Penelope's mouth falls open again in surprise. "Pardon?"

"Do not gape, Miss Featherington," Lady Danbury commands. "He is too smitten with you for his attention to ever stray, but you should maintain a cool demeanor. Men seem to appreciate it when a woman has the wherewithal to ignore their foolishness."

"You think him smitten with me?" she sputters. The look she receives from Lady Danbury makes Penelope blush in embarrassment.

"I am old but not blind," she replies. "If that bold flirtatious scene I just witnessed was not him being smitten, you can call me an idiot to my face."

"You saw that?" Penelope asks, her face burning.

"You are standing near the refreshments, Miss Featherington," Lady Danbury replies succinctly. "I was coming over to retrieve a cool drink but was blocked by his impertinence and your blushing."

Penelope laughs. She has no other recourse. If Lady Danbury observed their interaction so closely, there is no way others did not also witness it.

Lady Danbury taps her cane on the ground and says, "It took him long enough to realize what he had. I rather think the Bridgerton women got all the cunning and intelligence."

Lady Danbury stares straight at her, and Penelope flushes bright red once more. "Are you including my person in that thought?"

"Who else? It is only you, Miss Cowper and I standing at the refreshments," she says as she moves around to pick up a glass from the table. "And I am certainly not speaking of that chit, Cressida Cowper."

Pen has to smother a laugh. "Cleverness is not her forte. I rather think her mother drapes her with enlarged dress sleeves to direct attention from either her personality or her sneer."

Lady Danbury barks out a laugh. "You are sharp," she says. Penelope meets her eyes and Lady Danbury has a knowing sparkle in her eye that makes Penelope nervous. "And you are certainly more cunning than people believe."

"I appreciate the insinuation, my Lady but I am invisible."

"Not anymore, Miss Featherington," Lady Danbury declares with a nod towards the hall. Penelope looks around her for the first time and is taken aback by the number of people shooting curious glances in her direction. She has never had the interest or attention of so many people before. It is both thrilling and terrifying.

Penelope looks back towards Lady Danbury, "Admittedly, I am not altogether sure how to handle the attention," she says quietly. "I feel foolish and awkward. My fan fluttering seems more likely to alarm a gentleman than to entice one."

The old Lady snorts. "Men are such simple creatures," she says. "To be lured in by a fan and a bosom or to be discomfited because a lady is not considered demure enough while using one." Penelope laughs.

Lady Danbury adopts a more serious expression and posture. She says, "I have known Mr. Colin Bridgerton for a very long time, Miss Featherington. He holds you in high regard."

"I do not doubt that he is fond of me," she confesses, "I fear more so that this fondness shall not last."

Lady Danbury takes a moment to contemplate. Penelope finds her eyes drifting to Colin, where he stands with a group of gentlemen in conversation. She watches him for a moment and they end up catching each other's eyes when he glances in her direction. His soft smile enchants her.

Her attention is drawn away from him by a delicate cough next to her. Penelope looks back at Lady Danbury and blushes when she sees the knowing smile on the lady's face.

"While it is true he was led by temporary compulsions before, I rather think watching the woman he loves nearly marry a naturalist forced him to mature," Lady Danbury says. "He does not seem confused about his intentions. In fact, I have never seen him appear to be so confident in his attentions."

Penelope and Lady Danbury look at Colin, and Penelope's heart pounds when she sees him already looking at her. She turns back to Lady Danbury with her insecurities high.

"He seemed to have changed his perspective so quickly," she tells her. "We went from barely speaking, to rekindling a friendship, and then to him asking permission to court me. It is madness!"

"There are positives and negatives to going from friends to lovers," Lady Danbury responds. "You have the awkwardness of dealing with emotional history but then again, you have the privilege of already being a fully formed person in his mind. Most women are pursued by men interested in their childbearing hips and parentage, but uninterested in learning their souls."

"He sees me as a person," Penelope repeats. For some reason, that realization hits at the core of her. She is not just a woman for breeding, he wants to know the intricacies of her mind.

"He certainly does. And Miss Featherington it seems he finally sees you as a woman too," Lady Danbury agrees. "I would dare to call that a triumph."

Lady Danbury takes her lemonade in one hand and taps her cane on the floor. Penelope watches her walk away, lost in thought. What an idea – Colin Bridgerton thinking of her as a full-blown person and a woman at the same time? To have him see her, and delight in both her femininity and personality, is a rare thing in high society.

Colin reclines on the settee in the Bridgerton drawing room. The Malhotra luncheon proved quite fun to attend. After socializing for several hours, he finds that he's exhausted. It is a good thing they have no other engagements for the rest of the day.

Colin rests his head against the back of the sofa, letting his eyes slip closed. He does enjoy being around people, but they seem to sap all his energy when he stays for too long.

"Colin, dear," Mother says, making her way into the drawing room. Colin opens one eye to see her striding towards him with a stack of envelopes in her hand.

"Yes, mother?"

"I received a few invitations for the coming days, and I found one about an art exhibit," she says. Colin scoots over as she gracefully sits down next to him, holding out the card for his perusal. "Might Penelope want to attend? It could be an excellent courting event."

Colin sits up immediately. His mother sometimes may have a great idea. Attending an art gallery would allow them semi-privacy, and they could talk at length. He accepts the invitation from her and opens the envelope to read over the details.

"Perhaps I will ask her during call hours tomorrow?" Colin muses. The gallery opening is on Friday, so it would be a bit gauche to accept so late, but their family only just received the invitation. Maybe a donation would smooth any ruffled feathers?

"Come now brother, you cannot be serious."

Colin looks up from the invitation, brows furrowed. He stares at Eloise, who stares back at him.

"Whyever not?"

"Penelope finds painting a bore," Eloise says offhandedly. "She attends out of politeness and duty, not because she enjoys it." Colin stares at his sister, feeling his face warm out of embarrassment. He suddenly feels rather foolish for not knowing such a simple thing. Eloise and Penelope are mending their friendship, but she knows Penelope far better than he does because he failed to pay attention. It becomes increasingly noticeable why she thought his initial declaration of feelings was in jest.

"Oh," he says, deflated. "I did not know." Colin sees his sister freeze, mid-reach for a chocolate. She seems to realize she inadvertently embarrassed him.

"Col, I am sorry," she apologizes. "I did not mean to come off unkind."

"It is alright, El," he tells her. She still looks guilty. "I would very much like to learn her interests."

Eloise sighs deeply before she says, "She loves performance–" Colin cuts her off with a wave of his hand.

"Do not tell me," Colin says. "I want her to reveal herself to me on her terms as her trust grows and her doubts about my earnestness retreat." Eloise looks troubled by his statement, but she eats her chocolates in silence.

Colin stands and heads to his bed chamber. Perhaps he will revise the draft of his next letter to Penelope.

Dearest Penelope,

It warms my heart to know that my letters are special to you, even while angry with me. I wrote to you more than anyone else, and was exceedingly discomfitted when I received no reply. If I am being honest, I wrote to my mother and Benedict asking after your welfare. I did not realize that I was being ignored. I presumed you had fallen ill. Rather ignorant of me, I know, but I was wholly unused to being ignored by you. Your lack of response was a deciding factor in how quickly I returned home for the season.

Anthony and Kate shall be excellent parents. As much as I tease him and bemoan his stern attitude, he will be a present and doting father. He comes off brash and narrow-minded, but my eldest brother loves deeply.

I do hope that your sisters' hearts soften after childbirth. I cannot imagine how one could hold a small baby and remain unaffected. Spending time with Augie makes me wish for my own family one day. He is unfettered love with tiny arms and tiny legs and the biggest smile. Which of your sisters do you believe carries the Featherington heir?

I would adore to gossip with you on the edges of the dance floor. You constantly make me laugh. I do not imagine either of us will grow a sneering visage like they possess. Benedict spent most of the day hiding behind Simon's tall frame and bickering with Anthony. He did not escort any ladies to their seats for the mid-day meal. I do not think his mistress was in attendance. Did you happen to notice anything different?

Hyacinth has not yet taken her revenge. I, too, fear for Gregory's continued health. Whenever she takes this long to garner retribution, it usually ends in tears for whoever is the victim. I shall have to pray for him at the next church sermon.

As for my mother, I believe awkward and hesitant are rather fitting terms if I were to witness her being courted. She has been alone for a very long time, and I would not begrudge her if she found romance once again. I think it would be most difficult for Anthony to accept. I shall be watching any man who makes moves on my mother like a hawk. I would grant him an opportunity to prove himself, but I will fight anyone who hurts my mother.

The dueling story is one meant for face-to-face conversation. I must witness your reactions, and my brother would commit fratricide if he discovered I had penned this sordid tale for anyone. We shall have to find a private moment to speak of it.

I did not realize how truthful you were in that carriage. When you informed me that I did not know you; I thought, "Surely I have some understanding of the woman I have grown up with?" And yet, here I am. Faced with the reality that you were correct.

My understanding of your interests and dislikes are minimal. I have learned more of who you are in the last five days than I have in the last one and ten years, which saddens me. I will spend the rest of my life repenting for not seeing you sooner.

From your reaction at the park, I know carnations are not your favorite flower either. Do you like art or performance better? I came across an invitation to an art gallery, and realized that I do not know your preference. Would you ever wish to attend such a thing with myself?

The Malhotra luncheon today was a grand time, and the picnic with my family was great fun. You looked ethereal in your dress today, and you were breathtaking at Hyde Park as well. I dare say that you make the color blue rather spectacular, darling.

Truthfully, your last letter nearly undid me. I do not know how many times I have read it.

You have dreamt of our kiss? To have such knowledge is a heady thing for me. It is good to know for certain that I am not alone in reminiscing whilst asleep. I dream of you often. Possibly more often than is appropriate for an unmarried man to dream of an unmarried lady.

The way we kiss in my dreams is wholly unacceptable in a public setting. I imagine the sounds you would make, how soft your skin would be under my fingertips. What would you do if I pressed my lips to the skin where your heartbeat pounds? I think of your collarbones and the way I should like to kiss them and press my teeth against them.

You have no idea the way you consume my thoughts, Penny. One day, I hope to be able to show you in reality what it is you do to me in my dreams.

Hopefully yours,

Colin

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Text

-- Thursday, November 9, 1815

Thursday afternoon, Penelope descends the stairs slipping on her lace gloves. She sees a footman placing a bouquet of flowers on the entrance table and she hurries to meet him. He looks up at her as she reaches the bottom of the staircase.

"Miss Featherington, these were delivered for you," he says with a bow.

She walks over to him, hand outstretched to touch the soft petals. It is a beautiful mix of roses, calla lilies and a succulent flower. The soft peach and ivories are stunning together as a color combination; only brightened by the pops of greenery added in. Penelope tries to hide her delight with the gift but it is nearly impossible to do so.

"Who are they from?" she asks, already aware of the likely sender. She hates to be presumptuous, but Colin has certainly kept his word about sending her a new mixture of flowers each day.

"Mr. Colin Bridgerton, Miss," he replies. "There was a letter delivered with it."

Penelope touches the flowers in giddy amazement. She is unsure if she will ever get used to receiving such gifts from Colin. Then again, she has only been exposed to this treatment for a week.

"Might you place these in a vase and have my lady's maid set them in my bedchamber?" She asks.

"Of course, Miss," he replies. The footman hands her the wax-sealed parchment before he bows and heads off to do as she requested. Penelope waits until he is out of sight to tear into Colin's letter.

It is a good thing she waited for a moment alone. His words make her blush. She wonders what he dreams of her doing. Is there more than kissing? She has a feeling there is. A kiss does not bring about a baby, so there must be more to marital relations.

The nickname of Penny is new, unfamiliar, and intimate in a way she has never experienced. It makes her stomach flutter. Simply imagining him calling her by such a name makes her shiver.

Penelope will surely die if he ever calls her that aloud. Seeing it in his handsome penmanship already makes her body run warm. She rereads the last paragraph; still flustered by him calling her Penny .

She remains so enthralled that she jumps in surprise when a throat clears in close proximity.

Penelope instinctually hides the letter behind her back as she turns. She stills in surprise at the sight of her Mama. They have not spoken a word to each other since Monday's squabble in the drawing room. She is unsure what kind of interaction this may amount to because her mother stands only a few feet away, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"I see that Mr. Bridgerton has sent word," Mother says, smoothing her skirts idly.

"He has," Penelope replies. She pulls the letter from behind her back and folds it up quickly.

"That is good," Mother says, sounding more awkward than Penelope has ever heard her.

Penelope slips the letter inside of her pink reticule and clasps it closed. The last thing Penelope needs is for her mother to see any of Colin's words. While he did not write anything directly scandalous, the implications were certainly naughty and the mention of their kiss out of marriage would be her ruin.

"I rather think so as well," Penelope answers.

God and above, this conversation is painful.

"Are you off for the day?" Mother asks, clasping her hands together in the center of her body. "I received word that your attire for the coming week is ready at the modiste. If you could pick it up whilst out, that would be excellent."

Penelope nods. "I shall take the carriage."

"Right," her mother responds. She opens her mouth, and then closes it. "Very well. There is money in our coffers for payment, so you should be set."

"Thank you, Mama," Penelope says.

Her mother looks at her for a long moment, before she turns on her heel and walks away. Penelope lets out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. Rae makes her appearance at the bottom of the stairs a moment later.

"Shall we go, Miss?"

Penelope nods and they walk out of the front door together toward the Featherington carriage in the drive.

Colin is unused to the organized chaos of the modiste's shop. The gentlemen's tailor is on a different block, and has far fewer frills and bows hanging on the walls. The number of young ladies attempting to give him sultry looks and once-overs makes him feel rather like a displayed side of beef at the butchery.

"Hy, make haste, will you?" he calls.

Hyacinth waves her hand at him, then starts examining hair pins. He should have known she would extort every cent she could out of him. His little sister is a terror. He is actively plotting his future revenge when a small hand touches his elbow.

"Colin?" Penelope's voice comes from behind him. He looks over his shoulder quickly in surprise.

"Pen? What are you doing here?" Colin turns to her fully. He quietly admires her blush pink day dress with a cropped shrug patterned with varying shades of pink and white. Her red curls are loose across her shoulders.

"I needed to retrieve my attire for the coming weekend," she replies. "It is uncommon for a gentleman to be at the modiste, is it not?"

"Ah," Colin says, sheepish. "I am here with Hyacinth. We just came from having flavored ices and now she is to pick out a new hair ribbon."

Colin steps closer to her. Her face is endlessly expressive and he sees the way her blue eyes widen in response to his movement. She tilts her head up to look at him.

Quietly, he says, "You look beautiful today, Penelope." Seeing the smile blossoming across her face emboldens him to continue, "then again, you always do."

"Thank you," she replies, her cheeks pinkening. Colin loves that she is so responsive to his flirtations. He wonders if she will be just as responsive to his touch.

Penelope peers around his shoulder. He watches her eyebrows lift in amusement as she asks, "Is Hyacinth picking a ribbon for you as well? She seems to have collected far more than one ."

Colin turns to follow her gaze and sighs when he spots Hyacinth carrying a small wicker basket with at least three differently colored ribbons inside. Penelope laughs behind her hand at his visible exasperation. Hyacinth's impertinence should be his focus, but Penelope's adorable laugh draws more of his attention.

Colin leans his head toward her and lowers his voice to ask, "Do you think I would wear it handsomely?"

"Blue does look rather fetching on you," she teases. They stare at each other for a second before they both start snickering.

"I fear letting my sister dress me in ribbons may inspire uncomfortable conversation," he tells her once he has regained control of himself. He remains consumed by her amused expression. "Particularly, if I were to wear it better than she."

"Her curls outshine yours any day!" Penelope replies with a grin. "Especially now that your hair dressing has become rather…distinct."

"Is it not to your liking, Pen?" Colin asks, self-consciously touching his meticulously coiffed hair. His sisters mocked him before, but if Penelope should not find it handsome he will have to change it immediately.

"You look distinguished," she says, carefully. "It is simply different. It seemed that you held yourself more comfortably in your own skin when your natural curls were on display. I found your hair quite charming. That is all I meant."

Colin opens his mouth to reply when he is interrupted by Hyacinth careening into his side. Colin rests an arm around her on reflexes alone. Hyacinth does not hesitate to step into the one-armed embrace.

"Penelope!" she greets. Penelope smiles brightly at his little sister.

"Hyacinth," she says. "I see you have managed to find some lovely hair adornments. Is that also a new set of hair pins in your basket?"

Colin peers downward into his sister's basket and narrows his eyes when he catches sight of two bedazzled sets of hair pins, and what looks like five new hair ribbons. Hyacinth truly intends to stretch his generosity to the limit. What an imp!

"Mama purchased me a new dress for the Kenworthy garden party in the coming week," Hyacinth replies cheerfully. "My brother rather agreed that I deserved a hair ribbon to wear with my new frock."

"You did not leave me much choice, sister," Colin responds dryly. Hyacinth sticks her tongue out at him, and he retaliates by tickling her waist. She squeals and wiggles away from him.

"She fleeced me in a round of cards," Colin tells Penelope, making her smile. "Benedict will be paying his debt to this fiend in biscuits."

"Do not think him a victim. He lost several rounds of cards, Pen. I won my choice of a new hair ribbon and a trip to get flavored ices fairly," Hyacinth says with an indignant sniff. "Perhaps, he will not play so poorly next time."

Penelope laughs aloud, making a smile spread across Colin's face. Hyacinth tosses her head of chestnut curls over her shoulder.

"I will return shortly, brother," she says. "I saw some pink ribbon at the back of the shop that I shall like as well."

"You told me your dress for the garden party is green, Hy," Colin complains. "You already have a green ribbon in your hand and hair pins I never agreed to purchase."

"It is a young lady's duty to always be prepared. Who knows if I may choose a different dress for the party," she replies. Hyacinth flounces off before he can get in another word. Colin stares after her, agog.

"She is a menace," he mutters fondly.

"It looks like you've been fleeced by her once again," Penelope tells him, still laughing. "I do hope your coin purse is prepared."

"Must you deepen the wound, Pen?"

"Perhaps if I tease you enough about falling prey to Hyacinth's charms, then you will learn to resist her."

"Doubtful," Colin replies. "I believe it more likely she will somehow overtake the monarchy and make the Queen think it was her idea."

Penelope laughs again. Colin is enraptured by her smile. "Her intelligence and forthrightness will serve her well, I think."

"I fear for whoever marries her," Colin says. "She manages to get her way at all times, even when us as her brothers are familiar with her schemes."

"It is impressive that she terrifies all the Bridgerton men."

"I am glad that she was never allowed to learn fencing! She is razor sharp with only her wit," Colin exclaims quietly. "Can you imagine the destruction she would cause with a rapier?"

Penelope covers her mouth with both hands to quiet her giggles in such a public setting. Colin does his best to smother his own laughter. He utterly fails at keeping his face straight but he manages to avoid meeting any of the speculative gazes of several women looking in their direction.

From the corner of his eye, Colin spots Penelope's lady's maid being handed parcels by Madame Delacroix. Realizing that their interlude shall quickly come to an end once Rae approaches with her parcels, Colin takes his chance.

"Are the Featheringtons attending the Parwhile dinner party tomorrow evening?" he asks.

Penelope looks at him with curious eyes. "I believe my Mama has accepted on our behalf," she replies. "Why do you ask?"

Colin reaches out a hand. He knows that it is inappropriate to touch her bare wrist, but he does so anyway. Penelope inhales at his fingertips on her bare skin, yet she does not pull away. If anything, she turns herself towards him so that their touch is more hidden. Taking that as an invitation, Colin steps closer to her. He lowers his head toward her and she tilts her chin upward to meet his eyes.

"My family plans to attend as well," he says quietly. The shine of her blue eyes makes his mouth go dry. "Would you grant me the honor of escorting you to supper?"

The sweet smile that blooms on her face makes his heart beat quicken. She is radiant.

"I would like that very much, Colin," she replies, just as quietly.

The two of them stare at each other for a long moment before Colin feels Penelope's small fingers grasp his own. He searches her gaze for permission and receives the tiniest nod in reply. He entwines their fingers.

Penelope's blush spreads across the bridge of her nose. Colin feels his ears grow hot.

It is scandalous to be stood in the middle of the modiste's shop with their hands entangled. The touch is far too intimate for any couple in public, engaged or wed. It would prove absolutely ruinous for a lady and gentleman, especially whilst unofficially courting, to hold hands like this. Their indiscretion is hidden only by the wall of shelving nearby and her dress skirts.

Colin should not be this affected by an intimate clasping of hands. He is far from green, and yet, this vulnerable touch shared with Penelope is what makes him sweat under the collar. Colin rubs his thumb across the heel of her hand and Penelope's blush deepens. She squeezes his hand softly in response. Their eyes remain locked together for what feels like infinity.

"Are you ready to go, Miss?" Her lady's maid's voice comes from precariously close to his person. He recognizes the voice at the same moment Penelope gasps. The lady's maid stands directly in front of both of them, her smile knowing.

"I've gathered all our orders for the upcoming week," she says. Rae sounds overly loud to Colin.

"Uh," Penelope says, flustered. "Yes, Rae. Thank you! We can take our leave now, I suppose."

The lady's maid tips her head in acknowledgment and glances down towards Penelope's skirts where their fingers are still linked. Colin's face burns as he realizes they were caught out, and she stood there to keep their moment private from the rest of the shop's patrons.

Colin reluctantly drops Penelope's hand and he clears his throat. He nods in thanks to her, and Rae gives him a small curtsy.

"Good day, Pen," he says.

Penelope remains flushed in the cheeks, but she curtsies to him in response to his bow.

"Good day, Colin," she replies.

Colin watches her walk out of the shop behind her lady's maid. She spares him a glance over her shoulder as she exits. He cannot help but grin at her. She gives him a shy smile before disappearing from his line of sight.

Colin stares after her for a long interval before Hyacinth appears next to him, carrying a woven basket with four new ribbons and a set of sparkling hair pins. She wears a devilish look on her face. Colin groans as it becomes increasingly obvious that she somehow witnessed every bit of that awkward and flirtatious encounter.

"How much does your silence cost?" he asks.

"You do not have the funds," she replies.

The afternoon passes in joyous companionship. Hyacinth swindles him into purchasing all her hair adornments from the modiste. The bright smile on her face as she skips her way back into the Bridgerton carriage is payment enough.

He may have to relent in his teasing of Anthony about his weakness for Hyacinth. It seems that he is just as gullible at falling for her smile and a set of wide, pleading blue eyes. Out of the eldest three Bridgerton siblings, Benedict is the only one capable of staunchly telling Hyacinth no. Then again, Benedict is rarely ever staunch about anything so she manages to work around him as an obstacle fairly often.

After a boisterous dinner with his family, Colin retreats to his study. He opens one of his worn, brown leather journals and tries to read his words as though he is unfamiliar with them:

Marseilles, France -- May 1815

Southern France is a far cry from my excursion to the landlocked Paris. The Seine seems slovenly and pitiable in comparison to the Balearic sea. Marseille enchants all of my senses; from taste to color.

The sea brine present in the air makes me sweat through all of my fine linen shirts. The innkeeper's staff in charge of the wash dressed me down for bringing her clothing in such a terrible state for laundering. I dare say that many of my silk cravats and silken breeches have met their untimely end due to excessive humidity and perspiration.

Despite the unfortunate loss of clothing, I rather enjoy the heat, especially when it comes to exploring the Balearic sea. Upon my arrival, I was unsure whether the sea was safe for swimming. Seeing numerous families splash about the shores reassured me that it was. The blue of the water shines vibrantly against the sweltering sun. Seafoam breaks cold and crisp against my skin whenever I take to the beaches for a swim.

Many people of age here do not wear swimming costumes. It took a few bottles of wine to entice me into swimming nude. After doing so, I am unsure if I can happily ever swim whilst clothed again.

The wine, fresh from vineyards only meters away, is rich, sweet and bitter on my tongue. The pastries flake off in soft pieces, leaving buttery remnants on my fingertips. If I were not a gentleman, I would lick my hands clean at the end of each meal.

I found the food in Paris to be novel and fascinating, but I am an Englishman at heart as well as in my stomach. I thought escargot and caviar to be as disgusting as they were expensive. In Marseille, the cooks make old recipes anew. It is not about discovery or expense here. They seek to refine something already great into something spectacular. Here, I can eat fish and chips dipped into brackish vinegar and topped with clumpy sea salt. It is served with the catch of the day, chips thrown on the fire in a cast iron pan filled with hot oil, and rinsed down with beer, frothy and chilled, on the side.

As a port city, the streets are always bustling. From dawn until dusk, the liveliness of this city awakens my soul. Rarely is there a moment of silence amongst the traders' haggling, the brays of horses, and the wine-tipped lyrical cadence of French being spoken. I foolishly thought Paris to be the ultimate French experience, but the cobblestone streets of Marseille show me otherwise. It is not sultry like the streets of Parisian neighborhoods and wineries. Marseille is a market city. It is industrial, full of hardworking fishermen, glassmakers, and fashion designers.

The fashion houses present ensure that an eclectic mix of feathered frocks and sturdy work clothing fill the streets. I am amazed that at a portside eatery I can see women adorned in fine, sequined dresses with heeled slippers, and in the same space, I observe men on lunch breaks consuming fried fish wrapped in newspapers. Such contrast…

Colin flips through several passages in his journal from Marseille. His writings seem at least interesting to his own eyes, but they may require some editing. He pulls another of his journals from his desk drawer, determined to start from the beginning of his latest tour.

As the sun sets, Colin finds himself reading passages from his stint in Paris. He has the beginning scribbles of an edited manuscript written on spare parchment. He only looks up from his work when the door to his study creaks open. He remains partially distracted until he sees his younger sister's dark head of curls and bangs appear.

"Eloise!" he calls as he sees her eyes peer around the side of the door. Colin sets aside his quill and inkpot, capping the bottle before he stands quickly. "I have been looking for you."

"As Mama informed me," she replies, stepping fully into the room. "What did you need?"

Colin walks from behind his desk. "Uh," he says, "may we sit?" He gestures to the armchairs in the middle of the room.

Eloise looks flighty and uncomfortable. She clearly has no desire to be in this room with him right now. With a sigh, she closes the door and walks into the room. Her green day dress swishes around her ankles as she walks over to a chair. Colin sits beside her in the second chair.

There is a beat of awkward silence before he says, "I wanted to apologize again for not telling you sooner about my feelings for Penelope."

Eloise, after only just settling into her seat, springs up from her chair. "Ah, in fact," she says, curtly. "I think I shall stand or I may just take my leave."

"Eloise!" Colin pleads, rising to follow her. He knew this conversation within the bounds of full privacy would be fraught, but he had great hope after their words at the family picnic. She stops, pressing a hand to her forehead. He sees her shoulders tense before she turns back to him.

"It is strange enough to have my brother speaking about his feelings for my friend," she says, "but you knew we were at odds and you still went behind my back to spend time with her."

"I know and I am deeply sorry," Colin responds. As a friend to Penelope, his actions were understandable. As a brother, he utterly failed to stand by her side. If the roles were reversed, he would be apoplectic as well. "I do not know how to make up for this."

"Perhaps it is better you do not try then," Eloise says, annoyed. "I do not like that you chose to continue with her, but I also did not wish for her to be friendless. I am still working on my reticence with Pen, but it is not something I can force myself to forgive."

"I dislike the distance between us," Colin admits.

"Then maybe you should have let her be!" Eloise snaps. "You are my brother, and you chose her over me. I know I am not your favored sister, but does our familial relationship mean so little to you?"

"Of course not, El. I adore you. Penelope has been like family for years, and you said it yourself that you did not wish her to be friendless or despondent. If my actions truly bothered you that much, then you should have come to me directly," Colin says. "I am sorry for how I betrayed your trust, but I cannot in good conscience apologize for being her friend. I cannot apologize for discovering my feelings toward her either."

Eloise sighs deeply. The frown on her face grows with every word. He does not know how to make her understand that he did not make his choice lightly. She is his sister, but it is Penelope. The one person whose affections they have always shared. Her loyalty to Eloise is part of the reason he loves her so much. He never, not in his wildest dreams, could have imagined that her regard for him could stand apart from her friendship with Eloise.

"I thought I knew what love was, but whatever fancy I had for Miss Thompson, it does not compare to how Penelope makes me feel," he says, moving closer to his sister. Eloise steps away from him.

"Brother, I do not wish to hear this," she says. "I am no longer angry with you; more annoyed than anything. I get that you have feelings for her—"

"I love her, Eloise," he blurts. Colin feels taken aback by his own declaration. He had no intention of spilling such a secret to Eloise. He could not have chosen a worse moment to reveal the true depths of his feelings, but it is far too late to take it back now. Eloise stands there, frozen for a moment.

" What? " she asks, shrill. Eloise is not often struck speechless, but her mouth falls open in shock. She looks like Colin slapped her.

"I love her," Colin tells her.

He must repeat himself for his own sake. He had determined as such in his own head before he pursued a carriage at a run, but saying it somehow makes it more real. He is no longer the only one who knows the depth of his affection for Penelope.

"It is the first time I have said it out loud, but I love her El," he tells his sister, "I truly do."

She stares at him with blue eyes that grow sadder by the second. Whatever reaction he expected from Eloise, it was not heartbreak. He sees the moment his words fully register because she inhales sharply and presses a hand to her stomach as though she is nauseous. She looks devastated and scared…for him? He does not understand.

Why would Eloise be devastated for him?

"Oh Colin," she breathes.

The edge of tears in her voice makes him panic. She cannot hate Penelope so much that she would begrudge his love for her? Eloise can be narrow-minded sometimes, but she is not unkind.

"You loved her once too. You were inseparable!" he rushes to say. Colin moves forward, wanting to reach out a hand to her. He stops in his tracks when she retreats away from him. It seems she remains unwilling to be touched.

Colin is at a complete loss.

None of his siblings have shied away from physical comfort. If anything, they express their affection far more than any other family in high society. Of the eldest children, Colin is the one with the closest relationship to all of the siblings. They have come to him for comfort many times before. To see Eloise withdraw from him makes his stomach tighten in concern.

"I remember the day the Featheringtons moved in across the square. From that day on, it was "Penelope this," and "Penelope that," and Penelope and I are going to read Don Quixote and we are going to be knights," Colin says.

Eloise lets out a shaky laugh in response and he sees her try to reign in her emotions.

"I was devastated to learn we were not allowed to take fencing lessons," she replies. Colin feels great relief that she continues to talk to him. Her body language exudes vulnerability and disquiet, but she has not completely cut herself off from him.

"Mm," Colin agrees. He reaches out a hand to her, but this time he keeps it extended and does not move any closer. "If she will have me, Penelope is to be your sister soon. Once upon a time, that was your greatest dream."

Eloise picks at the lace on her day dress, but she looks at him.

"At the picnic, there seemed to have been some reconciliation?" He asks, carefully.

His careful tone is not enough. Her expression crumples and Colin despairs of the tears he sees on her face. She wipes them away with one hand and then finally, places her other in his own. Colin grabs hold tightly in an attempt at connection and comfort. He does not wish to see her so upset.

"As I said the other day, there was a necessary exchange of shouting. I am open to renewing our friendship," Eloise tells him. Colin nods, keeping his mouth shut because she appears to have more to say.

"Will you give us time to repair our relationship in our own way?" She asks. "I know you like to meddle and try to make things better, but this is one you will have to be patient with. You cannot fix hurt feelings, brother."

"I understand," he replies. Colin is unused to being the cause of his sisters' tears. Typically, he is the elder brother they turn to for reassurance, comfort and levity. He truly hates upsetting people or inspiring disappointment. Colin is likely too sensitive for what high society deems apropos for men, but he has been empathetic since he was a young boy. Watching Eloise experience lowly emotions makes him feel quite ill.

"El, I love you and I love her. It is difficult to see you both unhappy."

"I love you too, Col," Eloise says. "We just need more time."

Colin nods. She clutches his hand for a moment before she leaves the room quickly. He watches the door shut behind her. He is unsure if that conversation helped or hurt things, but at least she knows now that his intentions are genuine.

-- Friday, November 10, 1815

Friday dawns with overcast skies. It has not rained during the night, but the dark cloud cover suggests there might be a downpour during the day. The heavy weather fits Eloise's disposition. She spent hours tossing and turning, unable to settle her mind. The restlessness she feels only adds to her emotional upheaval.

Colin is in love with Penelope.

It boggles the mind.

How could Colin have fallen in love with Penelope? He has only been back from his tour for a month! What happened from his arrival at the Queen's presentation to now that changed his feelings so drastically? Can a person's feelings truly alter so much in so little time?

She rolls to her back, staring up at the top of her four-poster bed. The room is dimly lit by muted sunshine faintly peeking through the floor length curtains framing her window. Looking to her left, Eloise can make out her bookcases in the dim lighting.

The cases that used to be filled with educational texts and pamphlets on women's rights sport barren and dusty shelves. After Lady Whistledown's reveal of her trips to Bloomsbury and subsequently finding out that Penelope is the author who betrayed her, Eloise proceeded to shove all her educational books into her trunk.

She did not wish to read of fantastical worlds where women possessed equal social rank to men. If she is to remain trapped in the suffocating chains of polite society, then she would not like to remind herself of the impossible.

With an exhausted huff, Eloise finally gives up on sleeping. She rises from bed, bare feet padding against the chilled wooden flooring. She grabs her dressing gown from the hook beside her door and slips each arm inside.

The clock on her wall indicates that it is a quarter past six. Eloise does not sleep in, but she also does not rise this early. She ties the belt of her dressing gown at her waist, spying the half-finished novel atop her bedside table. Perhaps she will give her novel another go? It will likely bore her to tears as it has thus far, but there is not much else she can do to pass the time. She is not accomplished on the pianoforte. She prefers walking to riding horseback, and Anthony would string her up by her ears if she were to promenade without a chaperone. The thought of working on her stitching and needlework is just as unappealing, so reading is her best option.

Eloise grabs the book and makes her way outside of her room. She can hear the muted shuffle of servants on the lower floors. Since they are awake, they may be willing to provide her a pot of tea in the drawing room.

A chill catches her as she walks down the family quarters corridor towards the main staircase. She clutches her book to her chest and continues forward. As she passes the room on the second floor deemed Frannie's music room, she is surprised to hear the rattle of a teacup against a saucer.

Eloise stops in her tracks, curious about who would be taking tea in the music room.

It is usually occupied by Francesca during the day whenever she gets into one of her moods and finds herself exhausted by people. All the Bridgertons have learned to spot the signs of her being overcome by her surroundings, and they allow her time and space to regather herself. Most of them do not come into the music room without an express invitation from her.

Eloise moves closer, keeping her footsteps silent. The music room door is ajar, so she peeks her head inside. She stares at the figure resting on a settee in the room. Her mother sits staring out of the music room window with her dark blue dressing gown layered over her white nightdress and her dark brown curls tucked into a sleeping braid. The window curtains are drawn wide and the gardens of the Bridgerton house are visible.

Eloise could leave her be, but she finds herself curious. Her mother rises at a decent time, but it looks as though she has been awake for quite a while.

"Mama?" she calls, pressing the door open a bit further.

" Oh! " Mother exclaims, clearly startled. She swings around, clutching her chest. Eloise obviously gave her a fright. She huffs out a nervous laugh before she rests a hand on the back of the settee. "Eloise dear! What are you doing awake?"

"I did not mean to startle you," Eloise replies and her mother waves away her imminent apology with a chuckle. She continues, "I was heading to the private drawing room. I thought I'd ring for tea and read for a while, but I heard you in here."

Her mother gives her a soft smile before beckoning Eloise inside with a nod of her head. "Come join me, dearest. I only just received my own tea service, and there is plenty to share."

Eloise closes the door behind her, and she walks over.

"Thank you, Mama," she replies.

Eloise sits on the settee near her mother. She watches as her mother prepares her tea to her exact preference–with two sugars and a medium amount of milk. It never ceases to amaze her how her mother manages to remember such frivolous things about her children.

"What book were you planning to read?" she asks, refreshing her own cup of tea.

"Emma; it is a novel written by a woman," Eloise replies, dropping the book from her chest to make the book title visible. "It is a comedy, I suppose. It focuses on a gently bred lady who is entirely too full of herself. I started it at the beginning of the season, but have found myself distracted as of late."

Why Eloise decided to read Emma is something she cannot answer. Is it because 'A Lady' is Penelope's favorite author? Deep inside, Eloise would not be surprised if she subconsciously chose this book to feel close to her. Mother takes a hearty sip of her tea. Eloise can feel her concerned gaze and she tries not to react outwardly to it.

"I noticed that you seem to have taken a new interest in fictional literature," Mama answers. "Is there a reason why you have paused in your studies on women's rights?"

"I thought I would try something different," Eloise says. She lets out a rueful laugh, attempting to make light of something that is slowly driving her into madness with its surface-level thought and simpering writing style. "Perhaps, make myself more like the other respectable young ladies my age."

Mama hums behind her tea cup. Eloise can practically hear her unverbalized disbelief. Her mother's expression remains unchanged, but she might as well start leaping up and down swearing with the telling way she takes a sip of her tea.

"Are you enjoying this change of pace?" Mama asks.

"I admit that the book lacks a certain verve that I am used to," Eloise replies. "It is well-written, but I do not find myself fully enraptured with the text."

"Have you begun reading the Bavarian text your brother brought you on his travels?"

That book is shoved into her trunk, alongside all the other literature on women's rights and history. She took it from Colin's hands and spent moments skimming the words before forcing herself to put it away. The book had compelling topics inside, and she confesses in her own mind that Colin picked a perfect text for her.

However, Eloise has little desire to read about her dreams when they are so utterly unattainable to her. The mere mention of her attending lectures on women's equality had her labeled a radical in Mayfair, and she was shunned by all but her family for months. The texts are as painful to look at as her crumbled friendship with Penelope is to experience.

"No, I have not. I thought novels would be an easier conversation topic with other debutantes," she replies, stiffly. Freedom from society shall be her unrequited romance. She does not wish to torment herself with continued reading and exposure to a world she shall never have access to. "No need to stir any more controversy by feeding my rebellious thoughts."

"Is this avoidance of controversy the reason you sought friendship with Miss Cowper?"

Her shoulders tense immediately, and she grips the book in her hands so tight that her knuckles whiten. Eloise suddenly understands her brothers' aggravation with how their Mama seems to know everything, even when they do not wish her to. She remains silent; unsure what to even say.

Mama sighs, exasperated.

"Eloise, I am not blind," Mama says, setting her teacup down on its saucer. Eloise continues to say nothing as she feels her mother scoot closer. Her gaze burns into the side of Eloise's head. "The rift between yourself and Penelope is painful to witness. It brings me great sadness to see you so unhappy."

Eloise feels her walls crumble. She does not wish to have another person question her relationship with Penelope. She cannot unburden the betrayal on her mother, or on Colin, and especially not on Cressida. She has no friends left, and the weight of the secret she carries is heavy on her soul. After months of stony silence between her and Penelope, Eloise finds that she is still emotionally fraught over the redhead's well-being.

She misses Penelope.

It is like a limb has been cut off. Eloise will think of something humorous, or wish to share her thoughts with another person, and her first inclination is to seek out Penelope. Although furious and hurt, that instinct has yet to lessen or change no matter how much Eloise tells herself that it should.

How do people maintain friendships?

Most women of the Ton do not have close female friendships anyway. It constantly seems like a chess board of relationships, where someone can steal someone's Queen or sacrifice a rook without compunction. No one around her seems to have experienced deep, loving companionship like she had with Penelope. Is this loneliness truly the life she has to look forward to?

Is this the existence most women in high society must abide by? Where they have no one to share secrets with? Where they have no one to turn to, outside of family, for advice and comfort? Her mother is the only person she knows who has a longstanding relationship with another woman. Is it possible that friendship is truly so rare?

Can she sacrifice the love she has shared with Penelope over this indiscretion; particularly in light of this empty, solitary reality?

"Mama," Eloise asks after a prolonged silence, "how have you managed such a long friendship with Lady Danbury? She must have vexed you at some point."

Her mother seems taken aback by the sudden question. It is likely not the question she expected to receive after her own query. "Oh dear, there is a long history between us both. Agatha is not without fault," Mama replies, surprised. "Friendship, like any relationship, has its trials."

"What if these trials test the boundaries of society?" Eloise responds. "Would you stretch yourself to maintain a friendship when there has been a breach of trust; no matter how large or unintentional?"

Eloise has only seen her mother look awkward a few times in her life. This moment is one of them. Mama wrings her hands together. She appears flustered as she filters her thoughts, seemingly searching for the appropriate words.

"Agatha and I have indeed found ourselves in the crosshairs of propriety and broken trust. A truth that was revealed to me at a most unfortunate time, in fact," Mama confesses. "However, the thing she did was not done out of malice or ill intent towards me."

"How do you reconcile that kind of mistake, malice-intended or not?"

"My choices were to either hold onto my injured pride or lose a genuine friendship. We all make mistakes, Eloise," Mama replies, gently. "She made a questionable decision at the time, but misjudgment is how we grow as individuals."

"Some mistakes are unforgivable," Eloise asserts.

What Penelope did to her in the name of so-called protection could be nothing but the ultimate betrayal of confidence. If her mother knew what occurred, there is no possible way she would encourage reconciliation. Eloise cannot fathom trusting Pen again, even if her heart yearns for their closeness.

Mother lets out a breath. She sounds sad and that catches Eloise's attention. She glances up at her mother, and the look of regret on her face startles Eloise.

"Mama? Are you well?"

Her mother blinks away tears before she says, "Love does not work that way, dearest."

"I do not understand," Eloise answers, frustrated. How can love not require steadfast confidence?

"Loving anyone requires…," Mother's words trail off as she visibly searches for an appropriate term. She continues, "...flexibility."

"Flexibility?" Eloise questions, doubtful. What in the blazes does that mean?

"When your father died," Mama starts. "I was not myself." She leans forward and takes a sip of tea. Eloise lets her be. What on earth does this conversation have to do with Papa? "I was overcome with grief," she continues, "Anthony ended up bearing far more responsibility on his own than he should have. He spent years angry with me for abandoning him when he needed me the most; when you all needed me."

"Mama–"

"Do not interrupt, Eloise," she says sternly and Eloise feels her mouth snap shut. Mother rarely speaks to them in such a tone. "Last year, we finally reached a point where he was able to forgive me for my transgression. He loved me, but he closed himself off to me for a very long time. You can love someone and still be hurt or betrayed by them. Having flexibility in love means that you learn how to do both things at once. This is a skill that you must learn, my dear."

"You think I am inflexible?" Eloise asks slowly, trying to parse through what her mother is saying.

"I think you are stubborn and unyielding. They are powerful personality traits, which can cause just as much harm as they do good, especially when it comes to relationships," Mama responds. "Relationships are a constant balance of compromise and appreciation. There will never be a romance or a friendship where you do not have to practice flexibility through forgiveness, Eloise."

"And you wonder why I detest the majority of people," Eloise replies, irritable. "Books are far easier to deal with."

"That they are," Mama says, laughing. Her amused expression fades into concern. "What is this truly about, my dear?"

Eloise leans forward to place her novel onto the wooden side table. There is no chance she will get to read this book. She has no real desire to read it at all, if she is honest with herself. This facade she wears of following the season's fashions, giggling on the sidelines with young ladies, and trying to participate in simpering conversation over eligible men exhausts her. If she is to be vulnerable and honest, then her mother is the safest choice to share her insecurities. Eloise looks at her mother, feeling her eyes burn with fresh tears. Mother's visible concern deepens as she scoots closer, placing a hand on Eloise's knee.

"I am afraid," she whispers. The insecurity roars to the front of her mind. It is terrifying to admit out loud, but she is truly afraid.

"Afraid of what?"

Eloise does not cry often. The last instance was after her and Penelope's heated exchange in the Featherington drawing room. She was faced with an abyss of loneliness and even more so now, but at the hands of her own brother stealing her best friend.

"Being left behind," Eloise admits, her bottom lip trembling. "No one ever tells you how terrifying it is to watch the people you love move on with their lives. Everything is changing so quickly."

Mother's hand tightens on her knee. "Is this about Penelope and Colin?"

Eloise nods and says, "Penelope and I are in a tenuous place. Our friendship was soured by a great betrayal of confidence. I spent months enraged with her, but I still struggle to separate her in my mind. I love her and swear at her simultaneously. And now Colin is intent on marrying her. How am I to move past such conflicting feelings? I do not wish to distance myself from Colin, but I do not know how to let go of the hurt I feel from what Penelope has done. If I am honest, I do not want to lose either of them and I fear that I have no choice in the matter."

"Colin will always love you, Eloise. You are his sister and his friend," Mama reassures. "It is simply a different kind of love he has for Penelope. Working through your feelings about whatever happened between you and Pen must be taken at your pace. You cannot force yourself to process what has happened, but I believe the best place to start is to let yourself feel whatever it is you are feeling. Hiding from your heartache only makes things worse."

"It is not only about them but about everyone else too," Eloise replies, tears breaking free. They leave hot trails down her cheeks. Eloise swipes them away angrily. "Anthony and Daphne are married off. I am sure that Lord Stirling will propose to Frannie. I fear I will become unimportant in everyone's lives."

She does not wish to be left behind by everyone she loves. She used to think that she would always have Penelope, and with this betrayal, she is forced to consider a life where she is alone.

"Such change is unavoidable," Mama replies. Eloise lets herself hiccup. Mama reaches out and grabs her free hand. The connection only increases Eloise's tears.

"What if I am the only one who never changes?" Eloise questions, distraught.

"Well I know that to not be true," Mama says. Eloise stares at her, confused.

"How is that?"

Mama reaches forward, using a soft touch to swipe tears off of her face.

"Because the Eloise from two years ago never would have asked that question," she says. "Your relationships may evolve, but that does not mean they will disappear. What it does require from you is effort. You do not have the luxury of proximity or sharing a residence any longer. Relationships take work to develop and maintain, dearest."

"Does it ever get any easier?"

"No, and if it makes you feel better, I had to tell Colin something similar."

Mother pats the sofa next to her and Eloise moves over to sit close to her.

"I cannot tell you what to do from here, dearest," Mama says, brushing an errant curl behind Eloise's right ear. "Forgiveness is a choice only you can make."

"The one occasion where I wish to be told what to do, and you decide to let me be independent," Eloise replies, pouting. Her mother laughs. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, her mother tugs her into a comforting embrace.

Watching the sky lighten and birds flitter past the window, Eloise allows her heart to soften towards Penelope. The thought of ending their friendship feels as jarring today as it did at the close of last season. Underneath all of the heartbreak and broken trust is a memory of steadfast companionship. Eloise thinks back through years of friendship in silence.

She lays against her Mama, with her head tucked into her mother's neck and arms wrapped around her midsection. She feels her mother press a kiss to the top of her head and then rest her cheek against her crown.

From meeting Penelope to dirtying their day dresses on the grounds of Aubrey Hall. Remembering how Penelope always encouraged her outlandish thoughts and played along as Eloise discovered the unfairness of society. On a quest to make her choice, Eloise revisits their arguments in her mind. It strikes her then, how most of their conversations were dominated by her own voice.

Eloise finally notices the looks on Penelope's face when she would go off on tangents about marriage and children. Eloise thinks about how downtrodden Penelope looked whenever she came from a social outing and had never been asked to dance. It is the first time Eloise realizes that she never asked Pen about her experience being out in society. She had been so consumed in her hunt for Lady Whistledown that she cannot remember paying attention to Penelope's troubles until the Featherington name had been thrown into scandal.

She feels Mama's warm hand rub soothing circles on her back as they sit in the quiet of the morning. Feeling safe but shaken, she drifts off into sleep against her mother's warm side. The sound of her Mama's heartbeat lulls her to rest.

Penelope is still prone in bed when Rae loudly enters her bedchamber.

"Good morning, Miss Penelope!" she greets.

Penelope drags the covers over her head wanting to sleep for a little bit longer. Her lady's maid drags the blankets down and then swings her curtains wide to let the Friday morning sunshine blast inside.

"Rae," she complains, "It is too early for you to be so cheerful."

"Oh Miss," she replies. "You are crotchety because you were up so late last night writing."

"It is quite the task to protect the privacy of a friend and write a gossip column," Penelope says. "I never wish to even allude to any of the things Colin has confided in me. So I must triple-check my work to make sure nothing has been absentmindedly added."

"It is good that you care about his confidence, Miss," Rae responds, gathering the washing from last night. "You have been good at protecting the Bridgertons this year, and you have kept your reveals fair. I think you are doing a banging good job this season."

"Thank you, Rae," Penelope says. "I am trying to be better."

"I know you are," Rae responds. "Now, up you get! You must finish your report and get it off to the printers. You are already a day later than you said you would be, and if you do not print by this afternoon it shall interfere with your publication on Monday!"

"Alright, alright," Penelope says, sliding her way dramatically off the bed. Rae steps out into the hall and then she returns quickly, shutting the door behind her.

"Mr. Bridgerton also sent you another gift," Rae tells her. Penelope pauses in tugging on her dressing gown to see her lady's maid gripping a glass vase with beautiful peach and light pink asters inside.

"Oh Rae, they are beautiful!" Penelope rushes over to get a closer look. The flowers are gorgeous, brightly colored, and cheerful. She sniffs them and then sneezes.

"Oh no," Penelope says, sneezing uncontrollably. "I think I might be allergic!"

"Right," Rae says. "Look your fill because I shall toss them."

Penelope is sad to see such beautiful flowers go to waste, but her eyes have begun watering and she cannot stop sneezing. She takes one last look at them before she waves Rae off. Rae hurries out of the room. Penelope opens the windows in her room to bring in the fresh air.

When she catches sight of her face in the looking glass, she gasps. Her eyes are watery and slightly swollen and her nose is bright red. She hurries to grab the washing bowl filled with chilled water on her vanity. Dipping a cloth in the water, Penelope washes her face gently but thoroughly.

By the time Rae has returned, her eyes are still a bit puffy, but she has ceased sneezing.

"We shall inform Mr. Bridgerton that asters are beautiful but unwelcome," Rae tells her, and Penelope laughs.

"They were beautiful!" she agrees. "Did he leave a letter?"

"Yes Miss," Rae says, handing a small square of parchment over. "While you read, I shall ready your writing desk for the day."

Pen,

Anthony, Benedict and I will be away on business for the morning, so I shan't be calling on you. Although I will be gone for the majority of the day, you remain at the forefront of my thoughts. I look forward to seeing your beautiful countenance at the Parwhile dinner party. I can only hope I am blessed with another opportunity to hold your hand this evening.

Hopefully yours,

Colin

Penelope could swoon.

"Has he said something naughty, Miss?" Rae teases and Penelope huffs out a laugh.

"No," she replies, "He is just entirely too sweet for me to keep my wits about myself. Though from his previous letters, I am sure the naughty bits will reveal themselves soon. Mr. Bridgerton certainly has a way with words."

Rae laughs in response as she begins stripping the bed to be remade. Penelope goes to clean her teeth and uses the chamber pot. When she has returned, Rae is deep into her cleaning. Penelope sits at her desk and begins editing. She shall never betray Colin's confidence, so she reads her writing a fourth time to make sure nothing he has mentioned is printed.

After thirty minutes of editing, Penelope considers her draft completed. She folds the report into a tight square. Rae soon takes her leave of Penelope's bedchamber with the draft of her report hidden in her pocket. Her lady's maid shall deliver the copy to Genevieve, who will send it off to the printers tucked away in silks.

This delivery idea was at Rae's suggestion. As a lady's maid, she can roam freely and no one shall ask questions. High society does not pay much attention to what servants do. This method of submitting her drafts helps protect Penelope's identity even more. She lives a double life, but she does so intelligently.

As a reward for her services, Penelope pays Rae handsomely aside from her regular wages. The first time Penelope presented a pouch of coin to her lady's maid, Rae expressed shock and tremendous gratitude. Rae is invaluable to her operation and her daily life, and she deserves every cent that Penelope can award her.

Rae returns from the modiste shop with plenty of time to assist Penelope in bathing after the midday meal and an afternoon spent reading. She is excited to prepare for the Parwhile dinner party, and since Colin seems to prefer citrus colors, she chooses a peachy-orange gown for the evening.

The gown has a deeper, triangular bust line and displays her cleavage much more than she is used to. The bust line is hemmed with lace and crosses two panels over each other; one side fastened with a bow that sits right under her bosom most appealingly. The dress has lace flowers patterned all over the fabric from top to bottom, and features cap sleeves. The ivory lace underlay sits prettily over her petticoats and corset. Her chemise and stays are a soft cream color to match.

Rae fashions her red tresses into long, loose curls that sit over her shoulders. Half her hair is braided on the sides and fastened into a ponytail at the back of her head with a large lace bow. Rae curls framing pieces to fall perfectly around her face. Her lady's maid is applying rouge to her cheeks when there is a loud knock at the door. Rae and Penelope meet each other's gazes, confused about who would be requesting to enter her bedchamber before an outing.

"Penelope?"

The last voice Penelope expects is that of her mother's. She blinks in surprise at her lady's maid, who straightens up.

"Mama?" she calls back.

Penelope hears the faint rustling of skirts outside of her door. She and Rae exchange another look. "Might I come in for a moment?" Penelope's mouth falls open of its own accord. Her mother usually barges her way into her room with nary a thought. What in the blazes is happening?

"Uh, yes," Penelope replies, "Come in."

The door opens the second Penelope stops speaking. Her mother sweeps in wearing a lurid green dress, intensely drawn on eyebrows and feathers weaved through her hair. It is a particularly Portia Featherington fashion choice. Her mother stops in her tracks as Penelope stands from her vanity. She stares for a second. Pen is all too aware of the way her mother's eyes sweep from her head to her slippered feet.

"You look splendid, Penelope," she says with an audible inhale.

From the corner of her eye, Penelope sees her lady's maid's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline in shock. Penelope is sure that her expression is no less taken aback. Her mother is not one to offer compliments freely. She finds herself tempted to check out her window. There must be locusts running amuck in the streets or her mother is being genuine.

"I do?" she asks nervously. Penelope smooths her skirts and tries not to fidget under her mother's stare, but she is unsuccessful at hiding her trepidation.

"Might we sit?" Mother asks in response.

Penelope nods. Her mother walks over to the set of armchairs in the corner of her bedroom. Penelope follows at a sedate pace. She does not know what to expect from her mother, and that is most unnerving.

"Rae, would you give us a few moments alone?" Mother asks. Rae looks askance at Penelope, who nods. Her lady's maid sets the pot of rouge onto her vanity, curtsies, and then leaves the room. Penelope sits down as the wooden door to her bedchamber closes.

She observes the way her mother wrings her hands together. She is visibly unsettled. It is something Penelope is unused to seeing. When her mother inhales deeply, Penelope sees her straighten her shoulders as a front for courage.

"The last few days have been trying," Mother starts. "Mr. Bridgerton was harsh but truthful."

Penelope blinks in shock.

"I have done you a great disservice. Your sisters too," she continues. "I focused so narrowly on securing our wealth and place in society that I failed to create any familial bonds between us."

Penelope continues blinking owlishly at her Mama. Penelope has never seen her mother so overtly emotional unless she sought attention and pity from others. She knew what her mother looked like when she was performing to manipulate other people. This? This display is genuine hurt and insecurity.

"Your father could be cruel," she says, voice shaking. To hear her label her father as cruel leaves Penelope speechless. Mother never directly disparaged their father to them. Although unkind and tactless, she never openly talked negatively of him to her or her sisters. While it was obvious they had no love for each other, there was a facade of respect she upheld. Portia Featherington is cunning, heartless, and relentless in her pursuit of her social standing. "He was a weak man, and I have allowed my hurt to manifest as unkindness. For that, I must apologize to you."

Penelope is wholly unaware of what to do with this emotional revelation.

"Mama, you wish to apologize?" she stutters.

"Yes," her mother replies. "I do not know what it is like to be in love, Penelope. Security is all I know. Seeing you be dismissed on the marriage mart broke my heart, but even more so, it made me angry."

Mama stands from her seat, wringing her hands together as she begins pacing. "I locked the girlish, fanciful part of myself away a long time ago just to survive. I chose a match for security and it turns out that your father could not even provide that," she says despairingly. "The only good thing he gave me were you girls. And my greatest wish has been for all three of you to do better than I did."

Her mother stops, bowing her head before she looks up at Penelope. Pen inhales sharply, seeing tears spill onto her mother's face.

"Mama," Penelope says, but her mother raises a hand to stop her. She shakes her head and sucks in a shaky breath.

"You need not accept my apology," Mama says, contrite. She squeezes her hands together in apparent anxiety. "I am sure that this diatribe has thrown you for a loop, so I shall give you time to reflect. I simply needed to say these things to you."

Penelope thought it would feel good when she saw her mother cry after all that she had put her through. Instead, she feels nauseated and sad on her behalf. To witness such a proud woman humble herself privately makes Penelope's heart beat faster. The fact that her mother chose to do this without an audience is quite telling. Perhaps she is sincere in her apologies?

Unable to find words, Penelope watches her mother dry her cheeks and slip her feigned confidence back into place. She walks towards the bedchamber doors with the click-clack of her heeled slippers on the wooden floors.

Although she does not turn around, she speaks. "You are lucky, Penelope. To have a friend in Eloise and a good man wishing to court you," her mother says as she opens the door. "Do not take it for granted."

Penelope watches her mother leave, skirts swishing behind her. She sits in a stupor for more than five minutes until Rae returns to her bedchamber. She allows her lady's maid to finish her application of rouge and her colored lip salve before Rae leaves her to her own thoughts.

With at least an hour left before she must head downstairs for the carriage, Penelope writes a letter to Colin. She is careful to avoid ink stains as she scribbles.

Colin,

You missed a dreadful soiree yesterday evening. It was exceedingly dull without you there to brighten the edges of the room with me. You did have an incredibly social time at the Malhotra luncheon and you seemed rather tired by the time you and your family departed. Mother loves to keep our social calendar filled to the brim, so I am familiar with having two social outings planned for each day. It can be quite exhausting.

I must say that attending a list of events each week is much more fun when there is a dashing gentleman waiting for me. Tell the Viscount thanks for being such handsome company!

Philippa continues having a hard time with her pregnancy. She is sick nearly every day and I can tell it is wearing on her. She has been more withdrawn than I have ever seen her. I hope that she and the baby remain in good health. Prudence seems to suffer no ill effects from carrying a child. Her ill temper cannot be blamed on being in the family way. She has been a spoiled brat her entire life. I am unsure which sister carries the heir. I am unsure which sister I even wish to be carrying the heir.

Whilst I was at the party, I saw something particularly interesting. I have discovered Benedict's mistress, I believe. She is quite beautiful. I think she is the widowed Lady Tilley Arnold. She is well known for her sharpness and intelligence. I am unsure where or how they were introduced, but she is a purveyor of science. Possibly it was at the Hawkins ball? They stood very close to each other and the looks they traded made me blush from afar. Is Benedict known for appreciating the fair-haired?

It has not yet been a full week. Perhaps, you should not be so hard on yourself? One and ten years of knowledge cannot be attained in such a short time. I have many things to reveal to you, both important and menial.

I do prefer performance. My mother is decidedly uninterested in most performing arts so I have only been to one ballet. I would love to attend a symphony! Art can be a bit of a bore to me. I do not find much passion in staring at paintings. Though, I would gladly attend anything with you, simply because I would be with you.

I had a wonderful time with your family on Tuesday afternoon. Three days have passed and I still find myself chuckling. There truly is nothing quite like picnicking with the Bridgertons. It was a bit overwhelming being in the midst of all twelve of you at once, but your family has always made me feel welcome. I did so love beating you at cards. I think victory looks good on me. Would you agree?

The Duke and Duchess are a splendid couple. They are quite beautiful together and Her Grace glows with motherhood. Their son, Augie, is a delight. I have not had much time around babies until that moment but I think we got on rather well? He was such a handsome, happy little gentleman. It is good practice for me. If my sisters allow me to be around their children, I shall be the best aunt possible!

I loved being able to speak with Eloise, even though it was very brief and awkward. I think we will be okay in time. I hope I can earn her forgiveness.

Speaking of forgiveness, my Mother just apologized to me! Clearly the world has gone mad. It was a rather eye-opening conversation. I knew that my father was a distant man, but it is different to understand who he was towards her. I knew my parents did not love each other but she called him cruel. I never expected him to be unkind and she did not go into much detail. Perhaps, she has shielded my sisters and I from more than I ever realized?

The last paragraph of your missive made me blush. Penny, Mr. Bridgerton? You have never called me by that name before. No one ever has. I admit that I quite like it. It gives me a thrill to see it written out on a page.

I cannot promise to show you in reality because I am quite inexperienced in romancing a gentleman. Dare I ask what it is that I do to you in your dreams? Would you be willing to tutor me, Mr. Bridgerton? To show me what you like and teach me how you wish to be touched?

With affection,

Penny

Dinner parties are Colin's favorite for numerous reasons. Firstly, he is provided five courses of excellently prepared food, and he loves to eat. Secondly, seating arrangements are organized by rank, sex, and invitations.

If one's family accepted the invitation with the name of a date already prepared, then they would be seated next to one another. Married and courting couples are seated together regardless of rank. Since he is a third son with no title, Colin is often sat with his unmarried siblings or with the eligible young ladies chosen at the whim of their hosts.

Tonight, Anthony and Kathani are in attendance, and since he agreed to attend when he had no intended, he is to be seated next to them and Eloise. Their mother shall be attending a ball as a chaperone for Francesca and Lord Stirling this evening. However, Eloise's request to be seated next to Cressida had been accepted by Lord and Lady Parwhile, so Colin now has no idea of who he is to be paired with in lieu of his sister.

Upon their arrival, Colin beelines his way to the dining room. He wishes to discover what young lady has been placed next to him. He finds his nameplate sat to the right of Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton, and beside him is a name card for Miss Clara Livingston.

The hell he will be forced into the company of that wench. Her sneer is as unpleasant to gaze upon as Cressida's and he remembers all too well her unkindness towards Pen.

Colin plucks her name card off the seat and starts his way down the table to find Penelope's. He finds her name card at the far end of the dining table, almost eight seats down from him and sitting next to Lord Basillio.

That certainly will not do.

Nonchalantly, he switches the young lady's name tag from beside his own and replaces it with Penelope's. The hostess may be annoyed but Colin cannot be bothered to care about such things. Before anyone takes notice of his mischief, Colin meanders over to the open drawing room where he finds Anthony and Kate engaged in conversation with the Mondrich family.

"Brother!" Anthony calls when Colin steps next to him. "Where did you take off to?"

"I wanted to observe the dining room and see how close we are seated together," he replies. Colin leans forward to whisper in his brother's ear. "Should anyone ask, Penelope was already assigned to be seated with us."

Anthony chokes on a sip of his brandy as he laughs. "Your impertinence is showing, brother."

"I would apologize, but I am not actually sorry," Colin says with a cheeky smile.

Anthony claps him on the back before he turns back to his conversation with Will. Kate raises an eyebrow in question but Colin offers her a sheepish shrug in response. She shakes her head at him, amused before she is pulled into conversation with Lady Uro and Lady Green.

Colin looks over at the entrance and sees Lady Featherington's painfully bright dress appear in the doorway. He straightens up, tugging at the hem of his black tailcoat. Lady Featherington strolls inside and behind her are the two Featherington sisters and their husbands. He steps to his right and finally sees Penelope at the rear of their party.

He loses his breath at the sight of her.

She wears a stunning coral-colored gown with ivory lace flowers. The dress parts at her waist and the center appears to be ivory lace trailing down to her ankles. The bright peachy-orange of the gown splits and angles down to the hem. It outlines her bust and hips. Her red curls are fully on display. He has never seen her wear this color before but he loves it.

She is beautiful.

"You might romance her better if you cease gaping and go speak with her, Colin," Kate teases. He did not even notice her moving to his side. He tears his eyes from Penelope to look at his sister. Her dark brown eyes are laughing at him.

"I think I shall do just that, sister," he replies.

The red bindi placed in the center of Kate's brow shifts when she smiles brightly at him. Kathani looks splendid in a dark red and gold sari. The Ton remains nonplussed when the slice of her midriff shows between her top and her skirt, but Anthony's glare keeps their mouths shut. He adores his wife wearing her traditional garb, and Colin knows how much Anthony's encouragement means to her. Indian culture is something the entire Bridgerton family has begun learning about.

Kate pats him on the arm, and he turns to head over to Penelope's side. Colin strides over, giving nods to other Lords who look at him in greeting, but he does not pause in his approach to the Featheringtons. Prudence is the first to notice him, and she is not discreet when she elbows her husband. The commotion she makes draws all the attention of the Featherington party to him. Colin pays them no heed. His focus is entirely on the way Penelope looks confused by her family's mutterings and then, her expression turns elated when she catches sight of him.

Her bright blue eyes light up as he comes to a stop directly in front of her.

"Miss Featherington," he greets formally with a bow.

"Mr. Bridgerton," she replies, curtsying. Penelope gives him a beautiful smile and he cannot help but scrunch his nose back at her. She bites her lip to hide an obvious giggle.

"I am delighted to see you, Pen," he says. "Are you still amenable to me escorting you to supper?"

"Of course, Colin," she replies. "I have missed your company today."

"Have you now?" he teases, stepping closer to her. "I miss one day of calling hours and you already feel my absence. What a victory this is for me."

"Mind yourself, Colin," she responds. "Confidence and arrogance are separated by very little."

"Perhaps so," he says, "but I rather think you would find my confidence or arrogance charming."

He smirks at her and she scoffs back at him. He notices the slight blush pinkening her cheeks, which tells him that he is quite correct in his assumption. Lady Featherington clears her throat. Colin looks up at her family. Five sets of eyes are affixed onto Penelope and himself.

"How rude of me," he says, turning to nod in their direction. "Good evening, Lady Featherington. Mister and Mrs. Dankworth. Mister and Mrs. Finch. I do apologize for my lapse in manners. Miss Penelope is so enchanting this evening that I could not wait to greet her."

Lady Featherington hums. Prudence's eyes narrow at him, her lips twisting into an irritated grimace. Philippa glances between the two of them, he can see her place a hand on the tiny swell of her stomach, but she does not make a face. Penelope's cheeks flush bright red.

"You are to escort Penelope to the dining table this evening?" Lady Featherington asks.

"Yes, my Lady," Colin replies. "If that is alright?"

"Shall a member of your party act as a chaperone or are my services required?" she asks. Colin is taken aback. She seems straightforward and almost kind? Colin glances at Penelope. She looks as bewildered as he does.

"Yes, Kate and Anthony are to chaperone," he answers. Lady Featherington nods in acceptance.

"Very well," she replies, "Come Prudence and Philippa, let us find some refreshments before they call for supper. Penelope, shall you find us after the meal is done?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Have fun, dear."

Colin stares after them, shocked. Penelope moves to stand next to him. He looks down toward her and she meets his eyes. They have a silent, bewildered conversation with just their eyebrows before Colin huffs out an amused laugh.

"I suppose we have much to discuss," he whispers and she laughs under her breath.

"You have no idea," she replies, just as quietly. Colin offers her his elbow. She tucks her hand into his arm as he steers them back toward the corner where Anthony and Kate stand.

"Are we sure that is your mother?" he asks. She gives him an amused look.

"The outfit choice dictates as such. It is a rather distinct preference," she replies. Colin shakes his head with a soft laugh.

"She does have a peculiar obsession with blinding colors, to be sure," he says. "Do you think she wears so many feathers to demonstrate fondness for her name?"

"Colin!" Penelope scolds, snickering. "Although you may have uncovered the real reason for all the feathers in her hair, we should not mock her too much at this time. Especially since she was actually friendly and receptive for a change?"

"Has something happened to give her such an amiable disposition?" Colin asks. "I do not think she has ever been quite so accommodating in all the years I have known her."

"She has been acting oddly all day," Penelope responds. "We had quite the conversation while I was getting ready for this outing. I shall have to tell you about it. It was most unlike her, indeed."

"You seem concerned," he says, watching her look across the room where her family is gathered.

"Such a change in behavior usually has a reason, does it not?" Penelope muses, looking up at him. "My mother and I are not close by any means, but I am rather worried about her. Have you ever seen Portia Featherington meek ?"

"I have not," Colin admits. "I hope it is a good and lasting change. You deserve kindness from your mother."

Penelope opens her mouth to respond but they reach Kate and Anthony before she can say anything.

"Ah, brother, I see you have located Miss Featherington," Anthony says, grinning. "It is good to see you, Penelope."

"You as well, my Lord," Penelope answers.

"Oh tosh, you can call me Anthony," his brother says, waving off her formality. "You need not be so formal after I have seen you make mud pies with Eloise."

"Miss Featherington you look beautiful this evening," Kate says. Penelope smiles even as she blushes.

"Why thank you my Lady," she replies. "It is a rather unusual choice of color for me but I thought to try something a little different tonight."

"You can call me Kate, Penelope," Kate responds. "The color may be unusual but it is lovely on you."

"Such kind words, Kate," Penelope says. "You look stunning tonight as well."

"That she does," Anthony agrees, sliding an arm around his wife. Kate shoots him a loving smile and Colin feels a twinge of envy at how they are allowed to touch each other in public. He would love nothing more than to slip his hand into Penelope's or gather her close in a one-armed embrace. Instead, he must settle for her body standing close to his own and her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.

"Do we know what we are to be served?" Colin asks, needing the distraction.

"I hear they have hired a Sicilian cook for the evening."

"Italian?" Colin responds, delighted.

"Yes, Lady Parwhile is of Italian ancestry. I believe she was Miss Rialto prior to her marriage," Anthony answers.

Penelope raises an eyebrow at him and he shuffles closer to her. "I had excellent cuisine during my travels to Italy," Colin tells Penelope. "I was only in Sicily for a scant amount of time but everything I tried in Rome and Florence was exquisite."

"Should you think I will like it?" She asks and he nods. A spark of intrigue glimmers in her eyes and he smiles at her.

The dinner bell rings, announcing that guests are able to make their way towards their seats. Following the strides of Kate and Anthony, Colin escorts Penelope into the dining room. He pulls out her chair and she sinks into the seat, gracefully.

Once she settles in her seat, she pulls her cloth napkin into her lap as Colin slips into the chair to her left. He shares a nod with his elder brother as he pulls his napkin into his own lap and readies his glasses to be served chilled wine and water.

As the glasses of wine are poured by servants, Penelope touches his elbow lightly. Colin turns to look at her. Her cheeks are pink and she looks considerably amused. She beckons him closer, and after a furtive glance around to ensure no one is watching them, Colin leans in toward her.

"I am not always fond of dinner parties," she says.

"Really?" Colin replies, taken aback. "Why not? The food is usually divine."

"Of course the food is wonderful," she replies. Penelope leans even closer to him; close enough that he can smell the clove soap she bathed with. "However, my legs are so short that I find placing my napkin properly on my lap will have it sliding off before the hors d'oeuvres are even served!"

That was the absolute last thing Colin expected her to say. He feels a laugh bubble up in his chest that he has to smother. Colin turns himself to face her a bit more.

"Pen," he replies, coughing lightly to cover his amusement. "Surely you jest?"

"I do not," she whispers back. Colin lifts his glass, needing to hide his face from the married couple sitting directly across from them.

"In fact, my napkin just took its leave."

Colin chokes on his wine when he snorts. Penelope giggles behind her own hand as he tries to recover his dignity, only for him to laugh more. Colin sets his crystal goblet back in its place and forces himself to straighten in his own chair. Using his movement as a disguise, Colin peers down at the ground and sees the cloth napkin resting on the floor next to Penelope's chair legs.

When he looks up at her, Penelope's face is pink from biting back laughter and they both hunch forward together, snickering. This interaction sets the mood for the rest of the evening. Colin and Penelope speak quietly with one another through all five courses.

They spend a ridiculous amount of time giggling over their wine and trying to maintain decorum. More than once, she has Colin red-faced from laughter. They receive several disapproving looks from other attendees, but Colin barely notices.

During the plated appetizer course:

"Hyacinth took her revenge."

"Oh no, what happened?"

"It was hysterical, really! She captured grasshoppers and unleashed a box of them in his bedchamber! One hopped on his neck and he woke up screeching. It took the staff over an hour to find all of them."

"Poor Greg!"

"It was incredible to witness."

During the soup course:

"Did you enjoy the flowers I sent you?"

"Of course. They were beautiful, but…I could not stop sneezing."

" Sneezing ?"

"Yes, it was quite violently onset. I believe I may have sneezed the petals clear off one of the asters."

"I suppose the pollen caused you irritation. I shall remove those from my list."

"They were so pretty, Colin. I was quite sad to have to toss them."

"I am glad they provided you with a modicum of joy."

"Your gifts always do."

During the salad service:

"Frannie and Lord Stirling grow closer by the day."

"Do they? Has he asked the Viscount for her hand yet?"

"I rather think Lord Stirling is intimidated by Anthony. That shall have to change before he can propose."

"Why?"

"Do you truly think Anthony will agree to his younger sister marrying a man without the courage to ask her head of house for permission?"

"Lord Stirling seems like a good man. Hopefully, he puts on his willful britches and asks the Viscount soon."

" Willful britches, Pen?"

"Perhaps the man needs a garment to provide strength when he asks!"

During the main entree course:

"This cook is incredible. While I was in Italy, the pasta was made to order. You could not imagine how delicious it all was. If not for my daily walks and regular riding, I might have returned quite rotund."

"Can the Bridgerton cook prepare Italian dishes?"

"Certainly but nothing quite to this caliber. The Parwhiles hired a talented cook."

"They surely did. I am more accustomed to English fare. This seems so foreign."

"Mother and Anthony recently hired an Indian cook to make Kate feel more at home. We have been introduced to a wide array of food since. I am rather addicted to chicken tikka masala. Some of the recipes are rather spiced. Nothing like sweating into my fine shirts from how spicy the food is."

"If it affects you so, did you stop eating it?"

"Of course not. It was far too good to go unfinished. Kate taught me to drink cold milk to help soothe it. Works wonders really."

"Should you like to travel to India in the future?"

"I do not know. It is a six-month journey by boat alone. I usually only travel for that amount of time. Perhaps it is a sign of me being a ninny, but I would rather not be so far from my family for so long."

"That sounds like a man blessed with a good family, not a ninny."

During the dessert course:

"Have you…taken any time to think over what I told you in your study?"

"About my journals, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Do you really think I could publish?"

"Your words are riveting, Colin. I did not want to stop reading."

"You did manage to find a rather personal entry."

"I am so sorry for invading your privacy."

"Do not fret. We are well, Pen. I reacted so harshly because no one has ever seen the inside of my journals before."

"Perhaps, you will allow me another chance one day?"

"Most likely, I will. I have a hard time denying you anything."

Saucers clear of any food remnants are taken away by servants. Colin pats his mouth clean on one side of his napkin, before he flips it to the opposite side and hands it over to Penelope to use. She looks surprised, but she accepts his offering with a grateful smile.

He takes great pride in watching her use his napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth. It feels good to be able to provide her with such a small thing. As the post-dinner tea service is placed on the table, Colin takes the time to pour himself a cup as well as a cup for Penelope.

He drops one sugar cube and a heavy pour of milk into her teacup.

"You know how I take my tea?" she asks. Colin finishes pouring his own cup and sets the teapot back into the center of the table before he looks at her.

"I have been learning," he replies. Her eyes widen and her lips part on the softest exhale. Her bright blue gaze meets his own. He sees how touched she is by his attention. A sheen of tears wells in her eyes before she turns away from him. She grabs her teacup and lifts it to her mouth. Colin sees how her lip trembles with feeling before she takes a sip.

It has never been more clear that Penelope Featherington has not been taken care of by anyone in far too long, if ever. He intends to change that. He will care for her as she deserves, and she will never again think herself unworthy of such devotion. He just needs her to say yes to his courtship.

Colin picks up his own tea with one hand. The other hand, he places it on his thigh with his palm facing upward. He sees Penelope look at his profile before her eyes drop to his open hand. It is a blatant invitation for her. Colin will offer the opportunity, but he shall never force her to do anything she does not wish to.

Penelope takes another sip of her tea, her blue eyes flitting around the room quickly. She nonchalantly drops one hand to the tabletop. Colin forces himself to act casual, even though his heartbeat speeds up. It feels like it takes Pen forever to place her hand into his own, but it is only a few seconds.

Their hands fully entwine–palm to lace-covered palm and their fingers entangled. Colin can feel her pulse racing in her wrist. The dining room slowly clears out around them. They continue holding hands and speaking to each other in whispers. When their teacups have drained, and there are only servants left in the room, Colin recognizes that their time has come to an end.

"I shall take my leave soon, Pen," he tells her, rubbing his thumb along the outside of her hand. Penelope shivers in response.

"That may have been the most fun I've ever had at a dinner party," she replies, smiling brightly.

"I feel the same," Colin says, "Although I do not think our hosts were fond of our antics."

"We were slightly uncouth with all of our giggling, weren't we?" Penelope asks.

"Yes, there were a few displeased expressions," Colin answers, "especially when you snorted into your biscuits."

"I did not snort into my biscuits!"

"There were airborne crumbs," Colin teases. "I am sure."

"Colin!" Penelope scolds, flicking him on the arm with her free hand. Colin leans away, laughing. Once his laughter subsides, Colin leans back toward her.

"I am glad I could inspire such laughter in you tonight," he tells her softly. "All I wish to do is make you happy."

"You already do, Colin," she replies. Her eyes are honest. It eases some of the tension in his shoulders to know that he does bring her joy. He could give her so much more if she allows him to.

"At the Bennett-Castle ball tomorrow, would you do the honor of saving me your first dance?"

"Consider it yours, Colin."

With her agreement for tomorrow in place, Colin reluctantly releases her hand. He stands from his chair, and offers her a hand up from her own seat. When she has righted herself, Colin escorts her into the open drawing room and towards her family.

From the corner of his eye, he sees a group of gentlemen waving him over. He acknowledges his friends with a nod, before he turns to Penelope. He takes one of her hands into his own, and presses a kiss to her knuckles. Colin's eyebrow lifts slightly when he feels the square of another letter pressed into his palm. He takes it with a grin.

"I shall see you soon," he says. "Good night Penelope."

"Good night, Colin," she replies. He kisses her hand once again. They share a sweet smile before he takes his leave.

It is difficult to leave her there without pressing a kiss to her lips. Between how beautiful she looks, and the joy she awakens whenever he is at her side, Colin has never wanted to kiss a person more than he does right now.

He cannot wait for the day that she allows him to do so. Their first kiss was a plea. She'd felt so alone and undesirable that she thought she would never be kissed out of romance. The next time he kisses her, he wants her to be aware of how much he feels for her and how serious he is in his pursuit of her hand.

Penelope watches Colin join a group of boisterous gentlemen. He looks at her over his shoulder and gives her a handsome smile before he is overtaken by his friends as they exit the Parwhile drawing room. What a magical evening!

She made Colin Bridgerton laugh loudly and frequently over the course of the evening. His bright smile always sends her heart aflutter. Tonight was something special. It feels so wonderful to be his friend, but to have his romantic attention too? Penelope can hardly contain her joy.

She loses herself in flustered thoughts about the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and how his head tips back in laughter when he is deeply amused. Remembering the heat of his palm against her own, and the strength of his fingers twined with hers makes Penelope blush. How could such a simple action feel so intimate?

"I rather thought we'd be spinsters together."

Eloise's voice comes from beside her and Penelope startles. She looks over at her and blinks at how close Eloise stands. They have not spoken directly since their brief interaction at the Bridgerton picnic. The last thing Penelope expected was for Eloise to approach her. She rather thought she would have to corner her best friend to force her to converse.

Penelope stares at Eloise's profile. She takes in the French blue silk dress she wears, and the pile of dark curls pinned atop her head. Eloise appears regal without effort. Her countenance looks tired and drawn, but it does not detract from her beauty.

"Now you've gone and bewitched my brother with your cleverness," Eloise says with a soft laugh. She seems resigned and pensive. The lack of anger in her voice and expression gives Penelope hope.

For a long moment, Penelope stares at Eloise in silence. It is long enough for Eloise to finally look at her. Pen can see a storm of emotions pass through her blue eyes–insecurity, sadness, acceptance, and perhaps, love? Her best friend gives her a timid smile and fiddles with her gloves.

Penelope wonders if she should play along with this false belief that Eloise has. The thought of falling into old habits is decidedly unappealing. Her lack of honesty and confidence is what got her into this mess in the first place. She has continually allowed Eloise's dominant spirit to guide their friendship. If she wants her best friend back, then she shall have to be courageous enough to be honest with her.

Penelope wrings her hands together, but she turns to face Eloise fully.

"Eloise," she starts, hesitant. She does not wish to hurt El, but trying to protect her has only caused harm. "That was always your dream, not mine."

Eloise's blue eyes fill with recognition and a stark sadness. Penelope becomes fraught. She hates to see Eloise look so downtrodden, but she cannot take back her words now. "Spinsterhood was something I was sentenced to," Penelope admits. "I never aspired to shun marriage or children."

Penelope stands next to Eloise, deeply uncomfortable and exposed. It is one thing to want to take a husband to gain freedom. It is another thing to reveal the deep desire to have love or children to someone who has always viewed marriage as a form of death.

Penelope watches Eloise closely. Her friend does not speak for a dreadfully long moment. Eloise's spirit seems to droop as her shoulders hunch and a frown drags down the corners of her mouth.

"I really did not listen to you," Eloise responds. "Did I?"

Penelope freezes. She stares at Eloise, shocked. Eloise looks sad, but she does not avoid Penelope's searching gaze. She has never heard Eloise admit weakness. She is not the type to do so. Penelope cannot think of an argument between them that was not resolved by just moving on to the next thing, and never directly addressing the issue.

Penelope always lacked the wherewithal and confidence to speak up for herself. Eloise never seemed to recognize that she had done something wrong. To see her accept her own role in the breakdown of their friendship boggles the mind. She has never seen Eloise humble before. Perhaps, it is time for Penelope to humble herself as well. She must do so if she wants their friendship to be healthy for both of them.

"I promise to be completely honest and transparent with you," Penelope replies. "So no, El, you never truly listened. You have your opinions and a tendency to talk over anyone else who sees things differently." Penelope's voice is gentle, but Eloise still flinches. "Your mind is one of the many reasons I love you so much. You have a distinct perspective on life, and it is not always one shared by the people who love you."

Eloise blinks away tears. Penelope watches as she wraps her arms around herself, her gloved hands holding her elbows. It breaks Penelope's heart to see her confident best friend appear depleted of her own vivaciousness. Neither of them can afford to make the same mistakes they have been.

"We cannot go back to how we were before," Eloise says. The sentiment is accurate, but altogether surprising when it comes from El.

"No, we cannot," Penelope agrees quietly.

"I hope this time," Eloise starts and then pauses. "This time, I hope we will be better."

Penelope's heart soars. Does this mean they can try again? Has Eloise forgiven her for being Lady Whistledown? Oh, but Colin. What if Eloise can accept Lady Whistledown but not her blooming relationship with Colin? Penelope would be devastated if she had to choose between him and Eloise. Ultimately, she knows which sacrifice she would make.

"I will not accept Colin if it means that I lose you forever," she says. The tears surge to her eyes at the thought of sacrificing his regard, but she loves Eloise. Penelope is sure that she can figure out a way, even if it feels like part of her soul will cease to exist if she rejects him.

Eloise gasps and Penelope's attention refocuses on her. Eloise looks stricken. Penelope startles when Eloise drops her grip on each of her elbows and then reaches out to grasp Penelope's hand.

"You do not have to choose between Colin and myself!" she exclaims.

Penelope blinks at her as Eloise crowds closer. The urgency in her voice and tone bring tears of relief to Penelope's eyes. El squeezes her hand tightly as she continues, " Do not …do not shut away parts of yourself to earn someone else's regard, Pen. You should not do that for anyone, especially not me."

"El, are you sure?" she asks tearfully. She could not survive it if Eloise did not mean her words.

"We still have much to discuss," Eloise responds, but she grabs Penelope's other hand in her free one. "There seems to be a lot you have left unsaid and I have failed to hear or even notice. Our friendship shall need to be rebuilt, but my affection for you need not come at the cost of your heart or my brother's."

"Oh, Eloise," Penelope says tremulously. Eloise lets go of her hands to press her fingers to Penelope's cheeks as she loses her battle with tears.

"My only concern is that he does not know about your secret," Eloise whispers. "He deserves to know who you really are. His regard for you is as obvious as yours is for him. Do not let him find out how I did. You must be honest."

"I will tell him, Eloise."

"Very well," she replies. "We shall be alright, Pen."

When Eloise pulls her in for an embrace, Penelope clings to her. Eloise hugs her back just as tightly. Perhaps it is uncouth to cry in the arms of a female companion near the conclusion of a dinner party, but the rebirth of their friendship is worth the scandalized looks they receive. Things between them are still uncertain, but Penelope can feel the way Eloise has opened her heart back up. She does not know what happened to make Eloise receptive or forgiving, but she is eternally grateful.

-- Saturday, November 11, 1815

Early Saturday evening, Colin readies himself in his bedchamber. He has only just slipped the hem of his crisp ivory shirt into his breeches when the door to his room bursts open. He and his valet look up at the commotion. Colin watches Benedict stroll into his room, dressed handsomely in a black tailcoat, light blue vest, and a white shirt.

"Are you not yet ready to depart, brother?" Benedict asks, perching himself in Colin's desk chair. Colin glances at the clock. It is only a quarter after six, and the ball is not set to begin until half past seven. He has plenty of time.

"Clearly not," Colin replies dryly. Charles, his valet, brings over the gold, brown, and purple threaded vest he has chosen for the evening and assists him with slipping it on. It goes rather well with his black trousers and light-colored shirt. He thinks Penelope will like it, or so he hopes.

"What's taken you so long to dress?" his brother asks, fiddling idly with the parchment haphazardly spread across his desk. "You have never been a dandy, brother."

It is true that while Colin takes great care of his appearance, he is usually not so consumed by the task. He took extra time bathing and being shaven today. His hair coiffure took less time because he left more of his natural curls show. Charles steps in front of him, fastening the buttons on his vest and ensuring it lines up appropriately.

"Perhaps, I wanted to ensure I was dressed well for the evening."

In the looking glass, Colin sees Benedict peer up from his desk and meet his eyes in the mirror. Charles begins tying his cravat as Benedict's curiosity grows.

"Any special plans I should be apprised of?" he asks.

"Penelope has agreed to dance the first set with me," Colin admits. He cannot hide the pride and excitement from snaking across his face in a grin. Benedict's face lights up in response. Charles steps away to pull the navy tailcoat from his armoire.

"Is that so?" Benedict asks, "Well done, brother!"

Colin slips his arms into the jacket his valet holds open for him. His valet smooths any wrinkles from the shoulders of his navy tailcoat as Benedict lets out a victorious laugh and claps his hands together in delight.

"When did you secure her first dance? Was it last night at the dinner party? I have heard endless accounts of your flirtatiousness from Anthony. He tells me that you and Penelope were a spectacle during all five courses."

Charles begins tugging and buttoning his tailcoat into place. He adjusts his cravat and sleeves to ensure they are settled correctly.

"It was at the dinner party," Colin replies. Charles turns him to face the looking glass again. His valet applies cologne and checks over his hair.

"What on earth is this, Col?" Benedict's voice is softer than it was before. Colin looks past his valet to see his brother reading a piece of parchment that was tucked under others on his desk. Colin freezes before he strides over to Benedict.

"That is none of your concern," he says sternly, trying to snatch the paper from his elder brother's hands. Benedict slips out of reach, taking the paper with him. "Benedict, stop!"

Benedict stares at him from the other side of the desk, his eyes kind.

"Please?" Colin asks and Benedict sighs. He hands the parchment over to Colin and Colin snatches it from his hand. He never intended for anyone to see this list. It is a list of things he has noticed about Penelope. He skims over his messy writing, reviewing all the things he's learned in the last week alone, and feels his heartbeat quicken.

Takes tea with one sugar cube and a heavy pour of milk

Loves cake. Favorite? Almond. Second best? Lemon.

Toasted cheese??

Hates yellow and maybe orange. (Did she wear that dress for me??)

Likes to wear green? Blue? Purple or is that lilac? (ask Daph)

Dislikes chocolate of any kind. (candies only)

Jeweled hair pins?? Seems to prefer a purple gemstone? NO RUBIES

Hates feathers on dresses

Asters make her sneeze.

Sense and Sensibility

"Have you told her plainly, Col?" Benedict asks. Colin does not know when his brother moved beside him, but he is unsurprised to know that he has not left the room.

"Told her what?"

"That you love her?" Benedict replies.

Colin swallows hard. He looks up at his elder brother, seeing only encouragement and love in his gaze. He did not think a list would be capable of sharing his affections with the world, but of his siblings, Benedict is the artist. He reads meaning in paint strokes and colors; it is unsurprising that he would parse love from a list of likes and dislikes.

"No, not yet," Colin answers, folding the list into a rectangle. Benedict claps him on the shoulder in solidarity before he allows Colin to slip the folded parchment into a drawer on his desk. His brother does not say anything else, but he sits on the edge of Colin's bed until he is finished dressing for the evening's ball.

When they leave his bedchamber, they walk out side by side.

From the moment her slippered feet crossed the threshold of the Bennett House, Colin was by her side. His eyes have rarely strayed from her person since he offered his arm to her. Despite the looks they are garnering from members of the Ton, the novelty of it all has her blushing and overjoyed even though she finds herself wholly unprepared for Colin's unfettered attention.

In her two years on the marriage mart, she danced with Colin many times but it was always on a whim for him. He would step in to rescue her from the mockery of Cressida or swing her around after saving her family from cousin Jack. It was never preplanned.

Penelope is used to being an afterthought.

Until this evening, she has continuously been settled into her position as a stand-in or pity partner. Even during her courtship with Lord Debling, her dance card went unblemished. She is not familiar with a gentleman being purposeful or intent about dancing with her.

Tonight, Colin Bridgerton signs her dance card. No gentleman has ever done so! He walks her to the refreshment table with her family trailing behind at a respectable distance.

She offers him her wrist at his request. She can scarcely believe this is occurring. From the corner of her eye, she spots Miss Livingston and Miss Cowper staring at her, both of them appearing flabbergasted by her having Colin's attention.

If Penelope was not so consumed with watching him write on her dance card, she would be tempted into pettiness. However, Colin is far more important. She looks up at him. His chestnut hair looks less manicured today. He is always handsome, but she adores the fresh curls on his head and the way one curl dangles most appealingly past his hairline as he bends toward her.

His jawline is masculine and the length of his eyelashes makes his deep blue eyes even more handsome. He scribbles on the small square of parchment, his hands looking large and handsome as he writes with an absurdly small pencil. She admires how strong his fingers look and how well his signet ring sits on his hand before she pays attention to what he is doing.

Penelope gasps seeing that he has written his name boldly in the blank next to several dances.

"Colin!" She exclaims, snatching her wrist and dance card away from him. She peers over the small scrap of paper, aghast at his audacity. "Three dances? Have you gone mad?"

Colin looks unrepentant. "Maybe you will believe my intentions if I declare myself in actions as well as with words," he says.

Penelope stares at him, her mouth parted in disbelief. He cannot be serious.

"Surely, you jest. Married couples hardly ever dance three times together in one night!" She whispers, frantic. "This is most unseemly." Has he been in the bowl of ratafia already? Clearly, he lost his sanity somewhere between the door and the refreshment table.

"Perhaps I should sign us up for four then?" He asks, unphased in the face of her panic. "Starting a scandal sounds rather fun if it means I get to hold you in public and invoke envy in the hearts of other gentlemen."

"Invoke envy?" She sputters. "Colin…are you truthfully wanting to declare your intentions toward me so boldly?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life, Penelope," Colin states, adamant. His firm tone leaves Penelope speechless. Flustered, she glances at her dance card again. When she notices they are to dance to two waltzes and a reel, she feels her face blush bright red.

Penelope does not know what to do with her body or hands. She presses a hand to her mouth, torn between elation and disbelief. "Oh, this is madness," she protests in a harsh and shaken whisper. "What if you change your mind about courting me?"

Could his regard for her truly be so powerful? How did he go from a man who swore to never court her to a man willing to indulge scandal to show his intentions? Penelope is beside herself. It does not stand to reason that she would be pursued relentlessly by Colin Bridgerton. She fantasized about it happening, of course. But the reality of his undivided attention on her remains implausible, and yet, here she is with this gorgeous man all but shouting that he wishes to marry her to the entire Ton.

"Have you killed a man?" Colin asks. The question is so abrupt and absurd that Penelope stops in her fretting to stare at him.

"Pardon me?" she asks. Did he truly inquire if she killed someone?

Colin steps closer, an eyebrow arched high and his tone firm. "Murder is quite honestly the only reason I would change my mind," he says frankly. Penelope's mouth drops open at his assertion. She inhales sharply when he leans forward to whisper, "and even then, I'd ask why you killed him before considering terminating my pursuit of your hand."

Penelope stares blankly before she laughs. "You are a ridiculous man."

"Yes," Colin agrees with a charming smile sliding across his face, "but I am your ridiculous man, if you'll have me."

Penelope allows him to sweep her onto the dance floor as the musicians ready themselves. As they prepare for their first waltz, Penelope feels as though she is in a trance. How has this become her reality? Where Colin is so earnest in his pursuit that he is near shameless with his affection? Where her friendship with Eloise is still fragile, but beginning anew? How have things changed so much in only a week's time?

Her racing thoughts come to a halt when Colin places a hand on her waist to maneuver her into position. She looks up at him and takes in his closeness for the first time. His eyes lock onto her own. It is like a blanket of silence descends. The stress, anxiety, and uncertainty drain away as his hand drifts to her shoulder and their other hands meet in the proper dance hold.

Gazing into his eyes, Penelope lets her defenses wither. The dance begins and Penelope no longer has to think. She lets Colin lead her through the dance. She has never partnered so easily with a man. She is safe here.

"Have you given thought to my suggestion about your writing?" she asks, allowing him to move them in the 1-2-3 natural turn.

"Actually yes, I started writing a manuscript," he replies. "Taking out the more personal parts, of course."

"Why?" She says, "The personal parts add to the appeal."

Colin's ears turn red and Penelope cannot help but smile at his apparent shyness. "I cannot write of my exploits in a publication, Pen," he whispers furtively. "Especially not when my affections lay with only one woman now."

"I rather liked reading them," she admits. Colin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Penelope knows he intends to say something cheeky based on the way he smiles back at her.

"Perhaps I will share those only with you then," he responds, smirking. "The lovely blush on your cheeks is quite convincing to save those stories for either your private perusal or perhaps a reenactment when we marry?"

He wiggles his eyebrows at her and Penelope feels her face flash hot in both embarrassment…and intrigue?

"Colin!" she scolds. "You cannot say such things!"

"Of course, I can," he replies. "Flustering you brings me great joy."

Once her face stops burning, Penelope looks back up at him. He is already peering down at her when their eyes meet.

"Are you not afraid that this will ruin our friendship?" she asks, serious and deeply uncertain.

"Not at all," Colin says. His eyes are soft and kind. They truly are a remarkable shade. His genuine regard shines through.

"What makes you so sure?"

Colin takes a moment to spin her out and then pull her back into his embrace as they reverse their steps. Penelope has never surrendered herself so completely that she does not have to think her way through a dance. With Colin, it is easy. She feels him lean over her shoulder; their dance never pauses.

"I confessed my feelings and our friendship has only deepened in response," he says, voice quiet and vulnerable. His breath on her ear makes her shiver as they resume their forward movement. He twirls her around and they resume their waltz form. His eyes lock onto her own as he continues, "Being by your side, touching you intimately, exchanging letters between us — it has only made you more magnificent to me. Love can simply be friendship set aflame."

Penelope's soul vibrates in her chest as they gaze at one another. His heart is on display for her. Colin leads her with a strength and surety he has never demonstrated previously. The trust she has for him grows and expands until she is overcome. The world around them fades away, and it is impossible to not get lost in him. So, she allows herself to fall.

Eloise has always known Penelope to be pretty, but she shines tonight.

Penelope wears a sage green dress. Purple and yellow flowers line the hem and snake up the bodice. The fabric glitters under the candlelight of the chandelier. Her headband sparkles with amethysts and diamonds against the red of her hair. Her blue eyes are alight with wonder. She and Colin swing around the dance floor as though they are unaware of the world around them.

They dance, eyes locked together. Penelope moves without thought. Dancing has never been this easy for her. Penelope has fully surrendered to him. She does not break eye contact. She follows where Colin leads. Her body melts seamlessly between steps, and her form is perfect. Colin is a good dancer, but she has never seen his form so perfect. His frame is solid and he leads Penelope around the dance floor without hesitation.

She cannot be the only one to notice their closeness and intensity. She has never been witness to them this way and she sees it finally. The yearning in Penelope's eyes, the way Colin is enraptured by Pen. She has never seen something so romantic.

They waltz together flawlessly. Their eyes locked together in a conversation only they can understand. It is the gentle way he twirls her, the solidness of his frame, and how Colin leads like he has never led before. Whatever Colin says to make Penelope laugh is audible only to them, but the sheer joy visible on Penelope's face makes Eloise's heart sing in response.

She loves Penelope and Colin. No matter how upset she is with Pen, it is apparent that her regard for Colin is real. She has no idea how she could've missed this. The way they gaze at each other is palpable. It feels so intimate that she cannot maintain her stare for too long.

She could never be the reason they do not share their love with each other.

Eloise sees how they fit together and she wonders if she will ever fit with them again. She feels a twinge in her chest, grieving for the relationship the three of them used to share. Change is unavoidable, and perhaps, this change will be for the betterment of all of them.

She watches them twirl together, hands clasped and eyes locked onto one another. As they move with the music, completing the simple 1-2-3 step natural turns, Eloise wonders if someone would ever gaze at herself with such regard. Perhaps romance does not have to be dramatic or nauseating? If Colin and Penelope can share romantic interest whilst being the best of friends, maybe there is hope for Eloise to find such a thing too.

The reel is a lively dance that they have shared previously as friends. Spinning Penelope around the floor feels just as joyous, but he notices far more than he ever did before. It is clear that she loves to dance. Her smile is particularly enchanting as she spins, bouncing from foot to foot on the beat, and touching hands at each appropriate moment.

Colin must have been deaf, dumb, and blind to not notice Penelope's charms the last time they danced. Gentleman or not, he is a man with a preference for well-shaped bosoms, and Penelope does not disappoint.

They step together. He twirls her around, into the arms of another before they come back together. Shoulders brush as they turn and twist in time. Locking gazes, Penelope's eyes glitter with happiness. He never wants her to stop looking at him that way.

She laughs. He does not know what causes it, but it lights up her face. He spins her once more, her red curls loosening from her hairpins as the rigorous dance comes to an end.

When the lively tune ends, Penelope presses a hand to his arm still laughing. He can see that she is out of breath, her chest lifting and rising in a delightful way. Her cheeks rosy from exertion and her hair messier than society would deem appropriate. She has never been more beautiful to him.

Colin envisions how she would look spread out for him; hair wild, face flushed with exertion, and bare breasts heaving in pleasure on his pale yellow bed sheets. He has to blink away the thought before he has a physical response.

He extends his elbow, and the way she slides her gloved hand down his arm to the crook of it makes him shudder internally. She has no understanding of what she is doing to him. Her innocence makes her unconscious seduction even more effective. If she affects him this way with no understanding, he will perish once they wed and she comprehends the chokehold she has on him.

Penelope opens her fan to waft cool air over her flushed face as he escorts her toward the corner of the room where their families stand adjacent to each other. Kate and Daphne are sipping lemonade while staring at Francesca and Lord Stirling. Anthony, Benedict, and Simon are grinning at him with little attempt to hide their attention. Mother and Lady Danbury are a bit more innocuous but not by much. Eloise is nowhere to be found. He despairs of how he was born into a family of such nosy and unsubtle people.

Prudence, Phillipa, and Lady Featherington stand together near a pillar. As they approach their families, Penelope continues fanning herself.

Daphne seems to notice them finally. Her countenance turns mischievous, and Colin tries to tell her with his eyes that if she embarrasses him there will be retribution. Daphne is unphased.

"My, Miss Featherington, you look like you had a wonderful time."

"Mr. Bridgerton is rather good for a turn on the dance floor," Penelope replies. "That was great fun. I do enjoy a reel."

"Mother ensured that her sons were well-prepared for dancing. Their lessons were quite rigorous," Daphne says.

"Rigorous and painful if my memory serves," Colin says, "I was often the unfortunate victim of Daphne, Eloise, and Francesca's dance training."

"My slippers were not known to cause harm, but I assure you my current shoes might bring pain to your feet should you continue implying I was a subpar dance partner, brother."

"Those are not the charming words of a Duchess."

"They are when the Duchess is also a Bridgerton."

"Hastings, is it possible to control your wife?"

"She was first your sister. I do believe you know the answer to that question already."

"Do not look at me for assistance, brother. My viscountess is just as obstinate."

"I firmly take her side in the offense you offer about her dance ability."

"Do you see the disloyalty present amongst my own family?" Colin asks, indignant.

"I rather think there is loyalty present," Penelope responds. "just not towards you or your negative insinuations toward Her Grace's talents."

"There are no insinuations. Only fact," Colin answers. "As her elder brother, I must keep her humble."

"Do not expect sympathy from myself if you find your toes trampled on during the next dance with Her Grace," Penelope says with a cheeky smile. He cannot believe she takes his sister's side!

"You would forsake me?" he protests.

"Surely not," she objects. He can feel her hand squeeze the crook of his elbow. She bumps her shoulder against his own, making him smile. "I shall stand by your side," Penelope replies, "...whilst laughing as she claims her revenge."

Colin barks out a laugh and Penelope tries to hide her giggles behind her open fan. He stares at her long enough to notice that she remains a bit flushed.

He leans towards her and asks, "Would you like a refreshment?" She seems to gravitate towards him before she stops herself. She closes her fan gently, letting it fall along the strap tied to her wrist.

"I'd rather have some space," she tells him. "I find myself rather warm."

Colin does not dare miss this opportunity to give them a semblance of privacy. "Might I escort you to the terrace for some fresh air?" he asks.

Penelope's smile turns shy, but she nods.

"That would be wonderful," she answers. She turns her body away from him, reaching out to her mother. Her arm stays tucked into his elbow and Colin tunes out whatever she says because his eyes drop to her flushed neckline. Being taller than her gives him quite an enchanting perspective.

The way her breasts swell over the top of her bodice makes his mouth go dry. Licking his lips is a subconscious response to his desire to press his lips against her pale skin, and scrape his teeth across the delicate skin of her cleavage. The thought of the blood rising under her pale flesh to follow the path of his teeth makes his ears feel warm.

Madame Delacroix might receive an inexplicable pouch of coin if she continues to fit Penelope into dresses that outline her shape so finely.

He startles from his distraction when a delicate fan strikes him on the opposite arm from Penelope. He turns his head to see Benedict in silent stitches. Anthony is giving him a stern look but Colin can see him fighting a smile behind his glass of ratafia. Simon's lips are pursed to prevent him from laughing. Daphne looks like she would love to scold him as she retreats back to her husband's side, refolding her fan. His Mother and Lady Danbury are unimpressed.

Colin finds himself blushing on principle alone. He will never hear the end of this indiscretion.

"Shall we?" Penelope asks, turning back to his side.

Without a word, he leads her towards the open terrace doors. They step out onto the patio, a cool breeze drifting across them. Penelope sighs, her happiness with cooler temperatures obvious.

They walk towards the railing, gazing over the dark gardens before them. The sounds of chattering attendees and the musicians readying for another song become hushed. They stand within full view of everyone in the ballroom, but this moment feels quiet and isolated.

For a few minutes, Colin is pleased to stand with her in silence. Her hand slips from his arm and she curls her fingers around the marble banister. He leans his hip against the same banister, turning towards her so he can observe her profile.

Her hair curls into ringlets along her hairline from perspiration. The beaded headband adorning her sparkles in the candlelight with amethysts and crystals. Her red and copper curls are tucked into a braided coiffure atop her head, and he is mesmerized by the curly strands that have broken free from confinement along her neck and temple.

She is truly stunning.

"I did not realize how exhausting balls are!" she says with wonder. "I have never danced so much."

"How can that be?" he asks, "You attend balls regularly."

"Colin," she says, fondly, "You were the only gentleman to ask me to dance unprompted before Lord Debling. Besides a few turns with Mr. Benedict Bridgerton and Lord Bridgerton, no one but you ever really took notice of me. I have gone to many a ball without setting foot on the dance floor."

She is not angry or upset, Colin surmises. The lack of partners was a fact that she seems to have accepted. It boils him to think that he'd been so casual with his attention before. He cannot change the past, but he can ensure that her future involves as much dancing as she would like.

"If I am present, you shall never again attend another ball with your dance card unsigned," he tells her. Her eyes move from the gardens beyond and back to meet his own. She blinks, surprised. He does not imagine the way they soften with hope, but also hesitancy.

"Colin, I did not say that to scold you," she says, voice quiet. "I simply wanted to share my truth with you."

"Pen, I looked for you at every social outing when I only sought your friendship," he replies. "Now that I understand why you bring me such comfort and why your smile makes my heart beat faster, I will seek you out any chance I get to be close to you."

Her soft exhalation makes his chest seize with foreign feelings. He spent his whole life trying to ease tension, make others feel better, and with one soft sound, he can recognize the kind of want he has unlocked in Penelope. Her vulnerability is a heavy responsibility for him at this moment, and if he fumbles here, then he will likely never get another chance.

"Colin," she begins and then pauses long enough to have his stomach tighten with nerves. "This feels so much like a dream that I find myself fearful of making any move lest I wake up from it before I reach its conclusion."

"It is not a dream, Pen," he insists. "I am here. I must ask, will you agree to my suit?"

"Colin, I—" Penelope sees something over his shoulder, but when he follows her gaze all he sees is the back of Eloise's head. He is unsure when his younger sister rejoined their family, but it does not concern him right now. He looks back at her in time to see her swallow hard. "I could not take it if you are not serious."

"I am serious, Pen. I've already asked for your hand once and was soundly rejected."

"Because you did not know me–"

"I have learned so much in the last few days alone," he says. "You are correct that there is much for me to discover, but my romantic inclination toward you has not changed in the week since we last spoke of it. I will beg if I must."

"Colin," she replies.

"I do not jest," he tells her, "Our maids would have my head if I return with my trousers dirtied at the knees, but I will beg for your hand in courtship if that is what it takes."

"You were never punished as a child, were you?" she asks with an exasperated grin. "I will accept your suit but please have the patience to learn the intimacies of my mind before you ask any life-altering questions that I may have to refuse."

"To be frank, all I heard was "I accept"."

"Your capacity for being cheeky is infinite."

He takes her gloved hands into his own, stepping far closer to her than propriety allows. Her breath catches and he forces his eyes from the neckline of her dress to meet her gaze. Watching the pink flush spread across her cheeks has him swallowing with difficulty. Her red curls drift across her temple making the blue of her eyes shine even brighter.

"I tend to be lighthearted when I am nervous."

"You are nervous?"

"Exceedingly so," he responds. "Your opinion of me as a potential husband, and beyond that, as a person, matters greatly. I now know how it feels for you to look at me with those bright blue eyes and find me wanting. It is not a disappointment I ever hope to inspire again in you."

"I was unfairly unkind to you during our conversation in the carriage," she says.

"You were frank but not unkind. I needed to hear it as much as I believe you needed to say it. If we are to seek marriage together, it cannot begin with half-truths and secrets. I am glad you opened yourself to me."

"Colin," she starts, despairing. Her eyes grow damp and he can see a furrow of stress knit between her eyebrows. "I must tell you something—"

He talks over her, terrified that she will refute him again and he will lose all confidence. "It shakes my nerves even further being this close to you and seeing how utterly breathtaking you are."

Penelope's eyes widen and the pink of her cheeks turns into a bright red blush. Her lips part on a soft inhale, and Colin's gaze lands on her mouth. He wants to kiss her.

He drags his gaze back up to meet her own and he can see the desire reflected in the way she looks at him. Her eyes flicker from his mouth to his eyes.

The way her pupils expand lets him know that she wants to be kissed just as badly as he wants to kiss her. Instead of giving into the urge to besmirch propriety, he lifts both of her lace-covered hands to his mouth. He presses a kiss to each digit from her left hand across to her right hand, letting his lips catch gently against the lace. He can feel the warmth of her knuckles with each press.

Her mouth falls open as her blush spreads across her face. She is wide-eyed with shock and something that resembles arousal. He pulls his mouth away and lets their hands drop down between them, but they stay connected.

Their fingers tangle together. It requires great restraint for him to resist entwining their hands fully and pressing their palms together. He meets her bright blue eyes and cannot look away.

Hope, affection, fear, uncertainty swim through her expression.

He does not know how long they stare at each other before a loud throat clearing breaks the tension. Penelope physically flinches at the sound. Colin looks over his left shoulder, seeing Anthony a few feet away. His brother wears a disapproving frown. Colin is slow to release her hands but he does drop them. Anthony shoots him a warning look, and he forces himself to step an appropriate distance away from her.

"Miss Featherington, might I escort you back to your mother and sisters?"

"Brother, I can–"

"No, you cannot," Anthony's voice is stern, his countenance set and Colin knows when he has lost a battle of wills. "Our sisters require your presence. We shall be returning to the carriage post-haste."

"Very well," he says, begrudgingly. He lifts his foot to step closer to Penelope, but Anthony's harrumph informs him that would be unacceptable. Colin inhales deeply, shifting his stance again.

"Penelope, thank you for your presence at my side this evening," he tells her, "I eagerly await my next opportunity to delight in your company. With your approval, I wish to call on you during morning hours on Monday."

"That would be most welcome, Colin. I bid you farewell."

Colin bows, and she returns it with a curtsy. He cannot help but admire her decolletage and he tries to keep the blush from appearing on his own face. She takes Anthony's outstretched arm. Colin watches them walk away from him, wishing more than anything that he could follow. However, that might drive Anthony to commit fratricide.

As they cross the edge of the balcony into the ballroom, Penelope looks over her shoulder at him. She waves her free hand at him in a tiny goodbye, looking delightfully shy but excited. He returns it with a wide grin, unabashed and besotted. Her sweet smile as she disappears around the corner makes his heart pound.

He is completely in love with Penelope Featherington, and he needs to tell her as such.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

-- Sunday, November 12, 1815

Sunday morning, Penelope floats downstairs in a haze of joy. After the exertions of dancing the night away, spending the majority of the ball swept up in conversation and laughter with the Bridgertons, and accepting Colin's offer of courtship, Penelope slept like an absolute dream last night.

"Penelope," Mama greets as she enters the dining room. "How do you fare this morning?"

Penelope settles into her usual seat to the right of her Mama, who sits at the head of the table. Philippa and Prudence are present in their normal seats; their husbands sat next to each of them. Last night's festivities ended quite late, and neither sister felt the need to return to their own homes.

She loads her plate with scrambled eggs, cured ham, and toasted bread. Everyone else is more than halfway through breaking their fasts. She thanks Mrs. Varley quietly when the housekeeper pours her a cup of fresh tea.

"I am very well," she replies. "Last night was exhausting, but I slept better than I have in weeks." Penelope starts spreading jam onto her toast when Prudence inserts herself into the conversation.

"Yes," Prudence says, the snide tone making Penelope bristle immediately. "You had quite a rigorous evening hanging on the arm and attentions of Colin Bridgerton."

"If anything Prudence, it was Mr. Bridgerton who hung onto me and my every word," she replies lightly. Penelope does not pause in preparing her toast. She simply looks at her sister with her eyebrow lifted in derision.

The look seems to infuriate Prudence as much as the unbothered tone does.

"It is strange how people listen when you have intelligent things to say," Penelope says. "You wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?"

If there is anything in the world that her eldest sister hates, it is being dismissed. Penelope eats her food without giving Prudence even a modicum of her full attention. The thought of Penelope responding more to scrambled eggs must drive her mad.

"You must think yourself so special with the attentions from your precious Bridgertons," Prudence bites out. "Their kindness does not make you important."

"Is this irritation truly with me or does it bother you that they paid you no attention all evening?" Penelope asks. "How does it feel to be the one ignored?"

"You are the expert at it," Prudence responds. "You will know better than I ever will."

"Prudence, that is enough," Mama interrupts the burgeoning hostility with a firm tone. Penelope resentfully goes back to her food. Prudence cannot let her have even one full day to feel good about herself.

"Mama," Prudence complains. "She flounces in like she is better than us when she remains unmarried!"

"Being married does not mean that you have more value in this family than your sister," Mama responds sternly.

Penelope chokes on her eggs. Philippa stares. Prudence looks like she's been slapped.

"You were the one who—," Prudence begins in a shrill tone, but Mama cuts her off with a withering glare. Her mouth snaps shut. Mama sighs heavily.

"I have done a great many things wrong as your Mama. I cannot change that," Mama says. "But it stops here. You do not get free reign to disrespect your sister, Prudence. And Penelope, the same goes for you. We have not acted like family in the past, but it is time that we learn."

Prudence scoffs, angrily shoving a jam-covered scone into her mouth. Her loud, unladylike chewing ires their mother, but Mama keeps her silence. The quiet of the dining room remains tense until Mr. Dankworth clears his throat.

"You seemed to have a fun time dancing, Penelope," Harry says.

He looks visibly uncomfortable, especially when Prudence turns her glare onto him for speaking to Penelope. For the first time in their marriage, he does not completely shrink under her dirty look.

"I did," Penelope replies. "I have never danced so much."

"Three dances with the same gentleman!" Harry continues, "You looked splendid on the dance floor."

Mr. Finch pipes up, "We surely saw some of the other Mamas and young ladies burning with envy at his attentions. What a triumph for all the people who thought you a spinster!"

"Does this mean that you finally accepted his offer of courtship?" Philippa asks. She glances between Penelope and Prudence, hesitant to infuriate Prudence more. Philippa seemed pensive during last night's ball, and even more so this morning. Talk of her courtship with Colin appears to have roused her interest enough to join the conversation.

"I did accept," Penelope says slowly. She can no longer fight back the bright smile wishing to spread across her face. Colin Bridgerton is courting her. It seems too farfetched to be real, but it is.

He is officially courting her!

Prudence slams her goblet down onto the table in a fit of pique as Mama and Mr. Finch gasp in unison. Harry flinches at the loud sound from his wife, but he does not look in Prudence's direction. His shoulders square up as he turns his gaze back to Penelope, ignoring Prudence's fierce glare aimed at the back of his head.

"Truly?" Mama asks, delighted. "You have accepted his suit?"

"Yes, Mama," she replies. "He seems quite genuine in his romantic regard and on the terrace, he asked if I would finally accept his offer."

Mr. Finch claps his hands together once with a large smile. "Oh, how exciting!"

"He does seem genuine in his pursuit of you, Pen. How thrilling it must be to enter this new phase with him," Harry says. Penelope does not understand what is happening, or why her sister's husband is making a stand against Prudence but his support rejuvenates her spirits.

"We must get you fitted for some new garments," Mama says.

"We did not get new garments whilst courting," Prudence snaps.

The attitude seems to have pushed their Mother to her limit because Mama narrows her eyes.

"You were not courted by gentlemen with unlimited funds that may provide for your dear Mama if you were to marry either," Mama replies, tone clipped.

Prudence's cheeks flush hot with embarrassment.

Mama visibly regains her composure and continues, "However, since I will be commissioning some new dresses for your sister; it is reasonable to see if we can have you and Philippa fitted for an expectant wardrobe."

"Are you in jest, Mama?" Philippa questions.

Penelope can see her sister place a hand just under her bustline where the fabric of her day dress has grown snug. For someone who has always been lithe, Philippa responded tearfully to how her dresses no longer fit her. Watching Mr. Finch try to reassure her throughout all the changes has softened Philippa.

"Your bellies will grow with child soon enough," Mama answers. "It is best you have some more forgiving attire prepared."

Penelope is no fool. She knows that their fortune is not as weighty as her sisters seem to believe. They have little understanding of money. Penelope has only grown to understand it as she works through her finances with her earnings from Lady Whistledown. She can see that this offer of new dresses brings a tightness to the corner of her mother's lips.

"Mama, I have quite enough dresses for this week," she says. Her mother need not stretch their funds towards her. She can allow her sisters this opportunity. Penelope can take care of her own wardrobe.

"Are you sure, dear?" Mama asks. She truly seems to want Penelope to have this experience, and while Penelope appreciates how invested her Mama seeks to be, she does not fully trust her yet. "We can get you fitted for something tomorrow, I am certain."

Penelope shakes her head.

"Thank you, Mama, but Colin said he will call on Monday," she says. "Besides, I already have a new garment for each day this week. No need to add extra work to Madame Delacroix."

"I suppose we do have quite the upcoming calendar," Mama responds. "With there being two babies in a few months, dedicating our funds to dresses for Philippa and Prudence might be best."

"Perhaps we can go next week, Mama?" Philippa asks. "I am quite tired. Sleep has been restless, and I still cannot go one night without being ill."

Philippa nibbles on a plain piece of toasted bread. She is paler than ever and looks to have lost weight in the last few days even as her stomach rounds out. Being with child has not been easy for her body to bear.

"Very well," Mama says, finally agreeing. "I shall schedule us an appointment at the modiste for the week after. It will hopefully allow Philippa to get some reprieve from her sickness."

Mama cleans her mouth with the cloth napkin on here lap before she stands up. "Mrs. Varley?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can you have Cook prepare almond cake for tonight's dinner?" Mama asks. Penelope sees a genuine smile appear on her mother's face. "We have a courtship to celebrate!"

Mrs. Varley nods. The older woman rarely looks overly emotional, but she seems pleased with her Mama's smile. The last few seasons have been fraught for her family since their debut into society.

"I do wonder what Lady Whistledown shall write in her next column, Penelope," Mr. Finch says idly, pressing a thin slice of cheddar onto his scone. His offhand comment makes Penelope freeze.

With sudden clarity, her bubble of joy bursts. What is she to write for tomorrow's report?

She'd spent so much time in the company of Colin and the rest of the Bridgertons that she failed to gather any pertinent gossip for her column. Other than writing about herself and Colin, Penelope does not have much to share. Part of her would love the opportunity to display the magic of last night to see the looks of dismay from all the people who'd been unkind to her. However, last night was intimate and overwhelmingly beautiful. She does not wish to share it, and she does not wish to sully it either by betraying people so dear to her.

What in the blazes is she going to do?

Colin walks into the dining room feeling jubilant. His entire family is present, including Daphne, Simon and Augie. Augie looks up from his spot on Simon's lap and waves at him with a jam-covered scone in one tiny hand.

"Cooie!" the baby calls as Colin walks past him. Ignoring Simon, Colin leans over to press a kiss to the boy's wild curls. Augie offers him his messy breakfast in reply.

"Thank you, Augie," Colin says, amused. "You can finish your food. I shall get one for myself." The baby grins back at him and shoves the scone into his mouth making both himself and Simon laugh.

"Good day, family!" he sing-songs as he begins gathering food from the serving trays. Colin heaps a pile of eggs, fruit, and a savory pastry onto his plate before taking his normal seat next to Benedict.

From the head of the table, Anthony says, "You are quite cheerful so early on a Sunday morning." Colin looks up at his brother and watches him take a sip of his tea. Anthony's eyebrows are arched high with light-hearted teasing and intrigue.

Benedict nudges him with an elbow.

"Yes, Col, you've been in high spirits since the ball last evening," his brother says. "I would think you tired after all the vigorous dancing and conversation. Your attentions were incredibly focused."

Anthony laughs into his tea.

Daphne clears her throat, making both himself and Benedict peer over at her. She has a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, and Colin recognizes that he is soon to be overtaken by teasing from his siblings.

"The smile on your face is relentless," Daphne says. "Anything to share, brother?"

Colin glances from Daphne to Anthony and then to Benedict before he rolls his eyes. Their teasing shall be swift and endless, but Colin finds that he is too joyous to care much.

"Penelope has accepted my offer of courtship," he says.

Saying the words out loud brings another wave of excitement to his body. He can feel the smile stretch widely across his face as cheers go up around the table. Augie copies everyone, letting out a happy yell and waving his scone.

Francesca leans over her plate and says, "I knew it! Your waltz was too romantic for her not to return your feelings, brother."

"Thank heavens she accepted," Anthony says. "Your closeness last night certainly toed the edge of propriety."

"They danced together three times, brother," Benedict adds with a chortle. "I rather think he told propriety to bugger off." Anthony laughs before biting into a thick piece of cured ham.

The mother sighs in exasperation. "What have I told you about that kind of language around young ladies, Benedict?"

Benedict has the nerve to shoot their mother a teasing smile and a wink. "That we should teach them sooner rather than later?" he asks. Mother does not look impressed by his impertinence.

Simon bounces a wiggling Augie on his knee. "You surely did not dally in teaching them boxing skills," he says. "Perhaps, swearing will be effective in deterring lewd attentions from dishonorable men."

Daphne raises an eyebrow at her husband.

"You fell in love with me after I planted a well-deserved facer," she says before Augie offers her a handful of eggs. Daphne laughs at her son, kissing his fisted hand and his forehead but she skillfully avoids his offering.

Simon nods. "Quite true, my darling."

Anthony shakes his head, laughing. "I do believe that was an insult," he says. Simon smirks at his best friend.

"Trust me, I am aware of the insult," Simon replies. "She enjoys mocking me for my prior foolishness."

"If men learned how to listen, they would not be as frequently mocked," Mother says, causing all four of her sons plus Simon to look at her in betrayal. She lifts her teacup in acknowledgment but seems completely unapologetic.

Daphne hides an amused smile as she says, "Well said, Mama."

Kathani laughs aloud. "Indeed, Violet."

Anthony shoots his wife a wounded look. "You mock me even when I do listen."

"This is true," Kate agrees. She pats Anthony on the cheek, both fond and mocking. "You are simply too handsome whilst pouting for me to resist teasing, my love."

Anthony scoffs, "Have I mentioned you are a singularly vexing woman?"

"You have," Kate replies. "It amuses me that you pretend to dislike it."

Daphne interrupts, "Now who is being nauseatingly flirtatious at the dining table?"

Colin clears his throat loudly. "Those who are married can cease stealing all the attention," he says. "Can we return to our celebrations of Penelope accepting my suit?"

"I am so pleased for you, Col," Frannie says. "Penelope is wonderful!"

"I am pleased that Pen made you pursue her affections," Hyacinth says. "I tire of being around young maidens squawking over my brothers. Yes, you are all handsome I suppose, but some humility might increase your value."

"Handsome, you suppose ?" Benedict questions, indignant. "I am rather offended that you do not think me handsome, Hy."

"None of you are unpleasant, but it is rather unnerving hearing other young ladies swoon over your chestnut hair and fine face," Francesca replies, wrinkling her nose. Eloise points frantically at Francesca in apparent agreement. She shoved too large of a piece of fruit in her mouth and cannot chew fast enough to speak without being impolite.

"What do you know of humility, Hy?" Gregory asks.

Hyacinth narrows her eyes at her brother. "Do you truly wish to irk me again so soon?"

"Should any more creatures, excepting Newton, find their way into this home, you shall receive no sweets and attend no parties for two weeks, Hyacinth," Mother says firmly. Hyacinth huffs but she nods. Gregory looks smug.

"The two of you looked beautiful dancing together last night," Eloise says. A shocked silence falls immediately as every head swivels to stare at her. Colin is the most taken aback. Does this mean that all is now well between her and Penelope?

Eloise pauses with a jam-covered toast partway to her mouth.

"What?" she asks, sitting up straighter in response to their attention. Her cheeks flush red, but she rolls her eyes. "You all expect me to be so callous that I cannot even offer a simple compliment?"

"Callous may not be the correct word, sister," Frannie replies.

Anthony clears his throat to break some of the tension present. "It is simply a surprising sentiment coming from you, El," he says. Eloise rolls her eyes again. Colin suddenly knows exactly where Hyacinth learned some of her expressions of impertinence. The two sisters look frighteningly similar when rolling their eyes.

"I do not lose my senses to romantic displays," Eloise responds, "but I am not blind to when things are… pretty ." Seeing how uncomfortable Eloise looks with this conversation, Colin decides to be gracious. He does not wish for her to change her mind because they ask too many questions she is unprepared or unwilling to answer fully.

"Thank you, El," he says, trying to articulate how genuinely he means it. Eloise gives him an awkward, but soft smile before she returns to her toasted bread quietly.

Benedict nudges his bicep with an elbow. "Are you to see her today?"

"No, I told her I would call on Monday," Colin answers. "She seems unaccustomed to all the attention."

"It is rather overwhelming to switch from feeling invisible to having everyone's notice," Kathani says. Daphne tips her teacup towards Kate in agreement. "A day's reprieve might be a good idea."

"We do have a rather full social calendar this week anyway," Anthony adds. "She will likely see your mug far too often this week, brother."

"We have a full week?" Colin asks, excited.

Eloise, on the other hand, sounds despairing when she says, "Do we?"

"I do not know why you are surprised. It is the height of the season! I looked over our engagements first thing this morning," Anthony replies. He finishes his tea before looking over at his wife. "Also my lady, I shall need to take a day's ride to Woodford. There is farmland for purchase and the owner has finally replied to my letter."

Kate nods and says, "Alright, dear."

"What else are we being forced to attend this week?" Eloise asks. Her embarrassment from before has faded from her face, and now she seems irritable. Colin is unsurprised. She continues to dislike being foisted onto the marriage mart.

"There is the Kenworthy garden party on Tuesday!" Hyacinth says.

"I am planning to host my first soiree here at Bridgerton House come this Friday," Kate says. "I thought a small party with parlor games would be a fun way to start my life as a Viscountess."

"Let me know if I can be of any assistance, my dear," Mother responds. "I shall have to start looking into properties for my Dower House."

Simon manages to clean his fussy toddler's face with a cloth napkin as he says, "I am sure we can find one of your family properties close by for a Dower house if need be. If not, I have plenty in a portfolio somewhere that we can look at as well."

Colin laughs at the disgruntled look on his nephew's face, especially when the remnants of his jam-covered scone are taken out of his hand by Daphne.

"Nonsense! We shall worry about that after we summer at Aubrey Hall, Mother. Do not stress yourself," Anthony replies, "We should also discuss sending Greg to Eton come next September for the start of the Michaelmas half before we concern ourselves with the possibility of everyone moving residence."

Gregory leans forward to ask, "I am finally to start Eton, brother?"

Most boys are shipped off to boarding school, the first opportunity available after turning three and ten. Anthony forced no such thing onto Gregory. Colin truly thinks that Anthony is emotionally fraught by sending Greg off for months at a time.

Francesca adds, "Do not forget there is the Stratham ball on Saturday. Lord Kilmartin has invited me to attend with him, brother."

The chattering of his family fades into the background. To think that by the end of the season, four of the eight Bridgerton siblings may be married off, his youngest brother planning to depart for Eton, and the house they grew up in London may no longer be their primary residence. It makes Colin melancholy and nostalgic. He only has so much time left in this home.

After everyone finishes their food, and it becomes unreasonable to linger at the dining table, Daphne and Simon say their goodbyes. Augie leaves smacking kisses on all of their cheeks, causing even Eloise to grin.

"Bye Cooie!!" Augie calls, waving as Simon carries him toward the door. Colin waves back just as enthusiastically.

"Bye Augs! I love you!"

"Love you!" his nephew screeches. Colin hears Daphne's laugh before the footman shuts the door behind them. Colin cannot wait to have kids of his own.

"You do not have to display his favor for you quite so much, brother," Anthony says.

"You would do the exactly same," Colin replies, laughing. "In fact, you would be insufferable were he to be as attached to you."

"This is true," Anthony admits. Colin laughs and Anthony joins him with a chuckle. "I have some paperwork to review while Kate works with Mrs. Wilson on her ideas for Friday. Might not be much company, but you are welcome to join me. Eloise wanted to promenade, so Benedict agreed to escort her."

"I shall head to my own study for the day, brother," Colin says. "I have correspondence to write."

Anthony nods. He clasps a hand to the back of Colin's neck and squeezes it affectionately. "Off with you, then. I shall see if Gregory would like to sit with me."

Colin retreats to his study to work on his travel journals and reply to Penelope's last letter.

Penny,

The cheekiness of you! Referring to my eldest brother as the handsome gentleman who keeps you company, instead of myself. It seems I must remind you that I am the one who makes you blush and giggle at every opportunity.

What keen eyes you possess, my darling! Benedict would show his romantic inclinations at the one social gathering I decided to forego attending. Lady Tilley Arnold, you say? I believe I have met her only once in passing, so I shall start watching for any fair-haired widows in my brother's vicinity from now on. My brother is a rather talented artist (whether he believes so or not), so he tends to see beauty in many variations. It seems to be the spark of intrigue that draws his attention and not so much the physical appearance. You cannot share this with anyone, but he had quite the dalliance with Madame Delacroix during Daphne's season. I am unsure what led to the end of their situation, but neither seemed too heartbroken.

As for your sisters, I hope that motherhood forces them to be kinder to you. Perhaps that is a foolish hope, but it is a hope I have anyway. Mother always says that there are few things more humbling than becoming a parent. Has Philippa seen a doctor about her sickness? I remember when Mother was expectant; she was rarely sick while carrying any of my younger siblings so I have little advice or words of comfort to offer. I do wish that there was a way for me to alleviate your worry. I shall keep her in my thoughts.

It pleases me greatly that you had a wonderful time with my family. We spend countless amounts of time together, so it has always been important that my intended feel at home with them. I told them today that you accepted my suit last night. To say they were overjoyed is an understatement, Pen. Eloise even said that we were beautiful together on the dance floor!

Sharing the news with them was a joyful occasion, but it certainly hit me how quickly things are changing for my family. Three of us (four if I have my way) shall be married by the end of the season. Mother is planning to move into a Dower house. Gregory should start Eton next September. It would be a falsehood to say that I am not ill at ease. I have never had such separation between my siblings and myself, even if we live within blocks of one another. Is it strange that I am both sad and happy about the way life is unfolding?

Like Philippa, perhaps your mother is finally changing her mind? I cannot apologize for taking her to task last week, but I hope that it makes her see how wonderful you truly are, Penelope.

You captivate me in both my mind and in reality. For being so innocent, you certainly know how to stir unholiness in a man's thoughts. How bold of you to request tutelage in the field of pleasure! I adore your forthrightness and confidence.

I dreamt of you last night. It was a dream where my brother did not hasten you away from me, and it was not against propriety to pull you close. Where I was able to cover your mouth with mine, and show you all the ways a kiss can bewilder the mind and overcome the body. I yearn to slide my hands into your red curls. I dream of pressing my lips to the thin skin of your neck so I can feel your heartbeat quicken at my touch.

I would delight in showing you all the ways a woman can be seduced and given pleasure.

I would love nothing more than to teach you how to touch me, but I would derive more passion from exploring you. The thought of you blushing as I demonstrate the way you should be kissed at every opportunity. Does the thought of me tracing your luminous skin from your lips to your sternum make you feel warm?

Would you surrender to me? Would you allow me to take control of your flesh and guide you into bliss?

Yours,

Col

Although Eloise is glad to be out in the freshest air available in London proper, she is overheated. She wears the lightest frock she can in the November weather, but she is roasting beneath all the lace and ruffles.

Benedict seems completely unbothered by the heat despite his attire of a light gray overcoat, fashionable waistcoat, and shirt. She knows men are not forced to wear a corset beneath their garments, so perhaps the heat is not so bad for them. What another outrageous example of men being treated far better than women.

"Now that pairing is tragic," Benedict says. Eloise looks up from her aimless staring and follows his gaze. Seeing Cressida's stiff shoulders as she walks on the arm of the elderly Lord Greer, her heart sinks.

"I rather agree about the tragedy," Eloise responds. She watches Cressida's form as they walk together. Cressida stares straight ahead, her lips a tight, thin line. Lord Greer's mouth moves as they promenade. It is clear that Cressida is not listening, but he continues to talk at her.

"Does her father truly intend to marry her off to a man thrice her age?"

Eloise switches her attention to her nonplussed elder brother. It is her turn to be surprised when she spots the clear incredulity on Benedict's face.

"She sits on the precipice of spinsterhood, brother."

Benedict's brow furrows as he responds, "Miss Cowper is only one and twenty, is she not?"

"You seem surprised," Eloise says, incredulous. "Three years on the marriage mart with no prospects fairly condemns a lady in our society."

Benedict seems discomfited. "I confess that I have not paid much attention to the chatter of the marriage mart," he admits.

"It is rather hard to listen when you are preoccupied by running away from it," Eloise replies dryly.

Benedict gives her a guilty but amused look. Benedict is not the only party in this conversation who was too preoccupied to listen to those around them.

"Seems rather unreasonable if you ask me," he says. "A lady does not lose value with each year she lives." It lightens her heart to know that her brother values women as they are, and not because of their ability to bear children or their age.

"Every ideal the Ton encourages about the fairer sex disagrees with you," Eloise tells him. She snorts derisively. "If we do not marry and pop out a son, then women have no purpose."

Benedict frowns, but Eloise turns to look in Cressida's direction. She watches the miserable set of Cressida's shoulders as she walks on the arm of Lord Greer. He trundles forward, hair whitened with age. Eloise feels a revulsion twist in her stomach. She cannot imagine having a family curse her to such a fate. Anthony certainly went wrong with Daphne, but he has done everything possible to repent for his mistake.

"Do you think me a fool, brother?" Eloise asks. Her question makes Benedict's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

"Eloise, you are much too intelligent to ever be a fool," he teases. Eloise does not laugh. She sees his amusement fade into a more serious expression tinged by concern. "Perhaps, narrowly focused is a better way to describe yourself?"

Eloise remains silent for a long moment, and Benedict's concern deepens. "El?"

"For the first time in my life Benedict," she says slowly. "I have felt invisible."

"Invisible? Do you not usually prefer it that way?"

"I thought I would," Eloise admits. "But it is altogether a humbling, if not humiliating, experience to walk into a room where people avert their eyes or gaze through me as if I do not exist at all."

"Why humbling?" he asks. Benedict is all too familiar with how society has tiptoed around her since last season. Spending the summer in the countryside lightened the vitriol after her opinions on women's rights were revealed, but she still feels their mistrust and judgment.

"I rail against society's rules. I have made no secret of my dissatisfaction with how our world views women and takes power away from the fairer sex. I am so used to shouting my opinions for all to hear," Eloise tells him. "Although this is the first time my voice has truly been silenced. I am not used to being unseen and unheard."

Eloise feels tears gather in the corner of her eyes. It is indescribable really to feel this way. What a new experience to be ignored so completely that Eloise found herself checking mirrors to make sure she was still corporeal.

Benedict uses his elbow to press the back of her hand against his ribcage. She looks up at him and he gives her a look. "I am sorry, sister."

Eloise squeezes his arm and says, "You do not need to apologize, Benedict. You are one of the few people who does listen to me." He shrugs lightly at her assertion but nods in acceptance. They walk forward in contemplative silence before Eloise speaks again.

"I have taken my privilege and position in the Ton for granted. And I took it for granted simply because I did not know the difference," she says. Eloise does not bother to hide her sadness or ruefulness from Benedict. It is clear that he does not fully understand the perspective she is trying to share with him, but he still listens. "We live in this small bubble, and I am protected on all sides. I am grateful for the love and protection of my family, but I feel that it has made me blind to what other women go through."

If she were anyone other than a Bridgerton, Eloise would have been irredeemably ruined by her reckless behavior and she finally realizes what that would have meant for her entire life. Her acceptance back into society's good graces, however tenuous that acceptance may be, results from her family's name and the Queen's blessing of Anthony and Kate's nuptials.

"You speak of Penelope, I suppose?"

If Benedict has decided to inquire about the distance between herself and Penelope, then things are truly fraught. He is not the type to insert himself into disagreements between others, but he certainly has an ear for gossip.

"I speak of Penelope, but I also recognize that I may have been blind to Daphne and Mama and even Cressida," Eloise replies. "I find myself exhausted, taking note of all my flaws and mistakes, and then having to reconcile with other people's justified anger and upset. Each day, I feel like more and more is revealed that I have done wrong."

"What wrongs have you committed, sister? While outspoken, you are not one to cause harm to another."

"I did not listen to them," Eloise whispers. The tears gather themselves in her eyes again and her heart burns with regret. "My self-righteousness made me deaf. I never realized Daphne may have similar feelings to me about the limitations placed on women. The falling out I've had with Penelope is partly my own fault. My inattentiveness led her to do something foolish. I thought back to several arguments and conversations with Penelope only to realize how dismissive I was of her experiences and desires."

Eloise is aggrieved by all the discoveries. The last two years, she cannot think of a single conversation where she considered Penelope's position on the marriage mart. She never felt interest in the conversation beyond complaining about how she wished to avoid taking part in it all. Even being forced into the marriage mart a year early was something she never discussed with Pen. Eloise felt such relief about her mother allowing her a year's delay that she failed to consider the type of strain Penelope could be under.

Once the season began and Eloise's obsessive hunt for Lady Whistledown started, there were few conversations about anything going on in Penelope's life. She cannot fathom how difficult it had been for Penelope to keep Marina's secret most of the season. Even more crushing it had to have been to reveal said secret because the people around her refused to listen.

Eloise thinks back to the night in the Bridgerton garden, when Penelope appeared out of the darkness and wept into her arms. Eloise had never seen Penelope so despairing, not even when her father passed. Eloise can only imagine how frustrating it is to be voiceless and to be shown such a lack of consideration by your best friend.

"What do you need, Eloise?" Benedict asks, "How can I be of help?"

"I do not need you to do anything, Benedict," Eloise replies. "I am the one who must seek out forgiveness from those I have been careless in my attentions with."

"I have never seen you back away from something difficult," Benedict tells her with an encouraging glance. "I suggest not starting now."

"Thank you for listening, brother."

"I will always listen," Benedict replies, "Even if I do not know what to say."

As calling hours come to a close for the day, Penelope finds herself restless. Lady Cowper paid a visit to the Featherington drawing room and her mother was overtly pleased by the opportunity to share news of Penelope's courtship with Colin. Penelope is quite sure that all of Mayfair will be apprised of her relationship with Colin, even without Lady Whistledown announcing the news.

She cannot fathom what she is to do about her publication. The draft is due late this evening before Genieveve closes her shop and she has naught but idle chatter to report. With nothing coherent on any of her scraps of parchment, Penelope leaves her bedchamber. Maybe sitting in her favorite window will grant her perspective? And if not, then maybe she will catch a glimpse of a handsome gentleman across the square.

Though she is relieved Colin did not come to call today due to her distraction, she finds that she misses seeing his fine face. As she descends the stairs, Penelope forces herself to focus. Her concentration on Colin has put her in this precarious position in the first place.

Penelope wrings her hands together as she strides into the drawing room. She remains lost in thought until she goes to sit on her window seat, only to stop in her tracks when she sees her sister sitting there instead.

"Philippa?" she sputters. Philippa looks at her, a hand perched on her barely discernable bump. "Why are you in my window seat?"

Philippa has never sat there before. She hates being in direct sunlight for too long out of fear of becoming tan or freckled. She considered the view outside boring and uninspired. Her mocking of Penelope for her fondness for this exact spot was relentless for years since they moved into this estate. Penelope does not understand why her sister would sit in this place after providing such ridicule.

"You have always sat in this spot," Philippa answers. She places her free hand onto the striped cushion and glances back out of the window. "I wished to know what you liked about it here."

Penelope's mind boggles at this strange event. Her family has certainly been acting out of character as of late. First her mother and now Philippa?

"Since when have you concerned yourself with what I like?" Penelope asks sharply. She sees her sister's small flinch at her inquiry, but Penelope does not back down completely. She lets out an exasperated sigh and asks, "What have you determined then?"

"I have not determined anything," Philippa admits. "I found myself quite lost in thought."

Penelope stares in disbelief. This is madness! Philippa? Thinking? At this point, she should expect Prudence to come out saying that she suddenly loves horseback riding. Everyone in her household is acting out of character, and Penelope is wholly discontent.

"You used to say thinking is what made my countenance so unappealing," Penelope replies. In response, Philippa visibly shrinks into herself. Her other hand falls to her belly as well. Her shoulders hunch inward. Penelope finds herself agape when she sees her sister's blue eyes swell with tears.

"I do not remember saying such an unkind thing, but I am certain that I did," she says quietly.

"Did Mama put you up to this?" Penelope inquires.

"Put me up to what?" Philippa's brow furrows in confusion, even as she fights back tears. "Sitting in your window?"

Penelope sighs, "Do not worry, I speak of nothing important."

"Penelope…I know that I am rather simple sometimes," Philippa begins. Her hesitance and sadness are clear in her voice and expression. "Sickness plagues me with this child. I can barely keep food inside me and I am always exhausted. The lack of sleep from illness is bad enough, but I keep having these terrible dreams of me speaking to my child how I used to talk to you, and it makes my heart hurt."

"Philippa?" Penelope says, speechless. Her sister has never been openly emotional. Penelope would have said that her sisters had no empathy whatsoever if asked directly. Now, her sister admits that her heart hurts over her mistreatment of Penelope.

"You must think me a dunderhead and completely mad," Philippa says with a derisive laugh. "This baby is not even here yet for me to see but I feel as though it has taken over my mind and body."

Penelope sees the tears swell over the brim of her sister's eyes and her own widen in response. This is not how she and her sisters operate. They do not like one another. She has never been in a position where comforting her was necessary, or even requested.

"Sister…," Penelope starts, stepping forward with a hand outstretched.

Philippa avoids her touch and stands abruptly. "I do not want to make my baby cry like I have done to you," she says, tearfully. "Be it a boy or a girl, I want them to feel perfect as they are."

Philippa's rouge smears as she cries, and her lips tremble. She looks devastated and also irked. They stare at each other. Penelope wants to offer some comfort but has no idea how.

"I do not know what to say, Philippa."

"That is plain," Philippa scoffs, still crying. She uses both hands to wipe away her tears before she says, "If you'll excuse me, I believe I hear Albion calling for me."

"Philippa!" she calls out, but her sister strides from the room quickly. Penelope stares after her, utterly bewildered. Penelope stands there for a long moment before her lady's maid appears in the doorway.

"Miss Penelope, a letter from Mr. Bridgerton has arrived," Rae says, and Penelope nods.

"Thank you, Rae," she says, taking the folded parchment.

Penelope came to the drawing room to think about her conundrum with Lady Whistledown and now she finds herself overtaken by whatever just occurred with her sister. It seems she is to have no reprieve from tumult this afternoon.

She can only hope that Colin's letter brings her some cheer.

Although the drawing room is empty, the emotions linger. Penelope fears that she shall be as distracted here as she was upstairs, but at least in her room, she can read Colin's letter without worry about who may see it.

"I shall return to my bedchamber, I think," she says. "Would you have a tea tray brought up?"

"Of course, Miss." Rae curtsies and then heads for the kitchen. Penelope walks back upstairs with her thoughts awhirl.

How is she to continue her work if she is no longer invisible? Will she ultimately have to choose between being Lady Whistledown and loving Colin?

Penelope never dreamed that Colin reciprocated her feelings. This is not a fate she could have prepared for. Reading of romance seemed so light, but her situation with Colin was all-consuming. She has his attention, but also the attention of his entire family.

Loving him from afar is one thing, but the reality of being courted by a Bridgerton is entirely another. She failed to account for how little time or space she would have for gossip gathering while searching for a husband. She shall have to figure something else out.

She must draft something for Lady Whistledown, but first, she desires to read Colin's letter. She closes her bedchamber door and walks over to the other side of her room. She settles into her armchair, opening Colin's missive.

Penelope flushes bright red seeing Penny listed as the first word on the page. His letter makes her smile, laugh at his cheekiness, and then renders her breathless. She feels herself overheat. Colin truly has a way with words, but she is talented at wielding a quill herself.

Two can play this enticingly flirtatious game, after all.

Eloise reclines against the settee with one leg tucked under her body and the other hanging off the edge. The private drawing room is unusually empty for the after-supper hour.

Benedict has disappeared somewhere into the night. Anthony and Kate are embroiled in their own world. The two rushed off rather quickly after supper calling their goodnights. Lord only knows what married people are so eager to do whilst alone. Eloise cannot imagine that it is anything truly interesting.

Hyacinth and Mama are deciding what dress Hy is to wear to the garden party as well as to the soiree at the Bridgerton House on Friday. Francesca seemed weary of all the socializing of the last few days, and she quickly absconded to her music room with the door firmly shut. Eloise believes that Colin may have gone into his study. Gregory took Newton for a stroll in the gardens with a footman for company.

With free time and quiet on her side, Eloise retreated to her bedchamber to retrieve all the copies of Lady Whistledown from her trunk. She carried the stack into the drawing room, and settled in next to the fire to read. Reading Whistledown from the beginning may offer her fresh perspective now that she knows who the author is, and Eloise intends to pay attention to all the things Whistledown reports, not just the gossip.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, August 1813

Grosvenors Square, 1813. Dearest reader, the time has come for us to place our bets for the upcoming social season. Consider the household of Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless mama. Far better odds might exist in the household of the widowed Viscountess Bridgerton. A shockingly prolific family noted for its bounty of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters. How very perfect indeed.

Eloise remembers the first edition of the scandal sheet. How she was handed it by a delivery boy who quickly ran off to give a copy to another unexpecting bystander. The opening line featured the Featherington family, which in hindsight, made it incredibly obvious who the author was. The next line mentions the Bridgertons, which at the time, had taken all of her interest. What a daring entry into society Penelope made as Lady Whistledown. To boldly state full names and to mock the marriage mart requires courage and foolishness in equal measure.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, August 1813

It has been said that of all bitches, dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine. If that should be true, then this author would like to show you her teeth. My name is Lady Whistledown. You do not know me and, rest assured, you never shall, but be forewarned dear reader, I certainly know you.

"Clever," Eloise says under her breath. Penelope possesses quite a way with words. Eloise is just as impressed by the wittiness and forthright nature of Lady Whistledown now as she was when she first read it. Penelope has a sharp sense of humor, and Eloise always knew her to be funny, but until the Featherington ball, Eloise never noticed her perfectly timed barbs.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, November 1813

These days the modern young lady must display a miscellany of talents in her quest for suitors. She must be a witty conversationalist, an accomplished musician, and an expert in the art of the swoon. For managing to faint with nary a petticoat out of place is a most coveted talent indeed. Of course, not everyone has fallen victim to the royal fever sweeping through London Town. One diamond in particular seems quite immune making this author wonder if the crown has lost its luster.

It never occurred to Eloise that Penelope would be as frustrated by the parade of requirements that society forced upon women. It is clear that she seeks marriage and love, but she also understands how trivial and ridiculous the expectations on the marriage mart are. Pen's words are razor-sharp. Eloise can scarcely believe that she would author something so baldly irreverent towards the monarchy.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, March 1815

What is it about betrayal that excites us so? The Ton itself has certainly felt its peculiar kind of frenzy after the promise of the wedding to end all weddings was broken. Yet this author has it on very good authority that the viscount's failed nuptials may not be the only betrayal our dear Bridgertons must manage at present. Should our lives be distilled down to the sum total of our choices, then Miss Eloise Bridgerton has certainly made a dangerous, perhaps ruinous one. For she's apparently been associating, unchaperoned, with improper company. Political radicals, in fact. It might be that the young miss spent a great deal of time considering her decisions or, perhaps, they were made in haste. Whatever the case may be, we all must remember, as one makes one's bed, so one must lie in it.

This is only the second time Eloise read this pamphlet where her decisions are publicly displayed, much to her humiliation and social disgrace. The text remains jarring, but her rage and hurt no longer burn hot. She shall never be fully pleased with what Penelope has done, but in the grand scheme of things, she can see how Penelope protected her in these words.

Penelope kept her secrets for months. She'd begged, pleaded, and scolded Eloise to cease her visits to Theo on many occasions. Penelope even shouted at her about it and warned her that someone could find out if she was not careful. All of that occurred before the Queen decided that Eloise must be the author.

As she thinks back to their friendship last season, it becomes increasingly obvious that Penelope betrayed her confidence out of desperation, and even more obvious is how little attention Eloise paid to her best friend. Eloise ran to Penelope for help after the Queen's visit and failed to listen to her. She ignored Penelope's counsel at every turn. She never would have succeeded with her plan to copy the gossip writer, so Penelope made a choice. It was such a shocking action that even the Queen realized that Eloise could not be Lady Whistledown. Penelope certainly saved her.

Hindsight is aggravating to experience.

As she flips to the next edition of Whistledown, Eloise notices over a month-long gap between publications. The next report after her ruinous revelation was published two days after the Featherington ball where Eloise ended their friendship.

Penelope stopped writing. She stopped publishing while Eloise hid from society and her family closed ranks. "Whistledown has been all I have had, and I have given it up. I am done with it. I wrote what I wrote, and I gave it up for you."

Penelope is the one who snuck to the Bridgerton house and tried to see Eloise as often as possible when everyone else gave them the cut direct. Penelope is the one who ignored her mother's wishes to send her letters and found time where they could chat for a few minutes to appease Eloise's loneliness. Penelope is the one who stood by Eloise's side when she re-entered society. She ignored all the sneers and judgmental looks from their peers to stand at her side in the wake of scandal.

Eloise's eyes fill with tears as it all hits her. She is the one who made things personal. She essentially told Penelope that her voice was inferior to her own, and how her writings were driven by Eloise's interests. It must have been a slap in the face to have her work diminished in such a way by someone she loved. Eloise behaved no better than Lady Featherington when she spoke with such condescension. To suggest that Penelope's thoughts on naming a diamond were actually Eloise's thoughts, and to imply that her arrangement with Madame Delacroix was because of how she'd ruled her out already? Her self-righteousness is such an ugly thing to observe.

It is clear that Penelope's intent had never been to betray her. She protected Eloise's secrets with ironclad confidence until the moment Eloise forced her hand by refusing to listen to all her warnings. Her report only covered the bare minimum of what Penelope knew of her actions.

Penelope did not report Theo's name or the location of the print shop. She did not go into great detail about which rallies, the books she now possessed, and the feelings she developed for Theo. Penelope betrayed her with good, yet misguided intentions. The same could be said for what happened with Miss Thompson. Eloise's shouted words are vile: "The only person you were interested in saving was yourself. All so you could keep making money at a cost to everyone else. At a cost to Miss Thompson. To my brother. To my entire family. To your entire family. I ended my friendship with Theo because of you! One of the only good things in my life all because of your self-serving manipulation."

She spent months speaking to Eloise about Marina, never indicating who it was and trying to help her. It was only after Marina sought out Colin's affections that she became more intense about steering her in a different direction, and even then, Penelope held her secret close. Eloise remembers Colin mentioning how Penelope informed him Marina had loved another at one time. She had been visibly upset and concerned, and Eloise only went to her to rant about hunting for Lady Whistledown. Even then, she snapped when Eloise did not listen to her words about how she was tired and not wanting to discuss the matter. It is heartbreaking to realize that as she ran away in tears, Penelope still called after her to apologize.

Tears slip over the brim of her eyes as she sighs heavily. How could she have missed so much? What a terrible friend she has been to a person who stood beside her at every opportunity. The regret curdles in her stomach.

Thinking of that night in Penelope's bedchamber where Eloise discovered her identity nauseates her. The words she spoke were brutish and meant to wound: "I do not even know you. I look at you now, and all I feel is pity for you. Sequestered here in this very room, writing your secret little scandal sheet, tarnishing everyone in town because you are too scared to stand up for yourself in reality. You are something, Penelope. An insipid wallflower, indeed."

She is an absolute cad.

Her words visibly destroyed Penelope as she knew they would. Eloise took her greatest insecurities and threw them in her face. How was it that Penelope still sought out her friendship? How could Penelope forgive her?

To think she has made it impossible for Penelope to even speak with her, and how Pen constantly subjugates herself to Eloise's moods or thoughts. The power imbalance in their friendship has never been more clear. Now that Eloise has opened her eyes, she cannot allow this imbalance to persist.

She is so lost in thought that she only notices Colin's presence when he plops down on the settee next to her. She jumps in surprise and the pamphlets on her lap threaten to slide off. Eloise slaps a hand down to catch a few that fell off the stack, and Colin grabs the others as they teeter on the edge of the settee.

One of his eyebrows raises in curiosity as he places them safely back on the cushion.

"Are you reading Whistledown again?" he asks, "I thought you were finished with her."

The irony of this situation is not lost on Eloise. Colin looks at her and she shrugs.

"I reconsidered," she says, blinking quickly so her tears retreat. "Other than her exposing my ill-thought-out dalliance, she is clever and quick-witted. Her prose can be quite funny."

Colin scoffs, "You are willing to forgive Whistledown for nearly ruining you?" He settles back into the settee, turning his body to face her own. Eloise can hear Penelope's desperate voice in her head, " It was the only way to convince the Queen it wasn't you! It was the only way I could save you."

"Let us be honest. I was reckless. I nearly ruined myself," Eloise admits. "She simply made it known to others."

"That does not make it excusable."

"No, it does not," she agrees. "However, she did not make me go to Bloomsbury; that was a choice I made all on my own. My actions have consequences. Consequences that I rarely feel because of my name and my family protecting me. Perhaps, taking responsibility for my misdeeds is a good change."

"It does not give her the right to gossip and say untruthful things."

"Whistledown may be a gossip, but she has not told a lie."

"What brought this on? Your defense of her?"

"I find that I often have a lot to say myself, but strong opinions are not enough to make a real impact. Whistledown has a voice. Gossip may entice people to read the column, but she has a good amount to say about how society functions and the ridiculous expectations placed on women. Reading the columns again gave me perspective, I suppose."

Eloise remembers how Penelope lashed out at her. After all the insults and denigration hurled her way by Eloise, Penelope still refrained from being overtly cruel: " At least I did something. All you ever do is talk about doing something. You have all these great ambitions, these great plans, but I am the one who did something great, and you cannot stand it, can you?! What do you think that makes you?"

"Perspective, sister?"

"I wish more women had a voice, even if they are incorrect sometimes. She has made egregious mistakes, but so have I. Changing society first requires self-awareness and above all, the humility to admit when you are wrong."

"I can understand the need for self-awareness, El," Colin replies. "I have said things without thinking of their repercussions. I hurt someone I care for greatly because of my hubris and ignorance. I fear that I may be apologizing for the rest of my life to account for it."

"I guess we all need to work on being accountable for our mistakes," Eloise says. Colin nods in agreement. Eloise glances down to the stack of pamphlets on her lap, and she brushes an idle hand over the black ink art of a woman's head.

"Whistledown is a mirror," Eloise says quietly. "She makes us look at the ugly parts of ourselves."

"I am uncertain I wish my looking glass to show itself to the world without scruples."

"Her sheet has been fair this year," Eloise replies. Colin narrows his eyes and Eloise lifts her hands in an attempt to soothe his sudden irritation. "Certainly, sharp and biting but she has not been withering towards anyone who has not deserved it."

"And what of her writings about me at the beginning of the season?" he asks. Colin's expression wars between anger and insecurity. His feature in Whistledown shook him. It was obvious then, and it is obvious now. It must be unsettling to have someone pinpoint a deeply hidden insecurity about yourself, and then expose it for all of Mayfair.

"Those were not so good," Eloise replies slowly and carefully, "but brother, was she incorrect?"

Colin's face blanks out. He looks away from her. She can see his jaw tense and his eyebrows furrow together. For a long moment, he does not say anything. She watches as his fingers pick at the fabric of the settee and his face flits through several emotions.

Colin sighs heavily.

"No, she was not," he confesses. His whole body slouches down into the chair as he finally meets her gaze again. "A mirror, indeed."

Eloise gathers all of the pamphlets, including the ones set aside on the cushion. Perhaps it is a risk to give these to him, but maybe Colin needs time to read through things as she has. Eloise trusts that Penelope shall tell him the truth in good time.

"Here brother, perhaps you should read these," she says, handing the stack over to him. Colin looks surprised by her words and the offering, but he takes them anyway. "I have made my peace with my indiscretions and her part in it. Maybe you can as well?"

Colin stares at her as Eloise stands. She sees him glance at the pamphlets before she takes her leave. Her emotions have left her exhausted, and tomorrow promises to be another fraught day. She intends to speak with Penelope about their friendship, and they have much to discuss.

-- Monday, November 13, 1815

After a swift breakfast with his family on Monday, Colin strides across the square to meet Penelope at the start of calling hours. His elder brothers mock him as he exits the Bridgerton home, but Colin pays them no heed.

Not seeing Penelope's sweet face for over a day was torturous. He missed her company during the short separation, although he did amuse himself last night reading some of the Whistledown papers Eloise foisted onto him. The author could be rather amusing.

A footman escorts Colin into the Featherington drawing room. Lady Featherington stands when he is announced.

"Mr. Bridgerton," she greets. "You are rather prompt in arriving for calling hours."

"I found myself exceedingly eager to see Miss Penelope," he replies. Lady Featherington gives him an honest smile. Colin did not think she was capable of such a thing. No wonder Penelope seemed beside herself lately.

Before she can say another word, quick footsteps echo into the room and Penelope swings around the corner. His smile is immediate as he sees her bright curls flare around her shoulders.

"Colin," she says. Her blue eyes twinkle with happiness as she strides towards him. Colin reaches out a hand and she places her ungloved hand into his own. The softness of her bare skin against his own makes his heartbeat skyrocket. He presses a kiss to the skin of her knuckles, and Colin feels her gasp as his lips touch her uncovered flesh.

Their eyes meet and Colin sees the flare of heat in her blue eyes. Although entirely inappropriate, Colin presses another kiss to her bare knuckles before a loud throat clearing forces him to straighten up. Penelope's cheeks turn pink, but she gives him a teasing smile.

"Where are your gloves, Penelope?" Lady Featherington asks sternly. Penelope pulls her hand away, her reluctance as plain as his own.

"I forgot them, Mama," she replies. "I may have been in a bit of a rush to come downstairs."

Colin coughs lightly to hide a laugh. She looks at him and he smirks at her. It seems he is not the only one overly eager today.

"I will allow it today," Lady Featherington relents, "but be more careful the next time."

"Yes Mama," Penelope replies. "Shall we sit, Colin?"

"Of course," he says. Penelope leads them to the settee near the window. They do not sit in her typical seat, but they do have a charming view of the streets outside and the sunlight highlights Penelope's beautifully pale skin and hair. She looks resplendent in her dark blue frock.

Lady Featherington settles across the room to chaperone.

"How was your Sunday?" Penelope asks.

"Rather great. We broke our fast as a family, and then Simon, Daphne, and Augie departed for Hastings House. I spent most of the day in my study," he responds. Penelope's cheeks flush bright red.

Colin is confused by her blush until she scooches closer and leans forward to whisper, "Creating your salacious letter, I presume?" She appears scandalized and amused simultaneously. Colin scoots closer himself.

"Salacious, you say?" he murmurs. "Does that mean you found it particularly arousing of the mind?"

Penelope's blue eyes widen and her blush deepens, but she does not look away. Colin finds her bravery, innocence, and intrigue incredibly attractive. The things he will gleefully do to this woman in their marriage bed would make the vicar faint.

"Perhaps," she says. Penelope moves her hand so their fingers brush against one another. Colin widens his seated stance in order for their knees to touch.

"You are being coy," he replies, eyebrows high. She shifts her skirts, fluffing and smoothing them in places. He notices when she shifts her leg higher on the settee, so their knees are fully pressed together and the skirt of her dress is high enough to keep their hands out of eyesight.

"And if I am?"

Colin can see her trying to maintain composure as he intentionally drops his gaze from her blue orbs and down her entire form. She is stunning. He takes his time admiring her neck, cleavage, and bodice before he trails his gaze all the way back up to her eyes.

Her breath quickens, but she still does not break her gaze. God and above, she shall be a willful and headstrong bed partner. He cannot wait to make her his wife.

"That means that my words rattled your cages, so to speak, a lot more than you wish to admit," he replies. Penelope nudges his fingers with her own and Colin entwines their fingers. It feels even more intense than their previous hand holds.

Nothing separates palm from palm. Her skin is so smooth and soft against his own. He cannot help the affectionate stroke of his thumb along the heel of her hand.

"My response is quite thoroughly expressed in my written reply, kind sir," she tells him, voice catching when their thumbs rub against each other. "We should not speak of such things unless you seek to tempt scandal."

"Very well, Pen. I shall be patient," he replies, clearing his throat. "How was your day with your family?"

"Flummoxing."

"That is a strong descriptor. Flummoxing in what capacity?"

"You remember how my mother apologized to me last Friday?"

"Quite."

"Philippa was in my window seat and she did not apologize directly but she implied that she felt some amount of guilt about how she's spoken to me in the past."

" Truly? "

"Yes!"

"Has being expectant caused them all to go mad?"

"It is a possibility."

"Daphne was a tad volatile while carrying Augs. I ate the last of her cinnamon and chocolate biscuits once and I near drowned in the subsequent river of tears."

"Has Daphne been prone to random apologies during this go round?"

"If anything she is less emotional this time."

"I cannot survive another few months of these hysterics. Everyone is acting so odd!"

"Where are your sisters? Are they not usually here?"

"They both departed yesterday. Prudence was in a spectacularly terrible mood after the morning meal, so they finally went to their own home. Philippa and Mr. Finch left after our rather strange conversation, but she was not feeling well anyway."

"She is still ill, I take it?"

The calling hours pass in a haze of whispered conversation, laughter, and hand-holding. Although their palms sweat, neither of them let go of the other. It is a sweet, soul-refreshing intimacy that Colin has never experienced before. It is strange that he can feel so distant during sex with someone, but this innocent connection of hands brings him more arousal and fulfillment.

Maybe he was not cut out for a life of whoring around. He always knew he was a romantic, but this must be beyond the pale for any man. He has slept with at least seven women, and none of them were the extraordinary experience he thought he would have. Sex was fun of course and felt good, but Colin truly did not understand how men lost their heads over it. If holding Penelope's hand brings him such elation, he can only imagine what it may feel like to join with her. The thought of being allowed to bring her such pleasure makes him near dizzy.

As calling hours come to a close and Colin has completely overstayed his welcome in the eyes of propriety, they reluctantly release each other's hand. Colin pulls a letter out of his inner coat pocket. Penelope's eyebrow archs in curiosity.

"Eloise has requested I give you this note," he says. Penelope plucks the small folded parchment right out of his hands without another word. "Have you had a chance to speak?"

Penelope unfolds the note with haste as she says, "We talked at the Parwhile dinner party, but have yet to engage in extended conversation."

She reads the words quickly and lets out a shaky breath. Colin grows concerned immediately. If Eloise wrote something unkind, they shall be having words when he returns to Bridgerton house.

"What did she say?" he asks.

Penelope looks up at him. "She invited me over for afternoon tea."

"Shall you attend?"

"It is Eloise," Penelope says, "Of course, I will!"

Colin laughs at her enthusiasm. He watches her carefully refold the note along the original creases and says, "I hope I incite this much anticipation in you when I send you letters."

"Colin, are you jealous?" she teases.

"I would not label it jealousy ."

"You silly man," she replies fondly. Penelope reaches out and presses her bare hand to his cheek. Colin leans into the sweet touch. She smells of clover and jasmine. It is a sweet, earthy scent that is purely Penelope. "Eloise is my best friend. You are…something more than that. I suppose you must learn how to share my attention."

She caresses the side of his face for only a moment longer before she pulls her hand away. Colin stands and he helps her up from her seated position as well. It is an excuse to touch her once more, and he is shameless about it.

She fixes his overcoat and he feels it when she slips a square of parchment into one of his pockets. It is far thicker than the one he gave her from Eloise, so he knows that it is meant for him. She smiles at him, and Colin leaves with a bow.

Eloise paces in the rarely used morning room of Bridgerton House. Her family typically takes their tea in the gardens, especially on such a beautiful day, but Eloise needed privacy to speak with Penelope. Her mother and sisters are in the drawing room, and will exit to the gardens in the next hour or so, but Eloise instructed the staff to bring Penelope here first.

Sleep was fitful last night. The guilt eats at her mind and tarnishes her appetite. She does not wish to let her pride keep her chained to the misery of not apologizing to Penelope. Eloise anxiously bites at her nails. Her mother would scold her if she saw, but she is too nervous to care at this time.

When the morning room door opens, Eloise turns around. She freezes when Penelope's head appears from the other side of the door. She walks inside slowly and shuts the door behind her. For a long moment, they stare at each other silently before Penelope says, "Colin gave me your letter."

She waves the crinkled parchment around as though she needs to provide proof. Considering how Eloise has behaved around her lately, she would not be surprised if Penelope thought she did.

"I am glad you accepted my invitation," Eloise replies. "Might we sit?"

Penelope remains uncertain, but she takes a seat next to Eloise on the settee.

"I thought we could take a spell to talk openly with each other," Eloise says. "I know you likely have many questions."

"Truthfully, I only have one," Penelope answers. Eloise looks at her profile. It is plain to see the downturn of Penelope's mouth.

"What is it?"

"What did you see in her? In Cressida?" she asks bluntly. "That made you want to befriend her?"

Eloise winces. She should have known this would be seen as the biggest betrayal. Of all the cruel words and furious silences, befriending Cressida was the ultimate wound. For Eloise to have sought companionship with someone who openly ridiculed and tormented Penelope; it was beyond the pale.

"In truth, I was so angry with you that I accepted someone so different that I could not possibly compare the two of you," Eloise admits. Penelope's lips tremble and it breaks Eloise's heart. She handled this dreadfully wrong. Pen fiddles with her lace gloves and Eloise lets her be.

"You did not enjoy it when she was unkind to me?" Penelope asks quietly. Eloise shrivels inside even more.

"Of course not!" Eloise states, vehement. Penelope looks taken aback by the firmness of her denial. "If anything, she told me how cruel I was being by remaining undecided where I stand in my opinion of you. It is rather impossible to hate someone you have loved so dearly."

"Loved?" Penelope whispers. The devastation is clear in her voice. It takes Eloise naught but a moment to catch on to her verbal blunder and she hurries to correct her mistake.

"Oh, Pen, I love you," Eloise cries, "I am so sorry. I do not mean that my regard for you is in the past. Fuck's sake , I am making a right mess of this."

The swearing startles a laugh out of Penelope, and Eloise huffs out a hysterical laugh. Both of them succumb to tearful giggles.

"My friendship with Cressida has soured over the last few days," Eloise admits. "She has her moments where she can be kind, but her unkindness overshadows it more often than not."

"I do feel sorry for her sometimes. I can understand how trapped she must feel," Penelope says. "To have no offers from the marriage mart is one thing, but I do not have a mother willing to sign me away to the highest bidder like she does."

"I do not know what it is like for either of you," Eloise replies. Penelope glances at her, confused.

"Pardon?"

"You told me once before that I have no understanding of what it is like to be invisible," Eloise says. "That I lack understanding of how it feels to desire something like marriage and children because it has simply never been offered . That there exists a difference between rejecting offers and never receiving them in the first place."

"I never wanted to hurt you, El."

"Sometimes to be a good friend you have to say painful things," Eloise replies. "Growth is deeply uncomfortable, I have found. I may have gone to Cressida to rant about you, and when she revealed her plight to me…it struck me how similarly I mishandled both friendships."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I went to her, overcome with all these feelings about how I was inconvenienced and hurt by you. I did not even notice how withdrawn and troubled she appeared," Eloise responds. The shame makes her stomach recoil. "It was not until she became curt with me that I paid any attention. I remember the night I went to the Featherington home; intent on sharing my findings about Lady Whistledown with you. I was so consumed in my own world that I failed to see your hurt."

Penelope's eyes widen in shock, but she does not deny Eloise's statement. For a tense moment, neither of them speak.

"I should not have been so antagonistic that night," Penelope replies.

"Perhaps, but what is it you said to me?" Eloise says, "Not all of us can be a pretty Bridgerton?"

"You remembered that?" Penelope asks. She looks deeply ashamed of herself, but Eloise does not wish her to be ashamed. They have both made errors in judgment, but Penelope had every right that evening to be upset with Eloise.

"You were correct, Penelope," Eloise emphasizes. Penelope's mouth gapes open in shock at her assertion. Eloise reaches out to grab her hand.

"Suitors ask me to dance or engage in conversation with me despite my terrible manners and unapproachable demeanor. I delight in rejecting them," Eloise says. "My family would support me if I choose to remain unmarried. I never thought about how privileged I am to have that choice."

Penelope observes her for a long moment, but she does not refute Eloise's claims. Instead, she says, "Your ignorance does not mean that I should have been unkind to you."

"Perhaps not, but you were angry. I tend to say things unkindly when irritated," Eloise replies. "Our dispute when I discovered you were Whistledown is a great example. I sought to hurt you with my words and I succeeded."

"You are not alone in that," Penelope responds ruefully. "Me calling you obstinate and opinionated with no inclination to obedience or conformity was meant to wound."

"It made quite the impression, that is certain," Eloise says. "If I had been a better friend to you, you would've had no need to create Lady Whistledown. That is my failure. I am deeply sorry for all the times I have made you feel lesser than."

"I am sorry for how I hurt you. My misguided actions did unimaginable damage," Penelope replies. "I thought if I could write something you would never say about yourself, then I could redirect the Queen's attention. I tried to quit writing after that article. Hurting you was the worst thing I ever did with the exception of writing about Marina. I felt awful, Eloise. I only started again after our fight, and after what Colin told those gentlemen in the garden. I felt alone and angry."

"Pen, you do not need to rehash a fight we have already lived through. We both made mistakes over the course of our friendship," Eloise says. "There should be no more weighing the scales to see who is most at fault. I forgive you."

"Are you sure ?" Penelope's voice breaks as her blue eyes flood with tears. Eloise feels her own eyes grow damp. She places her hands on both of Penelope's shoulders.

"Yes. I love you more than the depths of my wounded pride. You are my sister in all the ways that matter. I do not want to carry this anger around anymore," Eloise answers. "Could you forgive me for all the ways I have failed you in our friendship?"

"Of course, I forgive you, Eloise. I love you," Penelope says, full-on crying. "I love you so very much. Life has been extraordinarily lonely without you by my side."

Eloise lets out a loud cry saying, "I love you so much. We shall be better this time. I shall be more deserving of your regard." She lunges herself at Penelope in a tight hug. Eloise weeps into her best friend's shoulder and Penelope clutches her back just as intensely.

Eloise will never allow Penelope to feel invisible, alone, or unheard ever again. It takes several minutes of hysterical weeping for the two of them to regain any manner of decorum. Using cloth napkins, they help clean each other's faces off.

"Before we both turn back into watering pots, might we have tea?" Eloise asks. Penelope laughs.

"I am rather parched after all the crying," she responds. Eloise offers her elbow to Penelope and her friend takes it with a bright smile.

"To the garden then," Eloise says. The two of them walk arm-in-arm from the morning room and out into the Bridgerton House gardens.

"I have much to catch you up on, El," Penelope says.

"As long as it has nothing to do with my brother, I am all ears."

"You wish to know nothing at all?"

Eloise scrunches her nose. "I am quite pleased that my brother is courting you because he is a good man, which you deserve," she says, making Penelope beam. "However, while I can acknowledge that you two are beautiful together, I want absolutely no specific details about whatever goes on between you."

"Shall I inform you when I have told him of my secret?"

"I wish to know, but I do not wish to be made a intermediary between the two of you."

"I can respect that," Penelope replies. Their conversation ends as they come within earshot of her family sitting in the shade of a large tree at the garden tables.

Mama is the first to notice them. Her eyes widen in abject shock before she looks delighted at how close they are. "Penelope, you are here!" she calls out in greeting. Six pairs of eyes affix onto them, and Eloise rolls her eyes at how curious her entire family is.

She cannot blame them. The distance between herself and Penelope has been a rampant topic of conversation. They must be surprised to see them back on friendly terms all of a sudden.

Penelope clears her throat as she says, "Lady Bridgerton, it is good to see you."

"Oh, do call me Violet, dear," Mama says, standing from her seat. She comes around the table to greet Penelope with a warm embrace and plants a kiss to Eloise's temple. "Are you joining us for afternoon tea?" she asks Penelope.

Eloise answers, "I invited her to attend, Mama."

Mama looks even more pleased than she did before. Penelope grins shyly as Mama waves over a servant to bring another place setting for Penelope.

"Wonderful, dearest! It is only us ladies today," Mama replies. "The gentlemen are all out for the day." Eloise settles down in her seat next to Francesca, and Penelope sits down on Eloise's opposite side.

Kate smiles at Penelope and says, "Anthony took the boys to a match at the Lord's Cricket Grounds."

"Brother said he would place a bet for me," Hyacinth adds.

"Your brother is allowing you to gamble?" Mama asks. She returns to her own seat across the table as tea is served amongst them all.

"Only because he did not take me with him to the match," Hyacinth replies. "He takes Gregory, but does not include me?"

"I rather think he wanted it to be a boys outing, Hy," Kate says. "Gregory usually feels a bit left out with the difference in age."

"And you are rather impertinent with him most of the time," Francesca says.

"Are you suggesting I be nice to Gregory?"

"You can be kind and competitive," Frannie responds. "Teasing mockery and rude insults are quite different."

Daphne hums in agreement. "If you must mock him, please add in some regular conversation too so he does not feel quite so attacked at all times?"

"I actually like Greggy," Hyacinth says begrudgingly. "I simply hate losing to him, but I suppose I can take things a bit too far at times. I shall take your words into consideration, sisters."

"I understand your struggle with words, Hy," Eloise says. "Not everyone deserves our derision."

Mama sips from her tea. "Are you to apply this new knowledge to seeking a husband?" she asks, and Eloise groans. Penelope snickers into her own freshly poured cup of tea.

"I am still digesting this lesson, Mama," Eloise says. "Let us not rush the process."

"Have you all been to a crochet match?" Penelope asks. When Eloise looks at her, Pen winks. It is clear that the subject change was for her own benefit. Only minutes after their reconciliation and Penelope is saving her once again.

"I have been a few times, but with all the chaos of the last two seasons I have not made my way back to one," Daphne answers around a biscuit. "The crochet season is rather exciting."

"Do you think brother would bring the whole family to a match?" Frannie inquires.

"I am sure we could arrange an outing like that," Mama replies. "Penelope, we can make sure your mother is okay with you attending."

Penelope freezes with her teacup halfway to her mouth. "Wait…you said a family outing," she stutters, "I am to be invited?"

Everyone at the table stares at her, confused. It takes Eloise a moment to understand Penelope's reticence as well before it clicks in her mind.

"Why would you not be invited?" Hyacinth asks.

"Because I am not a Bridgerton," Penelope replies slowly. She stares at them as though they are all mad in the head.

"We have always thought of you as family, dear," Mama responds. "Of course, you are invited to come along! I plan to invite Lord Kilmartin as well."

Francesca whips her gaze to their mother. "Truly, Mama?"

"He is quite intent on you, dearest. We must see how he handles all of the Bridgertons at once."

"Are you hungry Pen?" Eloise asks. Penelope still looks overwhelmed by the offhand way she was just invited to a family gathering. "All these feelings have left me feeling peckish."

"I will gladly take some of the tiny sandwiches," Penelope answers, "and perhaps some biscuits too."

"Oh, do try the biscuits Pen," Kate says. "They are delightful!"

Loud laughter echoes from the drawing room as he rounds the corner. Afternoon tea is not usually so raucous, but the ladies seem to be having a marvelous time. He can hear Eloise's voice dramatically rising and falling, clearly amid telling a story, but he is too far to make out specific words.

As he reaches the open doorway, the laughter bursts out again and Colin recognizes a delighted giggle in the foray. He walks through the door and takes in the group of seven women sitting around the drawing room.

Mother, Daphne, and Kate sit on one settee with Hyacinth snuggled into Kate's side. Daphne sits on the other side of Mother, her head resting on their mother's shoulder. Francesca leans into Eloise's side, and Penelope has her arms wrapped around Eloise's other arm.

He cannot prevent the bolt of envy he feels at how freely Eloise can touch Penelope. He has not yet had the pleasure of being in such close quarters with Pen, and he finds himself jealous that his sister can touch her any way without repercussion.

"It seems the gents may have missed quite the afternoon tea," Colin says. His voice startles them all, and before he knows it, there are seven sets of eyes on him.

"Colin," Mother says in greeting. "Are all the gentlemen back for the evening?"

"Yes," he replies. "They should be coming in shortly."

"What happened to having tea in the garden?" he asks.

"We spent a couple hours out there but moved inside once it got too hot," Kate replies.

"Did my bet win, brother?"

"It did!" Colin responds making Hyacinth squeal from her place wrapped around Kate. Kate laughs in response to her delighted wiggling. "Ant has a bag of coins for you."

"I do not approve of this gambling business, Colin Bridgerton."

"Mother, I am only the news bearer," he responds. "Anthony is the one who lets the imp get away with everything." Colin approaches the settee. As he walks forward, Penelope turns to look at him and their eyes meet.

Her face is free from tension, and her blue eyes shine. She appears incandescently happy at this moment. Her eyes flare with fondness and he knows that this soft smile is just for him. It is good to see that things appear resolved between her and Eloise.

She looks as beautiful now as she did when he saw her this morning during calling hours. Colin comes to a stop next to the arm of the settee. His eyes remain locked onto Penelope's.

"El, might I borrow Pen for a moment?" he asks. Penelope's grin brightens even further as she shifts to stand up. Eloise grabs Penelope's knee. Colin's jealousy spikes in his chest. He wants his hand on her knee. He wants to touch her lips and her breasts and her body all over. It is decidedly unfair that his sister gets to touch her endlessly, even while it is only innocent.

"I just got her back," Eloise complains. Colin shifts his gaze from Penelope to glare at his sister. Eloise narrows her eyes back.

Penelope huffs. "Are the two of you going to squabble over my attention from now on?"

"Yes," Eloise and Colin say at the same time with the same irritated inflection. The glaring contest continues until Penelope stands up from the couch. She rolls her eyes at Eloise's grumpy sigh.

"Give me a moment, El," she says. Colin wastes little time before he snatches her hand into his own. Penelope allows him to tow her to the far side of the room before he steers her in front of him so his back faces his family.

"Knowing my sister we shall have literally a moment," Colin whispers. Penelope laughs quietly. "You shall be at the Kenworthy garden party, yes?"

"Yes," she replies.

"Might I escort you there?" he asks. "I would also like to promenade with you if that is agreeable."

Penelope nods and Colin lifts both her hands to his mouth. Pressing his lips to her lace-covered skin gives him a thrill, especially when her cheeks flush pink in response. He has to kiss her soon. He needs to make it happen.

"Colin, you can leave her be now!" Eloise calls. Colin suddenly understands Anthony's penchant for swearing and threats of dismemberment when he was being particularly obnoxious as a child. Of all his sisters, he would have to share his intended with Eloise of all people.

Colin rolls his eyes. He presses a final kiss to Penelope's hand before dropping it to his side. He does not let go of her fingers as he walks her back towards the group of ladies. His brothers finally arrive at the entryway to the drawing room with Simon in tow.

Mother laughs and says to Penelope, "Dear, you may have to schedule appointments if they continue this way."

Penelope squeezes Colin's fingers. "Colin, we shall promenade tomorrow at the party. I am sure Rae can chaperone," she says. She is far too amused by his and Eloise's antics. She clearly does not understand how much of her time and attention Eloise shall desire.

"If you behave, the ladies might let you stay," Penelope says, only to receive immediate disagreement from all the other women.

"No, we shall not," Eloise responds. All males in the room look affronted, particularly Anthony.

"The gentlemen of the house can make themselves scarce until we are done with our tea," Kate declares, making a shooing motion at her husband.

Anthony appears offended. "You would send us away?"

"Yes. We deal with you frequently," Daphne replies, waving her hand. "Let us enjoy our time to be ladies without you all hovering about."

Benedict chortles as he claps Anthony and Simon on the shoulder. "Shall we retire to another room, gents?" he asks, "Ant does have some excellent brandy stored away."

"Do not offer my drink as though it is your own, Benedict."

"I know where the brandy is," Simon responds. "Let us depart."

"How is it that you know where I store my beverages?"

"I have known you since you were in leading strings," Simon replies. "I am well versed in your habits."

Colin uses the distraction to his advantage. He lifts their entangled hands up to his mouth and presses a lingering kiss to her bare palm. Penelope sucks in a sharp breath and under his thumb on her wrist, Colin feels her pulse accelerate.

"Until tomorrow, Penny," he whispers for only her ears. Penelope's blue eyes darken immediately. He watches her gaze shift from his eyes to his lips and then back to his own eyes again. She bites the inside of her lip; the white flash of her teeth against her pink lip visible to him for only a moment, but it is enough to make his breeches feel tight.

"Bye Col," she replies. Her voice shakes and she swallows hard. The effect he has on her is addictive. He releases her hand and she takes a deep breath before making her way back over to the settee with his sisters. He cannot help staring as she is folded back into Eloise's side. Benedict flicks him on the ear, making him flinch.

Colin looks at his brother and rolls his eyes when he sees the mischief present in Benedict's expression.

"Come along you absolute sap," his brother says. "To the liquor!"

Benedict grabs him by the elbow as they head out of the room. Colin can still hear the conversation between his sisters and Penelope.

"My brother is besotted with you," Eloise announces. "It's rather vile."

"You only say that because you have not experienced it," Daphne objects.

"Do you truly hope to convince me that being infatuated with another person is worth all the turmoil?" Eloise asks, incredulous.

"Yes," comes from Kate, Daphne, and Mother simultaneously.

Penelope laughs, but she sounds shy and nervous. "I have not determined if it is all worth it just yet," Pen replies. "He has only reciprocated my feelings for a little over two weeks…"

Before Colin can hear the rest of her sentence, he finds himself out of earshot of the drawing room. He must convince her that he is truly worth it.

"Brother, would you consider an indoor picnic romantic?" Colin asks Benedict as they traipse into Anthony's office.

"I have never done such a thing for a lady," Benedict replies, "but I would assume it would be well received."

"Make sure there is cushioning if you are to sit on the floor indoors," Simon adds, settling into a chair at the table.

Gregory peers around the open door of the office. "Brothers, might I join you? Lord Kilmartin arrived to call on Fran but he was dismissed because the ladies are having tea." Anthony waves him inside, and Lord Kilmartin walks in behind him.

The man has a kind, handsome face, but he seems awkward being in a room with so many people. Colin recognizes the same look that Francesca wears sometimes. It is hard for her to be in the presence of so many people she does not know. He considers it rather brave of the young Earl to partake in this much company for Frannie.

"You are not getting any brandy, Greg but you are both welcome to join," Anthony says as he gathers glasses from the bar cart. "Besides, I think I need to get to know Lord Kilmartin a bit better."

Although silent, Colin can sense Lord Kilmartin's sudden alarm.

Colin leans forward to say, "Do not worry, Lord Kilmartin. Ben and I shall not let him maul you."

"Minor damage allowed only, I'm afraid," Benedict replies. "Mother abhors violence after all."

Simon sighs as Anthony hands him a glass of brandy. "You are all menaces," he says. "I am Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings and husband to Daphne."

"It is an honor, Your Grace. I am John Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin," he replies. Anthony hands him a glass with a heavy pour inside. "I must advise that I do not drink much."

"That shall make this all the more fun I think," Benedict says.

"I can appreciate a man who knows his limits with drink, but one brandy will not hurt you," Anthony answers as he takes his seat. "I have plenty of inquiries that require your sobriety."

"Oh do not be such a downer, brother! Let the man spend time in kinship with us. He is a good fellow. Never seen Frannie so pleased."

"I wish I could say the same of your mother," Lord Kilmartin responds before he takes a sip of his drink. His face twitches minutely, but he shows no displeasure. "You all may call me John."

Simon's eyebrows shoot upwards.

"Violet has expressed dissatisfaction? I remember her and Lady Danbury scheming to set me up with Daphne," he says. "I cannot imagine her being difficult when her daughter is being courted by a kind Earl."

Anthony seems surprised also. "She has said nothing but good things about you to me," he responds. "I think her only concern is that you are not dramatic enough."

Lord Kilmartin's eyebrows furrow as he asks, "Dramatic?"

Benedict laughs loudly. "We Bridgertons do have a penchant for the bold," he says. "Keeping our feelings to ourselves is not an inherited skill."

After an evening of drinks and chatter with the gents as well as a superb dinner with the family, Colin retreats to his bedchamber. His valet prepares his bath and Colin waves him off for a few. Soaking in the hot water feels wonderful after such a long day. Once Charles is out of the room, Colin dries his hands on a towel and digs out Penelope's letter.

He sits back in the tub to finally read her words in peace.

Col,

You seem to enjoy my cheekiness. And no matter how handsome the Viscount is, in my eyes, he shall always pale in relation to you.

Benedict and Madame Delacroix?! How scandalous! I do wonder what happened to end their arrangement, but I am glad it was on good terms. Can you imagine the fallout of angering the modiste when you have four sisters?

I do not believe Philippa has seen a doctor, but if the sickness does not abate they may have no alternative. She returned to her own home today but promised to send word to Mama about how she fares this week. Knowing that you care is enough for me. I do not need you to save me, Colin. I just need you to stand with me.

I did not realize that this season would have three of you married off (yes, I saw that insinuation you threw in there sir but I am too flustered to acknowledge it yet). How wonderful it is for you to feel such melancholy at the thought of your family separating from you. Most are eager to leave home and do not have such close connections with their siblings. It is such a blessing to have a childhood home filled with joy and nostalgia. Yes, things are changing quickly, but your family will only grow in response. It simply means there is more love to be shared between you all. Without marriage and change, you would not have Simon, Augie, and Kate as part of your family.

I hope my company brings you comfort as this all unfolds. You are committed to our written correspondence so I believe Gregory shall not go a single week without a letter from you while at Eton. I am sure your Mama will see you constantly, even if you do not live with her anymore. Enjoy this last season with you all (mostly) under the same roof. Do not waste a moment of it.

My family had mixed responses to our courtship news. Mama was overjoyed. Philippa seemed pensive. Prudence was a bitch as I expected (pardon the language but it is the only fitting word for her demeanor during our conversation). Mr. Dankworth and Mr. Finch were pleased for me. No matter how they responded, I am so happy to be courted by you.

You do not understand how much you mean to me. I held you in high regard for much of our friendship and possessed romantic feelings for you since the day we met. I adore how certain you are of me, but I find myself scared to fully give in. Please be patient with me, Colin. You have been wonderful the last few days, but it shall take me more than a week of consistency. Do not be discouraged by my hesitance. It is because I feel so powerfully for you that I am frightened.

I, too, wished the Viscount had not interfered. I wanted you to kiss me. I wish we could share dreams, Colin. I so desire to be bewildered by your lips on mine. There are times when just your presence makes my heartbeat quicken. If your lips were to touch my neck and my collarbone, I might swoon.

Even as I write this letter, I am flushed. My blood burns in my veins seeking a touch or a feeling that I cannot fathom. Is this passion? Or is there another name for the way I yearn for your closeness? I will be honest. When we danced the other day and you would press your fingertips to the skin just above my corset laces, I felt my whole body tingle. The way you smell, the heat of you as you pull me close enough that my bodice touches your chest. I am embarrassed to admit how much I desire to press my chest firmly against yours to soothe the ache and tightness that appears there whenever you whisper to me or hold me close during a dance.

I do not know what these feelings are, Colin. My body reacts most strangely to your nearness and your touch. When you hold my hand, and trace your thumb along my palm, I feel a rush of heat all over. I am desperate to kiss you again. Perhaps, the next time we are alone, you can explain to me what all these feelings are.

Is this heat part of the way a woman can be seduced?

I shall be an earnest pupil. I do learn best with physical instruction. Would you take my hand and guide them to the places they should touch? Will you move my lips to the skin you wish to have kissed? I will surrender to you, but only until I learn how to bewilder you with my body in return.

Yours,

Penny

Colin finds himself with a painful erection. He is not prone to masturbation. In fact, he thought something wrong with himself for a long time because he never craved sexual contact to the extent his peers and brothers did.

He does not know what it is about Penelope that makes him burn with desire, but she is going to kill him. He slides a hand around himself, reading her words over and over again. To know that she feels arousal at his touch. To have her confess that her breasts ache for him, even if she has no idea that is what she is describing.

He imagines the way she would sound if he tugged her bodice down and sucked a tight pink nipple into his mouth. Her sweet voice pitched high with pleasure. He can imagine how lovely she would taste–all that soft skin wet from his mouth as he pinches her tight buds between two fingers.

"Fuck," Colin swears, his hand tightening around the head of his cock.

This is absurd. He can count on two hands the number of times he has touched himself this way in his life, but he can feel his balls growing high and tight. He reads her letter again; thinking about her saying these things to him. How she reveals her desperation for his touch and how hot she burns just when he is nearby. He wonders if she grows damp for him. She would not know why the place between her legs would ache but he could teach her.

Colin can imagine her, spread out and glistening for him. She loves the way he touches her with his hands. What would her cunny look like as he slides into her? He can envision the tight, wet heat and the blissed out and surprised look on her face as she discovers sexual intimacy.

He would whisper how much he loves her until she peaked. The thought of her saying, "I love you too" brings Colin rocketing over the edge. He lets out a shocked groan as he spends harder than he ever has in his entire life. He has to throw Penelope's letter over to the far side of the room lest he drop it in the tub.

Nothing has ever felt like that before. He could fall asleep in this tub with how liquid his body feels. A release has never brought such incredible comfort and satisfaction to him before. Colin scrubs himself sleepily before he gets out of the tub. He dries himself off, throws on a robe, and gathers Penelope's letter from the floor.

Colin tucks her missive away with all the others inside his locked desk drawer. He drops his robe and climbs under the sheets completely nude. He is asleep only moments after blowing out the candle.

Penelope floats into the Featherington home. Today was marvelous. Eloise and herself are on the mend. She spent hours with the Bridgerton women and laughing. Colin made her blush and smile as always.

Coming home just before the supper hour, Penelope expected her mother to be at the dining room table. When she finds the dining room empty, Penelope goes to look for her. She locates her Mama in the upstairs drawing room.

She appears pensive and forlorn. Her mouth pinched tight with stress. Mrs. Varley stands nearby, and she looks discomfited as well.

"Mama," Penelope calls. "Are you well?"

Mrs. Varley clears her throat and her mother sighs. "Everything is fine, Penelope. Do not worry yourself."

"Saying "everything is fine" and then following that with "do not worry yourself" means that things are most certainly not alright."

Mama laughs, but it is a tired laugh. "You always were the observant one," she replies. Penelope sits beside her mother. Portia Featherington looks exhausted. She truly looks scared and sad, and like she is one day away from having no hope.

"What is it, Mama?"

"Nothing that you will be able to fix, my dear," Mama admits. She fiddles with the sleeves of her dressing gown. It is not yet eight o'clock but her mother is dressed for bed. If her body language had not told Penelope something was amiss, then her attire would.

"I can always listen," Penelope replies, "Sometimes just talking about it with someone can offer some relief."

"Running a household without a male heir is difficult," Mama replies quietly. "Not because a woman is incapable of doing so, but because I have no way of ensuring we are not cast under the guardianship of another unkind man."

"I thought with the documents cousin Jack signed that we were safe?"

"Your sisters are both with child but there is no guarantee either of them shall have a son," Mama answers. "With that kind of dubious timeline for inheriting a title, the Crown shall be watching us closely, and who knows what they may decide for us in the interim."

Penelope does not know what to say. Her mother sighs heavily.

"I did not mean to put this burden on your shoulders," Mama says. She smooths the fabric of her dressing gown. "It is not something you should have to worry about."

Penelope reaches out and grasps her mother's hand. Mother looks ready to weep at the comfort offered. She takes Penelope's hand and squeezes it tightly.

"We must bide our time and hope that no more esquires for the Crown show up at our door asking about questions I have no answers to," Mama says. She squeezes Penelope's hand once more before she stands up and heads to bed. "Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight, Mama."

A calling card sits on the cushion where the pocket of Mama's dressing gown was. Penelope picks up and sees the name of Walter Dundas, Esquire for the Crown listed across it. Who can she ask for help with this new problem?

-- Tuesday, November 14, 1815

Tuesday afternoon brings the entire Bridgerton family to the Kenworthy garden party, even Daphne and Simon are in attendance although they arrived separately from Hastings House. Colin slept like a log. He woke in a spectacular mood. He is rather nervous about seeing Penelope today. How does a person behave after masturbating over his intended?

Although Pen has no idea what it means to touch oneself, he finds himself terrified that she will be able to tell as soon as she sees him. It does not help that the Whistledown column mentioned them. It was a much shorter column than usual, and nothing scandalous was really reported.

When Penelope arrives, Colin nearly snatches her from her family. He greets her mother with the barest of genteel manners before hustling her towards the walking path in the garden. Her lady's maid Rae walks behind them at a distance. Penelope looks beautiful but also bewildered.

"Your furtive behavior is exceedingly peculiar, Colin," she protests. "What scandalous thing do you have to ask?"

"Did you read the Whistledown issue from yesterday?" he asks. Penelope stops midstride to stare at him, agog.

"Whistledown?" she sputters. "Colin, I– did you ?" Her shocked expression makes his cheeks grow hot.

"I may have skimmed some parts," Colin admits. "Ensuring that the news of our dances had been written with the aplomb they deserved."

Penelope scoffs.

"You, dear sir, are a gossip!" she exclaims in an amused whisper. "I know you dislike Whistledown to a degree, but there is nothing wrong with finding her entertaining."

"It feels dishonorable even giving that devilish woman a hint of credit after what she has done to my family," Colin replies. His lips purse and he gives a sheepish shrug as he says, "Although…She does have a rather impressive way with words. Her cleverness could be considered appealing, I suppose."

"Appealing, you suppose," Penelope repeats, nearly in stitches of laughter. He loves to make her giggle, even if it is at his own expense. "I know she has done your family a great disservice in the past, but respectfully, was any of it untrue?"

"Well, no but it was not her truths to reveal," Colin answers.

"Certainly not," Penelope agrees. "But if she is to be a gossip, at least she is an honest one?"

"Do you support her for what wrongs she has committed? The things she wrote about Daphne and Simon, and her impertinence towards the Queen?" Colin asks. He and Penelope do not speak of Whistledown very often. He is curious to know what she thinks of the author, especially since she has fallen victim to Whistledown's pen just as much as anyone else in his family.

Penelope's amusement fades into contemplation. Colin offers her his elbow and she tucks her hand into the crook of his arm. Colin forces himself not to blush, but his ears burn hot at her touch.

"I think the initial season of Whistledown was written by an author who had her first taste of power and wielded it incorrectly," Penelope says. "I am sure she feels awful about how she treated certain people, your sister in particular. Her Grace is a kind person. She did not deserve such vitriol."

"I do not know, Pen," Colin replies, "I find myself quite upset with her."

"Do you not remember that she also saved Her Grace from Berbrooke?"

"I do, but I hate that she has hurt my family as much as she has saved them," Colin says. "And what of all the callous things she's said about you?"

"She has never lied about me. My mama has terrible taste when it comes to fashions and my complexion," Penelope responds. "I did look rather like an overripe citrus fruit."

"Well, I suppose a very cute citrus fruit," he teases.

"Colin! " She pinches him on the arm and they both laugh.

"And what of Miss Thomspon? How can you condone her ruination?"

"What my cousin tried to do to you was awful. The thought of you being married to a person who only wanted to use you was unbearable. There was a scandal, but a passing one," Penelope replies seriously. "If you'd made off to Gretna Green before she published the truth, you would have been trapped in a loveless, broken home with children you did not sire."

"I would have loved her children, regardless."

"I know you would have. Colin, you will be an incredible father. Of that, I have no doubts," Penelope says. "Any child would be so lucky, but despite the terrible way you discovered the truth, I do not think Whistledown is the person to blame."

"What of Eloise? I know you have only just reestablished friendship at this time, but do you think she deserved to be ruined?"

"No, I do not," she says. Colin does not understand Penelope's sudden tearful countenance, but he refrains from interrupting. "Eloise made a mistake associating with people outside of society. I think she was both brave and foolish to think she could be a Bridgerton and go unnoticed. It should also be noted that I cannot remember Whistledown writing a single word about Eloise before that issue, and she has not since either."

"Whistledown has hurt just as many as she has saved," Colin answers. "My family may have partaken in scandalous behavior, but it was not her place to humiliate us."

"I understand your anger at your family's secrets being thrust into the light of day, but I am sure that the author has many regrets about the way she previously wielded her quill," Penelope responds.

"You have given me much to think about, Pen."

"Good, I hope?"

"I am a Bridgerton, Pen. My family will tolerate a lot of things, but a partner who does not challenge me is not one of them."

"Speaking of your family, might I speak with Anthony about an issue?"

"Is everything alright?"

"I do not know," she replies. "He understands estate operations far more than I ever will and I may need some advice."

"He is out for the day. He had to make contact with some farmers in Woodford about purchasing land. He comes back this evening," Colin says. "Perhaps you should come by tomorrow?"

"That would be perfect," Penelope says. "I have a luncheon to attend, but I shall come by right after."

"Might I ask what this is about?"

"My mother seemed rather disturbed last night. I found this small business card for an estate esquire who works for the Crown," Penelope replies, leaning close. He can smell the sweet scent of her hair as she continues, "Some comments she made were about feeling scared about not having a male heir. I know nothing of inheritance rules, and the Viscount is the only person I would feel safe asking about it."

"Thank you for trusting me with your fears," Colin replies. "I shall advise my brother of your meeting request. For now, let us enjoy this garden party, shall we?"

Her bright smile is everything.

-- Wednesday, November 15, 1815

Wednesday slips by faster than Penelope ever imagined it would. She returns home to the Featherington estate long enough to rush upstairs, grab the card for the esquire, and then hustle across the square.

A Bridgerton footman lets her inside the home. She waits nervously by the entranceway as Humboldt announces her to Lord Bridgerton. It only takes a few moments before she gets ushered into the office and the door shuts behind her.

The Viscount wears a black shirt under a patterned navy and brown striped vest. He looks as distinguished and handsome as ever. He looks up from his desk when she walks forward.

"Penelope!" he calls in greeting. "Good to see you." The Viscount caps his ink bottle and settles his quill in the holder. He slides his paperwork aside to give her his full attention.

"Thank you, Lord Bridgerton," Penelope replies. "It is good to see you as well."

The Viscount tips his head in fond exasperation as he stands up from his desk.

"You can still call me Anthony. I have known you for over ten years," he says with a laugh. "After watching you shove pudding in your face during several family dinners, I think you have earned the privilege."

Penelope laughs and Anthony grins in response.

"You are right," she says. "I am simply nervous."

"Colin says that you wished to speak with me?"

"Indeed," she replies. "It is about a rather delicate matter."

That statement makes him frown.

"Come sit with me," he says, beckoning her over to a settee against the wall. She sits down and Anthony perches himself on the seat beside her. "What is it?"

"I found this card after a rather odd conversation with my mother," Penelope replies. She pulls the calling card from her reticule and hands it over to Anthony. He takes it from her. "She said something about it being wearisome for a woman to be the head of a household where they have no actual male heir."

"The Crown has sent out an esquire," he muses. "Your mother did provide documentation from your cousin about the title, did she not?"

"So she says," Penelope responds. "The whole situation with Cousin Jack happened so quickly that I am unsure what all occurred."

Anthony hums to himself as he thinks. "Do you happen to know anything of your family's finances?" he asks.

"Not really. Last season was rather strained," Penelope confesses shamefully. "We could not afford any staff and mostly ate potatoes. I believe Mrs. Varley, our housekeeper, was primarily our only staff member."

Anthony gives her a compassionate look. "The late Lord Featherington was a gambling man with not much luck," he says. "I would be surprised if your family had much left at all with the exception of your dowries."

Penelope may not have a deep understanding of estate functions, but even she knows that would be a terrible state of affairs for her family. Perhaps, she will be revealing her Lady Whistledown funds to her mother sooner rather than later, but first she must find a way to tell Colin.

"Do we have any protections, Anthony?" she asks.

"Penelope, I do not know the intricacies of your situation, but I cannot say that you have much power here," he responds with a heavy sigh. Penelope swallows hard. "With no close male relatives, it is the Crown's responsibility to manage lines of succession. If your mother had a document passing the title to the next male heir born from your sisters' marriages, then there should be little question."

"So why would they be approaching us?"

"Only reason I can imagine is they think the document was forged," he replies.

"Forgery?!" Penelope screeches. Anthony winces but nods.

"Do you know anything about your cousin Jack signing those papers?"

"I know nothing, Anthony," Penelope responds, frustrated with herself. "I spent the summer rather distracted. I did not pay much attention to the comings and goings of my Mama."

"If the Queen has an esquire investigating the paperwork, then forgery or theft is the only explanation," Anthony says.

"What is to become of my family?"

"Do not panic yet, Penelope," he soothes. "Allow me a few days to make some inquiries on your behalf, and I shall arrange a meeting with your mother if she will let me try to help. I can make no promises."

"That is alright. I am simply glad that you care enough to try," she responds. "I cannot thank you enough. You are a very good man, Anthony. I told Colin that it was apparent where he learned it from."

"Thank you for your kindness," Anthony replies. "I shall send out inquiries straightaway."

"That took a much longer time than I anticipated," Colin says when Penelope appears from Anthony's office. She has a furrow of stress between her brows that he wishes to smooth away. Overall, she looks to be worried but alright.

He reaches out a hand to her and she takes it without a thought.

"He had a number of questions that I simply do not know how to answer," Penelope responds. "I was hoping to avoid him speaking directly with my Mama, but I do not believe that possible."

"Anthony and your mother? In a serious conversation?" Colin replies. There might be a murder if those two are locked away on their own. He shall invite himself to that conversation for two reasons. Firstly, he does not wish his brother to kill his future mother-in-law. Secondly, he does not wish to stand aside and let Penelope deal with whatever this is on her own; he fears she will think him useless if he relies on his eldest brother to solve their problems.

"That is a worry for another day," she says ruefully. "It is far too late for me to stay any longer, Col. I must get home."

"I understand, darling," he replies, lifting her hand to his mouth for a kiss. She smiles at him, eyes lightening with fondness. He is glad to offer her even the slightest reprieve from this new stress. "Are you alright if I call on you during intimate calling hours tomorrow? I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Penelope asks, intrigued. "No one has visited me during intimate calling hours before. I would love to see you." Her cheeks turn rosy with shyness and delight.

Intimate calling hours are reserved for only those closest to the family, and for courting couples. The before-supper hour is not frequently utilized, so his request shows how serious he is about their relationship.

"Until tomorrow, Pen."

"Goodnight, Col."

As soon as the footman escorts her out of the front door, Colin strides into his brother's office. He sees Benedict and Kate already inside. Anthony looks exasperated, but unsurprised at his sudden appearance.

"Shut the door, will you?" Anthony asks. His brother rubs a hand across his face, and Kate reaches out a hand to grasp the back of his brother's neck for comfort and support. "This is going to be a long conversation."

-- Thursday, November 16, 1815

Thursday morning is abysmal for Eloise. She sought out Cressida during morning calling hours at the Cowper estate, only to be informed by a footman that the ladies of the house were busy with other callers. Eloise remains socially aware enough to understand that she is no longer welcome at their home.

Disheartened, she walks the few blocks back home with her lady's maid. As she approaches Bridgerton House, she hears Benedict call out, "El!"

She looks up to see Anthony, Benedict, Gregory, and Hyacinth all standing out front of the home. Hyacinth shields her eyes from the sunshine and asks, "Sister, have you been out making calls?"

"Yes, I went to visit Cressida but the visit was cut rather shorter than I anticipated," Eloise replies dryly. It is humor or tears, and her brothers tend to become ungodly levels of awkwardness when tears are present.

Benedict grimaces on her behalf. " Ah , we are heading out for a stroll," he says. "Would you like to join us?"

"Why not?" Eloise replies. "It seems I have little else to occupy myself with for the afternoon."

Since she is in the company of her elder brothers, Eloise waves off her lady's maid as they start walking. She finds herself standing next to Anthony. Benedict in front with Hyacinth and Gregory on either side of him.

"May I ask about this friendship with Miss Cowper?" Anthony asks. "I returned from honeymoon to find you rather close with someone you have openly detested for over a year."

"Which honeymoon do you speak of, brother?"

Anthony does not give in to her impertinence. "Both of them," he says. "Seeing you together in the country was a shock itself, but seeing you together in London is rather confounding."

"She was kind to me after all that happened last season," Eloise responds. "Outside of family, she was the only one and I suppose I decided that was enough reason to forgive her transgressions."

Hyacinth let out a disbelieving huff. "I did not know Cressida could be kind ."

"She is still a cow in my eyes," Gregory says firmly. Benedict lets out a shocked laugh. Hyacinth gasps in delight. Anthony sighs.

"Gregory!" Eloise responds.

" What? You told me what she did to Penelope's gown at Lady Danbury's ball," Gregory says. He appears completely unapologetic. "I consider ripping another lady's dress to be cow behavior; as should you." Hyacinth nods in complete agreement.

Eloise rolls her eyes. "I do consider it "cow" behavior," she says. "I told her off."

"It may have been more effective had you torn the goose feathers off her ugly dress sleeves instead as penance," Hyacinth grumbles.

"She does rather look like an ostrich sometimes," Benedict muses.

"The dress Hy speaks of reminded me more of a peacock," Anthony adds.

"Is mocking her truly supposed to make us feel like we are better than her?" Eloise demands.

"That was not me mocking her, sister," Hyacinth replies. "That was me being as kind as she is."

"Should I be surprised that you are this stroppy, Hy?" Benedict asks, clearly amused by Hyacinth's feisty behavior.

"For someone quite so striking, her pretty features display an ugly countenance," Gregory says.

"You all think Cressida is evil," Eloise says with a sigh. "Must we go on and on about it?"

Anthony asks, "Do you not think her a bad person?"

"I think she does bad things, but after getting to know her as I have, it is obvious that she learned this from her terrible Mama and Papa or she does not know any other way to express herself."

"She might want to try learning some new self-expression if she wishes to ever marry."

"So now, you have chosen to accept this behavior?" Anthony questions, eyebrows high on his forehead.

"No! I am trying to find a better way of addressing it," Eloise protests. "Making a fool of her only seems to increase her hostility. I should like to avoid igniting a spiteful response."

"Just be careful, El. People are not innately good or bad, but sometimes, selfishness and cruelty win out over any goodness that may be nurtured," Anthony warns.

"Enough about the Cowper chit," Hyacinth interrupts. "I would like to know when you are taking the family to a cricket match?"

"Hyacinth, do not use such language; especially not in public!" Anthony scolds. "Benedict, this is your doing, isn't it?"

"How did this become my fault?"

"You surely swear more than I do, brother."

"You leave for six months and suddenly all our sisters' bad habits are attributed to me!"

"You are much less of a gentleman around us, Ben," Hyacinth says.

"Turncoat," Benedict replies.

"Ninny," Hyacinth responds, sticking her tongue out at her elder brother. Eloise despairs of them all.

"And you wonder why I blame you for their misbehavior."

"You taught me all the swear words as children," Benedict protests. "Why should I not pass that on?"

"You do not have to answer every question they ask, brother!"

"Clearly not! I am still waiting to hear from either you two or Colin about how women come to be with child," Eloise interjects. She has been waiting for this opportunity for over two years, and still, she knows nothing about it.

Benedict scoffs. "You shall not be hearing that from me," he says.

Anthony shakes his head. "Me neither."

"Unbelievable," Eloise exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "Colin spewed some nonsense about a farm. As if I know why or how a plant becomes a crop for harvest?"

"It takes water and dirt, does it not?" Hyacinth asks.

"I believe so. Seeds in fertile ground and water is all that is required from what I understand," Eloise replies, exasperated. "I am not sure what that has to do with women bearing children though."

"It does not stand to reason, I suppose," Hyacinth agrees.

"I have never heard a plant screeching as mother did when you two were born," Eloise says. "So I highly doubt Colin knows what he is talking about."

Benedict groans in agony. "For God's sake, El, can we change the subject?"

"This is just another instance where women are not allowed to learn anything useful!" she retorts. "I have browsed through all manners of books trying to find an answer, but apparently all the instructional books have been tucked away into the societal man-only penitentiary."

"You shall learn when you marry," Anthony says firmly.

"It does not require marriage! That is what continues to terrify me," Eloise cries. "What if I wake one day and I am with child?"

"I can assure you that will not happen," Benedict responds. Eloise is incensed that he seems amused by this conversation now.

"How are you to assure such a thing?" Hyacinth asks.

"Because if such a thing were to happen, I would be arrested by the Bow Street Runners for murder," Anthony replies darkly. He looks furious by the mere insinuation.

"What?" Eloise asks. What could have angered her brother about her question? And who would he be murdering in that scenario?

"We shall find out one day, brother," Hyacinth says.

"God help us all when you do," Benedict mutters.

"Yes, you shall, but it will not be this day," Anthony agrees. "You are only two and ten, Hyacinth."

"Should I not know this secret, brother?" Gregory asks. "I am not a young lady."

Benedict and Anthony trade looks with one another before Anthony says, "You are much too young to worry yourself about such a thing, Greg." Gregory does not look convinced, but he refrains from pushing the topic.

"Might we go get some ices?" Benedict asks loudly. "Anything to change this fraught topic of conversation?"

"Indeed. I shall pay for the treats," Anthony says. "Just no more loudly asked questions about the expectant, Eloise."

"If I am to be silenced on this topic, I demand two flavors of ices," Eloise says. Her eyebrow arches, daring Anthony to argue with her.

"I would like two as well," Hyacinth replies.

"The impertinence of both of you," Anthony says, scrubbing a hand across his face in exasperation. "Fine, multiple ices it is."

As the five o'clock intimate calling hours approach, Penelope examines herself in the mirror. She dons a dark green dress with light green vines snaking up from the skirt hem to the bodice. The sleeves are gauzy and whimsical. Rae curled her hair loosely and braided a crown atop her head. The attire is simplistic, but she feels beautiful wearing it.

Penelope forgoes gloves for the evening. While scandalous, Penelope desires to touch Colin directly more than she cares about maintaining propriety. She is in her own home and her only chaperone for the evening is Rae.

Her lady's maid applies the barest hint of rouge to her cheeks and finishes off her face with a rose lip salve. She has little idea what Colin has planned for their evening, but Penelope hopes it involves a kiss.

There is a loud knock at her bedchamber door. Rae and Penelope both look up at the sound.

"Yes?"

"There is a caller for you, Miss," A footman replies. "Mr. Colin Bridgerton is here to see you."

A thrill shoots up Penelope's spine. "Very well," she calls. "I shall be down directly."

"Of course, Miss," the footman answers. "I shall direct him to the drawing room."

Penelope hears the footsteps depart before she turns to Rae. She lets out a delighted sound which makes Rae laugh.

"Is it ridiculous that I am excited he is here?"

"I would be more concerned were you not excited," Rae replies. "Come now, off you get. We shan't leave the handsome gent waiting too long to see your fine face."

Penelope laughs as she drapes a sheer shawl over her elbows. The green matches the light green vines on her dress and sleeves. She takes a moment to try and compose herself before she exits her bedchamber with Rae right behind her.

Penelope forces herself not to run down the stairs lest he is nearby watching. Colin does not need to know how intensely he affects her entire demeanor. It is a quick descent. At the bottom of the stairs, she strides into the drawing room and freezes.

"Colin, what is this?" she asks with a gasp. Colin has stretched a tartan blanket on the floor in the middle of the drawing room. Candles are lit all around the room. In the middle sits a large wicker basket with two wine glasses set aside.

He stands next to this display with his hands behind his back. He looks dashing in a navy blue patterned vest, white shirt, dark trousers, and a light gray cravat tied at his neck. His curls are present with one falling handsomely across his forehead.

His charming smile makes her heartbeat quicken.

"Surprise, Pen," he says. Colin walks forward with sparkling blue eyes.

"You prepared a picnic for me?" she asks. Penelope cannot allow herself to weep. This is by far the most romantic thing anyone has ever done. She is sure of it.

"I did," he answers. He stops close enough that she catches the scent of his now-familiar cedar soap. He looks freshly shaven and his clothing newly laundered. Everything about him draws her in, especially the kindness shining in his eyes. "I rather thought Mrs. Wilson would weep when I told her we would be sitting on the ground."

Penelope laughs and he smiles. "Although she may have taken more offense to my request of her to make food easily eaten with our hands," he says, amused.

"What an improper thing to do for a young lady," Penelope responds.

"Quite inappropriate for a gentleman as well," Colin says.

Penelope grins at his cheekiness. She shifts her stance to look up at him directly, and she sees his eyes flare with heat as he takes her in. His eyes burn down her body as he assesses her.

"You are stunning, Pen," Colin says, meeting her eyes again. Penelope's breath catches as he steps closer. "I have one more surprise for you, darling."

"What is that?"

Colin pulls a bouquet from behind his back, and Penelope feels herself light up at the sight of the jasmine flowers. "Oh Colin, they are beautiful!" she says. Colin hands her the flowers and she cannot resist bringing them to her nose.

"It seems my guess was correct," Colin sounds quite pleased with himself.

"Your guess?"

"Jasmine flowers are your favorite," he says.

"How did you know?"

"Your scent," Colin replies. "You either smell of clove or jasmine, and every time I see you near these blooms, you cannot resist sniffing them."

"You have done very well," she admits. Colin beams at her. It makes him even more attractive to see how delighted he is in pleasing her. He offers her his hand.

"Shall we dine, Pen?"

She places her bare palm into his own and nods. Colin leads her to the blanket and helps her sit down. Mrs. Wilson packed sliced roast beef on freshly baked bread rolls, almond cake, grapes, strawberries, and chilled white wine.

They eat with their hands. Colin sits scandalously close. His legs stretch out next to her own as they recline against the settee behind them. She can feel the delicious heat of him all along her right side. The evening passes with whispered conversation, giggling over silly jokes, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

It is an intimacy Penelope never dreamed she would experience. After an hour of flirtation and chatter, Colin pulls over the sack of grapes for them to share. For the first time during the evening, Colin looks serious.

"Would you let me help you?" Colin asks. "With the Featherington estate?"

"You would want to?"

"I do," Colin replies. "I should like to take care of you in any way that you allow."

Penelope's heart pounds in her chest. He wished to care for her? It is the second time he declared as such, but the notion still leaves her speechless. He leans closer, letting the sack of grapes fall to the ground soundlessly.

"Will you allow it?" he asks. Colin's voice is low and the timbre of it makes Penelope shiver. She is so consumed by him that all she can do is nod.

"Rae," Colin calls, not breaking eye contact with her. "Could you give us just five minutes alone?" Penelope swallows hard. Being alone with Colin sounds like a terrible idea, but she desperately wants that as well.

"I do not know if I should," Rae responds. Penelope can hear the doubt and concern in her lady's maid's voice.

"I promise nothing untoward will happen," Colin says. His gaze is unflinching. Penelope is sure that he can see her soul, and if he does, he must be aware of the sinful nature of her thoughts.

"Miss?"

"It is alright, Rae," Penelope answers. She sees Colin's dark blue eyes shift to her lips and she loses her breath at the way his eyes darken even further.

"Very well. Five minutes!" Rae responds sternly. "I shall be right outside the door keeping time."

Penelope feels her face warm as his eyes return to her own. Rae's retreating footsteps are swift. When the door clicks shut behind her, Penelope's blush deepens and her breathing becomes stuttered. Colin shifts closer; closer than he has been since the first time they shared a kiss. His presence is overwhelming in the best way.

"Pen, I know this is forward of me," he says quietly, "but I strongly desire to kiss you again."

"I very much want that as well," she replies.

Their eyes meet in a blaze of desire and excitement. Penelope finds herself feeling awkward as he leans into her space. She is unsure what to do with her hands and her body, but she shivers at the warmth of him being so close. His left hand lifts to her temple, brushing an errant curl behind her ear. The drag of his fingertips across her cheek pulls a furious blush to her face.

His touch is a shock to her senses. He smiles gently at her. The kindness in his blue eyes makes her feel safe. He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. Penelope becomes awash with his scent, the feel of his skin where they touch, and she anticipates the press of his lips against hers.

She finds herself instinctually tilting her mouth upwards toward him. Colin slides his hand to the nape of her neck. When he kisses her, Penelope feels her heartbeat accelerate. He kisses her in soft, drawn out pecks where their lips drag apart and then together in a heady, slow rhythm. He gives her time to adjust to this new experience.

The kisses remain chaste, but by God are they thrilling all the same.

Penelope feels his hand slide to her dress-covered hip. She can feel the pressure of his hand through the silk skirt. When he tugs her closer into his body, she lets out a sound she has never made before. She jerks back surprised, but Colin doesn't let her go far.

He responds by fully pulling her into his body with a quiet masculine groan that makes Penelope shudder. He uses his left hand to grasp the back of her neck tighter, and with his thumb he urges her head to tilt opposite of his own. The press of his lips is firmer this time. She allows herself to melt into his embrace.

Their mouths slide together for what feels like only a few moments before they are interrupted by an overly loud knock on the door. Colin does not pull away immediately. He presses a lingering kiss to her mouth before pulling his head back to look down at her.

"I suppose our unchaperoned time together has ended," he says. Penelope has never heard his voice so gravely nor seen his eyes so dark. She wants to kiss him again.

"Was that truly five minutes?" she complains, "It did not feel as such."

Colin laughs.

"Minutes seem to be only seconds whenever I am with you," he says, sliding his hand from the back of her neck and letting go of her hip. Penelope misses the warmth of his body and hands immediately.

Their eyes lock and he smiles softly. Colin stands from the ground and then offers two hands to assist her up as well. When she is firmly on her feet and has brushed her skirt into place, Penelope finds herself looking up at him. He leans forward, pecking her lips and she finds herself clutching his elbows to try and keep him close. He kisses her twice more before stepping away fully to an appropriate distance.

"You may enter, Rae," Penelope says. The door opens abruptly and her lady's maid hustles inside. Penelope sees her check over both of them. Her hushed sigh of relief is audible to both Penelope and Colin. Colin chuckles in response.

"I shall take my leave," Colin says, gathering the wicker basket near his feet. "Pen, your company is always a distinct pleasure. I hope you enjoyed this evening."

"I enjoyed everything very much, Colin."

Colin lifts his hand, placing a knuckle under her chin, and allows his thumb adorned with a simple metal band to graze her bottom lip.

"I am glad to hear it," he says. "Goodnight, Penny."

The moniker leaves her breathless for reasons she does not understand. Parts of her body warm up at his touch. She has never felt her breasts ache before from a voice or a simple touch. Her nipples usually pebble in cold London winters, but now she feels them tighten when the room is far too warm.

Penelope does not understand what is happening, but the feel of it all leaves her craving for something she has no idea how to ask for or even identify.

"Goodnight, Col."

His hand leaves her face and he sweeps out of the room with a confident stride. Colin tosses a handsome smile over his shoulder as he leaves the room. His grin makes her blush in response.

Colin returns to Bridgerton House in great spirits. A footman greets him at the door and takes the wicker basket off his hands. As he walks into the entrance hall, the door to Anthony's study opens and both his elder brothers poke their heads out.

"What in the blazes are you two doing?" Colin asks.

"Waiting for you, of course," Anthony says. "Get in here!"

Colin laughs, but he heads into the office anyway. Benedict sits reclined in a chair at the table, a half-empty glass of brandy in hand. "Brother, you look quite pleased with yourself," he says. "Did you have a good evening with Penelope?"

"Have I mentioned that the both of you are dreadfully curious?"

"I am sure you have at some point," Anthony replies, "But answer the question! How was your evening?"

"Amazing," Colin replies. "She is incredible, truly."

Benedict lifts his glass in cheer and Anthony clinks his brandy against it. Looking at his brothers, he wonders if they have ever felt like him.

"Can I ask you both a question?" Colin asks quietly. His tone makes them both pause. "And I request that you take it seriously enough to refrain from mockery."

Anthony sets down his drink as he trades a look with Benedict.

"What is it, brother?"

"I–I have had relations with women, of course. Do you ever feel lonely afterward? Where your physical self is well-sated, but the rest of you is not?" Colin questions. His ears burn with embarrassment. He cannot meet either of his brother's eyes as he continues, "I experienced sexual interludes with illustrious women and despite the pride I took in bringing pleasure to them, I found myself rather bereft after."

"Col, there is nothing wrong with you for wanting companionship as well as passion," Anthony replies. His tone is kind. When Colin looks up at his eldest brother's face, there is no mockery to be found. His expression is open and honest. "It sounds as though you simply require more than a pleasing form and a release to be satiated."

"You do not think it odd?" Colin asks. "Fife and Cho seemed unimpressed."

"Fife and Cho lack intelligence and manners," Benedict responds. His dislike of them plain in his voice. "Their opinions should have little value in your mind."

Anthony places his arms on each side of his chair.

"I cannot say that I am the same as you because I was a "Capital R Rake" per the detestable but often correct Lady Whistledown," Anthony says. He does not seem angry, more pensive. "I was no stranger to brothels and a longtime mistress as you know, but having been intimate with Kathani–I could never want another woman so long as I live and breathe."

"I have yet to discover the joy of being in love. I never went the route of brothels or mistresses but I have been with more than a fair share of women since I was eight and ten," Benedict answers. "I suppose intimacy is different for all, and perhaps you require to know your sexual partner beyond the flesh first."

"It is not a weakness to desire love, Col," Anthony says with finality. "If that is what you need to be fulfilled, then there is no shame in waiting until you have found it."

Penelope sits at her writing desk, her quill inked, and parchment ready. She finds that she has very little to write. It has been a most frustrating week for Lady Whistledown, but an incredible week for Penelope Featherington.

Her courtship has taken over every aspect of her life in the most delightful way. She may not see Colin each day, but she almost certainly sees a Bridgerton of some sort every day. Since her courtship was announced, Penelope finds herself under intense scrutiny. All the newfound attention prevents her from lurking around the edges of ballrooms or gatherings.

Renewing her friendship with Eloise did not come with a stipulation to cease writing Lady Whistledown, but Penelope is unsure if she can reasonably continue writing no matter what. She has a front-row seat to the Bridgerton world. She is being freely told their secrets and insecurities.

Penelope never wishes to betray their confidence, and she finds herself exceedingly limited in what she can or cannot report. Her heart is torn. Is it bad to let go of something that helped her survive for so long? She has achieved this great thing, and now she might have to sacrifice it for the next season of her life.

Her lady's maid folds the day's washing at her side. Penelope has known Rae long enough to recognize when she wishes to say something.

"Speak your mind, Rae," Penelope says. Rae stops folding and looks up at her.

"Miss, have you ever considered that you may not be able to continue writing and become a Bridgerton at the same time?"

"Until recently, I have not. This was most unexpected Rae," Penelope replies. "I barely even have a moment alone when at social gatherings now. All the things I know have been shared with me in great confidence. I will not betray their trust."

"There are several Bridgertons around. I am not surprised they delight in your company openly," Rae says. "Have you saved enough coin to be satisfied?"

"I collected quite a large sum, Rae," she admits. "Last I counted, I am near 15,000 pounds. What do you think I should do?"

"Only you can make that decision, Miss. But, if I may speak freely?"

"Of course, Rae."

"You started Lady Whistledown because you wanted to be heard. You were tired of being invisible and alone. You are not alone anymore, Miss Penelope," Rae replies quietly. "Perhaps, it is a good thing that Lady Whistledown no longer fits the narrative of your life. Maybe this is a sign that you have grown beyond the need for it?"

"I cannot simply stop writing now! It would be far too obvious that it is me," Penelope protests. "I may have to continue until the end of the season."

"It is plain that you cannot be a Bridgerton and Lady Whistledown together, Miss. Bridgertons attract far too much notice for you to operate safely," Rae answers. "If you do continue, then you must confess to Mr. Bridgerton about who you are. He is attentive. He is not like Lord Debling, who would be gone for years at a time. He will notice."

"You are correct. This is all so complicated."

"It is actually quite simple, Miss. You either tell him and let him help you hide until the end of the season, or you stop writing altogether and risk someone piecing the truth together," Rae responds. "For now, I will see what gossip I can scrounge together from other household staff. We may be able to get enough information for your next article that way, but it will not work for long."

-- Friday, November 17, 1815

Friday evening brings Penelope to the entrance hall of Bridgerton house. She is dressed in a beautiful French blue gown with pearl inlays and a lace-covered bodice. Her hair is curled loosely across her shoulders and pinned back with a matching hair comb on both sides.

The soiree is a private gathering for the Bridgertons and very select individuals. She is excited to spend the evening around people she truly adores.

"Penelope!" Violet greets her with a large smile and a warm embrace.

"Violet! Good evening," she says.

"Come, let me show you around before my son steals you away for the evening," Violet says with a mischievous wink. Penelope laughs. It is clear where Colin gets his impish nature. They even share the same adorable smile when they believe they are being exceedingly clever.

"Kate did a wonderful job planning tonight," Violet says, patting Penelope's gloved hand where it is tucked into her elbow. Penelope is led into the downstairs parlor room. A merry fire glows brightly in the grate and several candles are lit around the room.

The refreshment table is filled with crackers, biscuits, cheeses, fruit, and cured meats. Chilled wine and crisp water are lined out for drinks.

"It will only be close family and friends," Violet tells her. "She wanted it to be an intimate night of games and conversation. Nothing too overwhelming for her first soiree as Viscountess."

"It looks beautiful," Penelope agrees.

"Quite!" Violet responds. "I am so proud of her. She will be wonderful at planning other events."

Violet looks so happy, but also a tad melancholy. Remembering the way Colin seems to feel about all the upcoming changes, it strikes her that Violet is giving up the responsibilities of something she loves doing. It must be a wonderful, but sad change.

"I am sure that she will love having your guidance, Violet," Penelope tells her quietly. "If I were to inherit a home and title as wonderfully as you have, I would be earnest in seeking your advice."

"Oh, my dear," Violet says. She rubs a hand over Penelope's again, and Pen finds herself overcome by the physical expression of maternal love. "Thank you for offering a nostalgic lady some comfort. I will always be here for Kate in her new role, but it is time I take up the mantle of doting grandmother more so than Viscountess."

"Pen!"

"Drat, he's found us," Violet mutters and Penelope lets out a loud laugh. Violet laughs with her as Colin comes striding across the room.

"We knew it would not last long," Penelope replies.

"I do not know how he does it," Violet responds. "It is like he has eyes everywhere when it comes to you."

Penelope laughs again before Colin reaches her side. He holds out a hand for her and she places hers into it. She smiles brightly at him when he kisses her hand.

"How long have you been here, Pen?"

"Not even a greeting for your mother, I see," Violet teases.

"Mother, good evening. You look splendid," he tells her. She rolls her eyes at his impertinence and gives Penelope a fondly exasperated look. Penelope giggles and Violet presses their temples together for a moment. Sheer love washes over Penelope at Violet's complete acceptance of her.

"Penelope, you look beautiful," Colin says, drawing her attention away from where Violet steps away.

"Thank you, Col," Penelope replies. "You are as handsome as ever. I quite like this deep blue on you." Colin's ears turn red and his smile grows. He is the most adorable man.

Colin lowers their hands to her side, and Violet leans over to swat him away until he lets go. Penelope snickers at the affronted look on Colin's face.

"Mother!"

"Do not think me fool, Colin Bridgerton," Violet scolds. "I know the difference between holding a hand for a greeting kiss, and then holding someone's hand."

Colin is grumpy because that certainly is what he was trying to do. He is not nearly as sneaky as he believes himself to be. Penelope loves holding his hand, but even she would not risk doing so when his Mama was standing in the same circle.

"Go do something with your brothers," Violet tells him. "I am bringing Penelope with me to see Kate and Daphne."

"I have been with my brothers all my life," Colin protests. "And they are not nearly as pretty as Penelope."

"I beg your pardon, brother," Benedict calls out, offended. "I can be pretty!"

"Perhaps to the young maidens around town, but I prefer my red-haired beauty."

"Come lose at cards and stop gaping at Penelope!"

"Firstly, who says I am to lose at cards?"

Violet huffs at her sons as they start squabbling but she and Penelope leave the room laughing. Over an hour passes as all the guests arrive at the Bridgerton House and Kate's soiree is in full swing. The only non-Bridgertons invited were Lady Danbury, Lord Anderson (because of Lady Danbury), Lord Kilmartin, and Penelope. The party is lively and rousing to the senses. Gregory and Hyacinth attend and both are having a wonderful time. It is clear that they appreciate being part of the gathering.

Penelope finds herself filling a glass of wine at the refreshment table when she hears the tapping of a cane behind her. She lifts her head up and meets the piercing gaze of Lady Danbury.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Danbury?" she asks, handing the woman a glass of ratafia.

"I always do when I find myself surrounded by Bridgertons," she replies. A loud gale of laughter rises from the cards table where Hyacinth has won another round. "Hyacinth may steal the dukedom from His Grace before the night is done."

Penelope laughs. "They never seem to learn when betting against her, do they?"

"No," Lady Danbury replies. "I rather think they do it to encourage her fearlessness."

"You think?"

"Bridgertons are rather good at recognizing someone's talents, I'd say," Lady Danbury says. "Once they notice them anyway."

Penelope freezes mid-sip. Lady Danbury's mild facial expression has not changed, but her eyes are sharp. Is it possible that she knows?

"Even the Crown has trouble keeping secrets. It would behoove anyone with hidden truths to find someone they trust to help shield them," Lady Danbury says. She sips at her drink as though she is not fracturing Penelope's world with each word. "You either trust another to stand beside you, or you sacrifice whatever dark secrets you may have. There is no in between."

Penelope searches Lady Danbury's dark eyes. They are fierce, proud, and understanding. Lady Danbury tips her glass in Penelope's direction.

"I shall go join this card game," she says. "Perhaps I can win back some of my godson's fortune that Hyacinth swindled."

Penelope watches her go silently. The crushing pressure she feels about Lady Whistledown swoops into her stomach and sours the wine she drinks. She is pulled from her thoughts when Colin appears at her side.

"Join me?"

"Of course," she replies.

"He oversteps," Anthony's voice is stone cold and irritated. Colin glances up from Penelope to look at his brother. Anthony looks outraged.

"Who?" Colin asks bewildered. He has not seen his brother look this upset since Thomas Dorset tried to woo Kate at the horse races last season.

"Lord Anderson," Anthony replies, voice tight. "He seems far too focused on Mother."

"Would you truly be mad if Mother gained a suitor?" Benedict asks.

"Why would you even suggest such a thing, Benedict?"

"Perhaps because Mother is beautiful and has been alone for over ten years," Colin replies.

"He should be more respectful," Anthony snaps. "He is in our home and has the audacity to flirt with Mother under the portrait of both our parents!"

"Where else shall he flirt with her, Anthony?" Benedict replies. "Out in the garden where no one can see him?"

"I do not like it."

"That is plain," Colin says. He earns himself a sneer from his eldest brother. Colin looks down at Penelope. He sees her hide her smile behind a hand. Her blue eyes sparkle with amusement. His brother is entirely ridiculous.

"She is a grown woman, Ant," Benedict says. "She does not need your permission to entertain men."

A vein pulses in Anthony's temple as he whips around to stare at them both. " Men?! Has there been more than one gentleman to flirt with our Mother?" he demands. "Benedict, what have you been doing?"

"Why is it my fault that men are approaching Mother?"

"You have done a terrible job of intimidating them into being respectful."

"I believe your idea of them being respectful means that Mother stands alone in a corner for the rest of her life."

"Your point being?" Anthony asks. Colin laughs as Benedict rolls his eyes.

"Mother is young," Colin says. "Maybe she wishes to pursue romance once again?"

Anthony opens his mouth to say something scathing at Colin but from the corner of his eye, he sees Lord Anderson take their mother's hand in his own. "Did he just kiss her hand?!" Anthony whisper-shrieks. His face turns bright red immediately and he makes to storm off, only to be caught at the collar like a recalcitrant child.

"Unhand me, Benedict," Anthony says, trying to pry his brother's hooked fingers off his cravat.

"Brother, please do not cause a scene," Benedict hisses. "Mother seems receptive."

"I will murder you and then him if he continues this flirtatiousness!" Anthony snarls. The two of them get into a scuffle with Benedict holding a death grip on Anthony's cravat and Anthony trying to fight him off. Colin leaves them to their tussle, and walks a giggling Penelope to a safe distance.

"Shall we go for a brief walk while my family is otherwise occupied?"

"I would love to, Colin."

They nonchalantly make their way out of the parlor room. Colin moves them quickly past servants and footmen along the shadows until they reach the Bridgerton gardens. They exit the home, still laughing. The night air is crisp against their flushed faces.

Colin and Pen walk slowly through the gardens. He loves that he can be quiet with her. They do not need words right now as they amble along the path, their hands entwined. Their second circle of the gardens, they head back towards the house knowing they shall soon be missed. As they approach the house, Colin glances at her and stops in his tracks.

The lanterns lining the walkway make Penelope glow. Her lips look lush and her mouth is parted on a soft exhale. Colin loses the last of his sanity.

"Penelope," he says. She looks up at him with those bright blue eyes and he cannot turn away.

"Colin," she replies, "will you kiss me?"

His groan is unintentional. Without another word, he pulls her into the shadows near the brick wall of his house. She gasps at the sudden motion but melts into his chest when he leans forward and presses their lips together.

Her hands settle on the front of his shoulders. He can feel her lift herself onto the balls of her feet to bring herself more firmly into their kiss. His hand slides from her hip to the small of her back, applying pressure to pull her closer and support her in her elevated position.

She is still clumsy, but where he leads, she follows. He kisses her softly, their lips pressing together in a simple rhythm. She matches his movements and speed. The kiss is languid, allowing Penelope to adjust to being kissed. Colin uses his free hand to tilt her chin to the side, changing the angle and letting his tongue drift along her bottom lip.

She gasps in surprise, pulling away only for a moment before she leans back in. He does it again slowly and Penelope's fingers slide from his shoulders to his chest as she opens her mouth to him.

When their tongues brush, she lets out the softest moan he has ever heard. He wants to bottle that sound or inspire it at every available opportunity. Colin drops his hand from her chin and slides it onto her waist. The kiss deepens. He tugs her fully into his chest as she familiarizes herself with the way they kiss open-mouthed. She picks it up quickly.

Penelope slides one hand up his chest, along the collar of his overcoat, and to his cravat. She tugs on the fabric and slips her fingers against his skin. Colin had no idea that area was so sensitive, but damn does it make his blood run hot.

He slides his hand to the small of her back, pulling them even tighter together. The feel of her pressed solidly against the front of him is intoxicating. She moans into his mouth sounding overwhelmed, and he lifts his free hand to thread it through her red curls. At the slight tug on her hair, she gasps sharply.

Colin pulls back to look at her. She is flushed pink. Her eyes are glassy with desire. Her soft lips are swollen and parted. He sees the beginning of a blush spreading across her collarbones, and he wonders how far down he can entice her blush to go.

"Colin?" she whispers, breathless.

"You like this, Penny?"

Her pupils expand and her mouth falls open just enough to make his breeches feel tight. God and above, he wants to spread her out and feast on every part of her. Seeing her nod makes him swear before he pulls her into another kiss. Penelope kisses back just as passionately.

Her hand slides up his neck and into the curls at his nape. Colin is less than a second away from pushing her against the brick siding when he hears a distinct throat clearing from his left side.

Penelope rips herself out of his embrace, and Colin steps in front of her without hesitation. When he notices Benedict standing there, looking amused, Colin relaxes.

"Ben! What are you doing here?"

"A better question is what are you two doing here, unchaperoned and engaging in inappropriate activities."

Penelope all but shoves her face into his back. He can practically sense her mortification. He reaches behind him to grab her hand and entwine their fingers. Despite her sheer embarrassment, she does not hesitate to hold hands with him. He gives her a reassuring squeeze.

"Brother," Colin says. "If you will give us a moment, then we can return to the party."

Benedict looks like he wants to tease them some more, but Colin shakes his head sharply. He stares at his brother, hoping he will pick up on Penelope's panic and embarrassment without him having to say anything out loud.

Benedict's eyes narrow in confusion for a moment before comprehension dawns. He nods. "I shall wait by the patio door for you. I can give you two minutes."

Colin mouths a thank you before Benedict strides away.

Penelope whispers, "Oh heavens."

Colin turns to face her and he hates to see her blue eyes wide and terrified after such a wonderful moment between them.

"Will they force us to marry, Colin? I am not afraid of marrying you, but I do not wish it to come about this way."

"Pen, it is alright," he says. "Benedict will not tell anyone of this."

"Are you sure?" she asks, fretful.

"I promise," he tells her. "My family protects our own. Do not worry yourself, darling."

Penelope still looks nervous, but no longer panicked. Colin kisses her hand. "Let us return to the party," he says. She nods and he takes his time escorting her toward the house. Benedict raises his eyebrows in question, and Colin nods at him.

As the soiree winds down, Penelope finds herself pensive. She is utterly, irreversibly in love with Colin Bridgerton. More than anything, she wishes to be his wife. It is painfully obvious that she cannot be both a Bridgerton and Lady Whistledown.

She sits near the fire, holding a glass of water. She wonders if she should publish a farewell edition. Would it truly be so bad if she had to retire? She has made enough coin to sustain her family if need be.

Penelope resurfaces from her thoughts when Anthony stands and claps his hands together loudly. All of the chatter in the room stops. Penelope looks up at him.

"Family," Anthony says. "My Viscountess and I have an announcement."

The two of them share a glance before Kate says, "We are expecting!"

Dead silence reigns for a moment before Colin lets out a loud cheer. Violet bursts into tears as she rushes forward to embrace Kate. "Oh my dears!" she cries. "This is such wonderful news!"

Anthony's grin is proud. "Mother, come now, no need for tears," he soothes as Violet wraps herself around him in a tight hug.

"Anthony, embrace your Mama and let her be joyful," Kate says, laughing.

"This is wonderful brother, truly! You shall be an excellent father."

"Lord Anderson, I trust you can keep this privileged news close to the vest."

"Anthony, do not be a cad," Benedict sighs.

"Do not worry, Lord Bridgerton," Lady Danbury says cheerfully. "My brother shall keep his silence if he knows what is good for his continued wellbeing."

"Congratulations brother," Gregory says.

Hyacinth is beside herself. "Kate, you shall be a beautiful Mama. I am so excited for two more babies!" The loud congratulations and chatter continue into the evening.

It hits Penelope then. They trust her. They truly do.

Watching the Bridgertons exclaim, squabble, and fuss over the Viscount and Viscountess brings joy to her heart. This is the family and connection she always yearned for. She cannot risk losing them. If she must choose between Lady Whistledown and her love of the Bridgertons, then it is no competition. She must lay down her quill. It is a sacrifice she is willing to make in pursuit of being a part of this family.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

-- Monday, November 20, 1815

Late Monday morning Eloise nervously trudges up the front steps of Hastings House.

Daphne and Simon married over two years ago and despite being ten minutes on foot from Bridgerton House, Eloise never visited on her own. She has been at Daphne's home to attend a social event or partake in a family gathering, but today is the first occasion Eloise arrives alone.

As she reaches the landing, a footman opens the door for her. Eloise steps inside the entrance hall and the footman bows. "Miss Bridgerton," he greets. "Allow me to announce your arrival to Her Grace."

"Uh, thank you," Eloise replies. Is it warm in Daphne's house? The footman looks unperturbed. So, it is likely Eloise's nerves making her perspire instead of the room's temperature.

"May I escort you to the drawing room?" he asks.

After a brisk nod, Eloise is led into an expansive drawing room painted in welcoming soft shades of green and cushioned furniture adorned with champagne-colored fabrics. The footman departs after another bow. Eloise drops her light linen bag onto the settee and places her translucent blue shawl onto a spare chair.

Left unattended, Eloise stares around the drawing room, her eyes catching on the attractive portrait of her elder sister and the Duke hanging above the fireplace mantle. It is a simple painting, but the artist captures the brightness of Daphne's eyes, the verdant color of her dress, and the fondness in Simon's smile. She knew that the first few months of their marriage proved tumultuous but the Hastings ball brought them back together. Eloise remains unaware of what transpired between them to cause such strife. Although she is curious, Eloise decides to be pleased with their reconciliation, and grateful that her sister seems happy.

Quick footsteps move her attention back toward the open drawing room doors.

Eloise hears Daphne before she sees her. "My family is here?" she asks, her concern audible in her voice. "Did they appear well, Olsten?"

She is sure to be taken aback by Eloise appearing in her home unexpectedly. Unplanned visits are not what any of her family would consider normal behavior for her.

"It is only the young Miss, Your Grace," Olsten replies. They do not exchange another word before she rounds the corner.

Daphne looks beautiful as always. She wears a simple sage green day dress with elbow-length cap sleeves. Her chestnut hair frames her face in a riot of loose waves. She stops in her tracks when she sees Eloise. The look of surprise on Daphne's face confirms Eloise's reticent thoughts.

Eloise, like the awkward ninny she is, tentatively waves at her elder sister.

"Eloise, what are you doing here?" Daphne asks, walking towards her again. As she gets closer, the fabric of her day dress swishes and displays the bump where her child grows. Daphne looks vaguely alarmed by her presence. "Is everything all right with the family?"

"Yes, everything is quite alright with everyone else," Eloise answers. "I simply came for a visit."

"A visit?" Daphne asks, trying (and failing) to hide her disbelief. "You wanted to visit me ?"

There is naught but eighteen months difference in age between herself and Daphne yet they have never been particularly close. She'd rarely wasted an opportunity to mock her sister whilst they lived together, and other than the kindness Daphne showed at her first Hastings ball, they have lived separate lives.

She loves Daphne, of course. Eloise simply never got to know her as a person to see if they like each other or not.

"I did," Eloise replies. "I mean, I do ."

She can feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment and discomfort. Wringing her hands together anxiously, Eloise tries to salvage her painfully awkward sentence.

"That is why I am here," she says. "At your house." Eloise forces herself to stop talking as Daphne stares at her, askance. This is mortifying. Part of her wants to perish to escape this situation. Speaking to her elder sister should not be such a trial.

Eloise wishes she prepared more for this, but she is here now and it is too late to remove herself. However appealing it sounds to run away from a problem, that action rarely leads to helpful resolution while in a conflict.

"Well," Daphne responds, clearly taken aback by her presence. A mixture of surprise and disbelief continues to make both of them very awkward with one another. Daphne gathers her formidable social graces and motions toward the drawing room settee.

"Uh, shall we sit?" she asks. "I can order a tea service."

Eloise clears her throat and says, "Tea would be good."

Daphne calls for a servant as Eloise perches herself on the settee. After a quiet conversation between Daphne and a young maid, her sister hesitates for only a moment before she sits down next to Eloise. For a long moment, it is silent between the two of them. Daphne is the one brave enough to break it.

"Did you wish to talk about something?" she asks.

"My apologies for my awkwardness," Eloise replies, frustrated with herself. She has never feared confrontation, yet she finds herself tied at the tongue for speech. "As you can tell, this was not well planned on my part, but I greatly desired to speak with you."

Daphne's eyebrows raise at the word desired . Eloise can not blame her for her disconcertion.

"What is it, sister?" she asks.

Eloise takes a deep breath. She does not know how Daphne will respond to her next statement. She wishes she could deny it ever occurring, but Eloise needs to face the extent of her wrongdoings.

"Before the family picnic the other day…when you were talking to Colin," Eloise starts. Daphne's brow furrows in confusion. "Actually, you were talking to me…," she rambles before sighing dramatically. "Regardless of whom it was directed to, you said something I did not expect."

The confusion clears from Daphne's face but she does not speak right away. Eloise feels her ears burn as Daphne studies her for a long moment. "Is this the comment about women's rights and choices?" she asks.

"Yes, it is," Eloise replies, relieved that Daphne knew what she was referring to. "I do not think I have ever heard you say something like that."

"That is because you frequently chose not to listen," Daphne replies curtly. Eloise looks away, her cheeks burning with shame.

"That seems to be quite a common mistake I've made," Eloise admits quietly.

"Colin warned me that this might be a topic of conversation between us in the future," Daphne replies. "If I am being honest, I did not expect it to happen so soon…if at all."

Gathering herself, Eloise turns her gaze back to her sister. Daphne sits primly on the settee with her hands in her lap. The look on Daphne's face is unapologetic for her curt answer.

"Did you think I misunderstood your implications?" Eloise questions.

Daphne lets out a mildly derisive scoff.

"I did not think you heard me at all," Daphne responds.

Eloise flinches at her honesty.

"You always lost interest because I'd start our conversations talking about the beautiful dresses I was excited to receive or mention the kind of husband I would acquire," Daphne says. The displeasure is obvious in her tone. She cannot blame her elder sister for her frankness. Eloise often took the same tone with Daphne whenever she used to speak of pianoforte, her needlework, and dance lessons.

"You never seemed to care much for those things and by the time I felt brave enough to talk to you about my stance on how society views the fairer sex, you had already stopped listening."

"Those conversations?" Eloise inquires slowly, thinking back to when Daphne would prattle on about her fittings at the modiste. "You were trying to find common ground?"

"I am sure you think it ridiculous," Daphne replies with a sad chuckle. "The effort I put forth trying to emotionally connect with my younger sister. We could not have been more different; as you insisted on pointing out to me."

Eloise remembers one conversation in particular where she declared how glad she was that she did not have to be Daphne. Her sister's shock and hurt bloomed across her face before Daphne managed to hide it. Eloise cannot believe how casually cruel her words were to the people around her. God and above, she was such a cad.

"Might I say something I have wanted to tell you for a while?" Daphne asks. She tucks strands of wavy chestnut hair behind her ear. Eloise nods. " I do not think you understand how lucky you are."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asks, surprised.

"You have a friend," Daphne replies. Her blue eyes grow sad and a frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. "You have a best friend who has grown up with you. She stood up for you and has shown up for you for years. I do not think you understand how rare female friendship is, especially in the Ton."

Eloise sees the look on her sister's face, and for the first time in her life, chooses to let go of the defensive response bubbling in her chest.

"Young ladies are tucked into their homes with a governess and instructors," Daphne continues. "We are taught how to be the perfect wife and the socially respectable daughter, and then we are sent into the marriage mart to either thrive or fail."

Daphne reclines against the back of the settee. Her hands move to rest atop her belly. By the look on her face, it is a subconscious action. "They pit us against each other on the marriage mart to find husbands for the ensured survival of ourselves and our families," Daphne says quietly. "Then we are with child and become mothers, and few of us ever build genuine friendships."

Daphne's words are reminiscent of Cressida's as she describes how hard it is to find friendship amongst society. Eloise does not remember ever being without a friendship. She always had Colin or Francesca, and then at eight years old, she found Penelope.

"It is not an intentionally lonely life, but other than my lady's maid, I do not have any close female friends," Daphne says. "I am fortunate to have siblings. I am close with our elder brothers, but I was ecstatic to have a sister so close in age. Only as we grew up, you seemed to hate everything I loved."

Daphne rubs a hand over her belly, her countenance drawn. Eloise recognizes the melancholy that appears in her sister's eyes. It will haunt her for the rest of her life how isolated she has made the people around her feel due to her self-involvement.

"It never occurred to me that you might be lonely," Eloise whispers.

"You made it impossible to be your friend. No matter how hard I tried I could never live up to your expectations. You found me wanting in everything," Daphne replies, her hurt making her voice raise an octave. Her eyes grow damp with tears as she continues, "Doing well on the marriage mart was for my benefit, of course, but I thought about the precedent I was setting for you, for Frannie, and Hyacinth. Yet, you only seemed to resent me for my efforts."

Eloise's eyes burn with the sting of regret. She cannot undo what she has done. Eloise must live with the consequences of her ignorance, and attempt to make amends.

"I cannot deny your accusations," Eloise answers. "I thought myself intellectually superior to you because you pursued marriage and all the things society demands women should value."

"You are not the only one who feels trapped by society. I dislike the limitations placed on what we can and cannot do because of our sex just as much as you," Daphne says, her frustration clear in her tone. "I simply tend to keep my displeasure in closer quarters."

Eloise twists her hands together in anxiety. Daphne appears upset, and rightfully so. She has done a great disservice to her elder sister with her actions.

Daphne sighs heavily. Before she can speak, a maid brings in a tea service for them. They take a moment to prepare their cups. Daphne scoots to the edge of the settee. She sips from her tea and visibly gathers her thoughts.

"You saw what my life almost was, how I was almost cursed to marry Nigel Berbrooke," Daphne begins. "My personal autonomy was overruled by a hasty and ill-advised verbal agreement between my brother and another man who felt entitled to my person. All in spite of my loud and frequent protests."

Daphne sets her tea down on the side table. She looks directly at Eloise. "I was willing to make that sacrifice to save Anthony from dying in a duel, but also to save you," she declares. "Do you truly think I am not appalled by how a woman can be tarnished on rumor alone?"

"I was frightened when it looked like you would have to wed him," Eloise admits, setting aside her tea. "That carriage ride from the park was the first time that I thought you were brave."

"Bravery feels rather similar to desperation at times," Daphne replies ruefully.

"It should not have been my first notice of how courageous you are," Eloise says. "I spent so long disparaging you for wanting a marriage and children that I failed to see what I should have been seeking for women."

"What is that?"

"I should be advocating for women to have a choice. Marriage and children should be something a person proudly chooses to seek out. If that is what you want for yourself, you should be able to pursue it without society forcing you to do so," Eloise states.

Surprise blooms across Daphne's face.

"Romance is not my focus, but I no longer shun it completely. I wish to attend university and to travel despite women being unallowed such things," Eloise says. "We want different things from life, Daph, but just because they are different does not imply that one is more valuable than the other. I was entrenched so deeply in my desires that I tried foisting them onto everyone around me, being extremely judgmental towards any person who disagreed with my perspective."

Eloise meets her sister's shocked gaze directly.

"Does marriage make you happy, sister?" she asks genuinely. "Being a mother?"

"It does," Daphne replies with no hesitation. Her eyes shine with love and she places a hand over her belly again. "I would choose a family over and over again even if I had the freedom to choose something different."

"Then you have succeeded in life. The principle I support is a woman's choice to create a life she loves, however, that may look," Eloise responds firmly. "We do not have to want the same things for me to celebrate your joy and accomplishments alongside you."

Daphne lets out a shocked gasp. "You are happy for me?" she asks.

"Unbelievably so," Eloise answers. Daphne's lips pinch together and Eloise can see the tears gathering in her blue eyes. Taking a chance, Eloise reaches out to Daphne and grabs the hand sitting in her lap.

"The last few weeks have been a reckoning for me. My falling out with Penelope woke me up. I have been living in this narrow, obstinate headspace and I've been blind to a lot of things," Eloise confesses. "How I treated you, Pen, and Mama has been at the forefront of my mind. It all settled in how I ignored your opinions because I never stopped talking long enough to hear them. I am so sorry for contributing to how lonely you have felt."

Daphne's eyes grow glassy with tears. Her sister entwines their fingers and reaches out with her other hand to grab Eloise's. She squeezes her sister's fingers tightly. Pride shows clearly in Daphne's expression. She appears forgiving, welcoming, and loving all at once.

"I would like to get to know you," Eloise says. "Perhaps we can be both sisters and friends?"

Daphne laughs abruptly; a tear sliding down her cheek. "I am usually free for afternoon tea on Thursdays," she replies. "If you would like to join me, perhaps later this week or next?"

"I can do that," Eloise answers. Daphne surprises her when she leans forward to hug her. Eloise embraces her tightly in return. After a few moments, Daphne pulls back. She brushes a stray hair back into place along Eloise's fringe and Eloise smiles at the maternal gesture.

The two of them straighten up, using cloth napkins to dab their faces clean of tears. Eloise picks up the cloth bag she brought with her to Hastings House.

"I brought a book you may like," Eloise says, pulling the text from the linen bag. "I have read it numerous times and figured you could give it a go?"

"I should like to have a look at it, sister," Daphne replies, delighted. "Let me order some biscuits for us." She stands from the settee and walks over to the wall to ring a bell on the wall.

Eloise does not care much for children. Childbirth makes her exceedingly nervous, but she knows how much Daphne loves being a mother. Augie is rather cute and entertaining, especially now that he is learning how to talk. It may be a good topic of conversation to start with.

"How is being expectant this time?" Eloise calls to Daphne. "It must be rather strange to have a small person growing inside, is it not?"

Daphne's face lights up at the query. Her joy is effusive as she replies, "It is the strangest thing in the world, but also the most miraculous!"

Eloise feels a smile stretch across her face as Daphne prattles on about feeling the baby grow, and how Augie kisses her belly in excitement. She may not have an overwhelming desire for children, but seeing her sister's exuberance lightens her heart. Daphne certainly designed a life she loves.

That is all Eloise needs to know.

Penelope reclines in her armchair. A stack of dated Whistledown pamphlets sits strewn across her side table. She has read and reread them all. Two days have passed since the Bridgerton soiree where she decided to cease writing.

Mondays are usually when her publication circulates throughout Mayfair. It is the first time she has not printed an issue this season.

Deep inside, Penelope knows this is the only choice she has. She cannot be a Bridgerton and Lady Whistledown simultaneously. She is too deep in their confidence to fully trust herself not to accidentally reveal a secret, and she attracts far too many sneering looks from members of the Ton for her to hide on the edges of the ballroom any longer.

The logic is sound but it does not soothe the irrational sadness she feels at giving it up.

Penelope failed to realize how much this would affect her. She quit Whistledown before; after publishing her ruinous issue toward Eloise. At the time, she spent her free time trying to bolster Eloise's spirits and avoid her Mama's wrath were she ever discovered to be consorting with a nearly ruined young lady. Her self-hatred and guilt kept her tormented enough to never publish again.

Ending Whistledown now has no negative emotions behind it to spur her on. She loves Colin. She adores the Bridgertons. She loves writing. More importantly, despite her missteps, she is proud of creating Whistledown. For the longest time, Whistledown was her only comfort.

Invisible to society, ignored and mocked in her own home, and resentful of never being enough; she created a voice for herself. Penelope has a life's work. She designed and built an enterprise on her talent alone. She amassed a fortune with her wit, intelligence, and resourcefulness.

Lady Whistledown saved her from melancholy. It blossomed into her identity. It was the only source of validation and power she possessed for so long. She loves it. What does it mean about her character that it causes her emotional suffering over stepping away from a publication? She is making this sacrifice to build a life with Colin. Colin's affections were all she wanted for years, and yet, she wonders if she is doing the right thing.

Penelope flips open the parchment in her hand, her eyes catching onto her own words.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, October 1813

This author has thought the heart a most curious of instruments, heading neither reason nor rank. For what possible explanation might Miss Bridgerton have for entertaining the suit of a mere baron when she seems to have secured a duke? Could the debutant's mind not be the only thing amiss? Let it be known, dear reader, that if this bizarre behavior portends yet another scandal, then be sure than I shall uncover it. for there is nothing like an excursion into nature to lift the spirits and loosen the tongue.

Discussing the Bridgertons in her publication is not something Penelope remains willing to do. Removing content about their frequently scandalous behavior would raise suspicions, indeed. She knows too much about their family life to ever write another word about them anymore. Thinking of the Viscount and Viscountess revealing their expectant news with her in their midst comes to mind.

Trust is a heavy burden when one deals in secrets.

This rumination on whether she made the correct choice or not has plagued her the entire weekend. She begged off at least two social events, and barely ate the last two days. She hates the pang of loss she feels in her chest at knowing there will be no morning or afternoon deliveries of her report.

Setting aside her current issue of Whistledown, Penelope digs around the stack and chooses another at random. Reading her old writings fills her with nostalgia and sorrow.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, April 1814

The final ball of any season is distinguished by one of two things: anticipation or dread. For, while those who have been successful in the year's marriage market look forward to flaunting their perfect, joyous unions, other shudder at the thought of spending one last night before the discerning eyes of the ton. As they know, indeed, just what the evening signifies, that their time is officially up. And yet, to those who may still find themselves out of both choices and hope, fear not. For who knows when and where one's fortunes may change?

Anticipation or dread, indeed. She dreads the reality she faces; a life without any work to do beyond marriage and motherhood. She wants a family, of course. She simply wishes she did not have to choose between loving someone and loving something she accomplished. It is strange to know that her time as Lady Whistledown has come to an end. For over two years, she wrote her way out of invisibility and into popularity. The Ton may not know her real name, but Penelope can walk amongst them filled with pride.

A knock at her bedchamber's door pulls her attention from the pamphlet. Penelope does not get a word out before the door swings open and her Mama steps inside.

"How are you faring today?" she asks. Penelope sets down the parchment in her hand as her Mama shuts the door behind her. She walks over, her metallic purple dress swishing around her ankles. "What are you doing up here?"

Mama sits in the armchair next to Penelope and peers at the parchment spread on the table. Her eyebrows arch upwards in surprise as she says, "Reading old issues of Whistledown?"

Penelope nods, listless and uninterested in conversation. "I am still not feeling well," she replies. Her mother is under the impression she has a headache that has lasted for days. Penelope is more heartsick than physically ill, but her Mama need not know that.

"What ails you so?" Mama questions. "I shall need a better reason than you are tired and your head aches if we are to continue rescinding acceptances to social events."

"What does it matter?" Penelope asks, unable to completely hide her bitterness. "They rarely even notice that I am there."

"I am sure your Mr. Bridgerton notices," Mama responds. Her head tilts in curiosity. Penelope can feel her discerning gaze sweeping over her when Penelope flinches. "He sent another bouquet this morning."

"Did he seem well?" Penelope inquires. A kernel of guilt expands in her stomach. She has not spoken to Colin since Friday. She misses him keenly but she feels exhausted and lacks the energy for socializing.

"Of course, he appeared in great health, if not a bit worried about you," Mama says. "It has been two days after all."

"I shall write him this afternoon to ease his mind," Penelope relents, "but I am not yet ready to attend another event."

"Penelope, you have managed to capture the affections of a man of great name and means. You have the rest of your life to lie around and do nothing," Mama protests. She sits forward, leaning in Penelope's direction to display her urgency.

"Until you get a proposal and walk down the aisle, your duty is to make Mr. Bridgerton feel as if he is the most important person in the world. To cater entirely to your husband. His dreams, his wishes…at least in the beginning."

Penelope stares at her mother for a long moment before she looks down at her empty hands, pensive and somber.

"What if I do not wish to lie around and do nothing, Mama?" she asks quietly. "What about my dreams?"

"Dreams?" Mama questions in disbelief. "What dreams? Ladies do not have dreams, they have husbands. And if you are lucky and you fulfill your role, sometimes what you wish for may come true…through him."

"I do not like it," Penelope says. She looks up when her Mama scoffs.

"It is not truly for you to like, dear. It is simply how the world works," Mama replies, tone derisive. "Women do not have power. They do not have money. They would have nothing if they do not marry. You know these things."

"You do not dream of being more?" Penelope responds, frustrated.

"What is this more you speak of?"

"I want to be a wife. I want to have a house full of children but I also want to have a life's work," Penelope says. "Is it wrong to want my legacy to be more than my last name and the children I leave behind?"

"I will not say it is wrong," Mama responds. "I simply do not know if it is feasible."

"Mama, have you ever thought about challenging this idea that the fairer sex is capable of less than men?"

"Of course I have. I thought about it a lot when I was younger until my mama told me the truth," Mama says. Her eyes spark with defensiveness. "The truth is that women are powerless. We can shout and outthink a man in any arena, but society will not listen to what we have to say without a man's support."

"So you just accept this?" Penelope snaps.

"What other choice do I have, Penelope?" Mama retorts. Her blue eyes flare at Penelope's disrespectful tone. She sucks in a deep breath and rubs a hand across her temple.

"My mother was a serious woman. She recognized the limitations placed on the fairer sex and she played the marriage mart well. She sought security, not love," Mama explains. Her gaze is unfocused and she sweeps a hand across her mouth in reticence. "She learned early on that love can be whimsical and flimsy. Most things we consider to be love are puffed-up infatuations that burn fiercely and when they die, they leave you cold and blackened in the heart."

Penelope studies her mother. Mama's countenance is withdrawn and sad, but she is being truthful. In fact, this may be the most honest conversation they have ever partaken in. Mama does not speak of her mother often. She'd died before Penelope was born. Papa had never spoken of them. Reviewing her mother's words, it is simple to derive the deeper meaning in her words.

"Grandmama fell in love once, didn't she?"

"She did," Mama admits. Shame colors her tone and she looks away from Penelope. "And she was left in a perilous situation; where she was going to be ruined or she would have to marry swiftly."

Penelope sits, confused for only a moment before realization strikes her hard in the chest. She gasps audibly and her Mama gives her a knowing and grim smile.

"Are you saying that grandmama was with child when she married?" Penelope questions, scandalized. The panic and anger Mama experienced with Marina's situation begins to make painful sense.

"If I am to trust you with this information, it cannot ever be repeated."

"I will not, Mama. I swear it."

"Yes, she was with child when she married," Mama confesses. "She fell in love with your grandpapa's brother. He romanced her. Told her that he would propose. Took liberties with her, and then he departed for the continent where he quickly married a Parisian woman and never returned home. Your grandpapa discovered what happened and he married her. There was no love between them but he was a man of honor."

"How sad," Penelope replies.

"I grew up understanding that love was a foolish notion, one very easily betrayed," Mama says quietly. "My mother always taught me to seek security. I was taught to be the perfect lady. Any fantasies of being more than a wife to a titled man died very young."

"I never met grandmama."

"She passed long before you were born," Mama replies. "Prudence met her but she was all but three years of age."

"Was she unkind?"

Mama lets out a contemplative sound. "She was not unkind, but she was not kind either," she replies. "I suppose, after her first love so deeply wounded her, she closed off that part of herself even with her children. There were no embraces, kisses goodnight, or any real expressions of physical affection."

"That is not the life I wish to have," Penelope says. In her nine and ten years, Penelope never felt empathy for her mother. In this moment, she sees the way her childhood shaped her. Her Mama grew up in a cold home and married an unkind, unreliable man.

"As you should not," Mama responds. "All I know is how to survive, Penelope. It is all I was taught and I raised you girls the same way that my mother raised me. Until Mr. Bridgerton took me to task, I never realized the damage I was causing."

"I do not expect you to be perfect, Mama," Penelope implores. "I just need to feel like I matter to you."

"Oh sweet girl, you do matter to me," Mama replies. Visibly hesitating, she stretches a hand out to Penelope in offering. Penelope reaches out and takes hold. The touch brings tears to her mother's eyes. "Showing love with a touch or affirming you in words is not something I am prone to doing. All I seem to have done is make the same mistakes that I wish my mother never made with me."

"I will not lie to you and say that growing up in this household has been easy. I spent a large part of my life feeling ostracized and humiliated," Penelope admits. With her free hand, Mama covers her mouth in distress. "You never seemed to expect anything of me in terms of marriage or being valuable. I do not know what is more hurtful. To be invisible or to be ridiculed."

Mama's face falls.

"I do not know how to repent for my failures. You have always been smarter, kinder, and wittier than myself. You are beautiful, Penelope. I am so sorry that I ever made you feel that you were not."

"It is time for us to do better, Mama."

"We can certainly do that," Mama answers, squeezing her hand. "What is this dream of yours?"

Penelope swallows. She has yet to tell anyone of her dreams of publishing her own novel. Her Mama still has no idea that she is Lady Whistledown. This conversation provokes such vulnerability in Penelope that adding an identity reveal would make her physically ill.

"There is an author. She simply goes by the moniker of 'A Lady'. She wrote my favorite book Sense and Sensibility. Although the idea may be farfetched, I would love to be able to write a novel of my own."

Mama blinks at her in shock. She takes a moment to find her words. "Well, of all the people I know, you are quite resourceful. Perhaps you'll figure out a way to make this dream come true," she says.

"If I was to write a novel, would you support me?"

"I would be incredibly proud," Mama responds. "However, can you do me a favor before you pursue this publishing endeavor?

"What is it?"

"Please get married first," Mama requests. Her tone borders on pleading.

"Mama!" Penelope cries. She wants to laugh in disbelief.

"A lady can only change so much of her mind at once, Penelope," Mama scolds. She throws her hands into the air, exasperated. "I am willing to allow this love match to play out, but you do need security as well."

Penelope shakes her head at her mother. She promises to write a brief note to Colin and resume attending social gatherings starting the next day. With a soft smile, Mama sweeps from the room, her shoulders less tense but her head held high.

Penelope stacks her pamphlets together in a neat pile. A simple passage catches her eye as she carries them to her desk drawer for storage.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, September 1814

Color, clarity, carat, cut. At long last, the Queen has named her most precious stone. While this author finds Miss Edwina Sharma to be an exceptional young lady, it is about time I used these pages or record for something else. A shift. Is the entire practice of naming a diamond not, well, rather ridiculous. Should a woman not be valued for so much more than her dancing skills or her comportment? Should we not value a woman instead for her candor, her character, her true accomplishments? Perhaps if the queen abandoned this absurdity that is the diamond, we would all see that a woman can be so much more.

Women can be so much more, indeed. Penelope is not quite content with her resignation from Whistledown, but she feels less fraught over it now. Perhaps, Colin would support her in writing her own novel? She can envision the two of them, sitting at writing desks on opposite sides of the same study.

She hopes that Colin can forgive her when she tells him of her secret. The thought of revealing herself to him makes her stomach tighten with nerves. She places all of the pamphlets into her desk drawer and slides it shut.

No matter how ill at ease she feels, Whistledown must become a part of her past.

Col,

Thank you for the flowers. As always, they are beautiful and brought a smile to my face. I got rather ill over the weekend and I am still not feeling my best. I apologize if I have caused you undue concern for my health.

I spent the last couple of days resting to regain my strength. If I am more recovered by tomorrow, would you like to come over for calling hours? I find that I miss your presence greatly.

Yours,

Penny

Monday evening signals Will's final night of owning the Mondrich club. Amid the stacked chairs and recently emptied walls, the establishment rings with raucous laughter of six men and cheerful drinking.

Colin never thought he would be emotional about an establishment shutting its doors but he has fond memories here. This is where he took the initiative to strike out on his own. The Mondrich club is also where Colin found a true friend in Will. Of all the gentlemen he associated himself with, Will Mondrich was the only person who had the honor to tell him the truth.

Colin sits on a settee with Benedict to his right, sharing the furniture. Anthony reclines in an armchair on the other side of Benedict. He dragged his seat towards the table unceremoniously at the start of the night. Simon sits in a chair to Colin's left. Across from Colin, John sits at the table and the empty seat between John and Simon belongs to Will.

Fine dress and decorum have been abandoned. Their overcoats lay discarded in a pile. Benedict stripped from his waistcoat and cravat; he reclines in the settee wearing only his shirt sleeves. Hours pass as they attempt to clear out all the liquor left inside the club. It is remarkable that none of them have melted into the floor from the drink.

Colin raises his voice and glass. "Cheers, John! To having you join our family very, very soon I hope," he says, jubilant. "It is a pleasure to have you out with us."

Lord Kilmartin looks askance in Anthony's direction. His eldest brother shoots him a slight smile and a nod of approval. John's relief is visible in the loosening of his shoulders.

"The pleasure is mine," he replies, raising his glass in Colin's direction. Colin beams at him. Benedict chortles, causing Colin to look in his direction. His brother's eyebrows are high on his forehead, his surprise and amusement clear.

"Your spirits seem high tonight," Benedict teases. Colin sees the mischief bloom in his brother's green-gray eyes and he huffs to himself as Ben continues, "Have you gone all simple with love?"

He deftly avoids Benedict's outstretched hand as it aims to ruffle his hair. Benedict laughs when Colin smacks his hand away.

"The mark of an enamored man are high spirits and complete distraction," Anthony adds. He smirks behind his glass of brandy. Colin narrows his eyes at his two brothers. They oblige him with disconcertingly similar amused looks.

"Gentleman!" Will appears at the table again, startling Simon from his chuckling. They all turn to look in his direction as he waves around a liquor bottle. "One of my finest bottles of brandy, and we cannot have it going to the new proprietor."

Cheers go up around the table as they exclaim in excitement. All of them push empty glasses in Will's direction for a fresh pour. Benedict leans forward in his seat.

"Another bottle?" he asks. "This way you'll have us wish you closed the club every week."

Will laughs despite the somber look on his face. "Sadly, this is the very last bottle."

He uncorks the bottle over a glass. Amber liquid flows and then ceases abruptly when only one glass is half full. Will shakes the bottle but it is clearly empty of drink. Groans of sadness fill the room.

Will peers into the bottle as though secret liquor remained inside and was unwilling to exit. "I thought there were at least a few more pours," he murmurs.

Simon barks out a laugh. "Drunken sums at its peak," he says. "Are we to share it?"

Six sets of eyes settle onto the single glass atop the table. For a beat, silent looks are exchanged between them all before Colin makes a decision.

"Surely the drink is yours!" he says to Will. "To celebrate your last night owning this fine institution."

"You mean to mourn my last night," he replies, sullen. Will drops into his seat with a scoff. "I refuse your pity drink."

His statement brings surprised laughter to the group.

"Well if it is a pity drink," Colin responds, "Perhaps I deserve it."

He swipes the glass off the table. Benedict chokes on a laugh and Colin looks at him, affronted.

"What?"

"You?" Benedict asks incredulously.

"Yes, me!" Colin replies. "Love has made me so simple I cannot even write a sentence this week. It is torture, really. Since Penelope accepted my suit, I have become utterly useless. She consumes all my thoughts."

Benedict rolls his eyes. "What do you need to write?"

Colin shrugs, attempting to hide his nervousness. "I am writing a manuscript, in fact," he answers. Colin can feel his ears turn red. He hopes that none of the men around him notice.

"Oh, are you?" he asks. Benedict sounds slightly mocking but also intrigued.

Colin clears his throat. "Yes."

"What is it about?" Will questions.

"I am editing the story of my travels," Colin answers. Sheepishly, he says, "Or in principle, I am."

Colin goes to drink from the glass in his hand and Benedict launches across the settee shouting, "No! No, no, and no. Give me that."

Benedict snatches the drink from his hand. "You do not get a pity drink after confessing that you are madly in love with a young lady who accepted your offer of courtship and how you intend to author a manuscript."

"Why?" Colin asks. "You think you deserve it?"

"You at least have a direction for your life," Benedict replies. "Headed towards marriage and becoming a writer. While I am floating, purposeless, with no discernable path forward."

Benedict slides back into his chair with a dramatic sniffle. His antics make them all laugh.

Colin nudges his brother with an outstretched foot. "And are you not the happiest you have ever been?" he asks.

Benedict freezes, the glass only a short distance from his mouth. He nods and says, "Oh right, that is true, yes." He leans forward and sets the glass back on to the table. He grins at the chuckles that arise. Colin shakes his head at his brother.

"I think the drink is mine," John says. Colin and Benedict look at John, eyebrows arched upwards in surprise. "If I am correct in reading that the winner of this game is whoever is the most fortunate…"

Immediate objections arise from every Bridgerton male in the room. Benedict and Colin are the loudest. Anthony waves his hand fervently to get John to stop speaking.

"No! " Benedict says loudly. "Please do not start saying sentimental things about our sister." He slaps two hands over his ears. Colin agrees emphatically as his expression twists into a grimace.

John chuckles before he says, "I was going to say I am the most fortunate amongst us because I have spotted another bottle."

Benedict peeks up at John, dropping his hands from his ears. John gets up from the table and they all follow him with their eyes. Laughter and cheers go up when John unearths a bottle barely hidden in a corner of the room.

"He has spotted one," Anthony says, laughing.

Benedict adds, "How fortunate for us, indeed!"

Colin flips to face the correct direction as John carries the bottle back to the table, held aloft in triumph. "Our future brother has a hawkeye," Colin says. A delighted smile curls the corners of John's mouth upwards. He is a rather stoic fellow. He is not prone to expressiveness like the rest of the family, but Colin thinks him incredibly similar to Francesca's disposition.

He seems riotously funny with his dry humor. He is more reserved in social settings, but his kindness and thoughtfulness shine through. He slots in with the Bridgertons smoothly. If their family can allow Frannie to flourish and blossom, then they can bring John's quietness into the fold.

Empty glasses are set on the table. Will gathers them all in front of John, and he pours drink into each glass. Once the glasses are filled, everyone stands for a toast.

John raises his glass into the air and says, "To Mr. Mondrich's fine club." Will smiles slowly and somberly, but he clinks his glass against the others. Simon claps a comforting hand on to Will's shoulder.

"To the club!"

Their glasses tinkle as they click together. Each man drinks heavily from the glass. Benedict is the first to down his entire portion. He slams it down onto the wooden table and demands, "Another!"

John stares at Benedict for a moment before he glances at the still nearly full bottle. "We must finish it, I presume," he says. His tone seems uncertain, but he seems to be trying to participate fully in their revelry. Benedict nods and slides the glass over to him for a refill. Anthony claps John on the shoulder and gives him a fond shake. John smiles at his unspoken acceptance.

Colin finishes his drink and pushes it across the table to John. "We must!" he says. "This family does not leave celebratory beverages unfinished."

John fills his glass and grins shyly in his direction. The chatter between them picks up in liveliness. Random bouts of laughter burst out from the group as the inebriation increases. When the topic of Penelope comes up, Colin's face heats with a fierce blush.

Simon cackles and says, "God and above, we have lost him."

John allows a teasing smile to cross his face as he asks, "Does he always look so lovestruck and dazed when he thinks of her?" Anthony chortles at the statement.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him when he is in her presence," Benedict replies, poking Colin between his ribs.

Colin slaps his hand away. "Anthony is obsessed with his wife too!"

"She is not yet your wife, Col," Anthony replies.

Colin shoots his brother two fingers. "If I had my way, she would be."

"Whether you love her or not," Simon says. "Life is much easier when you are not forced down an aisle so be careful about bringing those lovestruck thoughts into the real world."

John's brow furrows in confusion and he glances at Anthony in question. Colin sees Anthony shake his head and mouths, "You do not wish to know."

Will shakes his head at Simon's words before he turns his gaze back to Colin. "Have you kissed her yet?"

"You have seen the looks they exchange," Simon answers. "There is no conceivable way he has not kissed her! Hence my warning."

Colin shoots them a haughty look and sips from his drink. "Gentlemen, do not kiss and tell."

Benedict laughs obnoxiously.

"Ha! You absolutely have!" he says. "The kiss I saw in the gardens was certainly not the first."

"Benedict! "

"What?" Benedict replies innocently, "You think I failed to share that bit of gossip with Anthony?"

Colin swings his gaze to a smug-looking Anthony. "He told you?!"

"You have kissed Miss Penelope?" John responds, shocked. Three glares swing to him and he holds his hands in the air to placate them.

"You better not get any ideas, John," Anthony states firmly.

"Please do not start waxing poetic about Frannie," Colin requests.

"Oh, we should keep him from acting a lovestruck fool about Fran," Benedict replies mockingly, "but you daydream about Penelope's beauty whilst at the dining table."

"The lot of you are complete hypocrites," Simon declares.

Benedict looks offended. "I beg your pardon, brother!"

"Anthony almost shot me for kissing Daphne before our wedding," Simon replies.

"I might have been a tad overzealous protecting my sister but it was my first time leading a lady in the marriage mart," Anthony admits, sheepishly.

"You requested to meet me at dawn," Simon responds, deadpan. John looks shocked at the mention of a duel. His eyes follow the conversation spinning around the table toward each speaker. Colin wants to laugh at the confounded look on his face.

"I stand by my rage. You declared you would never marry yet you still kissed her," Anthony replies. "At least, Colin fully intends to wed Penelope."

"He does have a point, Simon," Will says, sipping at his drink.

"Yes! Do not leave out the extenuating circumstances to make me look like a cad, brother," Anthony says. "You shall make Lord Kilmartin nervous."

"Your family rarely suffers from boredom, I take it?" John asks, still shocked but also incredibly amused. Colin snickers at him. The poor chap will eventually learn how to handle all of the Bridgertons.

"I befriended the Bridgertons less than two years ago," Will responds. "And I confirm that they always find themselves at the center of some scandal."

"Unintentionally, I assure you," Benedict says.

"We are a passionate bunch," Colin adds. "It tends to overrule our good sense sometimes."

Simon tips his glass in John's direction with an agreeing hum. "Their unscrupulous behavior is both endearing and exasperating," he says, amused. "You learn to accept it."

Benedict tosses his cravat at Simon, who laughs when it hits him in the face. "You partake in our unscrupulous behavior as well," Benedict says, shaking a finger in Simon's direction. "Do not think any of us forgot the lake incident at Aubrey Hall this past summer."

Benedict gives a dramatic shiver. Colin and Anthony groan in disgust simultaneously. Will and John look confused.

Simon lets out a sigh. "How were we to know that you would investigate strange sounds?"

"We would not have," Colin protests, gesturing towards himself, Benedict and Anthony. "Unfortunately, Hyacinth is the one who was playing too close to your ' picnic '."

Benedict releases a braying laugh. "Hyacinth said it sounded like a pair of foxes crying or an animal on the verge of death," he says.

Will audibly chokes on his laughter as he catches on to their implications. A spray of brandy comes from his mouth as he sputters, "No, she did not. Surely, you jest."

Anthony succumbs to laughter. "She did!" he wheezes out, bending over in his seat with the force of his giggles. Will snorts unceremoniously, which sets off Benedict's laughter.

"She burst into Anthony's study in hysterics asking us to go check on the poor animal," Benedict says, shoulders shaking with mirth. Anthony lets out a loud guffaw, wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks. Simon shakes his head but he cannot hide his own amused smile.

Colin grimaces as he speaks, "It sounds hilarious until you realize I saw far too much of my sister and Simon's bare arse."

Comprehension dawns on John's face and his jaw falls agape.

"Oh god, they were having marital relations outdoors?!" he asks, scandalized.

Will throws his head back, howling with laughter. John's horrified understanding sends them all into amused hysterics. Their loud conversation continues past the midnight hour as they drain the club of every drop of liquor available in the establishment.

-- Tuesday, November 21, 1815

Tuesday morning dawns with a quiet morning meal by herself in the garden. As she finishes her toast and tea, a footman delivers a gorgeous bouquet of peonies and a short missive from Colin. Smiling brightly, she reads his reply.

Penny,

Now it is my turn to take ill. My brothers, Will, Simon, and John were rather enthusiastic about clearing the Mondrich club of their spirits before closing its doors for the final time.

Benedict, Anthony, and I did not return home until an extraordinarily late hour, and I woke this morning feeling as though I'd been overrun by a carriage. Can you remind me in the future that I am unequipped to match my brothers in their drinking?

The only gentleman I believe might be worse off than myself is John. Poor chap could barely find his feet by the time we departed. I cannot mock him because I was not much better. Anthony and Benedict were required to fish me out of shrubbery after I tripped and fell into one. I remain amazed their loud cackling did not wake any of the neighbors.

I am certainly paying for my overindulgence this morning.

I confess that I worried when I did not see you at the ball on Saturday evening or at the luncheon on Sunday afternoon. I am glad to hear you are recovering well.

Perhaps we can see each other for a promenade on Wednesday? My afternoon is full of commitments already or I would come over later today to attend intimate calling hours.

I miss you greatly, even though it has only been a few days.

Yours,

Col

His letter hardens her resolve. She folds his letter before rising from her seat. As she heads inside to dress for the day, Penelope laughs to herself when she pictures Colin being tugged out of a bush while in his cups. She looks forward to hearing his retelling of the entire night. Rae helps her into a simple lilac day dress and pins her hair into a braided bun atop her head. With amethyst hair pins fastening her red curls into place, Penelope leaves the Featherington estate. She needs to advise Genevieve that her services shall no longer be needed.

The bells atop the entrance of Madame Delacroix's shop tinkle as Penelope swings the door open. The modiste opened her store only moments before her arrival, so the interior remains empty of patrons as she walks inside with her lady's maid close behind her.

A French-lilting voice calls out a greeting from the back of the shop, and Penelope hears Genevieve's quick footsteps heading in her direction. The dressmaker has a wide, overly cheerful smile on her face as she appears. Her eyes light up when she sees Penelope. It feels good to see a genuine smile on her friend's face as the pretense drops.

"Miss Penelope!" she says, her normal accent making an appearance. "It has been too long!"

Genevieve steps closer and they reach for each other at the same time. Hands clasped together in shared affection, Penelope smiles at her friend. "It has been quite the week," Penelope admits.

"It was not until your lady's maid dropped off your column last Monday that I learned you were being courted," she replies. "How wonderful for you! I am happy to hear that you have been successful in attracting a suitor."

"Yes, I am very happy," Penelope responds. They drop hands as Genevieve motions her toward the rear of the shop. "Forgive me for my absence. These last few weeks have been a whirlwind."

"That is alright," Genevieve answers. "Being courted can consume the mind! Every young lady can be swept up in love and affection, especially with such a kind and handsome man as Mr. Colin Bridgerton."

"He is rather wonderful," Penelope says. Colin's dark blue eyes and charming smile cross her mind. His handsomeness drew her attention but it is his kindness that she fell deeply in love with. He is truly a good man.

"And when you sneak out to write your column, I assume you will tell Mr. Bridgerton…?" Genevieve trails off, looking at Penelope for an answer.

Penelope clears her throat.

"That is what I have come to tell you," she says quietly. "I am resigning. The last issue I published on Thursday will be my last."

Rarely has Penelope seen Genevieve speechless. The dressmaker appears stunned. She blinks rapidly, trying to process her thoughts.

"Penelope," she begins. "That column is your life's work."

Penelope looks at the ground. Nothing her friend can say is something she has not already agonized over herself. She has made peace with her decision, even if she is not perfectly happy with it. Being with Colin and having the love of the Bridgerton family is everything. She refuses to be swayed.

"I cannot continue writing. I will miss my column but gaining a family means far more to me," Penelope answers. She will repeat these words until the pit of unease lessens. She cannot be a Bridgerton and Lady Whistledown. "I have found a love match, Genevieve. I do not wish to take that for granted."

"You should not have to cut off a piece of yourself to take your place in a family," Genevieve responds. Penelope has yet to see her friend angry, but a fire sparks in her friend's brown eyes.

"Love is compromise," Penelope insists.

"It requires compromise," Genevieve replies heatedly, "but it should never mean compromising who you are!"

"Genevieve, you are my friend. I do not wish to quarrel with you over a decision that has already been made," Penelope snaps. She has enough reticence about her decision as it is. She does not need someone else's feelings weighing her down.

"Please, do not make this any harder for me," Penelope says, pleading plain in her voice. "This sadness will abate." God and above, she hopes it does. She does not wish to regret her choice forever.

"I am your friend, Penelope," Genevieve responds. "And I am telling you that this sadness you feel? The emptiness of something important being mourned as it dies before its time? That will never go away."

"It is just gossip," Penelope bursts out.

"It has never been about gossip! It is about you having a voice," Genevieve snaps back. "Whistledown is power. It gave you confidence when you felt invisible."

"I have found my own confidence," Penelope responds irritably. It is true. She does not need a literary persona any longer to know she is valuable as a person. She can stand under her own power; whether members of society think her desirable or not. It is a confidence Penelope only recently discovered she possesses. "I do not need to rely on snark and secrets to garner attention any longer."

"I hope you rethink this."

"I shall not," Penelope says firmly. "My choice is love. That will be enough."

Colin's bottle weariness does not fade by the time he is due for afternoon tea at Hastings House. He woke in the early hours of the day to scribble a note to Penelope and have a servant order her some flowers from Flora's stall. Once the ink dried and he sent his missive across the square, Colin slumped back into bed and slept until near noon. Charles, his valet, basically had to drag him from his bed. A hot bath cured some of the fuzziness inside his head but he lacked his normal verve for the day.

Colin walks up the front steps and a footman holds the door aloft for him. He hands over his overcoat to a servant and turns to see his sister descending the stairs.

"Brother," she greets. Her cheerful voice carries across the entrance hall and he can see her bright smile from where he stands.

"Daph!" he replies. Colin walks over to her and they share a tight embrace.

"Good day, Col," she says.

Colin pulls back to check her over. Her chestnut hair is tucked into a chignon at the base of her neck with her bangs framing her face. She wears a champagne-colored linen day dress. Her dress is sleeveless and covered by an ivory long sleeve lace shrug that wraps around the top of her rib cage and ties into a stately bow at her back. Her bump is proudly on display.

"Good day," he replies. "You look beautiful, sister."

Daphne's blue eyes brighten at the compliment.

"Thank you," she says. He offers her his elbow and she tucks her hand into the crook of it as they make their way towards the drawing room. "I was unsure if you were to make tea today. Simon is still abed after the revelry of last night."

"Charles all but boxed my ears to get me up," Colin responds. "I am still suffering the effects of imbibing so much, even though it was great fun."

Daphne laughs. The two enter the drawing room after a pair of two servants, who already have an afternoon tea set up. The tea table is in front of a pair of floor-to-ceiling bay windows with a clear view into the gardens.

"Simon shares the same sentiment, I believe. He was rather impressed by Lord Kilmartin," she says. Colin nearly drools over the treats he can see laid out for them – savory pastries, la petit fours, a steaming pot of tea with milk and sugar easily accessible.

"I hope we did not frighten him off," Colin replies, chuckling. "He learned a fair bit about the Bridgertons during the evening."

"He shall learn to deal with our indiscretions at some point or he shall never survive a summer at Aubrey Hall," Daphne says. Colin pulls out a chair at the tea table for his sister and she seats herself with a fond smile aimed in his direction. "I would like to see how he handles Pall Mall."

"I have a feeling he will not partake," Colin replies as he seats himself next to Daphne, "but Frannie tends to be competitive only whilst holding a mallet so perhaps he will surprise us."

"Do you think he and Fran will be engaged before our mid-February trip to Aubrey Hall?" she asks, pouring a cup of tea. Colin busies himself with loading a plate full of food.

"I believe he has sought Anthony's blessing," he says.

"It seems unreal that Fran shall marry before Benedict or Eloise," Daphne murmurs as she picks her food. She seems to fancy the sweets today.

"It would be more unbelievable if Eloise or Benedict married before Francesca," Colin replies, amused. "Frannie is level-headed and those two are a force unto their own."

Daphne smiles behind her tea cup. "I suppose you are correct there, brother."

The two of them eat and drink in companionable silence before Colin builds his courage up to say, "I seek some advice."

Daphne turns her gaze from the gardens to look at him. Her curiosity is blatant.

"Alright," she says, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin. "What do you need assistance with?"

"I wish to purchase a courtship gift for Pen."

Daphne squeals in delight. The sound makes Colin laugh loudly. "A courtship gift! How lovely, brother," Daphne says after she has gathered herself again. "What are you thinking of getting her?"

"I would buy her gloves," Colin replies. Daphne gasps. Gifting a young lady custom-made gloves signifies his intent to propose. Colin would offer Penelope marriage immediately, but he remains unsure if she would say yes. He cannot blame her. They have only embarked on this courtship, officially and unofficially, for three weeks.

He also has nothing to truly offer her as a husband. The insecurity threatens to choke him at times. He notices when Penelope's gaze goes distant or she seems discontented by something. She usually opens her mouth to share something and then seems to change her mind.

It pains him to think she may not trust in his ability to be a good husband to her. Colin cannot think of any other reason she would appear so ill at ease around him.

"Is that not a bit soon?" Daphne inquires carefully.

"It is," Colin agrees. He sees the way her tension drains from her shoulders but keeps his observation to himself. "Which is why I need help."

"What are some of her favorite things?"

"She adores jasmine in both scent and blooms. She dislikes chocolate but loves candies."

Daphne is pensive for a long moment. "What about bath products?"

Colin's brain stops functioning. Things for her bath?

Colin pictures Penelope dropping her dressing gown. The silk of it sliding against her luscious pale skin. Her rosy nipples tightening in the cool air. The red curls of her mound peeking from between her thighs, downy and soft enough to touch. She would step into the hot water. The heat of it would cause her skin to flush pink. He can envision her shoulders slipping under the water, her breasts lifting and the tips of her red curls sticking to her back.

The thought of her wet and soaping her skin with bath products he gives her is overwhelmingly arousing. He feels his face heat with a blush and Colin swallows hard.

Daphne sets her teacup into the saucer with a loud clack.

"Brother, cease thinking about her naked, please," she says, aggrieved. Daphne's glare is sharp and piercing. Colin's face burns immediately in embarrassment.

"You brought up bath products!"

"You are the one having salacious thoughts in my drawing room!"

"My thoughts of Penelope being, uh, bare and cleansing herself is natural."

Daphne wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Can we move on? I beg of you."

"I should be quite pleased if she were to think of me while in the bath." He wonders if she would let him bathe with her once they are wed. Perhaps, he can wash her hair for her?

Daphne cringes away from the thought.

"You can commission her some bath soaps and oils, perhaps in her favorite scent?" she asks. Although his sister's cheeks are pink with embarrassment and discomfort, she still lends her assistance.

"That is a magnificent idea, Daph."

Daphne rolls her eyes heavenward as she continues, "Perhaps you can combine her favorite scent with yours? In order for her to… think of you." Daphne looks pained at the suggestion, but the idea makes Colin nearly delirious with happiness.

"What do you like?"

Several inappropriate responses pop into his head. He forces his nefarious thoughts away and says, "I use cedar soap for myself, but I love the smell of orange blossoms."

"Jasmine and orange blossoms would make a lovely combination for a soap."

"I shall order them straight away," Colin replies. "I think I will commission a perfume and a glass bottle as well."

"She will be spoiled by your kindness."

"Good," Colin replies. "I wish her to feel the extent of my desire and devotion. I was blind and foolish for far too long. There is much to make up for."

"I am certain she will love you without excessive purchases, brother."

Colin is not so certain. Penelope knows all of his secrets. She watched him grow from a child into a man. She was center audience for every one of his displays of foolishness, immaturity, and stupidity. What else does he have to offer her as a third son? Until she suggested he write, Colin had no purpose. He remains unsure if he has enough talent to author a book. He has good looks and a comfortable inheritance, but he offers her no title and no grandiose home.

Colin is a flirt, but rather awkward. Most women lose interest when he shows his personality to be rather excitable, enthusiastic about food, and overly sentimental. He worries that if he does not spoil Penelope with his love and affection she will eventually realize he has nothing to offer her.

He falls deeper in love with her each day, but he is all too aware of her emotional distance sometimes. If it is not because of his lackluster offerings as a potential husband, Colin cannot fathom any reason why she would hold herself apart from him when it is clear she desires him and his romantic attention. From what he has learned from his family, Penelope has possessed deep feelings for him for a long time now. He hopes that she has not decided him unworthy of her affections now that he pursues her.

Shaking off his insecurity, Colin peers at Daphne. "Would you like to come with me, sister?" he asks. "You have a great eye for these things."

"Of course," Daphne replies happily. "Simon shall be useless for the day and Augie would appreciate the fresh air."

"I will never miss an opportunity to spend time with my nephew," Colin answers. "While you gather him, I can have a footman ready the carriage."

-- Wednesday, November 22, 1815

Wednesday morning starts with a shared morning meal between Penelope and her Mama. After easy conversation about their plans for the day, Mama retreats upstairs to choose her wardrobe for the evening's dinner party, and Penelope settles in to read a book in the private drawing room. Quiet hours pass as Penelope waits for morning calling hours to begin. The ticking of the grandfather clock on the mantle and the turning of pages are the only sounds in the room for over two hours. Her peace is abruptly interrupted by loud shouting.

"Mrs. Varley!" Mama shouts from a distance. Penelope startles in her window seat at the sound. Her mother sounds deeply frightened. "Varley, where are you?!"

Penelope blinks at the sound. She hears the fast-moving click of her Mama's heels and alarm settles into her chest. She closes her book and drops it onto the window seat to stand up. Penelope smoothes her skirts down as she hurries out of the drawing room.

As she enters the entrance hall, Penelope hears her mother's panicked breathing. Penelope glances up at the stairs, seeing her Mama moving quickly down each one with her skirts hiked high in one hand.

"Mama, what is it?" she asks as her mother reaches the landing.

Mama swings around with crumpled parchment in her hand. Her face is pale with worry and her mouth trembles. "Philippa sent word. She has not been able to drink or eat for three days," Mama answers, her voice shaking. "Mr. Finch sent for a doctor. I fear for her health."

Penelope gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. She and Philippa are not close, but the thought of her sister's health diminishing at such a rapid pace causes dread to pool into her stomach. Oh, and what of the child she carries? Philippa and Mr. Finch must be beside themselves.

"Shall she and the baby be alright?" Penelope questions.

"I do not know, dear," Mama replies. She presses the back of her hand to her temple in visible distress. For a moment it is quiet, and then Penelope sees her mother's worry transform into frustrated rage. "Mrs. Varley! Make haste! "

Their housekeeper appears from the back gardens, carrying a large basket of fresh vegetables picked from the garden. She looks harried and sweaty. As though she ran here with her heavy load after hearing her Mama scream.

"What is it, ma'am?" Varley asks, out of breath. A nearby footman takes the basket from her hands and Varley spares him a grateful look as she hurries over to where they stand.

"I need you to prepare yourself at once to head to the Finch home," Mama orders. "Philippa needs extra care. I shall get the carriage prepared."

"Right away, ma'am," Mrs. Varley replies. Mama dismisses her housekeeper with a look and Mrs. Varley moves quickly towards the stairs headed to the servant's quarters.

"Are you not going as well, Mama?" Penelope asks, watching her Mama read the crumpled letter in her hand. Her face is nearly gray with her worry. Mama looks up at her, taken aback by the question. For a moment, her mouth opens and closes, before she sighs heavily.

"I cannot possibly, Penelope," Mama replies.

Penelope's brow furrows as she asks, "Whyever not?"

"To leave you here? All alone?" Mama asks, aghast. "I cannot. I will not abandon you." She folds the letter into a tight square and looks away.

"Mama, Philippa needs you," Penelope insists. Her mother looks torn. It is clear she does not wish for Penelope to feel neglected but she desperately wants to go check on her daughter and grandchild. "You will be naught but an hour's journey away by carriage," Penelope says. "If you are gone for longer than a day or two, you can send for me."

"Are you certain, Penelope?" she asks, hesitant. Tears brim her mother's eyes. Penelope has never seen her mother this frantic. She appears to have been quite honest when she told Penelope that she wanted to do better by her family. "I do not want you to think I do not care about your safety."

"Mama, I am well. I have the household staff and the Bridgertons are just across the square," Penelope replies earnestly. Her Mama remains unconvinced. Penelope steps forward and grabs her mother's hand into her own. Mama stares at their hands. She continues to be unused to such expressions of physical love. It breaks Penelope's heart to truly understand how foreign this all is to her Mama.

"It is not just me that you need to show up for," Penelope says quietly. Mama sucks in a tremulous breath as their eyes meet. Seeing her Mama genuinely try to be good to her and her sisters brings a lightness to Penelope's mind. Despite all the terrible things she has done, her Mama wants to be better.

"Very well," Mama replies after a long staring match between them. It is obvious that she searches for approval in Penelope's gaze, and once she finds it, her resolve settles in place. To Penelope's shock, her mother presses a firm kiss to her temple. She pulls back, cups Penelope's face, and gives her a firm nod.

Mama steps away from Penelope to turn back towards the staircase. "Mrs. Varley, pack me a bag as well! We must make haste," Mama yells.

She lifts her skirts high, higher than propriety allows, and runs. Penelope watches her mother hurry upstairs. Penelope turns to a footman, who looks shocked by the display of the Lady of the House.

"Prepare the carriage at once, please," Penelope instructs.

He gives her a nod and then leaves to do as ordered with a swift bow. Penelope hastens to the kitchen. She shall have Cook prepare some food for the Finch household and her Mama's journey there.

Colin reads over his first journey across the Italian border. The morning sun shines through his windows as he hunches over his journal of the day. While he had not forgotten about the first port city in Italy he visited, it has been months since he read his entry about it.

Livorno is my first stop after crossing the Italian border. It sits on the western coast of Tuscany. Trade in the area, much like every port city outside of Britain, rose and fell with the rage of war and politics. The Congress of Vienna negotiated the exchange of French power over to the Austrians, which released the constraints of Livorno's trading with the British Levant Company.

Considering the port city has only recently been released from Napoleonic rule a month prior, I was rather apprehensive about how my presence would be received. Other English men I met knew of the city, but they called it "Leghorn" and it used to be a booming city for British writers, artists, philosophers, and travelers such as myself until the French took over and prohibited both trade and cultural exchange.

I only learned the real name of this city from an Italian bloke I befriended in Nice. Aubrelio was born in Livorno. He moved across the French border for an apprenticeship. I intended to head directly to either Florence or Rome, but his description of this town rang vividly in my mind and drew my attention.

He spoke of a city built upon water, where the canals outnumbered the stone walkways. He told tales of men and women living so close to the water's edge that they could not stumble drunkenly out of their homes for fear of taking a frigid dip straight into the sea.

His lamentations about the seafood proved enticing as well. It took a fair bit of finagling to barter my way onto a ship with such short notice…

A knock on the door partially distracts Colin from his scribbling. "Come in!" he calls out, hastily trying to finish his sentence. He hears the door open and then shut.

"It has been quite the festive morning," Eloise's voice sounds amused. Surprised, he looks up from his desk to smile at his sister. He was uncertain which family member made an appearance at his door but Eloise was not his first guess. He rather thought Anthony would show up feeling sentimental but trying his best to hide it.

At John's announcement of their engagement, Anthony put on a stoic face but Colin knew him well enough to notice the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Colin was sure he saw his brother's lip wobble as well, but Anthony would fervently deny such a thing.

"It certainly has!" Colin replies jovially. He remains overwhelmingly happy for Francesca. Seeing their sweet love blossom tickles his fancy for romance, but he finds himself wistful that he is not yet engaged. "I am quite pleased John worked up the courage to propose. He is a great fellow."

Eloise moves toward his desk.

"I rather thought Anthony would perish after choking on his chocolate biscuit at the announcement," Eloise replies. Colin laughs loudly.

"It was quite comical," Colin admits. "Was it me or did Kate seem a little too enthused to hit his back?"

"With the strength of her blows, he surely has done something to irk her," Eloise answers, snickering. She slouches down into a seat near his desk. Colin arches an eyebrow at her terrible posture, but since Mother is not around to see, he keeps his comments to himself.

"Are they still celebrating the news?"

"Most of them are," Eloise replies. "Anthony switches between being proud and looking teary-eyed about another one of his siblings being engaged."

Colin feels an amused smirk cross his face. "I cannot wait to see how he responds to Hyacinth or Gregory entering the marriage mart."

The thought makes them both laugh.

"Why are you sequestered in here, brother?" she asks. "Are you moping about the chocolate macaron Benedict stole?" Her teasing makes him chuckle. Colin shuffles his papers into a neat pile as he prepares himself to be honest with his rather opinionated sister.

"No, I am drafting a manuscript," Colin replies nervously. "Penelope has made me think of publishing."

"Penelope?" Eloise says. She sits up, suddenly alert. Colin wonders why she is invested in their conversation after that pronouncement. "She wants you to write?"

"Well yes, she discovered my fondness for journaling and has expressed that she thinks I would be rather good at it."

Something flashes across Eloise's expression but it disappears too quickly for Colin to understand what it was. "Are you going to write a column like Lady Whistledown?"

"Uh, no," Colin replies, startled. "I like to share gossip with people I trust, not scribblers who insult my sister."

Eloise visibly winces. "You have been so angry with Whistledown," she says slowly. She appears pensive and concerned. "Does that not affect your choice in profession?"

"There is a part of me that would like to march to her house with a pitchfork. If you wished me to, I still would," Colin says. "But in truth, everything that has happened of late has softened me, I suppose."

"You mean everything with Penelope?"

"I know you do not wish to hear it, but it is truly bewildering how quickly one person can become all that matters," Colin replies honestly. The depth of his regard surprises him sometimes. "My only concern now is with her well-being and our future together."

"Your future?" Eloise asks, voice strangled. Colin thought Eloise and Penelope resolved their fight, but perhaps he was overly enthusiastic about how close they had reconnected. Maybe he was a fool to think that Eloise would be happy about him pursuing her best friend.

"I shall ask her to marry me. One day soon, I hope," Colin answers earnestly. "I do not think she is ready yet, but when she is, I will delight in making her my wife."

"Very well," Eloise replies. Her eyes glimmer with shock and concern. Colin decides not to question the strange response. He is sure that she will tell him her reasons to be reticent at some point, even if it is not today.

Instead, he glances down at his parchment and says, "I know you are not enthusiastic about reading my letters, but if I were good enough to publish, would you read my book, sister?"

Eloise does not speak for a long time. Colin looks up at her. She studies him intently. A furrow of stress between her brows. "I shall support you in all your dreams, brother," Eloise replies quietly. "I shall leave you to write."

"Thank you, sister," he replies. She gives him a fond, yet troubled smile before she leaves his study.

"A visitor for you, Miss," a footman announces towards the end of calling hours.

Her Mama and Mrs. Varley departed a half-hour ago. Penelope received strict instructions to take care of herself. She is allowed to have the Bridgertons over, but calling hours are closed to everyone else and the footmen have been ordered to turn anyone but them away.

Penelope sits up eagerly on the settee. She expects Colin to enter the room. Instead, Eloise hustles inside with a harried look on her face.

"Eloise?" she asks, surprise coloring her tone. She watches as Eloise shoos the footman away with an impatient hand gesture. The footman looks at her askance, but Penelope waves his concern away.

"What—," she begins, only for Eloise to cut her off.

Eloise does not give Penelope a chance to greet her fully. "Can we speak privately?" she interrupts. Penelope looks surprised, but she stands from her window seat and nods. A furrow of concern appears between her eyebrows as she motions for Eloise to head toward the staircase.

"Of course," she agrees. "Let us go upstairs."

The second Penelope's bedchamber door shuts behind her, Eloise bursts out, "You must tell him! His affection grows by the day."

Penelope swings around, startled.

"I have been trying to find the right moment," Penelope replies, but Eloise starts shaking her head before she finishes the sentence. She paces in front of her best friend. Her panic makes it impossible to stand still. Penelope's blue eyes follow her as she moves back and forth.

"There is no right moment, Pen," Eloise responds. "No matter how or when you confess to him, it will be overwhelming. I look at his face and see how deeply in love he is. I cannot keep your secret and shield my brother's heart at the same time."

"I just need more time."

"No!" Eloise shouts. She can feel a nauseating panic surge into her throat, nearly choking her with stress. "You do not understand, Penelope. He will ask you to marry him!"

Penelope gasps, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

"And you cannot accept until he knows that you are Whistledown!" Eloise says in a harsh whisper. "It would be a disservice to both you and him to enter an engagement, much less a marriage, with him not knowing the truth."

Eloise watches Penelope's mouth open and shut. Her blue eyes swell with tears as she presses a hand to her chest, visibly trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart. It clearly does not work. Her chest begins rising faster as her anxiety grows.

"Eloise," she chokes out. "I am terrified."

"My brother is a forgiving man, but the longer you fail to tell him, the more devastated he will be by your lack of honesty."

Eloise thought she knew what devastation looked like. What she imagined seems trivial in comparison to the expression on Penelope's face. Her best friend is naturally fairer-skinned, but she turns ashen white. The mere thought of hurting her brother appears to break something inside Penelope. It is apparent that she loves him. She seems to love him more than she loves anything else in this world.

"It does not matter," Penelope says, closing her eyes. Eloise still sees her tears fall. She cannot even look at Eloise as she places a hand over her stomach. Her lips tremble as she continues, "I have chosen to quit Whistledown."

Eloise stills. She stares as Penelope's cheeks turn ruddy with suppressed sadness. Her lips pinch together; the usually pink skin turning white with stress. She plans to quit Whistledown? Once upon a time, those words would have brought Eloise great joy and satisfaction. Now, after their reconciliation and understanding the sheer magnitude of Penelope's accomplishment, she cannot fathom being happy about her no longer writing.

"Would you choose to rid yourself of your life's work?" Eloise asks, stunned.

"There may be another opportunity for me to write. There is no other Colin. He is everything," Penelope replies. Her voice is tremulous. She swallows hard as her eyes dampen with tears despite her rapid blinking. "You and your family are everything to me, El. I have dreamed of being a Bridgerton since the day we became friends. I would like to become your sister and Colin's wife above everything else, even my writing."

"I do not know if this is wise," Eloise responds. "You can be a Bridgerton and a writer."

"I do not understand you! I cannot be both!" Penelope cries. She tosses her hands in the air, exasperated. It is her turn to pace back and forth. "You were furious with me for months over being Whistledown and now that I choose to put down my quill, you are upset with me for it?"

"You should not have to sacrifice who you are. There must be compromise yes, but this seems wholly unreasonable," Eloise insists. "You deserve someone to love every part of you, Penelope."

"I choose Colin," Penelope replies firmly. Her blue eyes blaze with resolution, even if her heartbreak is on display. "I choose your family."

"What you love to do should be a part of that choice," Eloise protests. "My brother will be angry, Pen but he will forgive you!"

"I am not Whistledown," Penelope responds. "She is naught but a literary persona."

"Whistledown and you are the same person, Penelope!" Eloise says. "You have one voice. Your thoughts shine through no matter what name you give yourself. Whistledown has always been you . There is no shame in having to work past your resentment and displeasure with others. It may not have been the best choice to do so publicly, but as you have grown, so has your publication. Whistledown is documented proof of this."

"How can Colin possibly love me when I have done so many things wrong, El?"

"Your logic does not stand to reason!" Eloise responds. "How can you possibly love me when I have done so many things wrong?"

"You have never put cruel things into print about people you love."

"No, I have not, but love is not about what you have and have not done. Everyone makes mistakes. I love you despite all the misguided things you have done. I love you for all the ways you continuously try to repent for your mistakes. I love you as you are."

"He hates Whistledown. He will never love me if I reveal myself to him," Penelope replies distraught. Eloise keeps her mouth shut as she looks at her best friend. Penelope is clearly torn about what she has decided. And what a difficult choice it must be for her to make.

Eloise steps forward, reaching out a hand to Penelope. Her friend's face twists with sadness but she takes the offered handhold. "I do not know what it is like to put myself out into the world with no protection, but your talent deserves to be recognized by whomever you love," Eloise implores. "Give him a chance to make that choice."

Penelope's face crumples with tears. She presses a trembling hand to her chest as the fingers of her other hand clutch Eloise's. "I am so scared, El," she admits. Eloise's heart breaks for her friend.

"My Mama told me that love requires flexibility; you can be hurt by someone and still love them," she says, hoping that the words offer Penelope some comfort. "If Colin cannot see past his anger when he finds out, then he never loved you in the first place. You deserve so much more than having to hide yourself away."

Tears spill over the brim of Penelope's blue eyes and she sits heavily along the side of her bed. Eloise sits down with her, scooting close to offer her friend a shoulder to lean on.

"It took me a really long time to see how gifted you are. Part of my reticence came from jealousy," Eloise admits. She feels embarrassed by how her envy kept her distant from someone she fiercely admired and loved. Penelope stares at her, flummoxed. "You have made a name for yourself. Your writing has brought you great accolades and given you a voice in a world where women are so often ignored."

"You think I am gifted?" Penelope questions. The shock in her voice nearly brings Eloise to emotional collapse. She cannot believe how surprised Penelope is to hear her praise. She truly has done an awful job of supporting the people in her life. From Daphne to Colin's surprise only hours ago and now to Penelope. It dismays her greatly how much damage she has done, and yet she continues to be loved fiercely.

How can Penelope not see the parallels between them?

Eloise sighs heavily.

"Oh, Pen. I have not said it before," Eloise tells her, "but I am so proud of all you have accomplished."

"You are?" Penelope asks, her tears increasing.

"Yes, very much so," Eloise assures her fervently. Penelope cries harder. "Colin has a gentle soul. He will be heartbroken, but his love for you will outlast it. You shall have to be strong in faith for the both of you."

Eloise does not think Colin will respond to the news well when she first confesses, but she can feel the depth of his devotion for Penelope. He will come around but Penelope cannot let him discover it on his own or he may never forgive her for her dishonesty.

"I do not wish to hurt him," Penelope replies. " I love him, Eloise."

"I know, but you will hurt him more if he was to discover this on his own," Eloise answers. Seeing Penelope's pain brings tears to her own eyes. "You are brave and strong and you know as well as I, that you cannot continue keeping him in the dark. If you do not tell him, I will have to. I love you, but he is my brother."

"I am so sorry I have put you in this uncomfortable position between me and him," Penelope says, weeping. Eloise wraps her arm around Penelope's shoulders. Her best friend melts into her side.

"I can give you another day to tell him, but he is already talking of marriage," Eloise whispers. She presses a kiss to Penelope's temple. "It cannot wait much longer. Allow him the opportunity to love all of you, Pen."

Penelope cries for a long time. Eloise can feel the collar of her day dress become wet with tears, but she continues holding Pen the entire time. She has no words of comfort to offer her friend. Nothing she has to say will bring Penelope peace. All she can do is support her and love her through whatever happens.

Penelope cries herself out for over half an hour. She sits up, sniffling. Her face is puffy and red. Eloise runs over to wet a cloth in the basin of water on the dresser. When she returns, Eloise gently cleans Penelope's face.

"What if he decides to end our courtship?" Penelope asks. Her voice trembles. The sadness in her blue eyes makes Eloise's heart hurt for her friend. She does not reply immediately. Instead, she cleans the rest of Penelope's face.

"Then, you must respect his choice," Eloise responds. She sits back, dropping the damp towel to her lap. Penelope's face crumples again, but she fights back her tears as Eloise continues, "I know my brother. It will take him time, but I truly believe that he will find his way back to you no matter how displeased he is at first."

Penelope nods but does not speak. Eloise returns the washcloth to the basin.

Penelope remains silent as they retreat downstairs. Eloise hates the desolate expression on her face.

As they reach the bottom of the stairs, Eloise finally notices the quiet of the household. Usually, she has seen or heard from Lady Featherington or their housekeeper, Mrs. Varley by this time.

"Is your Mama here?" she asks. Penelope shakes her head.

"No, Philippa is gravely ill," she replies quietly. "She has not been able to keep food nor drink down for three days and they had to call a doctor. Mama left this morning to help care for her."

"Oh, Pen," she says sorrowfully. What a day Eloise has chosen to issue her best friend an ultimatum. She worries over her sister's declining health and now she must soon reveal herself to the man she loves about being the writer he hates.

Watching her friend's lost expression, Eloise cannot leave her here alone. Penelope's face remains paler than normal. Her blue eyes are red-rimmed and sorrowful. It nears the supper hour, and Eloise has nowhere else to offer her friend solace beside her home. She is uncertain if Penelope will agree after their fraught conversation.

"Would you like to come to Bridgerton House for supper?" Eloise inquires. "It may be better than dining here alone?"

"Perhaps," Penelope replies. "I may be able to find a moment alone with Colin."

"That was not my reason for inviting you, Pen," Eloise says. She does not want Penelope to feel like she is forcing her hand even more tonight.

"I know," she responds. "However, if the opportunity arises, I might as well take it if I find myself brave enough."

When Penelope enters the Bridgerton dining room, seven pairs of eyes settle upon her. The Duke and Duchess appear to be missing from the residence this evening but every other Bridgerton, including Kathani are present at the table.

"Pen!" Colin says, delighted. He stands from his seat next to Benedict and strides over to her. She cannot help but smile at him. His handsome face makes her heart sing with joy each time she is near him. "Are you joining us for supper?"

He appears beside himself with happiness. Her heart lurches in her chest. She will never be used to his excitement for her nearness.

"Yes," she replies. "Eloise invited me over. If that is alright, Violet?"

"Of course it is, dear!" Violet responds from her seat at the end of the table. "Can we have another place prepared for Penelope?" she asks a maid. The maid nods and leaves the room quickly.

"Might she sit next to me, Mother?" Colin asks. Penelope blushes but grins at his eagerness. It would be wonderful to be so close to his warmth and scent.

"What if I wish her to sit near me?" Eloise retorts. Colin rolls his eyes.

"You spent all afternoon with her, El," he replies. "I have not seen her since Friday!"

"That is enough, you two," Kate says firmly. "She can sit next to Colin tonight, Eloise. The next time she attends supper with us, she can sit next to you."

Colin looks smug. Eloise rolls her eyes this time but acquiesces to the solution. Penelope sees Eloise's concerned look and she gives her a brief nod. She is alright for the moment. Eloise's shoulders relax and she takes her seat next to Francesca.

Colin takes her hand into his own and leads her to the new place setting to his right. The warmth of his hand grounds her thoughts. It feels so good to be close to him again. She truly has missed his presence. Just being near him, allows some of her frenetic thoughts to settle.

He pulls the chair out for her and helps her sit. When he seats himself next to her, Penelope does not hesitate to grab his right hand under the table. Colin's ears burn red, but he gives her a sweet smile that makes her heart race.

She loves this man so much. Supper passes with easy conversation and great food. Penelope finds herself quieter than usual. Eloise tries to hide her worry and mostly fails. Colin entwines their fingers and holds her hand throughout the entire meal.

Penelope knows Colin notices her lackluster energy and lack of appetite. She can barely stomach a quarter of her food. The Bridgertons continue as normal, but Penelope is no fool. Colin clocked her reserve and distance from the second they sat down. Eloise shooting her concerned looks drew the attention of Violet.

None of them comment on it though to Penelope's gratitude. She would have no idea what to say if they asked anyway. After supper, they all retreat to the Bridgerton drawing room for a round of charades.

It is telling that Violet does not protest Colin's grip on her hand as she is led to the private drawing room. They all settle in together. Eloise goes first. Penelope fails to hear the question as her mind drifts into troubled thoughts. Hearing Anthony shout, "Lilacs!" does not even startle her.

Penelope slumps against Colin's side. He glances down at her, surprised but also worried. Lost in thought, Penelope lets her temple rest against Colin's shoulder. She feels him stiffen before he relaxes completely. Their hands entwine and he sweeps his thumb along the meat of her palm in comforting circles.

He tilts his head to rest against the crown of her head and Penelope's world surrenders. She is absolutely gone for Colin Bridgerton. The wave of love, comfort, and safety that washes over her makes her heart swell to an impossible size. It is quickly followed by sheer devastation.

She is an imposter in this house. She has caused great damage to this incredible family of loving, and imperfect people. His regard for her is powerful. Being by Colin's side, she feels the butterflies of romance, the shine of friendship, and she knows in the depths of her soul that she cannot continue basking in his love and affection without him knowing the truth.

Penelope can feel the stitches of her social graces come unglued. Her heart races in her chest with little warning and her breathing stutters. She wants this life of love and romance with him so badly, but Eloise is right. She cannot have this with him if he does not know. She sits up abruptly. The movement startles Benedict who sits next to them on the settee.

"Pen, are you alright?" Colin asks, alarmed. She feels her hand start to shake, and her skin starts feeling clammy against his own.

"I am…," She says, heart racing, "...hot. Is it warm in this room?"

Her speech comes out breathless. It makes Colin lean forward in his seat. He tightens his grip on her hand as Penelope's composure disintegrates. She cannot breathe all of a sudden. Letting go of Colin's hand, she presses it against her corset. It is suddenly too tight for her to suck in a full breath.

"Penelope?" he asks, the worry heightens in his blue eyes as he looks her over. His attempt to find the source of her ailment fails. She presses a hand to her chest feeling lightheaded and overcome.

"I do not feel well," she replies, gasping.

"Mother," Benedict calls, alarmed. She can feel him press a hand to the back of her shoulder.

Penelope feels her breathing pick up. She cannot get enough air. The game of charades fades against the escalating pace of her heartbeat.

"Pen," Colin sounds like he is underwater. She feels him squeeze her hand, trying to get her attention. "What is wrong?" Hearing his worry and seeing his blue eyes dark with concern spins her into a deeper spiral. The edges of her vision go black.

She loves him so much. She does not wish to lose him.

Penelope stands from the couch abruptly. She wants to run away but she stumbles, feeling dizzy.

"Pen?" That is Eloise. She sounds as concerned as Colin does. She feels a warm hand settle on her waist and Penelope gasps for air. The room suddenly feels far away and her vision blurs.

"Penelope, what is it?" Colin's voice rings with fear and confusion. She turns to face him and his blue eyes are lasered onto her own. A furrow of stress sits deeply between his eyes and his mouth twists into a concerned frown.

Penelope feels the tears rush forward immediately.

"Colin, I…" she begins, but her voice shakes too much for her to continue. She feels tears spring from her eyes and Colin's alarm grows. He steps in front of her, grasping both of her elbows in his hands.

"Brother, help her sit," Benedict says as he crowds in close on her left side.

"Mrs. Wilson!" Anthony calls.

There are frantic whispers in the background, too low in volume for Penelope to understand. The force of her tears increases. Penelope grasps on to Colin's biceps to hold herself upright.

"Pen," Colin sounds desperate. "What is wrong? Talk to me, sweetheart."

His sweet words only make her world disintegrate. "Colin," she says. Her fingers dig into his shirtsleeves and Colin steps closer. His gaze turns frantic. "I have…I have to tell you something."

Colin's confusion and panic are clear to see. The thought of him hating her and rescinding his regard causes her heart rate to accelerate to dangerous levels. "I cannot breathe," she gasps, using a hand to clutch her chest.

Penelope cannot get enough air. The room spins and her legs quake underneath her. She grabs Colin's chest to keep herself standing and he grasps onto her as she loses her balance. Penelope feels another large hand cup the back of her shoulder.

The touch is foreign, but she recognizes the voice of Benedict as it follows, "El, can you get a cold cloth?"

Penelope slumps into Colin's chest as her vision grays out. "Colin," she chokes out. "I cannot breathe." His handsome face switches from concern to terror in a split second.

"Pen!"

Then, there is nothing but darkness.

-- Thursday, November 23, 1815

The Thursday sky remains near dark as Colin arrives at the Featherington house. It is just past daybreak, but he could not wait any longer to make his way across the square. Sleep was unfathomable last night. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees her face go lax and her blue eyes dull as she folds inward. The sight of her collapse is burned into his memory.

Penelope remained unconscious for at least a quarter of an hour. Anthony rushed a doctor to their home and Colin was forcefully shut out of the bedchamber during her examination. It took Benedict and Anthony both to drag him away. He feels like he failed her. She came to him for help and he'd been able to do nothing for her. The sound of her saying his name over and over again last night surely took years off his life from fright. He has no understanding of what was wrong and being forcibly separated from her when her health is undetermined drove him to the brink of madness. Colin nearly fought off both his brothers when they kept him locked out of the room where Penelope was being checked over.

When he discovered that she had been taken home, Eloise at her side for the night, without him being allowed to see her; he shouted himself hoarse. The insecurity at not being able to help her flared hot and blinding inside him. He'd been utterly useless to her during her plight, and now because he is neither her family nor her husband, he is unable to be with her due to propriety. He cannot lose her.

Eloise gets to be with her through the night. She is free to sleep in her bedchamber and watch over Penelope all night, while Colin is forced to stay at home and not be by her side. It is ridiculous. His ire burns hot at not being allowed to be with her.

He cannot lose her. He loves her so much that it causes him physical pain to be away from her while she is in need of comfort and care.

He failed her last night. How is he to be a good husband to Penelope? He was unable to help her before she lost consciousness. Something was clearly causing her great strain and he had no idea what it was. He cannot spend another night away from her. She needs him. He must convince her that she can trust him with whatever caused her distress last night.

Colin marches to the front door of the Featherington home. It is uncouth for him to darken the doorstep of a young lady's home this early in the morning, but he cannot wait another moment to check her welfare. He loves her. He cannot lose her.

When a harried footman answers the door, he appears shocked and displeased at his presence so early in the morning.

"I must speak with Miss Penelope," Colin says, bodily forcing his way past the surprised servant.

"Miss Penelope has not risen for the day," he objects. Colin gets halted in the doorway by a strong arm blocking his way.

"Please," Colin says, near begging. "I must see her." The footman's eyes are wide at Colin's lack of dignity or composure, but he stands firm.

"Mr. Bridgerton, this is most inappropriate," he replies.

Colin loses the last thread of his patience. "I need to see her!" he exclaims. The footman releases an irritated sigh, but his eyes are compassionate.

"I shall send a maid to see if she is willing," the footman replies. "Stay here! If you move forward any further, I have the permission of Lady Featherington to show you out by any means necessary."

Although pissed off, Colin nods. The footman sends a nervous-looking maid up the stairs. Colin paces like a trapped animal, but the footman watches him sternly for any furtive movements. It seems to take forever, but cannot be more than five minutes before the maid appears and Penelope comes down with her.

"Colin," she says and Colin wants to weep at the sight of her. Her dressing gown gapes open to show her sleeveless night dress. Her red curls are braided and her blue eyes are red-rimmed and wide. She looks pale and exhausted, but she is breathing and conscious and alive. She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Emotion sweeps over him as she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

"Pen," he breathes as he sweeps her into an embrace. She gasps but allows her arms to wrap around his neck and hug him back as firmly. Colin takes in the clove scent of her hair and neck. He can feel her warm and alive in his arms.

It settles the panic lingering in the back of his mind. The footman makes a loud disagreeable sound and the two of them separate. Penelope's eyes are bright with unshed tears and Colin is dismayed to know that her physical form has recovered, but she remains emotionally distraught.

"Can we talk?" he asks urgently. "Even if it is only for a few moments?"

"Of course," she agrees. "I wish to speak with you about something important as well."

Penelope leads him out into the Featherington garden. They sit on a bench. Her lady's maid Rae has finally made an appearance and she takes over chaperoning for the footman.

"I had to see if you were well. I could not wait," Colin tells her. "I know it is not appropriate to arrive near dawn."

"I feel a little better," she replies.

"You look tired, darling," he says sorrowfully. Coin's insecurities rise without compunction. "I wish I had been able to care for you more last night."

Penelope's brow furrows as she looks at him. "Colin, you've done nothing wrong."

"I could not sleep last night. They did not let me see you before you were taken home," he admits. "The doctor would not tell me anything because I am not your kin nor your husband."

Penelope's blue eyes fill with tears. "I am so sorry to have worried you, but I am alright. There is something I need to tell you—"

"Penelope, will you marry me?" Colin blurts. Penelope freezes mid-sentence. Her blue eyes grow wide and shocked. Colin cannot stop talking. "Being unable to be by your side while you were ill was dreadful. I never want to have to be apart from you again when you need me."

Colin expected tears at his proposal, but he did not expect anguish. "Colin, I cannot," she says, her breath quickening again. Oh God, was it him? Did he cause her such distress? Perhaps, he read her feelings wrong. Perhaps, she realized that he would be a lacking husband.

"Did I do something?" Colin asks, devastated but trying to keep himself together. "I understand if your feelings have changed."

"That is not–," Penelope protests shrilly. Her panic crescendoes as she stands up from the bench. "Colin, you are the air that I breathe!"

"Then why are you saying no?" he yells. This is madness. How can she declare him the air that she breathes, but then rejects his offer of marriage? Time and time again, Penelope has confounded him. She does not make sense!

"Because I am Whistledown," she snaps back. Her face turns ashen as she covers her mouth. She swallows visibly, and Colin's entire world shudders to a stop. "I am Lady Whistledown."

Penelope watches his face go slack as her words hit him fully. He stares at her for the longest time, blank-faced.

"Colin?" she asks, stepping forward. Her movement rouses him from his shock. The rage burns hot across his expression; quickly followed by betrayal and hurt. He steps away from her.

"Is this what you meant by I do not know you?" he asks, voice catching on the words. Seeing his dark blue eyes fill with tears breaks her own heart.

"Yes," she admits.

"Is this what you've been trying to tell me all along?" he responds. His breathing visibly hitches.

"I have tried telling you so many times," Penelope says. "I could not find the words because I knew it would hurt you."

"You could not find the words? How ironic for Lady Whistledown to be speechless," he says, tone scathing.

Colin laughs, but it is an ugly, torn-apart sound. He stares at her. The hurt in his gaze makes her lips tremble in response. A pit of despair chasms wide in her stomach as his eyes glow with growing tears. He looks utterly betrayed.

"All the lies you've told me," he whispers. Tears fall from his eyes and Penelope shakes her head frantically.

"I have not lied to you," she protests.

"All the cruel things you've said about me," he responds, talking over her as he continues, "About my family, about yourself!"

"I never meant to be cruel," she says tearfully. "I am so sorry for the mistakes I have made."

"I knew you were holding something back from me! " he shouts. Penelope startles back at the loudness of his voice. He is enraged, but the hurt and insecurity bleeds through. Seeing him cry makes her stomach churn in agony.

"I thought it was nerves or second thoughts about me," he says, crying. "To think I considered myself undeserving of your regard and all this time you have been playing me for a fool."

"Colin, I did not. I was frightened—"

"I care for you deeply but I do not know if I can forgive you for this."

"Colin," Penelope gasps. She can feel the despair burn behind her eyes as she starts crying. He backs away from her. His eyes appear wild with panic.

"I have—," Colin's words cut off as his chest heaves. "I have to go."

"Colin!"

"I am so blindingly angry with you right now," Colin replies sharply. "I cannot think. I must go before I say something I regret."

"I love you, please do not leave things this way."

Colin stumbles at her words. His tears bleed over and then he says, "I must go."

He shakes his head quickly, another set of tears trailing down his handsome face. She watches him turn on his heel and stride back towards the house. Penelope's chest rattles with a sob. He disappears into the doors of the Featherington House before she runs after him.

"Colin, please!"

Shouting wakes Eloise from her slumber. She bolts up in bed at the sound. Bleary-eyed, she glances over toward Penelope. When she sees the mussed sheets and empty side of the bed, Eloise's heart drops. She shoves the blankets off her legs and rushes to the door. When she opens the heavy wooden door, she hears a plaintive cry of, " Colin, please! "

She runs. Her bare feet are freezing along the wooden floors and she lifts the hem of her night dress in one hand to move faster. Eloise feels her sleeping braid come undone as she swings herself quickly around the corner. Over the railing of the staircase, she sees the back of Colin's head as he storms out of the front door that a footman holds ajar for him.

Eloise makes haste down the stairs when she sees Penelope's red hair bounce in a braid behind her as she runs after Colin.

"Colin," she says, voice breaking on each syllable. "Please do not leave!"

Colin does not stop. He breaks into a run himself and disappears into the street.

"Pen!" Eloise calls out as her friend stops in the middle of the entranceway. Her hands clutch her stomach as the footman awkwardly closes the front door. Penelope looks up at her and Eloise gasps at the sight of her best friend.

Penelope's face is red and streaked with tears. Her sleeping braid has come loose in places which only adds to the disheveled devastation on her face.

"El," she chokes out. "He knows."

Eloise reaches the bottom of the staircase as Penelope goes wild-eyed, her chest rising and falling with panicked breaths.

"How did he find out?"

"I told him," she replies distraught. Eloise hurries over to her as Penelope's tears break free. "He asked me to marry him and I had to say no."

A deep, guttural sob comes from Penelope as her friend loses all composure. Eloise grabs her hands as Penelope shakes her head in distress.

"Eloise, I cannot," she cries. "I love him and I told him no."

"Oh, Pen," Eloise says. Penelope's body shakes with the strength of her cries and Eloise feels her own heartbreak.

"He left," Penelope says through wracking sobs. "He left."

Eloise pulls her best friend into a fierce hug as she completely falls apart. When Penelope loses her legs, Eloise catches her. They slide to the ground, sitting on the frigid tile. Eloise rocks Penelope in her arms, trying desperately to soothe her.

Eloise saw Penelope devastated after everything with Marina and her father's death, but this sort of grief has no name. Heartbreak does not seem fitting for the way Penelope cries. Eloise lets Penelope slide into her embrace, her smaller friend's hands clutching the cotton of her night dress.

"I have you, Pen," she whispers. "I am here."

Penelope lets out a wailing cry into Eloise's chest. Eloise feels her desolation reverberate throughout the room. It echoes off the walls and sends a flood of tears to Eloise's eyes. She remembers hearing a cry like that when Hyacinth was born.

She knows that sound. It is the audible grief of losing a great love. She never thought she would have to hear it again. Anthony was the one who held Mama together when her world collapsed. Now, Eloise finds she has to hold a shattered Penelope together. She wraps her in a tight hug, rocking her back and forth on the floor of the entrance hall.

Eloise presses firm kisses to Penelope's forehead and wild hair. She does everything she can to anchor Penelope to the ground while she emotionally unravels.

Colin does not know how long he sits, drinking heavy sips from Anthony's decanter of whiskey. Time is meaningless in his mental state. He remains peripherally aware of the way the sun sets through Anthony's office window. The shadows lengthen across the floor until it is near complete darkness. He started with only two fingers of whiskey in a glass. The burn of the alcohol as he swallowed it too quickly was enough to offer a momentary reprieve from the mess of his heartbreak, so he drank another. After the first two glasses, he abandons the glass to gulp straight from the crystal bottle.

Drinking is supposed to numb the mind and body. His only desire is to feel nothing but apparently, alcohol does little to numb the soul. A storm rages inside him -- blinding hurt, fury, terror, betrayal, and humiliation rise in thundering waves.

Colin sways in his seat even though he only sits upright. Either the alcohol or his emotions make him unable to sit steadily; perhaps both are the cause of his dizziness. He reaches for the decanter again when the office door swings open, letting bright candlelight from the corridor into the room.

"Brother?"

He flinches at the sudden brightness and his head swims. Colin feels like a puppet with cut strings. He has little control over his body. Anthony's silhouette fills the doorway and Colin attempts to pull himself together.

Anthony closes the door behind himself before he lights several candles inside the office so he can see. Anthony walks over to the rack, stripping off his overcoat.

"Ant'ny," he slurs his brother's name. He tries to stand up but his drunken legs cannot hold him. His knees buckle and he crashes his hip into the table trying to catch himself. The movement sends the crystal bottle over the edge of the table. It shatters with a loud crash and tinkling of glass. The smell of alcohol blossoms pungently into the room.

"S'it," Colin swears, head swimming. "I cl'n it." Colin tries to lean over to clean up the glass but almost falls headfirst onto the floor. Anthony grabbing his arm is the only thing that prevents Colin from wearing a face full of glass shards.

"Brother, I shall take care of it later," Anthony says, bodily steering him into a different chair. Colin sways and stumbles even with Anthony's firm grip on his bicep and shoulder. Anthony's face swims in his vision as his brother all but drags his wobbly body into an armchair away from the table.

"Did you drink the whole bottle, brother?" Anthony asks worried. "Is something wrong? You are not one to imbibe heavily." Colin does not know what level of devastation his face shows but whatever Anthony reads in his expression is enough to make his brother's face fall in concern.

"Col, what is it?" he asks, "What happened?"

Colin cannot bring himself to respond. He stares up at his brother, completely undone. His vision blurs with tears and he can hear his chest rattle with the overwhelming sense of betrayal and hurt that he can no longer suppress. He feels the first tear trail down his cheek.

The responding worry and love in his elder brother's face breaks him.

His face twists as he cries and Anthony reaches for him immediately. Colin feels himself pulled into his brother's body and on instinct, Colin shoves his face into Anthony's chest. Anthony wraps his arms around his shoulder, one hand cupping the back of Colin's head and he utterly falls apart.

He feels so much hurt that it burns him from the inside out. He does not know if this drowning sadness will ever abate. Penelope is Lady Whistledown. The woman he loves desperately is the same author who brought shame upon everyone he holds dear. How can he possibly reconcile the two? How can his sweet, shy Penelope be so cruel to others? He is so angry, so heartbroken, and yet he still feels a yearning love for her. Does that make him a bad man? To love someone who could cause such hurt and be so deceitful? Would she use all the secrets he has shared with her in her publication? Has she already done so? The things he has revealed to her in confidence are ruinous.

Has he opened himself and his family to destruction? He has not read Whistledown completely in weeks. What if his family's secrets are to be spilled to all of Mayfair? He cannot be such an embarrassment to his family once again. All Colin seems to do is bring shame to the Bridgerton name because he is a fool.

And oh the humiliation; the humiliation runs deep. How could she tell him that he was a good writer? She must have been mocking his novice attempts internally. For her, someone published and well-known, his words must have felt like reading the musings of a simpleton. He cries harder at the thought.

Anthony tightens his hold in response. Colin feels like he cannot breathe. He clutches his brother's waist, needing something to ground him through the flood of insecurity. Colin weeps, ugly and desperately.

"I have you, brother," Anthony whispers. Colin can feel his brother place kisses on the crown of his head. Stroking his curls in an attempt to soothe his sorrow.

Anthony is both a brother and a father to Colin. At eight and ten, Anthony took on the role of father, Viscount, and brother all at once. He carried an enormous burden at such a young age. Colin could remember seeing him try to hide his tears often. He remembered the days when Anthony would check in on each sibling before he could rest.

Anthony rocked Eloise and Francesca to sleep more than once when they awoke from nightmares in the wake of their father's death and the horrific birth of Hyacinth. Gregory slept in the same bedchamber as Anthony for months afraid that their brother would disappear. A two-year-old did not understand death, but Gregory had been smart enough to know that Papa was no longer there for some reason.

Colin was old enough to know Anthony as a brother, but eventually, he turned to Anthony when he needed paternal comfort. Their relationship was often a battle because Anthony was both his brother and his father figure. Their differences in personality and nature led them to misunderstandings and emotional clashes. Anthony did not always make the right choice when trying to communicate with him; sometimes he is abrasive and condescending, but Colin knows that he cares deeply even when it comes across the wrong way. Anthony holding him close is everything Colin needs. There is no censure from his eldest brother.

In the dark of his office, hiding in his eldest brother's strong embrace, Colin feels safe enough to be devastated.

"I have you, Colin," Anthony whispers. "I am here, brother."

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Text

-- Friday, November 24, 1815

Friday morning, his valet shakes Colin into consciousness. He rouses into bleary-eyed wakefulness with an irritated groan. The pounding of his head keeps him splayed across his mattress until well into the afternoon hours. Colin's stomach roils with the toasted rye and butter Charles feeds him in an attempt to sober him up.

Part of Colin remains intoxicated. The hours he slept were not enough for his body to absorb or perspire away all of the spirits he consumed. He thought his bottle-weariness from the Mondrich club was foul but it does not compare to how ill he feels currently.

His vision swims. Blood rushes loudly through his head. All of Colin's limbs are nearly deadweight. Instead of the mental release he desired, Colin is now trapped in a hell of his own making. He lacks the energy and strength to distract himself with movement so he lays under his sheets, sweating the alcohol from his system.

He cannot stop thinking of Penelope. The devastation sliding across her blue eyes, both torrential pools of sorrow and heartbreak as he flees from her confession. The shakiness of her voice calling after him as he exited the Featherington House shall haunt him for the rest of his days.

Colin throws an arm over his head, feeling sluggish and despairing. He knows that leaving her was the right choice but he does not feel good about the way it must have made her feel.

Poisonous words had teetered on the tip of his tongue when his first instinct to lash out flared. He thought of accusing her of entrapment similar to the way her cousin made a fool of him. He wanted to ask if it was a familial trait to betray the trust of male lovers but he managed to refrain. The hateful speech he wanted to spew would have destroyed Penelope and any hope of their future reconciliation. It grieves him to know he is capable of such vitriol and spite.

Colin does not ever remember being this angry. The affair with Miss Thompson sent him spiraling into a chasm of self-pity and self-hatred. Colin figured he could never be hurt as deeply as that again. Oh, how utterly wrong he was to believe that. Stemming from his connection with Penelope, this betrayal shatters him. He'd shed tears over the situation with Miss Thompson but it had felt nothing like this. Last night, it was his soul that wept into Anthony's embrace.

He is drained, emotionally and physically. The mental space where his romantic spirit lived now feels cavernous and scraped raw. He wars with his instincts. Colin desires to run back to her, to keep her safe and soothe her sorrow. Yet, his heart feels shattered and wounded by her confession. The conflicting feelings increase the upset of his stomach.

Colin curls onto his right side, tugging a downy pillow into his arms to clutch. Tears burn behind his eyes. He does not understand how he is not wrung dry of sorrow yet. Every part of him aches from the inside outward.

Penelope's panic and despair consume his thoughts. He cannot fathom staying apart from her, yet he cannot imagine how unkind he would be if he faced her now. Leaving her in the Featherington gardens felt traitorous and wrong but his spite was so great in that moment; running was his only option.

Colin lay in bed, staring blankly at the far wall of his bedroom. His racing thoughts are interrupted by his bedchamber's door opening.

"Charles, leave me be," he says with a heavy sigh.

Colin cannot determine how long he has been sequestered in his room, but it must be nearing midafternoon by now. There is a moment of silence before an unexpected voice responds.

"I am not Charles," Anthony replies.

Colin's eyes fly open from their half-mast position. He rolls over on his back to face Anthony and regrets the quick movement when his stomach protests. Anthony shuts the door behind himself. He walks over to Colin's bed with slow steps. His eyebrows pinch together in concern and he can feel his brother's assessing gaze sweep over his form.

Once Colin is certain that he will not embarrass himself by vomiting into his bed, he props himself upright with his hands. "Brother?" he asks. Anthony reaches the side of his bed. He sits down on the edge, facing Colin directly.

Anthony looks tired and worried. Considering the state of Colin when Anthony all but tucked his drunken body into bed, he can understand his brother's worry for him. If the roles reversed, he would not have waited this long to burst into Anthony's bedchamber to check on his well-being.

"How do you fare this morning?" Anthony asks.

Colin wishes he could feign ignorance or outright lie, but Anthony deserves more than that. It pains him greatly to be so vulnerable in the presence of his eldest brother. Anthony never seems to show weakness in public. He has never shamed any of his siblings for their emotions, but he always hides his own. Kathani and Benedict may be the only two people in the world, besides Mother that is, who have seen him emotionally distraught.

Despite his applaudable emotional aptitude, Anthony never placed such expectations on any of his younger siblings. He may scold them for emotional outbursts and misbehavior, but he has never made them feel inferior simply because they feel things deeply. Colin, admittedly, is the most sensitive Bridgerton. He wishes he were a classic portrait of masculinity and reserve, but he has always been excitable and tenderhearted where his siblings were not.

Anthony does not belittle him for it, but he does not always know how to handle it either.

These days, Anthony is less guarded with his emotions. Colin does not have the energy to put on a facade. Therefore, he does not even attempt to pretend he is alright. He scoots backward, propping a pillow behind his back to keep him upright.

"There are no words to describe it," he replies. "Being trampled by a herd of stallions might be preferable to my current state."

Anthony cracks a weak smile.

"You did drink an entire bottle of brandy in one sitting. I am unsurprised you feel god awful," he says. The amusement fades from his face as his concern returns. "Did you eat some bread and oil to help?"

Colin groans at the thought of consuming food.

"As much as I could stomach," he replies, placing a hand over his bare torso. His nose wrinkles just thinking about trying to force anything else down his gullet. His nausea may send it right back up. Colin motions towards the opposite side of the bed, where a plate of half-eaten charcoal toast sits. Anthony's eyebrow lifts.

"I see that was not much at all," he says dryly. Anthony stares at the plate for a long moment, clearly pensive. Colin is too exhausted to drag this conversation on unnecessarily.

"I know you wish to ask," he says bluntly. Anthony turns his eyes back to him. Colin meets his stare evenly. "Cease prevaricating and get on with it."

Anthony does not hesitate. "What happened last night?" he inquires.

"Nothing," Colin answers. "I had a bad moment."

Anthony's unimpressed stare makes Colin wither. He loses what nerve he has and looks down at his lap. He is naked under his blankets, but he feels even more exposed now. Anthony's blue eyes sear straight through him.

"Surely you do not expect me to believe that as a response," Anthony replies sharply. "You nearly drank an entire decanter of brandy—"

"Anthony, let this go, I beg of you," Colin interrupts.

Anthony scoffs at him.

"Colin, I do not wish to force you on this issue, but seeing your despair last night is not something I can ignore," he protests.

Colin still does not look up at him. He can feel the anxiety rising in his chest. He does not wish to be overwhelmed. He exists in such a precarious place with his thoughts and emotions. He fears that he may be swallowed whole by the ocean of insecurities tenuously held at bay.

"I do not wish to talk about this, brother," he replies, struggling to keep the growing panic out of his voice. His breathing picks up and he can feel his hands clenching and twisting into his bedsheets.

"Colin…" Anthony trails off.

Per usual, Anthony misses nothing. All of his siblings know (to some extent) that Colin struggles with anxiety. He used to have fits of panic as a young child, long before their father passed. Mother had been a grounding force for Colin; a tether that could hold him to the earth when his mind shot off into the skies from overwrought thinking and unfounded fears. Her presence allows him a place to be quiet and to rest from his own frenetic thinking.

It is an inescapable burden to feel more than his siblings, to drown in the pain of others around him, and to stress over unnecessary things. While he is free-spirited and charming to others, his lightheartedness keeps the overwhelmingness of life away.

Swallowing the reignited anxiety, he forces himself to look up at Anthony. Anthony wears a worried frown but his eyes are warm with love and reassurance. The look is enough to soothe some of the humiliation ratcheting up in his mind. Anthony is not doing this out of judgment.

He loves Colin, and he worries about him.

"You have every right to be concerned about me after my hysterics, Ant," he admits. "I am simply not ready to discuss this issue with anyone, not even you."

After a long stare, Anthony nods. He opens and closes his mouth several times before he asks, "Will you come to me if you need help?" Colin opens his mouth to protest, only to have Anthony gesture at him to stop talking.

"I need you to promise that you will come to me if you need help," Anthony says. His eyes implore Colin to understand. "I know that you and Benedict are closer than we are, but I care deeply for you Col and I am worried for you."

It strikes Colin then that his eldest brother is not simply worried. Colin frightened him last night. It is obvious in the way he continually checks his form. His brother appears pale and worn out. Colin would be surprised if he slept at all last night after helping him to bed.

"Colin?"

He has to shake off his surprise but he manages to respond to his brother's prompting.

"I promise, Ant," he replies softly. Relief crosses Anthony's face. His broad shoulders lose some of the tension in them at his answer. Before Anthony can speak again, Colin's bedchamber door swings open. His valet walks in with a towel draped across his forearm. Charles bows to Anthony and then himself,

"I have prepared a bath for you, sir," Charles says. His valet is a stoic man. He typically maintains decorum at all times. Colin never guessed he would see such abject relief on the face of his valet when he spots Colin sitting upright and talking. It is clear that he too was concerned about Colin's health after last night.

Anthony and Charles exchange telling looks. Colin has no idea what he did that alarmed both gentlemen to this degree, but if it shook his valet as well as his eldest brother, it could not have been good. Anthony nods as he stands from Colin's bedside.

"I shall leave you to your ablutions. Eat more bread," he instructs as he straightens the bottom of his vest. "Charles, can you make sure he drinks plenty of water today?"

Charles nods and replies, "I have a tankard of water for him near the tub and a maid shall bring another up shortly for his bedchamber when she gathers the bedclothes for today's washing."

"Very good," Anthony replies. With one last look in Colin's direction, Anthony exits the room. Colin stares at his closed bedchamber door for a long moment before Charles clears his throat gently.

"Your bath, sir?"

Colin looks down at his bare chest and inhales. His nose wrinkles as the sour smell of alcohol and sweat hits him. He must smell foul. Colin slides out of bed, uncaring that he is completely nude. He stands still for a moment after getting up. It takes a few seconds for his head to stop swimming. Once he has gathered himself, he walks carefully into the bathing room where a steaming tub of hot water awaits him.

The scent of his bath water seems stronger than usual. Colin would not be surprised if Charles added extra bath oil to his water to combat the alcohol smell emanating from his person. Colin takes the time to use a basin of clean water on a table in the room. He cleans his teeth vigorously with a toothbrush and peppermint tooth powder.

Cleaning the awful taste out of his mouth requires him to brush twice. He rinses his mouth out, licking his teeth to ensure the fuzziness he felt was completely gone. Already, he feels more like himself. Charles has set up a wooden table with a washcloth, a fresh bar of cedar and sandalwood soap, and a glass bottle of sandalwood oil for after-washing his hair. Charles stood nearby, opening his barber kit to start sharpening his razors for a fresh shave.

Clearly, he plans for Colin to receive a full cleansing treatment. As he climbs into the fragrant water, a terrifying thought occurs to him. Colin loses his footing and he slips into the tub.

"Charles?" he asks quickly. Colin rights himself in the water, sitting on the small seat at the base of the tub.

"Yes, sir?"

"Can you collect the last few issues of Whistledown for me?" Colin asks. His valet freezes for a moment before he places his razor and sharpening stone down to face him. "I should like to review them."

Colin stares at Charles and Charles returns his look. "Anything in particular I can help you search for, sir?" his valet questions carefully.

"No," Colin replies. He feels his stomach twist with stress and renewed anger. If Penelope shared all of his family's secrets, he shall never forgive her. No matter how much he loves her, if she has betrayed his confidence he will never allow her to darken the steps of Bridgerton House again. "I simply would like to ascertain if any of my family's secrets have been printed recently."

Charles hesitates for a moment before he nods. He leaves the room with a swift reply of, "Of course, sir."

The moment the door swings shut, Colin releases a deep exhale. He cannot imagine that Penelope has written of the secrets they shared in their correspondence. His family stands in high regard with society and the Queen despite the drama of the prior two seasons. No one seems to have avoided their company in the past few weeks, but he must confirm the truth.

Dread sinks into his stomach as Colin sucks in a breath and ducks his entire body under the water. The filtered quiet feels good. The only sound Colin hears is his heartbeat and the water swirling past his ears. He feels grounded in this underwater safe haven.

He resurfaces with a loud breath and grabs the washcloth off the wooden table. He washes his body with soap lather and rigorous scrubbing. Colin scrubs behind his ears and between his toes. He is washing his face when his valet returns with a stack of pamphlets.

Colin stills when he sees them in Charles' hand. His valet hands him a dry towel and Colin uses it before he takes the pamphlets. He flips through them individually, devouring every mention of the Bridgerton name in each one. The sheer relief he feels when he barely sees the Bridgerton name mentioned, aside from the second pamphlet of the season, brings tears to his eyes.

Colin drops the pamphlets onto the floor, uncaring if they get wet.

Her words about him sting. Lady Whistledown always saw him so clearly and now he knows why. Any other day, his embarrassment over her words would be upon him, but today he feels great relief. Penelope did not betray his confidence. She reported the bare minimum of his family and the family's secrets he openly shared with her.

In fact, her last publication was Thursday last week. Unusual because Whistledown is published every Monday and Thursday. Nothing was written after the small dinner party last Friday at the Bridgerton House. Kate and Anthony's expectant news remained protected.

She did not tell his secrets. Why? Lady Whistledown deals in gossip. How can she refrain from spilling all the things he'd shared? The duel? Benedict's mistress? She possesses so much knowledge about him, and yet there was nothing in print. Their lurid conversations, his sudden attentions–so many things she could have published and she chose not to do so.

Her choice is either out of love or self-protection. Colin knows which one he wishes it to be. Recognizing the depth of her regard for him, Colin is almost certain that she withheld out of love for him, but his anxiety fills his head. The idea of her choosing his welfare and confidence over her publication seems unfathomable at this moment. He does not want to raise his hopes when he remains so fraught.

She promised to keep his secrets when his pursuit of her started and she has not betrayed him. This fact eases his mind the slightest degree. He continues bathing, scrubbing his hair clean, and washing his body once more. Refreshed from his bath, Colin dries himself and dons the dressing gown Charles hands him.

Colin loses himself in thought as Charles rubs sandalwood oil into his scalp and hair. He allows the gentle ministrations to slow the pace of his thoughts. Charles gives him a fresh shave and rubs a face cream in to avoid any skin irritations. He dresses partially in a pair of clean cotton drawers and leaves the bathing room as a maid comes in to begin cleaning.

His bedchamber was stripped clean while he washed. His bed clothes from before were gone and new sheets placed on his crisply made bed. The plate of half-eaten toast is gone. A fresh tankard of chilled water sits on his desk; the coolness of the water causes droplets of condensation to gather along the outside.

A hearty sandwich sits on his desk. As he approaches the newly appealing food, he glimpses his bookshelves. The shelving carries an amalgamation of books, maps, organized journals from different years, and several knickknacks from his childhood. The journals draw his attention from the food.

At his mother's suggestion, Colin began journaling around seven years of age. He always felt so many things and had so many thoughts that he could never speak fast enough (or hold anyone's attention long enough) to express them all. Mother thought it might be helpful for him to write all the things down instead. She, per usual, was correct in her assertion. Colin flourished with the written word. It helped calm the chaos of his mind. It granted him a safe space to think of his insecurities, sorrows, triumphs, and envy.

Journaling provided an emotional release unlike any other. He still has them all, chronicling from his first summer writing whilst in Kent of 1799 until now. The year of 1803 when his father passed had several journals filled. Colin experienced heavy emotions that year, indeed. He runs his fingers across the leather binding of the journals from 1814 and finds himself drawn to the ones from the summer. Summer 1814 was emotionally fraught after his experience with Miss Thompson.

He plucks one of the journals from the shelf and cracks the book open to read.

Mayfair, London – February 1814

Swear words do not encompass my dismay. I pride myself on being a gentleman but Miss Marina Thompson is a deceitful bitch of the worst kind. Her mocking words and tone were painful lashes to my dignity. She stood before me speaking of my naivety as though it were a sin to love guilelessly.

How cruel she was to rob me of the magic of being in love for the first time and then to ridicule me for my inexperience. I offered elopement to a false persona. The woman I thought I loved was a deception, a falsity that I developed in the madness of my mind.

I am a fool. How could I have not seen her true character? Behind a pretty smile hid a shrewd creature willing to build a life on secrets and obfuscation. I never questioned her interest or attention, even when Penelope advised me that she loved another after our hasty engagement.

I have never lain with a woman. I thought my restraint (truly, my disinterest but no one need know that) in such things was a sign of my self-control. Instead, my lack of knowledge and experience got me cuckolded by Miss Thompson before we even shared a kiss.

I am lucky no one saw us abscond into an empty office at a luncheon. It felt so seductive and her charm appeared so innocent that I let her unknowingly lead me into a trap. By grace and good luck alone, our dalliance remained unseen.

She only had to offer her lips for me to be hoodwinked by her charms. I offered her marriage with undeserved haste. I was taken in by a pretty face, a lithe figure, and a flirtatious smile. It galls me to think I nearly wed such a tempestuous person over an anvil at Gretna Green.

How could I have been so simple-minded? To think myself in love with a woman I knew for less than a month. I cannot blame Anthony for the way he looks at me and my impulsiveness. His questions about my greenness are as insulting now as they were when he first asked, but now, I recognize his fear and concern.

I hate that he was right. I hate that my romanticism has led me to social disgrace. My ignorance is forever plastered in judgmental ink on a ruinous gossip sheet. Lady Whistledown does not know me, but she somehow sees all my flaws.

What a humiliation I am to my family.

I do not wish to see pity on the faces of my siblings.

Seeing Daphne's face fall as Miss Thompson admits that she played my foolishness to her gain felt as damning as a noose around my neck. What is worse? The humiliation of my eagerness and gullibility on display? Or the reality that nothing she claimed to feel for me was real?

I thought I had it; the ever-elusive purpose for my life. My purpose was to love another, to save them, and give them continuous affection and love. Being dismissed as a child by a young lady I would have sacrificed everything for…the pain is unbearable.

I am such a fool.

The parallels between Marina's failed entrapment and Penelope's betrayal hurt him deeply. Colin despises Whistledown merely because she has hurt those he loves dearly. He would have little opinion on her writings if she had not besmirched his family name so often during the first two seasons. He cannot fathom that the unscrupulous Lady Whistledown is his sweet Penelope. It boggles the mind to know that this unapologetic, shrewd side of her exists.

Of all the things that bother him about her literary persona, it is the lack of respect for him that tortures him the most. Why did Penelope not confess that Marina was with child? Why did she pull him aside and only say that she previously loved another? She hemmed and hawed over a painful secret, and instead of telling him to his face, she splashed his indignity across Mayfair.

Remembering the look on his mother's face as she handed him the Whistledown pamphlet is burned into his memory for eternity. The rage ignites hot inside him, but the humiliation is what feels worse. It is clear she cares for him, but will her care ever be enough for her to approach him directly? If they are to be together, she cannot use her publication to air their disagreements.

She wrote of his fake charm and carousing ways from the beginning of the season in her scandal sheet. While she turned him away and expressed her dissatisfaction, she published her resentment toward him instead of conversing with him. It irks him. Irritated, Colin snaps the journal closed and replaces it on the shelf. He pulls one from the summer next. This one from May when he finally made it to Greece after a godawful month at sea.

He remembers the overpowering smell of brine, the squeaking of mice, and the unwashed men he bunked with for that entire month of April. Sailing from Britain to the Grecian islands sounds magical in theory but the reality was twenty-nine ceaseless days at sea with weathering storms, bland food, and uncomfortable beds. If he had been in a better mindset, he may have befriended the men on his ship.

Coming off his first heartbreak and resounding humiliation, Colin kept to himself. He scribbled in his journals about his emotional agony and pretended he was doing just fine in the long letters he wrote to his family. His journal from April 1814 has a waterlogged brown leather cover. The insides are filled with saltwater-wrinkled pages and tear-smeared ink.

For his peace, Colin keeps the journal but he never wishes to read it again.

May 1814 was written while on dry land, at least. He had been in Athens, Greece for not yet a day when he posted all of the letters he wrote while aboard his ship. It took six weeks for his letters to get a reply. Seeing Penelope's name on an envelope was a shock. He never thought she would write back to him. Her letter brought him near tears as she expressed her regard for their friendship, boldly asked how he was faring after Miss Thompson, and spoke of a Greek food he simply must try while there.

She was the only one, besides his mother and Daphne, to broach the subject so blatantly. He remembers replying to her first. His letter was pages long. He confessed to things he never would have, but something told him he could trust her with it. He regretted it immediately after posting the letter. Her reply came three weeks later. It was just as long as his letter and filled with words that soothed the clatter of anxious thoughts in his head.

Athens, Greece – May 1814

Athens glows under the heavy Mediterranean air. Everything here is built solidly with polished stone and wooden beams; it appears well-equipped to carry the burden of briny air from the nearby coast. The weight of history, violence, and riches falls heavy upon the pillars of this city. Such beauty disgraced by envy, greed, and bloodshed.

Climbing to the Acropolis granted me sweeping views of an incredible cityscape. Instead of being immersed in the history of Ancient Greece and the beauty around me, I sat on sun-warmed marble steps and cried. I never imagined I could weep so much whilst staring at such beauty, but the regalness of Athens cannot distract me from the way betrayal and hurt linger in my soul.

I think about Miss Thompson often and each time the sting of humiliation burns anew.

I wonder how my family fares back home. I have been gone over two months now, and their replies to my letters are sparse (as expected). Penelope is the only person who writes to me consistently. She never leaves a story unacknowledged and she always has something witty to respond with. I thought my stories from lands afar would make our exchanges riveting, but it is her storytelling that enraptures the mind. She possesses quite the skill for witty repartee.

It is uncouth for an unmarried bachelor to exchange letters with an unmarried lady, but Penelope and I share a friendship that extends beyond social graces. I have written to her of my heartache and shared pieces of the loneliness I feel being so far away from all that I know.

She understands my betrayal in ways my siblings cannot. From our exchanges, she knows what it means to be taken advantage of emotionally. Confessing my hurt to her feels easy. Perhaps, it is the distance between us that renders me unafraid to be honest? Or perhaps, it is simply Penelope being the great friend she has always been? Either way, it is nice to have a safe place to be vulnerable and not fear judgment.

He spent months writing Penelope once or twice each week. She responded to every letter. As he journeyed across Grecian islands, she kept him company. He still has all her letters. They are wrapped in twine and locked away in the desk drawer of his study.

Penelope has been his best friend for so long.

Her company was the backbone of his adolescence. A season without her regard turned out fretful and lonely. Travel lost its appeal when he did not have her missives as a constant companion. His trip to France, Italy, and Spain was proof of how poorly he fared when she was not a constant in his life.

Colin sets aside his journal to pick up a random Whistledown pamphlet from a stack Eloise gifted him not too long ago.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, August 1813

Dearest reader, this author finds herself compelled to bear the most curious of news. It seems our diamond requires further inspection. As such, an even rarer jewel of only the most remarkable brilliance, fire, and luster has been unearthed. Her name, unknown to most, yet soon known to all, is Miss Marina Thompson. This author is left to wonder whether Her Majesty might reconsider the high praise she once afforded Miss Bridgerton. For we all must know what the queen despises more than anything--being wrong. The drawing room at Bridgerton House currently appears to be emptier than the muddled head of her dearest King George. It follows that Lady Featherington is to receive what she has always desired: the season's true incomparable living under her own roof. She must be overjoyed.

The cadence of her words and humor start to form familiar patterns. Knowing the truth, it is so obviously Penelope. How could he have missed it? Did he truly fail to see her so clearly? Is this another situation where he falls in love with a deceitful person?

No matter how unfounded his fear may be, Colin is terrified to love another woman who might be willing to destroy him. Miss Thompson sought to use him for his money and his kindness. He was a solution to her precarious situation. Penelope, regardless of their circumstances, has never tried to use him to her advantage. He did not believe Penelope capable of such deceit, but perhaps his view of her personhood was narrower than he first thought.

Her words from the carriage rattle around inside his head. He does not know her, indeed.

Colin puts his journal away and tucks the Whistledown pamphlets ungracefully into a desk drawer. He feels suffocated by his thoughts and feelings. Every thought is in direct conflict with the last. Colin glances out of his bedchamber's window and all he can see are the walls of Featherington House.

The sudden urge to leave overtakes him.

He does not wish to go far, but he needs to get away from this place filled with memories of Penelope. Perhaps, he shall go to Hastings House for the night? Maybe some distance will allow him the necessary reprieve to examine his thoughts.

"Charles!" Colin calls.

His valet appears from the door of the bathing room. "Yes, sir?"

"Can you pack a bag for me?" he asks. His valet looks surprised but he nods. "It should be enough for a couple of nights at Hastings House."

Charles exits the bathing room and enters Colin's bedchamber fully. "Of course, sir," he replies. "I shall have a footman send word and have a servant ready your horse.

Friday morning, Eloise orders a footman to deliver a letter via horseback to the Finch home.

As a self-proclaimed academic, Eloise does not bother with niceties or veiled threats. Penelope cried herself to sleep in her arms last night. She woke each time Eloise tried to let go of her friend's hand. Eventually, Eloise gave up on leaving Penelope alone. She woke late this morning wrapped around her best friend, who came to consciousness only to start weeping once again.

Rae, Penelope's lady's maid, offered a short reprieve to Eloise. She used the chamber pot, cleaned her teeth, and then penned a hasty letter to Pen's Mama.

Lady Featherington,

I write to inform you that Penelope is in a frightful state.

She and my brother had a rather awful falling out. Their courtship is still intact but I wanted to advise you of her melancholy. She suffered a fainting spell on Wednesday night at Bridgerton House. My brother (the Viscount) called for a doctor and had her examined. The doctor informed us it was likely stress and exhaustion that caused her to lose consciousness.

I am staying at Featherington House to keep watch of her health. She is exceedingly fraught. I shall care for her until your return. When you arrive, I request that you show her kindness instead of censure. If you cannot refrain from condescension, then I shall have my Mama, the new Viscountess, the Duchess, and the Viscount provide care for her in my family's home in your stead.

Truly,

Eloise Bridgerton

Perhaps it is not a great plan to threaten Portia Featherington with abducting her daughter were she to return with rude behavior, but Eloise is drained of all social graces. The only thing Eloise would want in such a terrible situation is her Mama's comfort.

She is all too aware of the piteous connection between Penelope and Lady Featherington, but she cannot leave the woman in the dark. From what she and Penelope discussed after their reconciliation, Lady Featherington seems to be trying to bridge the rift between the two of them.

Eloise has hope, but she is also a realist. If she must fight for Penelope's sake, then she will certainly do so. Rae agrees to watch over Penelope as Eloise heads home to bathe, scarf down some food, and seek out her Mama to ask what she should do in this fraught situation. Half asleep and distracted by concern for Pen, Eloise heads across Grosvenor Square on quick feet.

She returns from Featherington House haggard and exhausted. Penelope appeared dead behind the eyes and listless when Eloise told her that she was headed home for a few hours. With a promise to return as swiftly as possible, she departed the home. Her lack of response scared Eloise. Penelope has always been vivacious in personality, even as she hid along the edges of ballrooms. To see her spiritless brings Eloise back to her childhood and watching her Mama drift around the house like a specter in the wake of Papa's death.

The similarities leave her stressed. Her sleep last night was fitful and restless. She woke every hour to make sure Penelope was still breathing. A footman opens the front doors of Bridgerton House for her, and Eloise hotfoots it inside. She has to bathe, dress, and hunt down her Mama in a short amount of time.

Eloise plans for as much as she can, but she does not anticipate running headfirst into Colin when she hastens into the entrance hall. Colin lets out an expletive of pain as her bony shoulder smashes into his sternum. Eloise stumbles backwards, cartwheeling her arms as she loses balance.

Colin snatches her wrist to keep her from falling. Eloise releases a shocked and grateful breath at his rescue before she gets a good look at her brother. She steps back from him, her eyes narrowing as she looks him over. He carries a leather satchel in one hand and wears a coat made for horseback.

"You are leaving?" Eloise questions in disbelief. Her voice echoes in the open space. Colin's eyebrows arch in surprise. Feeling the heat of disappointment and anger curl into her chest, Eloise plants her hands on her hips and glares. "How far are you to run from your problems this time?"

Her sharp tone and words make his eyes widen in shock before it morphs into an angry flush. His brows furrow and he peers down at her. "Do not speak to me with such disrespect, Eloise," he replies firmly.

"I will speak to you any way I see fit," she snaps back.

She is furious. This is Penelope's worst fear being realized. That she would confess her secret and Colin would leave–like he always does when things fall into disarray around him. Her brother allows his insecurities to dictate his behavior. She knows he is a sensitive soul, but if he wants to be a husband, then he needs to, frankly, grow a pair.

"Something hurts you or does not go your way and as always, your instinct is to leave like a coward," she tells him. "Are you to remain on the continent this time?"

Rage flashes across his blue eyes and he steps into her space defensively. Eloise is almost six inches shorter than Colin but she refuses to shrink away from him. Their blue eyes meet in a clash of wills. Anger is not an expression Colin wears often. It is good to see him this way.

Anger means that he cares.

"I am not a coward," he nearly snarls in her face. Eloise glares up at him.

"Then do not act like one!"

Colin bares his teeth at her. The anger causes his ears to burn red and his brows to pinch together in a hard furrow. "Who are you to lecture me?" he asks. "This is no business of yours."

Eloise squares her hips at him. She crosses her arms over her chest and says, "Someone who has been through the same grief that you are experiencing."

Colin's face pales. His eyes go wide and then narrow. There is a moment of tense silence before he says, "You knew that she was Whistledown." His voice sounds like a hiss and it cuts through the air sharply. "How long have you known?"

"Keep your voice down, brother," she whispers harshly. Eloise glances around them furtively but no one is in the vicinity.

Colin's eyes flare with resentment but he lowers his voice to a harsh whisper, "How could you not tell me, El?"

"Get between my brother and my best friend? Are you mad ?" Eloise replies. "I love both of you. I can see how much you love each other. Why would I want to break your heart, Colin? It was her secret. I have been trying to get her to tell you."

"You should have told me, Eloise."

"I did not find out until last season," Eloise responds. "And truthfully, I was too brokenhearted to speak of it. Since you announced your intent to court her, I have been pleading with her to tell you. She was terrified to lose your regard, and I wanted to protect you from the same pain I felt."

"Have you already forgiven her then?" He demands to know. Eloise would love to stomp on his foot for his tone but she started this argument with her impertinence. He is well within his right to be furious with her.

"Yes, I have," Eloise replies.

Colin sucks in a sharp breath and breaks their gaze. Eloise moves to follow his eyes until he looks at her again. She needs him to understand; to see how honest she is being with him in her defense of Penelope. "She saved me, Colin. She wrote it to redirect the Queen's attention. It took me a long time to see her logic and while it was far from perfect, it was done with good intentions, not malice."

Colin searches her eyes and Eloise tries to give him the reassurance he needs. He swallows hard and she sees his eyes soften. Her heart aches at the hurt she can see on his face.

"She has hurt nearly everyone I love," Colin responds quietly.

"She has."

"You do not deny the atrocity of her actions?"

"How can I? All the things she has done wrong live on in infamy," Eloise answers. "There is no way to retract the truth from the Ton's memory."

"She deceived us all."

"To an extent, yes," she admits. "But when it mattered, she was honest."

"What is that supposed to imply?" Colin asks, irritated once more.

"It means that she told you! She rejected your proposal at great cost to her own heart because she did not wish to enter marriage without you knowing," Eloise says. "Say all you wish to about her deception, but she protected you and broke her own heart in the process."

"How can you defend the things she's done?" he asks.

"Because I love her," Eloise retorts. Colin flinches away from her statement but Eloise pushes forward, "I love her just as much as you do. No one is perfect! I would be a hypocrite if I besmirched her when I too am guilty of terrible things."

Colin seems to shrink into himself. Eloise hates seeing the lost and forlorn look on his face. He feels utterly betrayed and she understands. While she lived for months with the agony of anger on her heart, Eloise does not wish the same for her brother. Understanding Penelope's motivations and struggles brought clarity to Eloise.

Colin would drown in such a prolonged season of resentment. His soft heart is not meant for rage. For his sake and Penelope's sake, she must make her brother understand.

"Colin, think of how incredible her accomplishment is. To create something from nothing is a worthy endeavor, indeed," Eloise implores. "She hurt people along the way, yes. But she has been endlessly trying to repent for it."

Colin's hand twists the leather handle of his bag restlessly. Eloise knows that she is getting to him. "I do not know if it is betrayal or jealousy that incenses me," he confesses. "Do you think less of me because I may envy her?"

"No brother. You are not alone in that, I fear," Eloise replies. "I am also envious of Penelope. It is quite a feat. After a season of feeling nearly invisible, I almost understand why one might be driven to write it. She has a gift, Colin. One she has cultivated and nurtured and has created something larger than she could have ever imagined. If you want to be her husband, you may have to push beyond these feelings."

"I do not know how," he replies. The brokenness in his voice makes Eloise's eyes water. "I find myself afraid that she will think me incompetent or unworthy of her love and attention because I do not have the same gifts that she does."

Her brother is an idiot if he thinks he must prove his worth to Penelope. Her best friend is arse over tea kettle in love with him. Colin's insecurities make him blind to how deep her regard runs.

She sees the pace of his hand massaging the handle of his bag increase. He swallows convulsively and his jaw is tense. His anxiety is rising. Eloise knows these signs. They reveal how utterly close Colin stands to being overwhelmed.

She softens her body language and places a hand over his free hand. He looks at her.

"Talk to her, Colin," she says. "A conversation with Pen may bring the clarity and understanding you seek."

"Perhaps," he responds evasively. The way he avoids her gaze tells her how little he believes her words. Stepping into his space, Eloise grabs his hand properly. She sees his blue eyes darken with tears.

She squeezes his hand. "Colin, she loves you," Eloise states. His anger drains from him completely.

When he looks up at her, Eloise can see everything he attempts to hide. The yearning to be loved deeply shines so clearly out of his dark blue eyes. Eloise is left observing an exhausted, hurt shell of her normally cheerful brother. It softens her ire. Neither Colin nor Penelope are at fault. They are both hurting and in love.

It is simply a fraught, complicated situation that neither knows how to navigate.

"I love her too," he admits quietly. Colin's shoulders droop and the hand holding his leather satchel tightens on the straps of his bag. "That does not mean I am ready to speak with her, El."

Eloise relents. She shall not win this battle of wills between them. Colin received quite the shock and it seems he needs time to gather his thoughts. Perhaps, some distance may be a good idea.

"Where are you going?" she asks finally. Colin adjusts his riding coat.

"Only to Hastings House. I need some time away to think," he replies.

Eloise nods and watches Colin head toward the front doors of Bridgerton House. A footman holds the door ajar for him. He stops halfway out into the dwindling evening sunlight. He turns back to Eloise and gives her a searching look. Eloise lets him figure out what he wants to say.

"I do not intend to abandon her, Eloise," he says quietly. Colin leaves before Eloise can cease gaping at him.

Colin is a man of his word. He may be impulsive, and romantic to a fault, but he is an honorable man. It lightens her heart to know that he remains certain of his love for Penelope despite his turmoil. She does not know how long it will take him to recover but there is hope for them both to find each other again.

When Colin arrives at Hastings House atop his horse, Daphne is already standing outside near the entryway. She wears an ankle-length French blue silk dress under a sheer white overlay. Her chestnut hair is in a braided bun atop her head with curled pieces of her fringe framing her face. Colin brings his horse to a trained stop as she shields her eyes from the setting sun to look at him. Her free hand rests on the curve of her belly.

Daphne starts down the steps but Colin waves her off. It takes less than a minute for him to dismount, pat the flank of his horse, and grab his leather satchel from the saddle bag. A footman takes the gathered reins from his hand to lead his horse around to the Hastings stables in the back gardens.

Colin heads up to greet his sister, swinging his satchel over his shoulder. Her expression shifts between curiosity and concern as he approaches.

"I see you received my letter," he says, reaching the landing. Daphne's blue eyes gleam in the sunlight as she gives him a welcoming kiss to his cheek.

"Indeed," Daphne replies. Colin offers her a hand, which she takes, and allows him to lead her back inside her home. "I must say that I was not expecting you this weekend, brother. Are you going to stay here long?"

"Truthfully, I am unsure," Colin admits. "At least for a couple of nights, if that is alright with you and Simon?"

" Of course it is alright," Daphne responds, shooting him an unimpressed look at his reticence. Colin gives her a grateful smile. "I have a maid readying a room for you as we speak. Olsten, might you take his satchel up to the guest room being prepared? And have his riding coat sent for a wash, please."

Olsten nods briskly and says, "Yes, Your Grace." He relieves Colin of his leather satchel and riding coat without hesitation before he strides off toward the main staircase.

"Come brother," Daphne says, tugging at his shirt sleeve. "Supper shall be served shortly. We already advised Cook of your pending arrival. I have some leftover biscuits waiting in the drawing room."

"Biscuits before supper, Daph?" he teases. His sister rolls her eyes.

"I have been carrying a second child for seven months. I shall enjoy all the sweets I want when I want them," she replies tartly. Colin lets out a huff of amusement as his sister herds him toward the drawing room. "Speaking of children, I must show you the new nursery design! I managed to entice Benedict into painting it for me."

"You got Ben to paint again?"

"I possess great talent for persuasion when motivated," Daphne responds.

"You blackmailed our brother, did you not?" Colin asks, laughing.

"Answering that question could implicate guilt," Daphne replies. "Therefore, I shall maintain my silence."

Daphne has always been a force to reckon with. Marriage has not dulled her fortitude or forthrightness. It amuses him when people wrongly believe that Daphne is the epitome of gracefulness, femininity, and kindness. While she possesses those characteristics, she is also devious, strategic, and cunning. He is unsure what information she wields over Benedict, but it must be incriminating if she conned him into painting again.

Benedict packed away his art supplies at the end of last season. Colin doesn't know the sordid details but something clearly happened between him and Anthony. He plans to worry about that later; hopefully, once he and Penelope resolve things.

"Where is Simon?" he asks.

"Buried under paperwork in his study," Daphne responds, finishing off her plate of chocolate biscuits. "There was an irrigation issue with a few of the farmers near Clyvedon. He has been reassigning funds to help with the inevitable diminished harvest."

"Shall he join us for supper?"

"He shall if he does not wish to displease me," Daphne replies. "We keep an informal table when it is just us, so you shall be seated directly across from me."

She shows him the nursery, now adorned with a beautiful landscape stretching over one wall. Benedict painted a gorgeous sunrise over what looks like the gardens of Aubrey Hall. It is fantastic. Colin sincerely hopes that Benedict takes up art again. His brother is an incredible artist.

Daphne manages to keep him distracted until servants ring the supper bell. Simon, Daphne, and himself are served roasted duck, seasoned potatoes, and asparagus. They sit at one end of the table with Simon seated at the head, Daphne to his left and Colin to his right. Supper is delicious, and consumed over easy conversation. At the end of the meal, Simon makes himself scarce. He heads over to the new Mondrich estate to share a drink with Will and Alice.

Simon embraces him swiftly and then leaves after placing a soft kiss on Daphne's mouth.

The two of them settle in the drawing room with a pot of tea. Things are quiet until Colin's mind starts racing. "Daph, can I ask you something?"

Daphne peers at him over her teacup. "What is it?"

"Have you ever been betrayed by the person who you love the most?" he asks quietly. Daphne stares at him taken aback. She shuffles herself upward into a less slouched posture and rests her teacup on her belly. Colin feels her eyes on him but he doesn't look up from his lap. It is a deeply uncomfortable question to ask anyone but he frequently relies on Daphne for advice.

Of all his siblings, she is the only he would trust with this level of vulnerability.

"Yes, I have," she replies. Colin jolts in his seat. He looks up at his sister. Her expression shows her reticence and vulnerability. It is clear she is earnest in her admission.

"Truly?" he asks, shocked.

Daphne's cheeks turn red with embarrassment but she nods. "It was a most trying time for me and my marriage," she replies. She is visibly discomfited but she does not shy away from her confession. Colin takes a moment to admire his sister's bravery.

"Is it alright for me to ask how you reacted?" Colin asks.

Daphne releases a deep sigh. She rubs her belly in quiet contemplation. Colin allows her time to think. He already asks a lot of her with the question itself. It is not his place to rush her to a response if she decides to grant him one.

"Shock," she answers, her voice pensive. "Disbelief, hurt, and rage. All were quickly followed by hurt again." Colin stares at his sister. He does not know how to express how much it means to him that her feelings are so similar to his own. It makes him feel less mad. Daphne can be dramatic, but she is even-keeled.

"I was not the best version of myself and there are things that I wish I could've done differently."

"Do you ever regret forgiving him?"

" Never ," Daphne states firmly. "I have never regretted forgiving him. I am so grateful that he forgave me too."

"I feel like a fool," Colin says. "As though I have been blind and ignorant to something so obvious for so long."

"Sometimes our ignorance is the best thing for us until we are actually ready to handle a situation," Daphne responds. "What is to say that you would have dealt with this betrayal any better if you discovered whatever it is earlier?"

Colin ponders this. Discovering Penelope's secret identity would not have gone well in Daphne's season nor while Anthony courted Kate. If he discovered she was responsible for nearly ruining Eloise only days after it occurred, he would have burned their friendship to ash.

"Does this betrayal from Simon have anything to do with a lie of omission?" Colin questions. "Where your lack of knowledge was used against you?"

Daphne gapes at him before she lets out an exasperated huff. "I do not jest when I say that is exactly what he did," she replies. Colin's eyebrows arch upward in disbelief. She lets out a rueful laugh at his expression. "He failed to tell me the full truth. My naivety worked to his advantage. I only learned the truth by chance."

"You chose to continue loving him?" Colin asks. "Despite his falsehood?"

"I never stopped loving him, Colin," Daphne responds earnestly. "Love is not something you can control. It is overwhelming, relentless, magical, and maddening all at the same time. The choice I had to make was to live in unforgiveness or love him enough to forgive him and move forward."

Colin glances down into his tea. He has no response because her words incite conflicting feelings between his mind and his heart. Love is uncontrollable but hurt is too. Penelope's unkindness towards those he loves is not something easily forgiven in his mind.

"For me, the most difficult thing to let go of was the humiliation. I felt like an idiot," Daphne admits.

Colin tenses up at her words. They strike the heart of his unease. Colin is humiliated .

Embarrassed by the idea that she mocked his trivial journaling each time she returned home. He envies the way she has built something for herself amid the oppressive nature of high society. If he can get beyond Lady Whistledown's exposure of his family's secrets, this is the obstacle he faces – his jealousy and insecurity.

"Society has raised me to be so high in the instep that I do not understand the basics of what I should," Daphne continues with a snort of derision. She sips from her tea with a bitter expression on her face. "I thought Simon used my ignorance as a tool to gain what he wanted from life."

"Did he?"

Daphne shakes her head. Colin feels some of the tightness in his chest ease away. He shall not have to fight her husband after all then.

"No, he thought I was aware," Daphne replies. "He thought my conversation with Mama told me all I needed to know after our wedding but it was a trite and subpar conversation. She explained nothing to me and spent our entire conversation speaking of vague metaphors. I went into marriage as the chaste, stupid girl that high society reveres. She failed me when I needed her most. That is why I was so angry with her for so long."

A flicker of irritation moves across Daphne's face before she shakes it away.

"Whatever truth that has been revealed to you to create this sense of betrayal, at least she told you to your face," Daphne states. "You did not have to find out from the housekeeper."

Daphne seems amused by her situation now. She does not appear proud of how things unfolded, but she glows in the aftermath. Forgiveness led her to a delightful marriage. Love sparks between Simon and Daphne on every occasion.

"I asked her to marry me," Colin blurts. Daphne chokes on her tea. "She said no because I did not know her secret. I was furious. I still am. I left before I said words I could not take back."

Daphne looks stunned speechless. She stares at Colin, studying him intently. For about three minutes, Daphne does not say a word. Instead, she drinks her tea and watches Colin. Colin feels his earns burn under her attention.

Finally, Daphne breaks the taut silence.

"I cannot claim to be the best of friends with Penelope, but I have spent lots of time with her since your courtship began. In the last week alone, I can see the type of person she is," Daphne muses. "I can also see the depth of her regard for you. She was honest when it counted, even if you wished she had told you before."

"Do you think me mad for walking away like I did?"

"I rather think you are smart for leaving," Daphne says. Colin blinks at her in surprise. "Better to leave before doing something you cannot recover from. Words leave a permanent stain on the soul. Bruises may heal after time but something stated in anger continuously wounds."

"I do not know what I should do, Daph," Colin admits.

"I can see you thinking about her and I must tell you, brother," Daphne responds, "The concern on your face is not that of a man willing to let her go."

Colin loves Penelope. He does. However, the anger and humiliation that blooms in his chest every time he thinks of her is not good for their reconciliation. He cannot face her yet. Colin is exhausted and he finds he does not have the reserves to continue discussing this with Daphne tonight. This topic of conversation wears on him greatly.

"I am rather tired," Colin replies. "I hope you do not mind if I retire early."

Daphne looks disappointed by his redirection but unsurprised all the same. She nods. Colin sets aside his empty teacup and stands from the settee. Colin walks over and presses a kiss to the crown of his sister's head. He does not have words to express his gratitude for her, but he hopes she feels it all the same. Judging by the fond smile she shoots him when he pulls away, she understands.

"Sleep well, Colin," she says. "I shall see you in the morning."

Colin is near the open drawing room doors before Daphne calls out to him. He turns to face her and she says, "If I may, I would suggest you talk to Simon." Her tone is careful but imploring.

"Whatever for?" he asks, confused.

"Sometimes getting the other person's perspective can help provide clarity," Daphne answers. "I felt betrayed by Simon's actions. Perhaps, you can gain insight into whatever Penelope is feeling by speaking with him?"

Colin stares at his sister. Although unexpected, it may be a good idea to try and understand why Penelope did what she did. He does not know if it will help, but Daphne is right far more often than not.

"Your idea may have merit. Good night, sister," Colin replies. She smiles and turns back to her tea before he speaks to her again, "And Daph, I love you."

Daphne looks surprised then swiftly delighted by his words. "Good night and I love you too, Col."

-- Saturday, November 25, 1815

Penelope's mind is blissfully silent. The emptiness of her heart is relieved by the darkness of her dreams. Being awake means facing reality; a world where Colin may never forgive her sins. It is easier to be asleep. Sleep that slips away from her as someone rudely shakes her shoulder.

"Pen!" Through the haze of her mind, she can hear a voice whispering close by. " Penelope! " It sounds like Eloise, but Penelope does not wish to surface from rest. The only thing awaiting her in the world is the blistering sting of despair and regret.

"Pen, wake up!" Eloise hisses. Eloise shakes her shoulder vigorously and Penelope pushes her hands away with a groan of protest.

"I do not wish to be awake, El," she replies, voice slurring with sleep.

"I think your Mama is here," Eloise responds. Penelope balefully opens her eyes to peer up at her friend. Eloise's dark waves are wild and springing free from her sleeping braid. The room is still dark, muted sunshine peeking through her floor-length curtains. Penelope rubs the crust of sleep and last night's tears from her eyes. She listens closely and can barely hear the sound of quick footsteps. Pen thinks she may still be dreaming, but it does sound like someone is shouting her name. Eloise sits up fully in the bed.

"El, what…" Penelope begins but is loudly interrupted. The door to her bedchamber slams open, making Penelope and Eloise swing around in fright. Her mother strides in, still adorned in her travel bonnet.

Mama hurriedly unties the ribbon beneath her chin as she says, "Penelope!"

Penelope stares at her Mama, shocked.

"Oh dear, I came as soon as I could. Philippa was doing an herbal regiment with the physician when I got Miss Bridgerton's letter," Mama says frantically. She stops at the side of the bed closest to Penelope, her hands wringing together. "Are you…how are you?"

Her Mama came home? For her? Eloise wrote to her and she came back worried?

Penelope fought for her mother's attention and love before. She gave up on ever having her affection years ago. All of the emotional conversations they've had in the last few weeks felt out of character for her mother. Mama is practical to the point of cruelty, and yet here she stands at Penelope's bedside. Her blue eyes are wide with blatant concern and nervousness. She has never run to her mother for comfort before. It never felt like an option for her or any of her sisters.

Does her Mama truly love her? Her Mama cares…for her?

The thought brings a crush of tears to her eyes. Penelope's desolation resurfaces with a vengeance as all the emotions of the last few days awaken. Her mother reaches out to her hesitantly. After a long, tear-blurred stare at the extended hand, Penelope grabs her Mama's fingers and promptly bursts into gales of tears.

Mama looks startled, but she reacts by reaching her other hand towards Penelope. For the first time since her childhood, Penelope gets offered a tentative embrace by her mother. She flings herself forward. Mama catches her. She sits down on the bed and pulls her in. She seems unsure of where to touch her for a moment before she appears to trust her instincts.

Leaning back into the pillows, Mama tucks Penelope into her side. She wraps an arm around her back. Her cheek rests atop the crown of Penelope's head and she uses her free hand to comb her fingers through her daughter's hair. Penelope weeps into her mother's neck and shoulder. Mama hugs her tighter.

"Oh my dear," Mama says, rubbing Penelope's back in soothing strokes. Penelope sinks into the embrace and lets herself cry without compunction. There is an exchange of inaudible whispers between her Mama and Eloise.

Penelope cannot make out all they say, but she feels Eloise leave the bed. She is almost certain that her Mama says thank you, but Penelope is too distraught to care much.

She has never felt safe with her Mama, but today, she does. Penelope does not know how long she cries into her mother's embrace, but the bliss of sleep sweeps back over her eventually.

Colin enters the dining room to see his brother-in-law drinking a strong cup of tea at the table and reading a newspaper over a plate of toasted bread and eggs. A servant greets him and pours a fresh cup of tea at his place setting.

"Is Daphne in residence?" Colin asks, serving himself food.

"She and Kate are shopping today," Simon responds dryly. "She left with a rather alarmingly sized bag of coins."

Colin snickers at him. "Shall you get a showing of new gowns to admire this evening?"

"Perhaps," Simon replies. "I hope she finds new day dresses. It is disheartening to hear one's wife cry about how portly she is when that couldn't be farther from the truth." Simon's fond exasperation is plain. Colin outright laughs this time.

"Not fitting into her gowns the same, I take it?"

"You think it amusing now," Simon replies, shaking his folded paper in Colin's direction. "Just you wait until Penelope is with child and you find your bedchamber covered in ill-fitting attire when you return home."

The thought of Penelope being in a bedchamber they share and carrying his child makes Colin burn inside. What a stunning future that would be. He would love nothing more than to have her as his wife and to birth as many red-haired babies as she could dream of wanting. No matter how much he desires that life; the issue of her being Lady Whistledown blocks that dream from being a reality.

His mind cannot reconcile the two being one and the same. How are they to build a life together when such hurt exists in his heart?

"Might I ask you a question, Simon?"

"Of course."

"I do not know what happened between you and my sister, but how did you manage to get past it?"

Simon folds his newspaper. His eyebrows are arched high in curiosity, but he grants Colin his full attention. "Would it be wild to assume this has to do with whatever brought you to our doorstep in a hurry?" Simon asks, setting the newspaper onto the table.

"You would be correct," Colin admits.

"Are you certain you want my advice?" Simon replies. "You do remember the part where I almost got myself murdered because I didn't want Daphne to lose her chance at being a mother, correct?"

"Unfortunately, I remember that quite clearly," Colin answers, causing Simon to laugh. Simon leans back into his chair, folding his hands together and letting them rest on his stomach.

"Our disagreement centered around pride and miscommunication," Simon replies. His brow furrows in contemplation. "Pride can cost a person just as much as resentment can."

Colin knows that all too well. The inability to admit one's wrongs can cause great strife in any relationship. His mother always talked about how showing vulnerability is a necessary part of connecting with anyone. If a person's pride overrules their affection, the relationship is doomed to fail.

"I am unsure how much you know about my family, but my father was a singularly unkind man," Simon's words interrupt Colin's meandering thoughts. His brother-in-law wears a frown. It is clear that his words are an understatement, even without Collin knowing the details.

"I had a stutter when I was young and my father was ashamed of that shortcoming. He locked me away in Clyvedon for years. Even his staff at Hastings House did not know I was still alive until Lady Danbury brought me to see him," Simon tells him. Colin fights not to gape. What kind of terrible person would do such a cruel thing to a child? Much less their own child?! Colin feels enraged on Simon's behalf.

"I had never known love until Lady Danbury took me in," Simon admits. "Being invisible in your own home does something to a person. I was so angry about, literally and figuratively, not having a voice that I almost destroyed the one person who accepted me for who I am."

"You felt invisible?" Colin asks, shocked. "You have such a presence about you now, a confidence. I never would've known."

"That is the other side of invisibility," Simon replies. "You learn how to do life alone. You become so used to being apart from everyone else that being invited into something feels disingenuous."

Is that how Penelope felt? Invisible and apart? So much so that she needed to design an outlet for herself? Could she have created Lady Whistledown because she tired of being ignored or mocked by society?

"I do not know what happened to make you question your courtship with Penelope but in the time I've known the girl, she has been a footnote of society," Simon says, pensive. "She likely longed for voice to stop feeling powerless inside her own home."

Perhaps, his thoughts do align with her motivations. It does not excuse her unkindness toward his family, but it may explain why she created the gossip sheet in the first place.

"You think I should forgive her?"

"I cannot answer that for you," Simon says with a shake of his head. He lifts his teacup to his mouth and continues, "But the love your sister and I experienced after deciding to forgive each other is unlike anything I can ever explain."

Colin eats his eggs in absentminded silence.

"If Daphne hadn't loved me enough to ask any questions after the initial fight, I would not have the beautiful family that I have now," Simon tells him quietly. "The question to ask may not be about if you should or should not forgive her. A better inquiry might be asking yourself if your hurt pride is truly worth losing the love of your life?"

-- Sunday, November 26, 1815

Loud bells ring as Colin arrives at the church on Sunday morning. He sits inside the Hastings carriage, across from Daphne and Simon. The entire journey was naught by a quarter of an hour but it felt like eternity to Colin. He simultaneously dreads and anticipates seeing Penelope inside the church. Last night's dreams were filled with images of her standing at the altar with him and telling him that he could never be a good husband for her.

Suffice it to say, he is not well rested.

His sister does not appear to have enjoyed their journey to the church either. Daphne looks distinctly relieved as the carriage rolls to a stop.

"Are you well, sister?"

Daphne lets out a slow breath and closes her eyes. "The closer I get to this child's arrival, the more I feel like a pumpkin rolling around in the seat of this carriage."

Simon laughs but hurriedly covers it when Daphne shoots him a withering glare. Colin ducks out of the carriage so he can laugh freely without earning his sister's wrath. Simon steps out first, and he offers Daphne both hands to help her out.

The fit of her gown shows the full breadth of her belly. She looks beautiful but uncomfortable. Colin finds her expectant waddle adorable. The three of them meander their way into the church. Colin's anxiety grows with every step.

It is easy to locate his family. They all possess similar faces, and their chestnut hair is easy to spot from a distance. It helps that Kate stands out as well. Kathani wears a beautiful dark blue and gold sari. Her dark hair curls over her shoulders and back with beautiful hair pins holding it all in place.

"Col!" Hyacinth greets him. She hugs him tightly and he presses a firm kiss to the crown of her head. "Are you to return home today, brother? It can be terribly boring without you there."

Colin smiles at his sister. "I might be gone for one more day, Hy."

"Are you alright?" Hyacinth whispers. "You look…sad."

Knowing that his baby sister can spot his upset makes Colin swallow with difficulty. He does not wish to burden his family with his excessive emotions today. It is kind of her to notice, and to ask as well.

"I am having a moment," he replies quietly, "but I shall be alright."

Hyacinth's brows furrow. She appears dubious but after a searching look, she lets the conversation end. Instead, she drags him into the pew and forces him to sit down next to her.

Eloise slips into the seat at the end of the row. She nudges his shoulder with her own and Colin gives her a slight smile. Her expression shows how worried she is about him. It mirrors the one he can feel from Anthony at the opposite end of the row.

They do not get a chance to speak properly before the Vicar calls for the start of the service. Colin glances away from Eloise and finds himself looking for her red curls. He does not see Penelope. In fact, he does not see any of the Featheringtons.

Part of him is relieved by her absence, but the majority of him despairs at not being able to see her. Is she alright? He has every right to be angry with her. He wants to be close to her, but he cannot be with her just yet. Has she taken ill? Why are none of the Featheringtons here? Surely her mother and sisters would attend?

He remains lost in conflicting thoughts for the entire sermon. Colin only tunes back in when the Vicar says, "This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God."

Colin knows those words. That means that church has ended and now it is time for the reading of the banns. Tuning back in, Colin's heart rate increases.

"Now, today, I publish the banns of marriage between Lord John Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin, and Miss Francesca Bridgerton," the Vicar says. His tone is slow and careful. From the corner of his eye, he spots Frannie and John looking at each other and blushing shyly.

It hits Colin in the chest to realize that his and Penelope's names should have been read today. If she had accepted his offer of marriage instead of shattering his heart, their first asking would also be today. Colin looks down at his lap, feeling a surge of heartbreak and anxiety flare in his chest.

"This is the first time of asking. If any of you know cause, or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it."

His eyes fill with tears. He misses Penelope even though he is so angry with her. The thought of marrying her makes his heart dance with joy, but he remains awash with hurt too. He can envision how utterly breathtaking she would look walking down the aisle towards him. Colin would be beside himself with glee. Why did she have to be Lady Whistledown?

Why could he not calm the roil of betrayal twisting in his stomach? It is endlessly confusing to love someone deeply but to also be hurt by them.

"Very well," the Vicar states. "Lord Kilmartin and Miss Bridgerton shall be married in three weeks time."

He is overjoyed for John and Frannie. Their sweet love deserves to be recognized and celebrated openly. Colin feels melancholy on his behalf. He could be engaged . Instead, she rejected his offer of marriage and confessed to being the authoring wench who nearly destroyed his family.

The Vicar continues reading the banns of marriage for Lord Cho and Miss Kenworthy, but Colin is too absorbed in his maelstrom of agony to listen. He startles when Hyacinth grabs his hand. His youngest sister remains unaware of what has occurred between himself and Penelope, but he knows she can sense something is wrong. He holds Hyacinth's hand in his own and blinks back tears. The task of not crying becomes infinitely more difficult when Eloise grabs his other hand in her own. Colin swallows hard. He counts silently to himself to calm his anxiety, using his sisters to ground himself.

They both hold on tightly. Neither of them says a word or makes it obvious that Colin is struggling between them. His gratitude for his siblings swells in his chest. It makes him more emotional. As they prepare to leave the church, Colin finds himself swept up in the crowd of people exiting. He only hears snippets of conversation, but it all surrounds Lady Whistledown.

Colin's stomach rumbles with anxiety as all the chatter reaches his ears.

"It has not been delivered. No one has it."

"Perhaps the Queen has finally discovered her?"

"Where is she? I was hoping she would cover my engagement!"

"Lord Cho is quite the catch."

"I hoped she'd report on my new dress from the Stratham Ball on Saturday. It was custom-made and got me the attention of a Viscount."

"There should have been at least three new issues published."

"I have heard even the Queen has been looking for the scandal sheet!"

"Are you joining us for the midday meal, Col?" Eloise asks loudly. Colin feels her hand grab onto his own. She nearly drags him from the crowd and down the stone steps. Colin's head swims with anxious thoughts. He fails to register her question until he stands before his mother and Anthony.

"What did you ask?" Colin asks slowly. His head feels muddled and his heart continues racing. Eloise tightens her grip on his fingers and he squeezes back. Her firm touch helps restore his attention to the present.

"Are you to join us for the midday meal?" Eloise replies. Colin still takes a moment for his overwrought brain to process, but he shakes his head after a bit.

"I am still not feeling well," Colin says. "I believe I shall return to Hastings House for some rest."

Colin spends the afternoon alone. He sequesters himself into the guest quarters and does not attend any meals with his sister. He knows that Daphne is worried. She approaches his bedchamber door to invite him to supper. He refuses politely.

He has no energy to engage in conversation with his family. He is exhausted but cannot sleep. His panic cycles high and low throughout the afternoon, rendering his appetite nonexistent. Instead, Colin writes to take the edge off of his emotional upheaval.

His anxious thoughts spiral in his head for hours. He worries about Penelope, even as he rages over the reveal of her secret. How foolish she has been with her safety! Being Lady Whistledown is the scandal to end all scandal. Who all knows?

Eloise, of course. Her lady's maid has to know! How else would she send her issues to print? That is already far too many people.

Will she be caught and sent to a guillotine for her impertinence toward the Crown? The thought of life without Penelope sends Colin into a near fit of panic. He cannot lose her.

Mayfair, London – November 1815

The whispers about Lady Whistledown's absence are irksome. Only a week since her last publication and already people are restless. Penelope certainly carved a niche for herself. She invokes madness in Mayfair. Her gossip sheet is an addiction and the Ton seems to thirst for more of her drivel.

….admittedly her writings are humorous and entertaining.

I am no fool (most of the time). I recognize talent when I encounter it. Penelope's columns are an affront to propriety, but my girl writes prose that belongs amongst the greatest authors. Is it madness or love that makes me proud of her accomplishment?

Although I can confess to being proud, I cannot forget how damning her words are. She risks her personal safety and the ruin of her family name should she continue writing. However, who am I to censure her? If she created something so powerful and grandiose that even the Queen inquires after her disappearance, then perhaps I have no right to be angry?

She mocks the Crown openly. Her only protection is her obscured identity. I feared Lady Whistledown's reports prior to this, but now, I fear for her safety. Penelope is as brazen as she is careless. I am irate that she challenged the Queen so frequently in the past. Thank heavens she ceased her indiscretionate mockery of His Majesty after her first season of writing. If she mocked King George's illness regularly, I do believe she would be locked beneath the palace for her impertinence.

I remain incensed. I believe it is mostly anger at myself for feeling oblivious and idiotic. If the roles were reversed, would Penelope feel the same way I do?

-- Monday, November 27, 1815

Late Monday morning, Colin travels back to Bridgerton House. Daphne and Simon were willing to host him for however long he desired but Colin knows he cannot avoid his home forever. He cannot avoid Penelope either.

He enters his study and drops his leather satchel on the settee. The room is dark and quiet. His parchment and journals spread out just as he left them days before. Colin sits in his desk chair, letting his hands travel across the parchment he'd been working on Wednesday last. It had been such a beautiful moment. Elated by John and Frannie's engagement, alight with joy of his own with his writing and picturing proposing to Penelope. That felt as though it occurred an eternity ago.

Colin has not seen her since that awful Thursday morning. Four days is the longest he's gone without her presence since he returned home for the season in August. The awareness of her absence is painful in its intensity. He yearns for her company as deeply as he did when he journeyed through Spain.

He remembers arriving at the Port of Valencia. The beauty of the city and sea were overshadowed by his discontent over her failure to respond. He was truly an idiot. How did he not recognize Penelope's value in his life beyond friendship for years? She is the first person he wishes to share things with. He delights in finding things she would enjoy.

Colin flips the journal currently on his desk over. It covers the last month of his trip where he sailed from Cagliari, Sardinia to Palma in the Balearic islands and then to the coast city of Valencia, Spain. Colin planned at least two months of travel within Spain, but he only made it through Barcelona and Girona before he decided to return home.

His family never asked why he cut his trip short. He would not have been able to explain it even if they had inquired about it. He came back because he felt lonely and untethered. The world being so large started to feel terrifying instead of exhilarating.

As he flips through his journal entries, Colin can admit that he returned home because of Penelope.

Valencia, Spain – July 1815

I sent another letter to Pen today. She has yet to respond to any of my missives from France or Italy. Benedict confirmed in his last letter that her health remains in good standing. It escapes me why she would not reply to any of my letters. I did not see her before I departed for my travels, but I thought all was well between us. The coup over her fraudulent cousin went over splendidly. Did she not feel the same joy I felt during our dance?

It felt good to provide protection for a household lacking any decent male presence. The way Penelope looked at me in astonishment caused my chest to grow with purpose. That moment made me long for a person to take care of and shelter. I cannot imagine what I could have done from a continent away to earn her disregard or her ire.

Sending letters back home and losing hope for a reply from her seems to remove the magic from endless exploration. I find myself reluctant to explore historical sites and monuments with no one to write of my adventures. Penelope has always responded enthusiastically to my missives. I find that without her assurances, traveling on my own feels quite…lonely?

Her lack of response made him realize how alone he felt. Penelope has been a constant in his life since he was one and ten years old. Even as children, they exchanged letters whilst apart during the summer seasons.

Living without her is not a viable option for Colin.

He closes his journal and sighs. Colin stands from his desk chair to pace. He wants to be near her, but he remains fitfully angry. Can he express such a thing to her clearly? Will it hurt her more to have him remain at her side but not open himself to her?

With little else to distract himself, Colin strides to the windows and pulls the floor-length curtains open on each one. The sunlight spills into the room. He stops mid-pull when he sees Eloise's dark hair and lithe form crossing the square from the Featherington House. Without another thought, Colin hastens from the study to meet her in the entrance hall.

Eloise is partway up the stairs when she sees Colin appear on the landing.

"Colin!" she exclaims. "When did you return?"

"I got back only an hour ago," he replies. "Where are you coming from?"

Eloise goes to respond but then she stops. Narrowing her eyes, Eloise observes her brother. He attempts to look nonchalant but utterly fails. Judging by the direction he came from, she is certain he was in his study. The study which has large windows facing the Featherington House.

She would bet a large sum that Colin saw her leave Penelope's house.

"I went to visit Pen," she answers. Eloise makes sure that her face and tone are even-keeled. She clearly succeeds because irritation flares in his dark blue eyes. It would be amusing to see him trying to stealthily extract information about Penelope, if things were not so fraught between them.

"How is her condition?" Colin asks nervously. She sees his hand start to anxiously tap against his outer thigh.

"She is…despondent," Eloise answers. Colin's face drops. It breaks her heart to see his sadness blossom, but she feels validated to also see his blatant concern and fierce protectiveness spark in his expression too. Colin will forgive Penelope in a matter of time. It eases the tension in her chest to know that she was right about Colin. For a couple of days, Eloise thought she had destroyed both her best friend and her brother with her insistence.

Colin moves down a step. "She has not been alone has she?" he asks. His brows furrow together in stress and his lips turn down into a hard frown.

"No brother, I have spent time with her since your disagreement," Eloise responds. "Her mother recently returned after getting word of her falling ill."

Colin's face pales and then turns bright red with anger. "Where has her mother been?" he demands. "Has she been left unattended all this time?!" His loud voice echoes inside of the entrance hall and Eloise gestures at him to calm down.

His nostrils flare. She moves toward him, lowering her voice.

"Her sister Philippa was in a precarious state. As much as I dislike Lady Featherington's parenting skills, this time she had reason to be away," Eloise tells him. Colin's eyes widen. She sees the contrition appear, quickly followed by worry once again. "She did come back as soon as she got the letter, leaving her housekeeper with Philippa."

"Oh," Colin replies, at a loss for words. "Has her sister recovered?"

It is in these moments where Eloise knows that her brother is a good man.

"Mostly," Eloise says. "The doctor has her on bed rest and has prescribed tea for her severe nausea."

Colin's worry does not abate. "She will not lose the baby, will she?" he asks.

Her brother is a very good man, indeed. He owes nothing to the Featherington family. He is on the outs with the woman he loves. And yet, his concern for her, and subsequently her relatives, remains present. Eloise does not know how she will ever find a man as honorable as her brother. All of her brothers are good men but Colin is a gentle, loving soul. His capacity to love others is infinite.

"That was the fear," Eloise admits, "But I think the danger has passed."

"Thank you, El for letting me know," Colin says. "And thank you for taking care of Penelope when I am not in a good place to do so myself."

A good man, indeed.

"Of course, brother," Eloise replies. "How are you? You were rather quiet at the church service yesterday."

Colin takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Several emotions flicker across his face before he says, "I remain incredibly angry about all of this."

Although unsurprising, Eloise hoped differently. The downside of having such an immense capacity for love is that he has a large capacity for being hurt deeply.

"Do you think you can forgive her, Col?" Eloise asks. Colin's anxious tapping starts again. He remains quiet for a long time.

Eloise thinks he may not answer her at all until he says, "I think you should consider yourself uncommonly lucky that you have never been in love." The conflict warring across his face tells her his meaning. He yearns for a person who has wronged everyone else he loves. For Colin, that is the worst kind of betrayal.

Eloise wonders if it is luck or misfortune that prevents her from the indulgence of romantic love. She does not understand the appeal of the dramatics she has witnessed in the name of love, yet she seems to be the only person who feels as such.

A dull roar of conversation, glasses clinking and gambling fills the dark walls of White's club. Colin tips back another full glass of brandy without compunction, ignoring the concerned gaze of Will Mondrich from across the table. Benedict's grayish-green eyes are fastened on his face as well, but he offers his glass for another tipple.

"I realize it is tradition to drink indulgently amongst friends," Benedict says, "but if a gent gets too drunk the night before he attends a group hunt, he runs the risk of being shot." His tone is amused, but his eyes reveal his wariness for Colin's behavior.

Colin pours a drink into his glass and refills his own. He ignores the insinuation from his brother. Colin lifts his cup and tips it towards his brother in a silent cheer before he says, "Then keep up with me so there might be other, slower targets."

"I do not think any of us can keep up with you tonight," Will responds. Colin shrugs in Will's direction, giving his friend a noncommittal hum as he tosses his drink back.

John releases a loud hiccup from his seat next to Colin, which pulls Benedict and Will's attention from his poor drinking habits.

Benedict leans over his drink, staring at their soon-to-be brother with amusement. "I thought you were not much of a drinker, Lord Kilmartin?" he asks.

"It is John," the Earl replies with a slight catch to his voice from another hiccup. Colin smiles, already refilling his glass for another round. "And no, I am not, but in my defense, your mother does not like me."

Colin lets out a sound of disagreement as he places the stopper in the bottle of liquor. "No," he objects loudly, "Our mother does not not like you." John shoots him a dubious look, but their attention is drawn to Benedict when he snorts loudly.

"What?" he asks indignantly. Benedict waves Colin off with a hand as he leans forward. "I shall handle this, brother."

"John, our mother adores you," Benedict insists. John turns his dubious look onto Benedict this time. "But our mother also has an obsession with great love stories." Colin sips at his drink, agreeing with Benedict in various hums as he speaks.

"What should he do?" Will asks. "Give the man some practical advice." John points at Will urgently as he takes another shot.

Benedict sighs heavily and says, "Frankly, you might consider doing something foolish. Something bold. Declare yourself." Benedict slams his hand onto the tabletop for emphasis.

Colin nods, downing another shot. He does not say any words, but he hums his enthusiastic agreement. Mother certainly does love a bit of drama. Passionless or reserved romance is not her preference. She would love a bold declaration from John. It might convince her of his regard for Francesca. Anything to show that his feelings are beyond quiet companionship.

Benedict continues his tirade, "Throw stones? Throw stones at Francesca's window tonight!"

John gapes at Benedict. Will rubs an exasperated hand over his face, and Colin shakes his head immediately. "No, do not do that," he tells John with a hard stare. John glances between Colin and Benedict, clearly confused by the both of them.

"Your problem is that you are trying much too hard to be respectful," Benedict states. Colin kicks his elder brother under the table and Benedict kicks him back making Colin yelp.

John leans forward, visibly intrigued. "Bold?" he asks.

"Yes!" Benedict says. He growls in enthusiasm and knocks his fists against the table. Colin kicks him again and Benedict grunts in pain. Colin may be in his cups, but Benedict has clearly gone mad. How can he suggest Frannie's betrothed to do such a thing?

"Alright. Well if I am to be bold…" John says. He wears a determined look on his face as he finishes off the last of his brandy. "I shall need some time to think on it."

Immediate groans arise from their group. Benedict puts his head on the table. Will shakes his head. Colin drinks another glass. Once finished with his drink, John rises from his seat and lurches to the left. Will stands to catch him before he tips over completely.

"I think I shall make my way home," John says, still wobbling on his feet. Benedict chuckles and Colin refills his glass.

"Perhaps I shall retire as well," Will responds, keeping a steadying hand on John's shoulder. "It is strange to be drinking in another man's club."

"No," Colin implores, tapping his hand on the tabletop for encouragement. "Stay!"

"Mrs. Mondrich and I have had our social calendar full this week. I am spent," Will replies. "I shall see you tomorrow for the hunt, bright and early."

Colin grunts in disappointment which makes Will laugh as he leaves. He slings John's arm over his shoulders and they head towards the exit together. "I hope you arrived in a carriage and not on horseback…" Will's voice becomes inaudible as they disappear into the crowd of gentlemen. As he lifts the decanter of liquor, Benedict turns to face him.

"Perhaps that is our cue?" he asks. Colin scoffs and pours them both another drink. Colin can feel the searching look his brother gives him. Benedict ignores his glass. Knowing that he has surely lost his company for the evening, Colin stoppers the bottle.

"You go if you must," Colin says quietly. "I could use a moment on my own."

Benedict stares at him intently. Part of Colin wishes to share everything with Benedict and ask for his advice, but he has already laid himself bare to Anthony, Eloise and Daphne. He does not know if his pride can take another moment of sharing his weaknesses, even when it is someone he trusts greatly like Benedict.

"Is everything well?" Benedict asks. His tone is light, but his eyes are dark with worry. Benedict is no fool. He knows there is something serious going on with Colin. Just as Colin knows there is something serious going on with Benedict.

He has been behaving oddly for the last few days. Colin thought all was well with Lady Arnold, but Hyacinth informed him that Benedict was home all weekend; studiously avoiding any social gatherings.

"Is everything well with you?" Colin questions, raising his eyebrows. Benedict laughs awkwardly in response. His elder brother makes an irritated face at him and then rolls his eyes whilst chuckling. Colin tips his glass back as Benedict stands. Ben presses a kiss to the top of his head, patting him twice on the shoulder as he takes his leave.

Colin can feel his brother's love in the affectionate gesture. It seems neither Benedict nor himself are ready to be vulnerable about what bothers them.

Penelope knocks at the door of the modiste's shop, keeping her hood pulled tight over her easily identifiable red curls. The streets of central Mayfair are empty and silent. The light of the moon bounces off the cobblestone and stucco from the storefronts. It is strange to be out after ten o'clock in the evening, but it was the only time she could sneak out of her home.

It is a blessing and a curse that her Mama now cares where she is. This is the first time, Penelope had to wait quite so late to safely abscond from the Featherington House. Penelope knocks on the door frame again. Her nerves are overwrought tonight. The sound of carriages moving in the far distance does nothing to help her anxious thoughts.

Before Penelope can knock again, the wood and glass door opens in front of her with a soft tinkle of bells. Genevieve's face appears in the doorway, she holds a candle-lit lantern in her hand and a welcoming smile.

She ushers Penelope inside quickly, locking the door behind them. They head into the back of the shop on quiet feet, and Penelope tugs off her hood and cloak as Genevieve lights several candles in the backroom.

"I had hoped you might come by," Genevieve says. "After our last conversation I was unsure–"

"Genevieve," Penelope interrupts. "I told Colin about Lady Whistledown."

Genevieve's eyes widen as she replies, "Oh dear."

"He knows nothing of your involvement, so do not worry," Penelope hastens to say. She can see the slight panic in Genevieve's face.

"Well, that is good," the modiste replies slowly. "But how are you? It must have been terrifying to reveal yourself to him."

"I am relieved in a way," Penelope says. "It has been painful carrying this secret." She sits down heavily on a nearby chaise lounge. Genevieve sits down next to her. "I figure he hates me for it now and he has every right to. I was being courted by the man that I have loved for a lifetime, and now I am unsure if he will return to me."

"Has he ended your courtship formally?"

"No," Penelope replies. "He has not sought me out in four, almost five days now. He practically galloped from the room."

"Perhaps, he needs time to think?" Genevieve offers hesitantly. "I have heard nothing of your identity being shared, so he could simply need some distance to discern his next steps."

"I hate that I caused him pain," Penelope confesses. The regret is ever present in her mind and heart. Seeing Colin cry is burned into her memory. "I wonder if I am worthy of him with all the mistakes I have made."

"You have made some ill-considered choices in your time," Genevieve agrees. "You were a girl that did not know her own power and none of your mistakes are routed in malice."

"Does that justify it?" Penelope asks.

"No," Genevieve says with a regretful sigh. "But there is no going back to the past. All one can do is be true to one's choices and move forward. Will you publish again?"

"I do not know," Penelope responds with a bitter chuckle. "I gave it up before he found out and I felt like I was losing a part of myself. I still feel that way."

"You can love someone and love yourself at the same time," Genevieve says. "In fact, I think that is the best kind of love match. Where all of you fit the parts of all of someone else and you are loved for every flaw."

"Family is everything to Colin," Penelope replies. "I hurt them. I may love him for all of his flaws, but I wounded the core of him with my quill. I am unsure if that kind of betrayal can ever be forgiven."

Genevieve says nothing. There is not much she could say. It is true. She inflicted damage on the soul of Colin Bridgerton when she wounded those he loves. She regrets the choices she made, both intentional and unintentional. However, she cannot take it back no matter how much she wishes to do so.

Penelope is so lost in her thoughts that she fails to notice Genevieve leaving her side until she reappears. The modiste hands her a glass filled with amber liquid. Penelope stares at it.

"Here. Have a drink," Genevieve says. She lifts her glass and clinks it against Penelope's. "It may not make you feel better, but it may distract you for a little while."

Penelope sniffs the glass furtively. It looks like the drink gentlemen typically consume. It has a strong scent that makes her nose twitch. Genevieve drinks easily from her own glass. She looks unphased by the taste, so perhaps it tastes better than it smells?

She takes a large sip and regrets it immediately. The alcohol burns its way down her throat. Penelope gags and coughs. Her eyes water from the sting of liquor. Her sputtering sends Gen into stitches of laughter.

"God and above, that tastes revolting ," Penelope sputters, her tongue hanging out of her mouth to rid herself of the bitter taste. Genevieve snorts inelegantly into her drink.

"The taste grows on you after some time," Genevieve replies, amused at Penelope's unimpressed expression. "Try again!"

"I feel like you are being impertinent, but I cannot prove as such."

Genevieve laughs and Penelope joins her. She takes another drink (which tastes just as terrible as the first but at least she expects it this time). Genevieve is correct that it does not solve her problems, but it is certainly an entertaining distraction from her heartache.

It is approaching the midnight hour when the doors of White's open and salaciously dressed women flood the room. He finds little appeal in their fine figures and sultry looks. He remembers the lackluster release and the emotional emptiness he felt during each brothel visit. He possesses no desire to engage with any of these women; either conversationally or sexually. Finishing off the last dregs of his brandy, Colin drops a pile of funds onto the table to cover his tab and takes his leave.

As the club's door shuts behind him, the silence outside sweeps over him. The reduction in noise makes the ringing in his ears feel loud. Adjusting his waistcoat, Colin decides to walk home. Perhaps, the journey could grant him clarity. As he moves, the brisk November air causes him to shiver. He is certain that the alcohol in his system is the only thing keeping him warm.

He misses Penelope. Not seeing her or talking to her drives him mad. His anger burns like red-hot embers. It no longer roars behind his ears, but it would not take much to reignite it. He hates feeling this way.

He walks leisurely, lost in thoughts of her. He wonders if she is asleep. Perhaps, she dreams of him? Of their kisses? Or maybe she too is awake right now? Maybe her nights are as fraught and sleepless as his own?

Colin hears the tinkle of a doorbell and he looks up to see a small hooded figure leaving the modiste's storefront. He recognizes the size and shape of her immediately, causing him to freeze midstep. He is proven correct when her red curls swing past the hem of her hood as she turns in his direction.

Her blue eyes widen in shock as they lock eyes. She gasps and stands still at the sight of him. Colin's heart rate rockets in his chest. She looks exhausted, but outlandishly beautiful to him. For a moment, he is mesmerized by her presence, and then reality strikes him. Colin looks around the empty street, registering the late hour and her large hood covering her face. There are no chaperones to be found, and here is Penelope, out by herself in the middle of the night!

"What are you doing out here?" he asks, frowning.

Before she even answers, it occurs to him that she may be doing something with Lady Whistledown. The embers of anger in his chest flare hot again.

"Colin, I–" she begins, but he shakes his head.

"Do not answer that. It is clear I found you amid some secret dealings," Colin says. "I do not wish to know." He steps into the street to walk past her despite his instincts screaming at him not to leave her there alone and unprotected.

He only makes it about a meter past her form when she speaks from the sidewalk.

"And what secret dealings have I found you in the midst of?" she snaps. The anger in her voice makes him stop dead. She continues, "All alone? Coming from the direction of your club and the brothels?"

She sounds incensed and hurt. Her indignant tone causes his temper to flare as he swings back around to face her. Penelope's blue eyes spark with rage and frustration.

"What right do you have to ask me that?" Colin demands. Penelope flinches at his sneer. "After all the secrets you have kept, all of the things you have written over the years. All of the damage you have done!"

"You are right," Penelope replies. Her blue eyes shine with hurt and sorrow. It makes Colin's blood boil with guilt. He does not wish to hurt her, but God and above, how is he supposed to get past this? "I realize how much damage I have done, and I am so, so sorry for it."

Her apology sounds genuine. She looks at him with such desperation and sorrow that Colin feels tempted to surrender. He wants to comfort her, but if they never have this argument, they can never be together.

"What were you thinking? When you wrote about Eloise?" Colin asks. "No wonder she was livid with you for so long! I'd thought it preposterous that she would remove herself from you and now I find out why."

"I was trying to protect her," Penelope protests. "I realize now how misguided I was."

"And when you wrote about Miss Thompson?" Colin retorts. "Exposing her as you did. Ruining her!" Let her try and blame that one on protection. All Colin can imagine her feeling as she wrote that damning report was reproach for Miss Thompson and complete disrespect for his person.

"I thought I was protecting you!" Penelope cries.

Colin explodes. "Then you should've told me to my face."

"I know," Penelope answers. Her voice shakes around the words, but she continues speaking, "Would you have listened to me? Would you truly have left her side and not married her out of kindness? Because I tried telling you that she loved another! I tried! Perhaps, I should have tried harder, but I thought it my only choice."

Colin paces in frustration. "It is clear that you do not respect me enough to speak with me directly after what you have written about me this year. Claiming that I hardly know myself," he replies sharply. "What were you trying to protect me from then? What were you thinking?"

Colin is unsure what he says that makes Penelope grow defensive, but her body's stance changes. She faces him head-on. He is over a foot taller than her. Her blue eyes are red-rimmed and filled with tears. And yet, her soul burns in her gaze. Colin watches Penelope straighten her spine and stand her ground.

"I was thinking that I simply wanted the Colin I know back. Not the stoic man you returned as; acting as if you care for no one and need nothing," Penelope replies. "It's you . I wanted you as you are – the kind and feeling, occasionally excitable, good-hearted man who I love."

The change in her demeanor startles him as much as her words do. Colin's eyes swell with tears. She wants him? The overly emotional, awkward, food-obsessed man that he is? She wants Colin?

"I should have told you myself. There are so many things I should've done myself," Penelope says quietly. Colin steps closer to her subconsciously responding to the heartache and guilt in her tone. "And now, with the confidence you've helped me find this year, I am finally able to."

Colin walks closer, his heart surging with hope. "So, then, you do not need Whistledown anymore?"

Penelope stares at him for a moment before she says, "I do not need to hide behind Whistledown anymore, but I am not saying there is no value in it. I have no intention of sharing your secrets with the world."

Colin stops in his tracks. She has kept her promise to not share his family's secrets, but how can she continue? His family is full of overly excitable idiots and their passion lands them in scandals more often than not. One day, she will be forced to choose between her loyalty to their family and her scandal sheet. How can she not see this inevitable conflict arising?

"I have not been writing but I am in a precarious position," Penelope says. "I cannot quit abruptly so I may have to write more; at least until the end of the season."

Colin lets out a derisive laugh. Penelope continues looking at him, but he can not face her anymore. Until the end of the season? What a farce. She loves Whistledown. It is obvious to see. Does she love it more than she loves him? Colin feels his eyes burn.

"Do you know what is most humiliating? I let you talk so much about my journal as if I were to be this…great writer. When all this time you have been a published writer renowned across Mayfair," Colin admits painfully. His voice catches. He looks at the ground as embarrassment sears through his chest. "I have struggled to find a purpose or a place in this life, and for a moment, I thought the person I trusted most in the world saw worth in me. That I had a talent that could provide a living and a home for the family I wish to build with you. Was it all a lie?"

Penelope's horrified gasp makes him glance up at her. Tears streak down her pale face and her eyes are wide with dismay. "Colin, I meant everything I said about your writing!" she says fervently. "None of what I have told you has been a lie. My feelings for you and about your talent are real."

Something in Colin's chest caves in from relief. He so desperately wants to believe her. How can she see talent in him when she has achieved so much on her own? How could he be of any value to her life when he is just starting to find his way? Unable to focus on parsing his feelings, Colin finally registers the precariousness of them having this conversation on a business street in Mayfair.

He shakes off the tears and strides closer to Penelope. They cannot continue this conversation here, and he needs to get her home safely. She cannot be out after dark unchaperoned.

"You are putting yourself in danger being out here tonight," he says. His sharp tone catches Penelope off guard as much as the abrupt subject change. Colin glances around the empty street around them as he whispers, "You've been putting yourself in danger living this double life all along."

"I have been careful," Penelope protests, anger resurfacing in her face and voice.

"No," Colin bites out. "You have been foolish."

Penelope gasps before her eyes narrow in a fierce glare. "Colin, I can take care of myself," she retorts.

For a split second, Colin seeks to respond in anger but his anxiety overwhelms the armor of fury he's donned. He cannot provide for her. He has no skills to seek out a purpose. And now he fails in his duties as a man and husband. If she can take care of herself, she will never need him. Colin has lived his entire life feeling adrift. He wants someone to need him. He wants to wrap someone in the love he has to give. He wants to be enough and he keeps failing every time.

"Then what good am I to you?" he cries. The tears come hard and fast. He cannot control the way they overwhelm him. He is never enough.

"Colin, I love you!" Penelope shouts. " I love you ." Her blue eyes implore him to understand. She loves him. Someone beyond his family loves him.

Hearing those words breaks something wide open in his chest and he cannot resist. He lunges for her and she receives his kiss with a gasp. He kisses her, hard and graceless.

Colin feels starved for her.

They stumble into the wall of the modiste. Penelope tugs on his bottom lip with her teeth and he moans into her mouth as they kiss open-mouthed. She clearly remembers the way their tongues moved together at their kiss in the Bridgerton gardens because she opens herself to him without hesitation. His yearning for her makes him near feral with desire. He uses his hand to move them into the alcove, hidden by shadow and the thinnest of trees lining the pavement.

Penelope's hand stretches across his jaw as her back hits the wall. Her hood slips off her head and her curls cascade around them. He tilts his head to the right as their lips connect. Her clove scent and the softness of her lips cause him to unravel. The way she tastes of apple brandy makes him ache inside.

Colin reaches down to her hips and lifts her against the painted stucco. Penelope releases his mouth to moan in shock and arousal at the sudden movement. His hands grip her fleshy thighs over her dress as their mouths collide once again. Colin uses his hips to pin her in place and she wraps her legs around his waist.

Their tongues tangle and she grabs the collar of his coat to pull him closer. Cigarette smoke lingers on her dress and the underlying scent of clove drives him mad. His heart is aflame. He wants to consume her, never let her go and make her cry out his name in ecstasy.

She is his; everything he has ever wanted. She loves him.

Her small hands tug at his hair and Colin grinds into her. She moans in response, breaking apart from his mouth to gasp for air. Colin sucks on her bottom lip. His hand slides under her dress to the pale, soft skin of her thigh as their mouths meet again. The feel of her dress catching on his signet ring makes him long to find out how warm and wet she is for him.

Penelope grips his hair in a tight fist and yanks him closer. Her hard tugging on his curls goes straight to his cock. Penelope's legs tighten around his hips as their kiss turns dirty and desperate. The sounds of their lips smacking together heightens his arousal. They are consumed. Both of them are graceless and passionate until the neighing of a horse snatches Colin back into reality. He breaks the kiss with a lewd wet sound that has him battling good sense and the tightness of his breeches for control of his actions.

"Colin," Penelope gasps and he places a hand over her mouth. Colin spreads himself wide to cover her fully.

"Do not move," he whispers and she nods against his palm. He listens for the carriage to roll past quite a distance. His heart pounds frantically and he can feel her breasts heaving in panic and passion against his chest.

When he feels safe, he lets her legs drop to the ground and he pulls away. Her hood is askew. Her lips kissed swollen and her face flushed. She is stunning to him but his mind reminds him of her betrayal and the hurt he feels. His erection wilts and he feels tears rush back to his eyes.

He has never wanted someone so desperately, but he can barely look in her direction without the sting of humiliation settling into his chest.

He finds himself pacing the cobblestone. He does not know what to do.

"Colin," Penelope says. The heartbreak in her voice makes him look at her. Her blue eyes swell with tears. "I do not know how to repent for this."

Colin turns away. Her pain nearly undoes him. He hates to see her cry, but he cannot deny his feelings. He is too hurt to comfort her.

"What do you want from me, Pen?"

"I want you to hold me and kiss me," Penelope breathes. "I ache for you in ways I cannot fully comprehend."

Colin closes his eyes in agony. He can hear the way she yearns for him.

"I very much want to do those things, but I cannot. My emotions are in chaos," he replies. "The thought of being intimate with you in any way when my heart and mind are in such conflict dismays me greatly."

"I understand," Penelope responds. Colin looks at her. She visibly fights back tears. "I will be here when you are ready; if you ever are."

"If we marry, would you stop publishing for good?"

"Colin, I have already stopped—," Penelope protests but the words do not register as his mind starts to race.

"I can protect you! My name can shield you from the Queen."

"Colin, please," Penelope says.

"For god's sake Penelope Featherington, will you marry me or not?" Colin demands.

"I will not!" She replies, stomping her foot. Colin finally pays attention and sees that she is furious. She looks ready to plant a facer on him and he has no idea why.

"Why not?" he asks, indignant. This is the second proposal she rejected. She said she loved him. Why does she not wish to wed him?

"I will not have you marry me out of obligation, Colin Bridgerton," Penelope snaps. "If you truly desire to be my husband, then ask me out of love and not as a solution to something you see as a problem!"

"Pen—," he begins, stunned. She shakes her head at him. Penelope harshly tugs the hood back onto her head and gathers her cloak into one hand.

"No," She says firmly. "I am going home. Come find me when you have made up your mind."

Penelope strides off towards her carriage down the street, leaving Colin standing there devastated. He watches her climb inside, assisted by a footman. How did things go so wrong so quickly? What did he miss? Did she not see his love? How could she fail to understand that he wanted to marry her?

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

-- Tuesday, November 28, 1815

Tuesday dawns with the arrival of Philippa and Albion to Featherington House. Penelope hears the ruckus of their carriage being unloaded but she remains in bed, lacking the energy to face her family after the emotional upheaval of last night. Colin Bridgerton is her weakness.

His vulnerability was heartbreaking to witness. To know that she reduced him to tears and overwhelming insecurity causes her great distress. She never meant to hurt him. She simply never thought about the long term consequences of her publication. Perhaps it was ignorance or arrogance that allowed her to think she would never be discovered? She cannot identify which led her to her behavior.

Two years ago, she was filled with rage and resentment over her station in life. To combat the suffocating feeling of her existence, she became an unscrupulous paragon of truth to show people how ugly they were. She did not write Lady Whistledown for any noble cause. Penelope sought to be heard. She desired to scorch the homes of people who'd been endlessly cruel to her. Recognizing how far-reaching her spite affected those around her is unbearable.

Beyond the mental agony of her mistakes, the kiss with Colin still has her body aching and overheated. Sleeping last night was nigh impossible with the way her blood rushed through her veins, making unspeakable places warm, damp, and sensitive to every shift of her silk chemise. Penelope's body only feels this particular way in Colin's presence, usually after a shared hand hold or a kiss. Surely something is wrong with her? What on earth could all of these feelings be conducive to?

It drives her to absolute distraction.

Then there is the devastation of him proposing… again …seemingly out of obligation. Does he truly wish to marry her for love? Or does he only seek her hand to save her? Unwilling to cry again, Penelope forces herself to close her eyes and count until she falls into a discontented sleep.

When she wakes for the second time, the sun is high in the sky. She feels the grogginess of oversleeping and wonders if she would have been better off being awake but maudlin. Sighing heavily, she forces herself up in bed. The sun streams in from behind her floor-length curtains. Penelope brushes errant curls from her face and rubs her tired eyes. The day stretches endlessly before her.

For once, they have no social engagements planned and therefore, no acceptances to rescind. Penelope could waste the entire day laying in bed, brooding. After the fraught argument between herself and Colin last night, she possesses little desire to socialize or entertain anyone.

Before her frustration with Colin grows again, her attention is drawn to the door when there is a hesitant knock.

"Come in," she calls. The door opens immediately and Rae's head appears in the doorway. Her lady's maid looks distinctly relieved to see her awake despite how much of a mess Penelope must look. Rae hustles inside without another word from Penelope, shutting the door solidly behind herself. She carries a wicker basket tucked under one arm, ready to collect the washing for the day.

"The morning meal has come and gone, Miss, but I can have the kitchens prepare the midday meal early for you."

"Is it that late?" Penelope asks. She knew that it was later in the morning, but is still rather surprised by how much longer she forced herself to sleep.

"It is after one o'clock, Miss."

"I suppose I should prepare myself for what remains of the day then?"

"Might be a good idea," Rae replies. "Your sister has arrived."

"I know," Penelope acknowledges with a heavy sigh. "Does she seem to have improved?"

"Perhaps that is something you should ascertain for yourself, Miss?" Rae asks frankly. Rae is correct. Her Mama would have a conniption over Rae's forthrightness but Rae is her lady's maid and her friend. She only speaks the truth. Penelope cannot avoid her sister forever and it is rather rude on her part to attempt to do so.

"Might you prepare a bath for me Rae?" Penelope asks, sliding to the edge of her mattress. "I shall visit her after I am dressed. Is she in her old bedchamber?"

"Indeed, she is," Rae replies. "I will get the bathing room ready. Jasmine or clove today?"

"Let us do jasmine," Penelope says, undoing what remains of her sleeping braid. The tangles present in her hair are a testament to how restless she was in her sleep last night. "I believe I shall need every calming agent possible to make it through this day."

"Very well," Rae says. She heads to the bathing room to work on filling the tub.

Penelope bathes rather quickly, allowing Rae to help wash her red curls as she cleanses her body with jasmine soap. She moves through her ablutions thoroughly – cleaning her teeth, oiling her hair after her bath, and then dressing in a simple lavender day dress.

Rae brushes her curls, taming them into a simple chignon at the back of her head. Her lady's maid allows tendrils to frame her face and she places a comb lined with dark purple flowers around the chignon to complete her look. Penelope does not think she looks like her normal self, but at least she appears decent enough to leave her personal quarters.

Penelope thanks Rae for her assistance and leaves her bedchamber to allow Rae time and space for her chores. She walks to the opposite side of the second floor until she reaches Philippa's closed door. Steeling herself, Penelope knocks.

"You may enter," her sister calls out. Penelope sucks in a calming breath before she opens the door.

She is not prepared for what she sees. Her sister has never appeared so sickly. Her skin is sallow and nearly translucent. Her red curls hang limp and dull around her face. Her cheeks are ruddy and the dark circles under her eyes make her look far older than her two and twenty years of age. It is obvious that she has lost more weight since Penelope last saw her.

"Philippa," Penelope greets with a nod. She tries to keep the shock and concern off her face but the expression on Philippa's face lets her know she is unsuccessful.

Penelope feels awkward and out of place in this situation but her sister has been extraordinarily ill. Although they are not close, Penelope worries for her and for good reason it seems. Her sister seems small and lost while sitting in the large canopy bed of her youth. She is visibly exhausted. Her devastation reflects in her blue eyes despite her surprise at seeing her younger sister in her doorway.

"Penelope," she replies quietly. Her voice carries deep sadness and Penelope feels her heart break for her sister. No one in their family ever suffered from medical issues. Mama does not talk much about her time carrying her children but this illness seems to have taken her by surprise as well.

"When did you and Albion arrive?" she asks, trying to ease into conversation. Penelope is unsure how receptive Philippa will be to her.

"Fairly early this morning. We wanted to be inside Featherington House before too many people were awake and about," Philippa responds. "I am in quite a state." She gestures to her face with a humorless expression and a painful smile.

"How are you feeling?" Penelope questions. She immediately feels like a cad because her answer is obvious. She waits for an incendiary response from Philippa but nothing comes. Penelope does not know what she expects apart from anger but a flood of tears was not an option.

Philippa's face crumples. Shocked, Penelope rushes over to Philippa's bedside.

"Sister! What is it?" she asks frantically. "Did something happen? Are you in pain?"

"The other day, Albion asked me to close my eyes and remember some of the things I have said to you absentmindedly," Philippa says, tears running down her face. "He then requested that I picture our baby, especially if it is a little girl, and how she may react to my words being said to her."

Philippa folds forward in hysterics. Penelope has never seen or heard her sister like this. The wailing cry she lets out makes Penelope's eyes burn in response.

"Philippa," she murmurs, sitting next to her sister on the bed. Her sister's chest shakes with sobs and heaving breaths.

"I am so sorry for the unkindness I have shown you our entire lives. I cannot imagine how awful it must have felt for you," she says, distraught. "Do you think this is God's punishment? That he may take my baby because of how cruel I have been?" Philippa's devastation bleeds through every word she utters. Penelope's heart all but seizes in her chest when she finally parses out what her sister is saying.

"Oh, sister, no! I do not think that at all," Penelope reassures. "That logic does not stand to reason."

"I do not want to lose my baby, Penelope," she says. Philippa clutches her belly. She is barely three months pregnant so there is only a slight visible extension of her belly under her nightgown. Her fright is stark on her face. "I can be a good Mama. I want to be a good Mama."

"You will be," Penelope replies in an attempt to soothe. Philippa cries harder, and Penelope desperately searches for a distraction. "Does the tea help?"

"What if it is too late?"

"Do not think such things, Philippa!" Penelope scolds. "The doctor would have told you."

Philippa remains inconsolable. At a loss for words, Penelope reaches for her sister's hand. Philippa allows the touch and shockingly, returns it by grasping Penelope's hand tightly. "Can you forgive me, Penelope?" Philippa pleads. "I know that it will take us time to change things, but I do not wish to go through motherhood without both of my sisters."

"Of course I can," Penelope responds quickly. It may be an attempt to calm Philippa, but she means it. Holding on to resentment and anger led her to this awful situation she's in with Lady Whistledown. "All will be well, sister."

Philippa sobs and Penelope decides to hell with it. She embraces her sister, whispering assurances into her hair and letting her elder sister express her terror. At least fifteen minutes pass before Philippa gathers herself. Penelope assists her with cleaning her blotchy face.

"Forgive me, I have not asked how you are," Philippa says ruefully, dabbing a cloth to the corners of her eyes. "Mama rushed out this weekend saying you took ill?"

"Ill is a rather strong word. Stress and exhaustion are perhaps more fitting?" Penelope replies. "I fainted at Bridgerton House." Philippa freezes and glances up at Penelope sharply.

"Are you well?" she demands. Penelope raises her hands to calm Philippa.

"Colin and I are at odds," Penelope admits quietly. Philippa's blue eyes widen at her words. It is strange to see concern on her sister's face for anyone, but especially for Penelope. "We had a terrible disagreement. I am unsure where I stand with him."

"Has he formally asked to end your courtship?" Philippa replies nervously. Her sister grabs her hand again. Penelope stares at their connected fingers before she shakes her head.

"No, no. I do not think he will. But…," Penelope says. "I told him I loved him."

Philippa gasps. "Did he say it back?"

"No," Penelope responds. She can feel the surge of tears returning to her eyes. She is so very tired of crying. "Not in those exact words."

"I can be frightfully obtuse at times," Philippa begins slowly, "but I rather think a gentleman who tells off your mother by saying how wonderful you are has strong romantic regard for you."

"I know he cares. He just…does not say things I need to hear. He tries to do things for me. It makes me feel like an obligation to him," Penelope answers, frustrated. "I want him – his presence and his support. I love the kind, funny man that he is. I do not wish him to think I only want him around to take care of me."

"Things you need to hear?" Philippa questions. "Such as?"

"My whole life no one has ever spoken kindness into me. Mockery and ridicule I am familiar with, but words praising me or affirming my value are rare," Penelope confesses. She does not mean her words to be cruel but Philippa winces in understanding. "Even Mama has never told me she loves me. Eloise is the only one. I need his love to be declared assuredly, fervently and without hesitation."

"I cannot apologize enough for how I have behaved toward you," Philippa says quietly. Her regret and sorrow are plain in her voice. "I promise to be better." Penelope does not know how to respond to that, so she doesn't.

"Do you think I'm a fool for wanting him to declare his love?" Penelope inquires instead.

"Not at all, sister," Philippa says firmly. "He should declare his love to you. He is a fool for not having said it already." It feels nice to have Philippa speak in her defense but it is also very strange. Penelope thinks she prefers the strangeness of her sister and mother's behavior to their usual antics.

Riding north of Mayfair to the forestry in Welham Green is about a two-hour journey. Such a ride normally would not affect Colin but drinking to excess the night before takes its toll. He feels particularly miserable, despite the company of people he likes. They travel north for a two day hunting party, primarily meant for deer stalking and quarry hunting.

Welham Green is well-populated with deer species, woodcock, pheasant as well as a fine location for quarry, Since the first of November is the legal start of deer stalking in continental Britain, many of their fellow Ton members have taken to the forestry in past weeks. There is always a powerful showing of gentlemen as each part of the hunting season opens. August 12th is typically overrun by the peerage as they fill the forested countryside as the start of hunting season begins.

It helps that most of the Ton travel back to London for the beginning of the season around the same time. Parliament session attendees are actually encouraged to participate in the Great Twelfth as a last hurrah before the work begins in earnest. Colin did not partake in the group hunt in August, being on a ship from Spain prevented his attendance. Anthony did not attend either despite it being a rather integral affair for the gentlemen of the Ton. Benedict begged off; he is not a hunter by nature and finds little pleasure in the activity without his brothers' presence.

A week after the hunting season opens, the Queen's presentation for debutantes takes place.

Anthony, Colin and Simon much prefer waiting until after the hecticness recedes before planning their foray into the woods. It has become tradition for the Bridgerton men (and Simon) to travel north for a two-day hunting trip near the end of November/beginning of December. Simon, with their enthusiastic agreement, invited Will to attend this year. Anthony invited John as he is soon to be part of the Bridgerton family as well.

Their trip consists of a morning journey to their hunting grounds, a couple hours preparing their weapons on a makeshift range by their inn, an evening deer stalking session, an overnight stay, and then a morning hunting session. After the morning session, they will have time to bathe swiftly, quarter and parcel any of their spoils, before returning to Mayfair on horseback.

There are approximately twenty gentlemen partaking in this group hunt, but Colin cares only for their contingent of six: Anthony, Benedict, Simon, John, Will, and himself. They ride into Welham Green, cantering as a large group towards a local inn meant to house them for the night.

Colin slides off the side of his horse, distinctly relieved to be on solid ground. Servants under the employ of the inn exit to assist with tying up horses, filling troughs with fresh water, and dispersing horse feed. Saddlebags are unpacked. Formal riding attire exchanged for the proper hunting clothes. After an hour, the gentlemen find themselves on an open field called the range.

Tables are set up in stations, where each man can practice loading and firing his rounds as a precursor to their afternoon hunting session with a guide. Will and Simon unload ammunition and rifles with excessive glee. Colin rarely sees his brother-in-law so animated. He would be far more amused by it if it did not feel as though his head was splitting. For almost two hours, they clean their rifles, pack their ammunition and ready their hunting bags. Colin maintains his silence.

At four o'clock, the group is led into the forest with a hunting guide. He thinks that his company doesn't notice his demeanor, but Benedict proves him wrong.

"Why are you trundling around like a disgruntled bear?" he asks as they move forward with quiet steps through the brush. Colin blinks at him, startled. "Is your continued silence because you are bottle weary from indulgence last night? Or is this reticence to do with Penelope?"

Before he can respond (or make up any form of a lie), Anthony asks, "Do you wish to go to her?" The look on his eldest brother's face quickly disabuses him of the notion that he can avoid this conversation.

"Of course, I wish to go to her!" Colin replies, irritated. His grip tightens on his weapon. "She is suffering, but I am angry and I cannot." Simon steps into his space and baldly snatches the gun from Colin's hands. Colin lets out a sound of protest. What in the blazes?

"I shall take this rifle," Simon asserts, moving away from Colin's outstretched hands. "You are in no state to be wielding a spoon, much less a weapon."

"Shooting you suddenly sounds like a grand idea," Colin snipes.

"Way to prove his point about your emotional instability, brother," Benedict responds dryly.

"Why can you not resolve things with her?" Will questions. He is successful at distracting Colin from glaring at his elder brother.

"I am so out of sorts that I fear I will say the wrong thing," Colin admits.

"Yes, because drinking to excess will surely cause your tongue to say the right things to her," Benedict says. His tone is judgmental and uncharacteristically stern. The indirect scolding sets Colin on edge.

"Now is not the time for your waspish commentary," he snaps.

"No, now is the time for me to advise you that you're acting a fool because you are heartsick," Anthony interrupts. "And we all know how well that went for me."

"I do not need you to tell me what to do like I am a recalcitrant child," Colin responds.

"If you stop acting like a child, then I shall cease treating you like one," is Anthony's snark reply. Colin steps in his brother's direction, irritation transforming into anger. How dare his brother speak to him with such disrespect?

Will lets out a loud sound and steps between Colin and Anthony. "Gents, cool down before there is more than one fight causing your brother to drink," he says, looking between both of them.

Simon sighs heavily. "Colin you are in no state, emotional or physical, to be shooting anything," he says. "I am sure you already know that."

"I am not much of a hunter," John adds. "Would you like to trail back with myself?" Glaring hard at his current company, Colin receives four unimpressed stares in return. John looks at him with compassion. The issue with having good people as friends means they make it known when he behaves like a cad.

"Do you mind if we refrain from talking?" Colin asks, relenting. "My head is bottle weary."

"I am very good at silence," John agrees. Colin gives him a beleaguered smile as he moves to the other man's side.

"I knew I liked you, John."

John hums in fond agreement as they walk together at the rear of their group. "Now if only I could get your mother to like me as well."

After hours of Philippa and Penelope conversing tentatively, she escapes her elder sister's bedchamber. Her sister remains emotional but is noticeably less fraught than when Penelope first entered her room. Penelope makes her way downstairs.

She heads toward the kitchen, hoping that there are some of those delicious roasted mallard sandwiches left in the chiller. Penelope hardly ever wanders directly to the kitchen. It is attached to the servants quarters, which went unoccupied by all but Mrs. Varley for much of last season. She still finds it odd to have a full staff caring for their home again, especially after their cousin's swindling of their money. To her surprise, she rounds the corner of the corridor only to freeze when she hears Mrs. Varley and her Mama in a tense conversation.

Penelope slips back a few steps, hiding behind the wall to listen.

"Ma'am, we cannot help the married young ladies with funds any longer," Mrs. Varley insists. Penelope can hear the underlying tinge of panic in her voice. "I have been going through our ledgers and we barely have enough to survive the end of the season!"

"We must figure it out, Varley," Mama responds sharply. "Philippa's doctor is expensive. Finch is a third son and untitled. He barely gets by on being in the peerage."

"He barely gets by?" Varley sputters. "If your spending keeps on this way, we shall be back to bare bones staff and boiled potatoes, even with just yourself and Miss Penelope to consider."

"God forbid," Mama says in despair. "Is there truly nothing else we can do?"

"Ma'am, you know as well as I that your windfall had limitations on it," Mrs. Varley replies. Penelope's brows furrow at the strange emphasis. "You cannot pretend a well has not run dry. That esquire has been snooping about again. He left a calling card again yesterday."

"I cannot let them down. I am– I am finally earning the regard of my girls," Mama says. The pain and humiliation in her voice makes Penelope frown deeply. "How am I to explain any of this?"

"Perhaps we can look over the books again?" Mrs. Varley asks, dubious but obviously attempting reassurance. Penelope cannot hear what her Mama says next but their footsteps hurry off in the opposite direction from where Penelope stands.

Her appetite disappears in light of this news. She knew their financial situation was precarious, but she did not understand how bad it was. Penelope must do something. Perhaps, she can slip some funds into the coffers? No, Mrs. Varley is shrewd and would notice any additional funds almost immediately. Even if she gives her mother the money from Lady Whistledown, there would still be an inquiry as to where the funds came from.

If she was not at odds with Colin, she would ask Anthony if he found anything helpful. Penelope despairs at being stuck. She has the funds to help her family, yet she cannot. It is most irritating to finally wish to take care of someone other than herself, and know that she is unable to do so.

Welham Inn is a quaint place with decent beds, a good game cook and excellent service from the barmaids. Supper is roasted mallard with crisped potatoes and a heaping side of roasted vegetables from the gardens out back. The meat supplied by the spoils of their hunting efforts from this afternoon.

Supper is a loud, casual affair. Colin sits at a table built for four but six men are shoved around it. None of them care if their elbows knock together because of their close quarters. The din of the room is a mixture of the crackling fireplace, other groups within their hunting party eating and drinking, full-bellied laughter and the clatter of forks scraping along plates.

Colin does not participate as he usually would. His brothers, Simon, John, and Will partake in excitable conversation. Anthony and Simon are particularly pleased with their efforts from the day. Anthony did not find the Muntjac fallow doe, Chinese water roe doe, or Red stag hind open as he wished, but their group did find great success with quarry. He brought back a brace of mallard. Simon managed a brace of geese. Benedict returned with a nicely sized moorhen. Will brought home the most – three mallards and a goose.

John and Colin kept each other company in silence with sporadic exchanges of low-volume conversation. Colin's headache worsened each time rifle rounds fired and John was all too happy to quietly observe the antics of their friends with a delighted smile on his face.

Sitting at their table, Colin eats his food pensively. He keeps replaying the fight with Penelope in his mind. He cannot fathom what he did wrong to have a second proposal rejected.

Ask her out of love? Has he not been doing just that? He loves her so he does not wish to be away from her if she gets ill. He loves her so he wishes to shield her from the Queen's ire by giving her his name. It is madness! She declares she loves him, exactly as he is, but then refuses to wed him? And tells him to make up his mind? What utter tosh! He has made up his mind or he would not have proposed... twice! Does she purposely misunderstand him?

Colin sighs in frustration. He lifts his glass and takes a long drink of water. Tonight, he refrains from spirits. His body is weary of alcohol, and drunken obliteration only seems to exacerbate his melancholy.

"--not like it?" Colin tunes back into the conversation to hear the tail end of Benedict's sentence.

His brother has a forkful of roasted mallard on his fork and a tall glass of chilled beer in the other. Colin's brows scrunch in inquiry. He glances around the table. John looks intrigued by the conversation as he eats small bites of his food; none of the items on his plate touch each other. Simon and Anthony are in their plain shirtsleeves with their attention firmly on Will, who is the one who replies to Benedict.

"It was my first time attending a group hunt, much less a fox one," Will says. "It seemed quite pointless to shoot something just trying to survive. We cannot eat a fox! So it is nothing but bloodshed for entertainment."

Ah, so they discuss the annual November 1st fox hunt. It is not something Colin participates in because fox hunting is a purely shooting sport. He can justify deer stalking or pheasant hunting, but the idea of killing something simply for fun and not sustenance does not sit well with Colin.

Anthony attended once or twice before due to his position in society. It is expected of him but it is not something he enjoys either. In recent years, he basically told anyone who asked him to go to piss off. Simon skipped town for years and has rejected the invitation every year since he returned to Mayfair in 1813. Benedict openly refuses on every occasion, no matter the circumstances.

It is clear his elder brother is pleased by Will's clear distaste of fox hunting.

"Some of their tactics are rather gruesome," Simon replies, grimacing. He covers it with a long drink of his beer. Will hums in agreement.

"Fox hunting aside, you did well today! It is a good thing I am not a terrible shot or I might be envious of your haul," Anthony says. "I may not be as credible as you Will, but at least I can kill game worth eating."

"We both know you certainly cannot operate a stove to cook any of it," Simon adds tartly. He laughs when Anthony punches him in the bicep. A round of snickering fills the table.

"I do wish Daphne never told you that story," Anthony sighs.

Simon laughs again as he says, "It brings me such joy!"

After the laughter dies down, Will leans over his plate to speak with Anthony. "I have more practice at hunting," Will replies. "It is the one benefit of coming from the working class into nobility. It is most odd to have a gamekeeper and a cook now. Alice struggles with someone else preparing our meals as well. It has been nearly four months and things still seem strange."

Colin expects it would be strange for someone used to surviving on their own to step into a world where they are not allowed to work and there are staff who care for them. He is high society born and cannot imagine how odd it must be to those that live outside of it. His travels taught him a fair bit about supporting and providing for himself but nothing like what Will and Alice have overcome.

"Ant, who taught you how to field strip animals?" Benedict asks between bites of roasted vegetables. "I thought our guide and the servants would faint from shock when you pulled a knife."

Their hunting guide and servants were appalled and impressed when Anthony knelt into the damp grass and began defeathering his kills. He allowed their assistance with the second mallard, but no one (not even Colin or Benedict) knew he was familiar with the process.

"Was it father?" Colin questions. Anthony looks surprised by his query, possibly because Colin has not spoken much of the entire day. His brother shakes his head.

"Actually, it was Kate," he replies, a proud smile burgeoning at the corners of his mouth. Anthony's eyes light up when he mentions his wife. Simon snorts and Benedict lets out a hearty laugh in reply.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Benedict asks.

"My wife is one of a kind," Anthony replies with great pride. There is a hazy, love struck look in his blue eyes. Colin and Benedict share a glance, both wishing to mock him for his mawkish state. Anthony can and has waxed poetic about Kathani on several occasions. If left unchecked, he could ramble off his favorite things about her for hours.

"She truly is an excellent huntress. Deer stalking may not be her favorite pastime, but if we'd listened last season at Aubrey Hall, Cook might have served fresh venison for supper."

"She is that good with a rifle?" Will asks.

"It is a thing of beauty, Will. She is one hell of a shot!" Anthony enthuses. "Great at shooting pheasant, indeed. We managed to bring home four braces."

"Four braces?!" Will repeats, shocked and visibly impressed.

"When did you have time for her to teach you this?" Benedict queries. It is a fair question. Anthony and Kate left for their honeymoon swiftly after their nuptials in March. They returned only days before Colin did in August.

"Our first honeymoon concluded at the beginning of August, which means we were headed back to town around the Great Twelfth," Anthony replies. "According to Kate, there are few things better than ending a honeymoon by shooting animals and bringing it home to sustain our family. So we stopped a few hours north of Mayfair for the start of the hunting season."

"Last days of your honeymoon and the two of you end up defeathering game together," Benedict replies incredulously. "I would think you a liar if I was unfamiliar with your Viscountess."

"My wife is extraordinary," Anthony says. "If it were not uncouth, I would have her challenge every gentleman in the Ton to a match."

"A match of shooting or wit?" Simon teases.

"She might win at both," Anthony responds, laughing. "What a dream it is to be her husband."

"How did we all end up with such headstrong and forthright women?" Will muses. "Alice has an attitude and confidence much larger than her small frame."

"Daphne can certainly stand on her own two feet," Simon adds. "She cannot see said feet at this moment but she remains scrappy and willful." Colin and his brothers laugh at him. Scrappy and willful certainly fit Daphne. She grew up with three older brothers and stood toe-to-toe with them many times. It is rather embarrassing how many times she has emerged victorious from those encounters.

"Francesca seems soft spoken," John says, "but she has shown her demanding side since our engagement."

"Frannie is a Bridgerton through and through, John," Benedict warns. "She is quieter and more even-keeled than the rest of us, but she can be cutting and defiant if you vex her."

"You speak from experience, I take it?" John asks. Benedict grimaces and nods frantically.

"I might have destroyed her sheet music in a fit of irritation once upon a time," Benedict responds. "She retaliated by stealing all the canvas in my study and setting it on fire in the middle of the gardens."

Anthony barks out a laugh, clearly remembering the incident. John looks surprised but pleased.

"I rather like a woman that can stand up for herself," John replies, grinning. Anthony tips his glass in his direction.

"Penelope is quite voracious herself," Colin says. "Perhaps, we all find their independence attractive?"

Anthony gives an agreeing hum as he finishes his beer. His brother reclines in his chair.

"Independence is certainly an enticing character trait," he says, "but loving such a capable woman comes with challenges."

A round of enthusiastic agreement comes from the married men at their table. Colin, Benedict and John exchange confused glances before Colin is brave enough to ask, "What do you mean?"

"For women, independence comes at a cost," Will says with a deep sigh. His brow furrows in contemplation. "It is hard to love a woman who has made her own way. She has learned not to trust people with her safety, with her heart, and with her mind. Alice grew up in a shitty household with a useless man for a father. She raised her siblings and was forced to manage their household finances at ten years of age."

Anthony nods in commiseration.

"Kate had to feed her family, keep a roof over their heads, and ensure Edwina's education," he says. "All of these things should've been taken care of by the head of household, but instead Kate had to take care of it. Her and I are very similar in our adherence to duty and familial responsibility. Taking care of an entire family requires a person to set aside their reliance on outside support or reassurance."

"What are you trying to say, Ant?" Colin asks.

"Penelope is the youngest, but her sense of responsibility is the strongest," Anthony tells him. "It will not be easy for her to trust you to care for her."

"How am I to provide for my family if she does not trust me to do so?"

"With extreme amounts of patience and a lot of talking," Will replies. He seems to sense Colin's rising frustration and anxiety. "Communicating your intentions is paramount."

"Kathani drives me mad when I have to argue my way into doing things for her," Anthony admits. "She has gotten better about allowing me to care for her, but it is not an instinctual habit for her."

"We have already discussed how lack of communication with Daphne caused issues," Simon responds. "Marriage takes hard work, but it is work that is worth it."

"Col, you love giving people attention and doing things for them. I have noticed this habit since you were a child," Anthony says quietly. "You demonstrate love by giving of yourself to others and asking for very little in return. This silent devotion does not work with Kate and I doubt it will work with Penelope."

"I am required to change how I show my love?" Colin asks, disheartened.

"Not change completely, brother," Anthony reassures. "Adjust. You can show her love in your own way, but you need to ensure she understands what you are doing. If she does not know how to interpret your actions, she may not comprehend what you are attempting to say."

Anthony claps a hand onto Colin's shoulder when he nods. His eldest brother shoots him an encouraging smile, pulling him close to kiss his temple affectionately. Anthony turns back to their table and conversations spring up around him. Colin has a lot to think about.

Lady Bertram's dinner party is a complete bore.

Eloise stands along the interior wall with a glass of lemonade sweating in her hand. Her silk glove feels unpleasantly damp, but it is better to pretend occupation with a drink than to be dragged into insipid conversation. She can feel the lingering gaze of Lord Bradbury and the insufferable Lord Wilkes on her person.

Despite her Mama's encouraging glances, Eloise has absolutely no intention of speaking to either of those men. If none of her elder brothers consider them worth associating with, then neither will she. Avoiding their eyes, Eloise peers around the room. She grants Miss Stowell a hesitant smile. Miss Hartigan waves at her but does not abandon her current conversation with two other debutantes.

Eloise sweeps her eyes across the room until she notices a slender figure with billowing sleeves enter the room. She straightens up at the sight.

Eloise is unsure where her relationship with Cressida stands. Being turned away from calling hours, essentially having Cressida's father ban his daughter from associating with her, and now her reconciliation with Penelope? Eloise cannot fathom what the state of their relationship is. She and Cressida have not spoken in days but awkwardness never deterred Eloise before. She will not allow it to start now. Eloise hands her empty lemonade glass to a nearby servant, and then she approaches Cressida.

"Goodness, I am glad to see you here," she says. Her voice startles Cressida who swings around to look at her. Eloise continues, "How do you fare?"

Cressida stares at her for a long moment. The pause makes Eloise nervous. "What do you want, Eloise?" the blonde asks. Eloise swallows hard. Cressida does not appear welcoming or interested in her company.

"I just sought companionable conversation," Eloise replies slowly. "Are we truly no longer friends?"

"Surely, you jest?" Cressida asks. Her incredulous tone causes a blush to rise on Eloise's face in embarrassment.

"No. I am aware that I have not been the best friend and I sincerely apologize for how little attention I paid you as of late," Eloise states sincerely. "Is there no way for me to regain your trust?"

"I no longer trust anyone but myself," Cressida declares. Her blue eyes spark with resentment.

"That must feel terribly lonely," Eloise replies sadly. Cressida's eyes flare with rage. She turns her body to face Eloise, anger present in the rigidness of her stance.

"What do you know of loneliness?" she snaps. "With your loving family and apparently renewed friendship with Penelope? You know nothing of what I must survive."

"I am trying to understand," Eloise protests. "I feel awful at what your father has done."

Cressida scoffs, "You attempt to sympathize with me now and yet, when I confessed my hardship you found yourself speechless every time."

"What would you have me do, Cressida?" Eloise retorts. "I have no power here."

"Anything, Eloise! A listening ear? An offer to help me scour through eligible gentlemen. Instead, you chose to do nothing," Cressida replies sharply. "That tells me everything I need to know about how valuable this friendship is to you."

"I am not good with romance or courtship," Eloise protests. "I have little patience for such things, you know this."

"Of course I do! You stood in a library while I told you of my father's plan to marry me off to an elder and you made a jest about German literature," Cressida answers. "For someone so boastful of her intelligence, you are certainly tone deaf." Although it burns her to admit it, Cressida is correct. That was not well done of her.

"I can be rather narrow-minded at times," Eloise admits, apologetic.

"Clearly. It must be nice to know your future happiness does not balance precariously on the type of marriage you can find. How privileged it must be for you to have the safety and security to express everything you wish!"

Cressida's desperation bleeds through in her harsh tone. Eloise flinches at her words.

Cressida lets out a huff of exasperation. "I do not have time for this worthless dalliance with you any longer. I must find a husband before my father signs a formal contract with Lord Greer," Cressida says finally. "You have nothing to offer me, not even friendship. I was a fool to think so."

Eloise watches her stride away. This is the first time her apologies proved not enough to repair a relationship. It pains her to realize that some things cannot be fixed with a sincere apology. Some things are simply beyond repair. Her friendship with Cressida seems to be one of them. Eloise never thought she and Cressida would suit each other long-term, but she offered companionship when Eloise was at her most vulnerable. Cressida filled a loneliness in her heart and Eloise will always be grateful for it. She wishes she had been selfless enough to do the same for Cressida.

-- Wednesday, November 29, 1815

Their hunting party returns to Mayfair a quarter past two o'clock in the afternoon. Colin is certain they all smell awful from their vigorous hunting session at dawn, field stripping their spoils, followed by a two hour horseback ride from Welham Green south to Mayfair.

Despite the brisk baths taken at Welham Inn after their morning stint in the woods, none of them had time or energy to clean themselves properly. Colin knows he, Anthony and Will are particularly foul because they field stripped their own animals. A pair of local butchers worked to quarter and parcel their meat. It was paramount to get the meat to a chiller for storage and they had a two hour journey back home. Colin, Anthony and Simon paid the butchers handsomely for their quick work.

Anthony and Benedict bestowed great praise on Colin for his success this morning. He managed to take down a sizable Muntjac fallow doe, three mallards and a goose. What a difference it made to hunt whilst sober.

As he rides in his shirtsleeves with his curls loose atop his head, Colin feels better than he has in days. Shooting things provided a great relief for the emotional stress he's been carrying around. It proved such a simple, productive way to steady his thoughts.

Being away from Mayfair and all the expectations of high society helped clear his mind as well.

He finds that he is proud of Penelope for her accomplishment, even if some of the rage he carried about her betrayal remains in his chest. He dislikes her treatment of his family in her scandal sheet, but knowing she has kept his secrets in confidence lightens his fury. She still should not have done what she did, but her guilt is clear.

If Eloise can forgive her, then Colin has little standing to remain angry on his sister's behalf. He is unhappy about the way Penelope abuses herself in print. Some of the things she wrote about her person were distinctly unkind and untrue. Colin wonders if those words are a reflection of how she feels about herself, or if their society has truly been so cruel to her. He shall have to converse with her about that terrible habit, especially if she is to continue writing her gossip sheet until the end of the season.

What remains is that Colin must confront himself.

He is envious of her having a life's work and insecure about how he can be of value to Penelope. She has everything already–a purpose, her confidence. She even mentioned being able to take care of herself. He is sure that she has some amount of money from Lady Whistledown, so she does not need him financially.

Colin does not wish to spend his entire life adrift.

He is unnecessary, even if he was born from love as his mother declared. He wants to be needed by someone. Colin does not know if that is pathetic on his part, but he wants his absence to be felt and noticed by another person.

Penelope claims to want him. Is wanting enough?

What if that want disappears one day? What if she decides to pursue someone who has things to offer her beyond romance? Colin knows want. He knows what it is like to obsess over something, enjoy it beyond measure, and then after time, the wanting fades.

A need is different. Needs are permanent. They cannot be ignored. Colin does not wish to be a temporary desire for Penelope. He needs her to need him.

As far as he knows, the Featherington household exists near poverty. Their fortune was gambled away by the late Lord Featherington and the rest of their money swindled by their cousin. If not for a windfall of inheritance from a distant aunt, their household would have been dire straits. Based on what Penelope told him of the esquire and what Anthony has uncovered about the dreadful financial state of their household, it seems that Colin may be able to provide for her in some way. If only she were to allow him to do so.

Though, she surely has money from Whistledown. The publication is far too popular for her not to have a decent amount of earnings. Colin does not understand why she refrains from using it. Perhaps that shall be another topic of conversation for them?

After what Anthony said at supper, he has a strong feeling that Penelope would reject an outright offer of money. Could he support her without her knowledge? Actually providing coins to their coffers is out of the question, but perhaps, he can supply them food?

Colin glances down at his stuffed saddlebags and gets an idea.

As they cross into the city streets, Will veers off towards the Kent House with a wave. Two blocks later, Simon bids them farewell as he heads towards Hastings House at a trot. John departs with a genuine smile and a thanks for their invitation. He rides off toward Stirling Manor with a tip of his hat and a backwards wave.

"Brother?" Colin calls out to Anthony, once it is only the three Bridgerton brothers left. Benedict looks over his shoulder at him as Anthony turns his head. "I shall meet you back at Bridgerton House. I must make a delivery."

"A delivery?" Benedict asks. Anthony's raised eyebrows echo the inquiry.

"To Featherington House," Colin replies. His brothers continue to stare at him blankly.

"I plan to deliver my spoils," he says, gesturing to his saddlebags. "The braces you two are returning home with are more than enough to fill our dining table for the next week. The Featheringtons do not have someone to provide as such."

"From my findings, it is true they do not have a gamekeeper in their employ any longer," Anthony replies slowly. He is clearly thinking over the situation. Benedict looks puzzled for a moment, but comprehension dawns eventually.

"You mean they cannot afford a gamekeeper?"

"Their estate is in dire straits," Anthony says quietly. "I have been reviewing their staff and financial dealings with what access I have and I truly do not understand how they survived at all last season. Penelope told me they subsisted on boiled potatoes!"

Colin is aghast. "Only potatoes?" he asks. Benedict is similarly appalled. "She did not share this with me." Colin hates that his brother knows more of her struggles than he does. Anthony shoots him an apologetic look.

"I rather think she was embarrassed to admit as such," Anthony says. "I am not sure how much money they have left from their aunt, but Lady Featherington has certainly not been frugal with her spending. At least they have enough funds for basic staff and a cook now."

"This new information supports my idea then," Colin declares. "I shall take them straight across the square. I wonder if I can go directly to the kitchens?"

"You do not intend to see Penelope when you deliver your parcels?" Benedict asks.

"We are still…at odds," Colin answers sheepishly. "I still have some significant things to parse through before I am ready to talk with her." It is true. Colin's ire over Lady Whistledown is lessening, but he remains emotionally fraught. He is hurt by her rejections of his proposal. And he needs a bit more time to find a way to express his feelings without being a cad.

"You do not wish for her to know of your kindness?" Anthony inquires.

"I simply wish to provide sustenance for her family," Colin replies. "I want her cared for even if we are not speaking at this moment."

Anthony nods at him with a proud smile on his face. He turns to increase his horse's canter into a trot. Benedict leans over to clap Colin on the shoulder in solidarity.

"Good man, Col," he says cheerfully, before he digs his heels into the side of his horse's torso to match Anthony's speed. For the first time in days, Colin feels good about a decision. He rides with his brothers into Grosvenor Square. As Anthony and Benedict veer right towards the Bridgerton House gardens, Colin heads left across the square. He heads around the back of the house to the servant's entrance. His appearance startles a couple of maids hanging the day's washing, but he gives them an apologetic smile. When Colin dismounts, he is greeted by a footman.

"Mr. Bridgerton, sir," the footman says. "We were not expecting you, especially at the servant's entrance." There is an undercurrent of disapproval in the man's voice and Colin winces.

"My apologies, this was a rather unplanned visit," he says. "I wish to deliver game braces to the Featherington kitchens."

"Shall I gather Lady Featherington or Miss Penelope?"

"No!" Colin says firmly. The footman looks surprised and furtive. "I do not wish for them to know I am contributing to their household this way. The Featherington ladies do not respond well to that which they view as charity."

The footman does not verbally speak, but his eyes agree vehemently with Colin's assertion.

"I have some fresh deer meat and braces of quarry for their table," Colin says. The footman's eyes widen when he notices the stuffed saddlebags on Colin's horse. "The gents and I returned just now from a successful hunting trip. Could you take all this in to ensure they have hearty meals for a time?"

"Are you certain you do not wish for them to know, sir?" the footman asks. "It is quite a gift."

He is not wrong. A gentleman gifting this much fresh meat to another is quite the kindness, indeed. Anyone else in high society would seek great praise for this. Colin just wants Penelope taken care of. She does not need to know the extent of his gift giving.

"I am certain," Colin affirms. "Might I trust you to keep this in confidence?"

The footman nods firmly. "What is your name?" Colin asks. The servant blinks, shocked.

"It is Christoph, sir."

"Well met, Christoph," Colin says. "We shall meet again when I desire to provide more sustenance for the Featherington House."

"Pardon my disbelief sir, but you intend to do this again?"

"I do," Colin replies. "This household has lacked any kind gentleman to care for those inside for far too long. If Penelope will have me, I seek to change that. Until then, I must care for her in other ways."

"Very well, sir," Christoph responds. "Allow me to unload these into the kitchens. Cook will be pleased. He tires of trying to invent ways to cook a potato."

"Have things truly been so fraught here, Christoph?" Colin asks, concerned. "I know of their financial struggles, at least what Penelope has confessed, but it seems she has not been completely honest with me."

"I was employed with the Featherington family for years until March 1814. I only regained employ with the Featherington household in August of this year, sir. Most of us are either newly hired or recently returned. I cannot speak directly to these struggles you imply."

Colin may not be the most intelligent man in the world, but he can read between those lines. The Featheringtons had not been able to have adequate household staff for nearly an entire season until their cousin arrived and then swindled them out of what little funds they did have.

Why would Penelope keep this from him? They are friends. She could have come to him for help. Anthony and Mother would never turn her away. She has a terrible habit of avoiding the truth, being secretive with her feelings, and avoiding conflict. It is something they will have to work on.

Between his communication issues and Penelope's the conversation they shall eventually have will be arduous. Colin's mind races with possibilities. His provision of meat to their household seems trite in light of the direness of their financial situation. He must speak with Anthony. For now, Colin fights to keep self-doubt from overwhelming him. This will keep them fed for days. It is a good contribution.

It may be a temporary provision, but it is one they clearly lacked.

Entering the ballroom at the Courtney House is reminiscent of another life for Penelope. It feels odd to be out in society when her heart is in tatters, her courtship in an uncertain place, and her mind stuck on her sister's welfare. Her Mama insists they attend. It has been almost a week since any of the Featheringtons made an appearance in society.

Between illness and Penelope's fraught state, they rescinded at least four of their acceptances. It is quite unfashionable to do so and Penelope dreads her inevitable encounters of gossip-hunting members of the Ton. Normally, their curiosities would be answered by Lady Whistledown's column. Since Penelope no longer intends to publish, society is bloodthirsty for fresh gossip.

She enters the room at her Mama's side. Before her mother can speak, she is approached by Lady Trowbridge and Lady Parwhile.

"Lady Featherington!" Lady Trowbridge calls. She smiles but it feels deceptive to Penelope's eyes. Lady Parwhile at least seems genuine in her welcome.

"I shall get a refreshment, Mama," Penelope says. Her mother meets her eyes for a moment. Penelope gives her a slight smile and a nod. She is alright.

"Very well," Mama replies finally. Penelope walks away as her mother is drawn into conversation with the two women.

Penelope finds herself tucked into a small alcove. She wonders if the Bridgertons are present? The room is quite full. While she desires to search for them, Penelope lacks the motivation to do so. She is sure El would be receptive, but her uncertainty about Colin's response to her presence keeps her glued in her corner.

Penelope's mind wanders until she hears approaching footsteps. By the time she glances over and realizes the footsteps are coming toward her, they are too close for her to move without looking as though she is running away. Cressida and Clara Livingston stand in close quarters with matching derisive looks on their faces.

Penelope no longer intends to flee from confrontation.

She has had enough of running, lying and obfuscating. Sidestepping conflict with Cressida has done nothing for her, except make her an easier target. Instead, she chooses to face her head on and allow her to spout whatever nonsense she feels is pertinent to say.

"How fitting to see you back in your favored corner, Penelope," Cressida says.

Penelope stares at her blankly. She refuses to be swayed into this fight because Cressida is a bitter troll. Let her say her filth while Penelope stares her down.

"Did Mr. Bridgerton tire of you?" Clara asks, her voice drips with false sincerity. "Your attempts at conversation with men were rather droll."

Cressida releases an obnoxious laugh. Penelope wonders when she found the time to align herself with the rudest debutante of the season. Perhaps there is truth to evil being attracted to evil.

"I am unsurprised it took him less than a month's time to figure out why you have been ignored on the marriage mart for three seasons," Cressida adds snidely.

Penelope watches their mouths move. She hears their words and allows them to move past her. It has never been more apparent that the regard or acceptance of these women is worthless. She spent so long trying to fit in and matter to people like Cressida Cowper. What a waste of her time. It finally strikes her that these two possess less social value than she does in the grand scheme of things.

A sense of freedom sweeps over Penelope as the two blather on.

She could take great offense at their words, but quite honestly, their display of unkindness seems more pathetic than insulting. Some of their words sting, especially those about Colin but never again will she allow them to force her out of her chosen place in society. She told Colin that she did not need Lady Whistledown to hide behind any longer. She intends to keep that statement as truth. Penelope refuses to engage and she refuses to shrink from them.

Enough is enough.

Attending Lord and Lady Courtney's ball is her Mama's dreadful idea. Eloise fails to understand why her mother thought their appearance here as a family would make anything better. Colin appears pensive to the point of being listless. He is dressed finely, but has not spoken a word to anyone since their return from the group hunt.

Benedict looks exceedingly furtive. Something clearly unsettled him the past weekend. He returned to Bridgerton House early on Saturday morning. He ate the morning meal quickly and then disappeared looking discomfited. He still appears contemplative and awkward, especially when he received a calling card upon his return to Bridgerton House after their hunting trip.

Anthony's brows are pinched with concern. He too has appeared deeply stressed for the last few hours. It is clear he frets over Benedict and Colin. Kate tries to soothe him regularly, but even her touch does not seem to calm him as it usually does.

Eloise cannot stop worrying about Penelope's welfare and the ugly dissolution of her friendship with Cressida. Mama and Francesca are now seemingly at odds with each other. The only people in their household who remain unconcerned are Gregory and Hyacinth. Her family is a complete mess.

No one was enthused about dressing for this occasion, but Mama herded them all into carriages. Her eyes promised swift retribution if any of them begged off or made a fuss about attending aloud.

Eloise peers around the ballroom, hoping to catch sight of Lady Featherington. As far as Eloise knows, the Featheringtons have not rescinded their acceptance to today's festivities. Learning that was the only reason Eloise did not put up a fight about this ball. They have been here over an hour with no sign of the Featheringtons and Eloise begins to lose hope.

"I am going to the refreshment table," Colin says abruptly.

The lack of inflection in his voice makes Eloise cringe. Benedict and Anthony seem uncomfortable with the empty sound of his voice too. He strides off before any of them can figure out what to say. Eloise trades concerned looks with her siblings. Mama looks like she might go after him but decides against it.

Eloise sighs heavily, drinking her tepid lemonade for lack of anything else to do. As she glimpses over the crowd, a head of red curls and feathers catches her attention. Eloise straightens up immediately as she recognizes Lady Featherington's hair. She peers around tall gentlemen to see if she can spot Penelope's small form.

Eloise shuffles to the left, bumping into Benedict. She gets a clear view of Lady Featherington speaking with Lady Trowbridge and Lady Parwhile, but does not see Penelope. After seeing the reunion between mother and daughter, Eloise is unsure if the matriarch would leave Penelope unattended at home.

She notices Lady Featherington peering to her far right repeatedly, even as she continues her conversation with the two ladies. Following her gaze, Eloise spots her best friend. She stands a few feet from the refreshment table, tucked into a corner near a large potted plant.

She wears a floor length French silk blue gown. Her red curls are gathered in a braided bun on top of her head with long curls spilling across her shoulders and curled tendrils framing her face. She looks beautiful despite her drawn countenance.

To Eloise's dismay, Cressida and Clara Livingston stand nearby.

Her heart drops in her chest. She can only imagine what those two might be saying to Penelope and none of it is good. She prepares herself to make a swift rescue when she spots Colin's tall form near the refreshment table. She can spot the moment he notices Penelope because he freezes with a cup halfway to his mouth.

Perhaps, Penelope will not need Eloise to save her this time after all.

The refreshment table at a ball is always a gamble for an unmarried gentleman. It should be simple, especially if a man is engaged in courtship with another young lady, but Mamas persist in their efforts to marry off their daughters. A man is considered an eligible bachelor until he is officially wed.

Colin and Penelope are in conflict but he is still very much in love with her. Approaching the refreshments, he decides he does not care about the attention of other young ladies and it is worth the risk to get a cool glass of lemonade.

Colin skirts a small group of young ladies near a potted plant. They grant him bright smiles and a trail of giggles follow in his wake. He wonders why they seem delighted at his lack of attention. Perhaps it was rude of him but Colin barely glanced at them in passing. What indignity does their society encourage in young women?

Eloise would be fit to be tied if she witnessed that interaction and rightfully so.

As he pours a glass of lemonade, the lilting voice of Cressida Cowper reaches his ears. She sounds insufferable as usual. He rolls his eyes, not even needing to look in her direction to know she has a sneer on her face. Sipping his drink, Colin turns to head back to his family when he hears something that makes him freeze.

"You truly thought you would marry Colin Bridgerton?"

Colin turns around slowly to actually look in Cressida's direction. What he sees is enough to make his stomach drop in dread. Cressida stands next to Clara Livingston, the two of them dressed impeccably in silk gowns. It is Penelope that draws his attention.

Her fiery curls spill across her shoulders with half her hair tied into a braided updo, secured in place by fine pearl combs. She wears a french blue silk gown with ivory gloves. She is stunning . The blue of the dress offsets her eyes and the simplicity of the fabric shows off her curves. It makes her pale skin glow ethereally. God and above, she is beautiful.

Colin's trance over her beauty ends when Clara's voice says, "I can see it in her face that she had great hope." The chit's tone drips with derision and Colin's temper ignites.

How dare they speak to his wife in such a manner? Colin slams back the rest of his lemonade and tosses the small cup into a startled footman's hands. He strides over as Cressida opens her snaky little mouth to condescend to Penelope.

"What a fairytale, indeed. Mr. Bridgerton deserves a wife as handsome as he is," Cressida says. Penelope visibly shrinks into herself and Colin feels his protective instincts flare dangerously. "It eludes me how you thought you would fill that role."

He loses his fight with propriety as he halts just behind Cressida's feathered dress. "It is peculiar that you two decide to mock someone so incredibly superior to you both in every way," Colin states.

All three women jump in fright. Penelope's blue eyes snap up to him. Colin meets her gaze for a moment before he turns a harsh glare onto Cressida and Clara.

"Mr. Bridgerton!" Clara gasps. Her tanned cheeks are bright red with shock and embarrassment but then his insult lands. "I beg your pardon?" she snaps.

Cressida's pale face pinches with anger.

"You heard me, I am sure," Colin retorts sharply. "Your large ears can comprehend whispers across a dance hall so I am positive you understood every word I spoke."

"How dare you—!" Clara begins. She touches her ears self-consciously at his words. Her brown eyes narrowed in a furious glare.

"How dare I?" Colin replies, his voice raising. Penelope stares at him, speechless. Her blue eyes reflect the hurt already inflicted and Colin feels himself grow angrier in response. "You approach a young lady, my young lady in fact, and decide to spend your time being rude. Perhaps your mother should rehire a governess to refresh your education in civility?"

Clara's jaw drops open at the blatant insult. There is a loud cackle from behind Colin. He does not need to turn around to know the sound of Lady Danbury's particular laugh. He does not care that there are witnesses to this incident. Perhaps, putting these two bitches in their place will encourage others to think twice about insulting his wife.

Cressida's pale face has turned motley red with indignation. Colin is happy to offend her. She deserves it after such horrible treatment of Penelope. He wishes someone had taken her to task years ago.

"Miss Cowper, how astonishing to see you mocking anyone," Colin says. "Your fine face cannot erase the ugliness of your character. Spend more of your time trying to be an improved person and maybe you shall find a husband."

Cressida's blush darkens and her blue eyes widen in dismay. She looks particularly unappealing at this moment. Colin has never shown a young woman such disrespect, but he knows of her attempt to blackmail Daphne. He stayed out of it then, but now she has crossed a line.

"As for you Miss Livingston, no man has darkened the doorstep of your home during calling hours," Colin says snidely. "I would be careful not to cast stones when your own house is built from glass."

"She needs you to rescue her?" Clara demands. Clearly, Clara has more backbone than Cressida. He would applaud her verve if she had not directed her unkindness toward Penelope.

Colin opens his mouth to respond but a small hand touches his own. The simple touch makes him shiver. Penelope slides her fingers across the palm of his hand. He can feel her hesitance and fear of him rejecting her touch. Colin grabs her hand and entwines their fingers without a second thought.

Their handholding is certainly uncouth, but Colin finds he lacks any regret for his actions. His silent acknowledgement and support seems to offer her strength. Colin watches as she straightens her posture and directs her sparking blue eyes towards Clara.

"I do not need him to rescue me, Clara. I can stand on my own but Mr. Bridgerton is a kind and caring man who protects what he cares for," Penelope asserts. "You should not wish me to say what I hold back."

"You? You think you can insult me?" Clara retorts. "You are a gluttonous pathetic spinster who relies on the good graces of an eligible bachelor to find a husband. Even a man seeking a practical match left you without compunction!"

"I may be heavier than you but that does not detract from my value," Penelope responds. Colin feels her step out of the shadows of the potted plant she stood next to. Their hands remain entwined together, but Colin remains silent. Penelope appears empowered by his presence and his support.

"I possess great intelligence while you cast about in the trash bins searching for any remnants of a personality. If you are not being unkind, then you are irrelevant," Penelope says. "Even the Queen was so unimpressed that she yawned whilst you stood in front of her. At least I have the good graces of a gentleman, while you stand in contemptuous company with a woman no man wishes to wed. Did you forget that Cressida is also in her third season with no prospects?"

Realization creeps over Clara's face. She appears undecided between outrage and humiliation. Colin feels pride swell in his chest as Penelope stands up for herself for the first time. She has made comments to Cressida before, but always shrunk away from the confrontation. This time, she does not shrink or back down.

"And Cressida? You are a jealous, pitiable succubus of the first water. You would be beautiful were you not a horrendous person. I let you stand here and ridicule me because you are not worth my time and attention any longer," Penelope says sharply. She pauses to look at him. Colin sees endless emotions cross her face. She tightens her fingers around his own before she faces Clara and Cressida once more.

"As for Mr. Bridgerton? He is my wonderful man. I request that you keep his good name out of both your mouths."

Before Clara and Cressida recover from their gaping shock, Colin tugs Penelope from her corner and onto the dance floor. He sweeps her into a waltz as the quartet begins playing. He holds her close, moving through the motions of the dance. Colin is overcome.

She claimed him. She called him hers . It is everything he ever wanted – to belong somewhere with someone. The woman he loves being the person to assuredly declare it to another leaves him breathless.

He stares over her shoulder, unable to meet her discerning blue eyes. If he does, she will see the torrent of emotion flowing through him. Colin wants to weep in joy, but he cannot lose his senses in this place. It is far too public for him to dissolve into tears and the lack of formal engagement disallows him from planting a kiss on her lips as he desires.

He can practically hear the whispers spreading across the ballroom after their public discourse.

Minutes of tense silence between them pass as they follow along with the music. He twirls her at the right time. She allows him to lead her through a complicated dance quietly until the music crescendos, signaling the second half of the dance beginning. Her blue eyes sear into the side of his face.

Colin fights the rapid rise of tears in his eyes. She claimed him as hers.

"Colin?" Penelope asks, hesitation clear in her tone. "Will you look at me?"

She tentatively squeezes his leading hand and Colin's eyes water dangerously.

"I cannot," he refuses quietly. Penelope's gasp is tinged with sadness. For a long moment, they continue to dance together in silence. The movement ingrained so deeply from practice that they do not have to consciously think about the steps.

"If you planned not to look at me," Penelope says finally, "It would've been less humiliating to leave me by the refreshment table."

Colin grows frustrated. "I cannot look at you."

"Why not?" Penelope demands, her sadness morphing into irritation.

"If I look at you, I will be overcome by your beauty. Your blue eyes will enrapture me," Colin confesses. "It is difficult to stay mad when you look at me with such affection."

The anger is gone from her voice when she replies, "You wish to stay mad?

"Pen," Colin starts and then stops. He can practically hear Daphne shouting at the back of his mind to tell her how he feels. "I am overwhelmed," he admits shamefully. The feeling of never being enough fills his chest with anxiety. Will she still want him if he is always emotional?

Penelope squeezes his leading hand again.

"Please look at me," she replies. "I miss your eyes almost as much as I miss you."

The pleading in her voice breaks him. Colin glances down at her and finds himself as enraptured by her gaze as he feared. Her eyes are wet with tears and they shine under the candle lit chandeliers. She is resplendent.

Their gazes lock and the world around them fades away. His tumultuous feelings quiet for a moment as they swivel and twirl around the dance floor. Having her in his arms is glorious. She is beautiful – in her confidence and her dress. Colin has deeply missed being this close to her. A week without her conversation and presence was torturous.

"I did not expect you would miss me after I abandoned you in the gardens," Colin says quietly. Penelope stares at him. He can feel her assessing him and debating on her next words.

"You have this terrible habit of assuming you know what I will say," Penelope says frankly. Her words and tone surprise Colin. "If we are to be together, you must stop falling victim to your insecurities and talk to me."

"I beg your pardon?" he asks, shocked.

"You speak over me and interrupt when I have more to say. It is either out of rudeness or anxiety that you do as such. Knowing your character as I do, I believe it is insecurity that spawns such disrespectful behavior," Penelope replies. "If I am wrong, tell me now."

Penelope's resolve shines in her eyes. As always, she sees straight through his attempts to hide from her. Colin's shoulders hunch and Penelope picks up on it immediately.

"You are correct," he admits, voice low and embarrassed. "I fear your rejection. It stresses me to think you know of how fraught my mind and thoughts are. How am I to earn your love and respect if you can see how anxious I am?"

Penelope's frustration and love are plain on her face.

"You already have me, Colin Bridgerton," she protests. "I have loved you from the day we met. My regard for you is not contingent on you being perfect. I want you as you are but you must trust me enough to reveal yourself to me."

"You do not think of me as less of a man because of my emotional nature?"

"Not at all," she replies earnestly. "How deeply you feel things makes you more handsome to me."

Colin is bewildered. He can feel his anxiety surge into his chest.

"Penny, you have done such incredible things," Colin says. "How can I possibly be valuable to you as a husband?"

"You are enough. You need not save me for you to be worthy of my love," Penelope declares. The urgency in her voice calms the yawning pit of anxiety inside him. "I just need you. I only want you. I tire of pretending that I could love anyone else the way that I love you."

Colin loses all sense of propriety as he tugs her close. They dance chest to chest and he presses their foreheads together. Penelope's blue eyes are twin pools of emotion. Her soul is on display for him. He can feel the depth of her regard for the first time. She does not hide anything from him. At this moment, he knows he will love her forever.

They gaze into each other as they waltz. Bodies following the music without conscious thought, so lost in their loving stares that the ballroom feels empty around them.

"My regard for you is without question but I am not ready to have this full conversation yet," Colin says.

"I will accept 'yet ' in lieu of 'never ' ."

When the song ends, Colin walks her to her mother's side.

He presses a lingering kiss to her knuckles and her eyes grow soft in response. His heart aches when he pulls away from her to take his leave. They part with a tight clutch of their entwined fingers and a shared glance. Colin's feelings threaten to overwhelm his senses once more as he walks back toward his family.

Colin stumbles into his bedchamber on slightly wobbly legs. Tonight's indulgence was far less than the last few days, primarily due to Benedict's unusual reserve and scolding gaze. If Benedict is perturbed by his behavior as of late, then Colin knows he has crossed some invisible boundary.

He left White's of his own accord. The brisk walk home in the nippy air sobers him up. After assuring Benedict that he is going straight home, his elder brother allows him to leave White's alone. As he enters Bridgerton House and trudges up the stairs to his room, Colin realizes that he cannot continue doing this.

Spirits have done little to assuage his feelings. It is clear that he cannot rely on drink to avoid his problems. It seems another common pastime for high society men can be erased from his list. At this rate, the only men he shall spend time with are his brothers, his brother-in-laws and Will Mondrich. Which honestly is not a bad fate.

It pains Colin to be so different from everyone else. He feels like being an outlier is a bad thing, but Penelope expressed directly that she loves him for who he is. It boggles the mind to think that he is enough for her.

Colin shrugs off his overcoat as he turns toward his desk, only to jump in fright at the unexpected sight of his mother standing there. Colin trips and nearly gets his arms trapped in his half-off coat before he can right himself.

"Mother!" he exclaims. "Why are you in my room?"

"Drinking again, I see," Mother responds with her arms crossed and her lips tight. Colin's stomach sinks. He can read the fury in her face quite easily.

"What are you doing awake?" Colin asks, avoiding the question. He strips off his overcoat and cravat. She is his mother. He is unconcerned with her seeing him in his shirtsleeves and breeches.

"I am more concerned about why you are returning home in your cups again," Mother replies sharply.

Colin's stomach twists with rising anxiety. It is one thing to avoid the questions of his brothers, but his mother remains impossible to keep things from. She is the one person that he relies on for safe harbor with his thoughts and his feelings. They have been close since he was a child. He hates the disappointment he can see on her face. It is so rarely directed at him and he feels the full force of it now.

Colin strips off his waistcoat and suspenders. He sits on his bed to unfasten his boots.

"I cannot be bothered with this right now," he says, not looking at her.

"Cannot be bothered ?!" his mother sputters indignantly. Her tone causes Colin to freeze. The dismissal she heard in his voice killed whatever patience she had for his attitude. "Colin Bridgerton, I am your mother and since you reside under my roof, then you will either disclose why you have been behaving egregiously the last few days or you will find another place to sleep."

Colin whips his head, shocked. Mother stands with both hands on her hips. Her blue eyes bore holes into the side of his head. Colin has never pissed his mother off to this degree before. Anthony and Benedict surely have, but not him. Her ire at his disrespect fills him with shame. Colin's shoulders slump and he drops his booted feet to the ground in defeat.

"Mother…," Colin sighs heavily. "I apologize. That was rude of me." Colin rests his elbows onto his knees and rubs tired hands across his face. He lets his face rest in the palm of his hands, unable to look at her. He will certainly lose his battle with tears if he meets her eyes.

"Colin, you do not have to pretend there is nothing wrong," Mother insists, stepping forward. Her dressing gown brushes his knee. "It is me. I only wish for your happiness, dear."

Colin does not look up. He feels his mother's hand press into his curls and he leans into the touch. Mother strokes the top of his head, offering comfort when he deserves none. For a few minutes, Colin rests his temple against his mother's stomach and allows her to brush her fingers through his hair. The maternal love and comfort she offers brings his emotions to the surface.

"I asked her to marry me," Colin admits quietly. The rejection still stings despite her fervent exclamations of love tonight. He does not know why she refuses him if her love is as strong as his. Mother sucks in a startled breath and he feels her hand stop abruptly. "I asked her twice and she said no."

"Oh, my dear," Mother sighs sadly. Colin's eyes brim with tears as she presses the side of his head firmly into her abdomen. He loses his fight against crying. She leans forward to press kisses to the crown of his head. "It is apparent that Penelope loves you, dearest. Did she explain her rejection?"

Colin has two choices here. He can lie about the honest reason for their disagreement or he can simply tell his mother the truth. Telling only half the story has been getting him nowhere. Colin pulls himself out of her hold. She resists for a second, but then relents. He shifts back to stare up at his mother.

Fierce concern and love shine in her eyes. He can see her protectiveness in the set of her mouth, but her sadness for him is all too visible. Colin makes his choice.

"Mama, she is Lady Whistledown," Colin admits. Mother's jaw falls open in utter shock. She makes a startled high-pitched sound and places a hand on Colin's shoulder. He watches as several thoughts flit across her face before she sits abruptly on the bed next to him.

"Oh dear," she breathes, flummoxed. Colin has never seen his mother speechless. Colin watches the flood of emotions move across her face. The two of them remain quiet until Colin speaks up.

"It just amazes me that I did not know her," he says. Mother looks at him. She opens and then closes her mouth several times before resolve settles on her face.

"I am sure the news took you by surprise but dearest, Penelope turned down your proposal of marriage twice," Mother says with strange emphasis. "She did not accept your suit because she said that you did not know her."

Mother stares at him intently. Colin knows she is trying to make him understand something, but he does not know what. "What are you saying?"

Mother sighs in fond exasperation. "I am saying that she may not have declared her identity so openly, but she certainly told you who she was by refusing to take advantage of your ignorance," Mother replies. Colin tenses as she continues, "It is not my place to tell you this but Penelope has loved you for a very long time, dear. For her to sacrifice the one thing she wanted most in the world because you did not know her secret shows exactly who she is as a person."

It strikes Colin quite suddenly in the chest. His mother is correct. She refused to take what she wanted because she knew he was unaware of her identity.

"But the things she has written–," Colin protests weakly. His mother shaking her head is enough to make him cease speaking.

"They were all shameful indeed, but even I can admit that she did not lie," Mother says. "Her words have brought scandal to light but Whistledown has saved us many times too. We are quite fortunate, really. Our features in the scandal sheet are far and few between."

"I never thought of it in that context."

"Perhaps, you should think further on this before making any decisions," Mother says. "Might I suggest sober thinking may be more helpful?"

Colin chuckles.

"Sobriety sounds rather good actually," he admits. "I do not think I like drinking whilst sad."

Mother hums in agreement.

"It does not solve many problems in my experience, dear," Mother replies. "Lord knows that Penelope does not need another man beholden to a vice in her life." Her glare and words are razor sharp with meaning. Her statement jars Colin. It makes him groan at his stupidity. He did not think of that.

"Do you intend to end your courtship?"

"No. I love her so very much. I still desire a life with her, even while upset," Colin responds. "Would you be able to accept her as my wife now?"

Mother takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Do I like that she is Whistledown? No, I cannot say that I do. However, I have loved Penelope as a daughter since she apologized for her cap knocking you off your horse," Mother replies, amused at the memory. "I have watched her grow despite not receiving the love and protection from her parents that she deserved. She is a wonderful person who has accomplished something rather…spectacular."

"Spectacular, Mother?"

"My dear, you will never understand the plight of womanhood. Of course, it does not occur to you that women frequently have to seek husbands in order to even dream," Mother says. "For her to have built a publication that even the Queen obsesses over is a spectacular thing indeed."

An impressed smile forms at the corners of his mother's mouth. She stands up, smoothing her dressing gown before looking at him. "Whatever decision you make, remember that Whistledown likely started because Penelope wanted to be seen and heard. It had nothing to do with you." Mother presses a fond kiss to the top of his head.

He relaxes into her touch as she whispers, "I will keep her secret, my sweet."

The crackling fire in her bedchamber's hearth usually offers a calming type of noise that helps Penelope sleep. However, her mind races tonight. Colin's presence, the way his fingers trailed across the sensitive skin between her shoulder blades, and his words inspire restlessness in her body. She craves his closeness and his touch. She feels as bereft now as she did after they parted at the ball. Her heart yearns for him.

Another hour of tossing and turning passes before Penelope gives up. She sits up in bed, leaning back on her hands. She blows curls out of her face and sits forward fully to adjust the sleeves of her nightdress. If she is to be awake, she may as well read for entertainment.

Penelope slides out of bed, yelping when her bare feet touch the freezing wooden floor. She hops around until she locates her pair of discarded wool socks and tugs them on. Unable to spot her current novel on her armchair or settee, Penelope checks her writing desk and nightstands before remembering that she left it in her window seat in the drawing room.

Annoyed but resigned, Penelope tugs on a dressing gown. She does not bother to fix the errant curls falling from her sleeping braid. It is long past regular sleeping hours and most servants will be at rest for the evening. Quietly, she walks down the long corridor toward the staircase. She descends the stairs on quiet feet, making her way into the moonlit drawing room. It only takes her a few moments to locate her abandoned novel before she hastens back toward the stairs.

Her attention is drawn by a lantern out in the garden. Penelope hesitates. It is peculiar that anyone would be sitting in the garden after the midnight hour, but if it were a criminal, surely they would not light a lantern?

Penelope tiptoes closer to the large glass doors. She is close enough to make out the familiar shadow of Mr. Finch. His presence in the garden and the late hour make her curious enough to open the door.

Penelope walks outside, clutching her book to her chest as the brisk night air rushes over her skin. She can feel the gooseflesh rise on her arms and legs as she walks next to where he sits on the garden bench. He appears deeply pensive.

"Albion, are you alright?" Penelope asks cautiously. Her voice startles him and he flinches away but recovers quickly when he recognizes her.

"Penelope!" he replies. "What are you doing outdoors, especially so late?"

"I was having trouble sleeping," she admits. "I came to grab my novel from the drawing room and spotted you out here. Are you well?"

"I have been better," Albion replies. His shoulders slump and Penelope grows concerned.

"Mind if I sit?" she asks.

Immediately, he scoots over. "Do you need a jacket or anything? Are you cold?" he asks, realizing that she is only in socks, a nightgown and a dressing gown. Penelope is warm enough for the time being so she shakes her head. She sits down next to him on the bench.

"What ails you?"

Albion rubs an exhausted hand across his face. His blond hair is floppy and ruffled as though he has spent hours running his fingers through it. "I am less fraught now that Philippa seems to be able to sleep and eat properly," he replies. "It has been hell trying to sleep for me as well. I keep imagining losing her or the baby."

There are visible tears in his eyes. Penelope's heart clenches for him.

"I am glad the tea seems to be working. She seems much improved," Penelope reassures. "Having you there to support her means a lot."

"I admit…," Albion says sheepishly. "It is wonderful to feel needed."

"Is being wanted by Philippa not enough?" she asks, confused.

"It is great to have a wife who wants me simply because she loves me," Albion replies. "But there was something fulfilling when she turned to me to take care of her; to ensure her needs were met."

Penelope furrows her brow. Seeing her confusion, Albion releases a lighthearted sound.

"She needed me to hold her hand or help her bathe," he continues. "Philippa can be headstrong, but I feel her love for me the most when she allows me to take care of her."

"I do not understand."

"It is hard for ladies to understand the innate need for a husband to provide for his wife and children," Albion replies with a rueful chuckle. "I have a wonderful wife with her own opinions and personality but I love being able to shower her in affection and do things for her."

"Do you not think she is capable?" Penelope questions, offended on behalf of her sister. Albion looks startled by the sharpness of her tone. He blinks at her, taken aback before his eyes widen in understanding.

"Of course I do!" he exclaims. "It is not…" He trails off, visibly trying to find the right words.

"It is not about her capabilities, Penelope. It is about her trusting me enough to take care of her when we both know she can care for herself," he says. "She allows me to love her and fulfill this desire I have to be needed."

"But why ?"

"The why does not matter. Every person has different things they need to feel joyful in a relationship," Albion answers. "What matters is that you are willing to meet the needs of the person you are with. I am a third son. My very existence is quite unnecessary. I yearn to be needed and Philippa allows me to care for her."

As he speaks, she finally understands part of the miscommunication between herself and Colin. He desires to be needed. She reflects on how he's proposed, each time desperately trying to take care of her and keep her safe. His love is displayed by his ability to provide care and shelter. Penelope feels her heartbreak for him.

He must've felt so rejected by her because she never gave him the reassurance he needed in a language that he understands. He wants to feel needed by her. Her simply wanting him would never assuage his insecurities or fulfill him. No wonder he's been a mess!

She keeps turning away his displays of affection without realizing that is what she is doing. Penelope's hard won independence comes off as her not needing Colin in her life. He desires to take care of her and she has not allowed him to do so. She rejected his offering of love because she did not understand his emotional needs. She must correct this the next chance she gets.

-- Thursday, November 30, 1815

Colin gives up on sleep after several hours of laying in bed thinking. His conversation with Mother was enlightening. He rethinks everything in light of understanding Penelope's motivations to reject his initial suit and his first offer of marriage. He remains unsure about why she said no outside of the modiste, but his ire has calmed greatly.

Reminiscing on their courtship, Colin starts remembering times when she admitted she had something to tell him. He cut her off out of anxiety multiple times or they had been interrupted by another party. No wonder she was furious with him. He truly allowed his insecurity to overwhelm his common sense. Speaking over her because he was nervous is not an excuse for his terrible manners. While writing is his strong suit, talking about his feelings when he already feels exposed is difficult for him.

He must learn to talk to her despite his anxieties as she requested.

Embarrassed by his actions, he tosses and turns all night. Around dawn, he decides getting up to have a cup of tea may soothe him. When he nears the private drawing room, he hears the murmuring of voices. Most of his family would rather die than rise this early, so he wonders who could possibly be awake.

Curious, he pokes his head into the drawing room. His eyebrows arch high on his forehead when he spots Kate and Daphne circling a table set with a pot of tea, milk and sugar. The floorboards creaking under his socked feet garner their attention. He wanders into the room as they both turn to look at him.

"Brother," Daphne calls, surprised.

"It is very early, Colin!" Kate exclaims. "What are you doing up?"

"Daph," Colin greets. He embraces his sister heartily, laughing when her belly makes them rearrange themselves. "What are you doing here?"

"After the ball last night, Mother asked Simon and I to come to Bridgerton House," Daphne replies. "She thought you might need advice or support."

"She really does know everything," Colin says, exasperated. Daphne laughs at him.

"What am I?" Kate asks, indignant. "A court jester?" Colin turns to look at her. She looks rather put out at being ignored. With a fond smile, Colin moves to embrace her.

"Hello Kate," he says into her hair. Kate squeezes him back tightly before letting go.

"Want a cuppa, brother?" Daphne asks.

"I shall get it," Colin replies, herding them both to seats. "The two of you are with child. Sit and rest yourselves."

"Yes, because the weight of a teapot shall surely injure me greatly," Kate teases. Daphne snorts in reply, but they both sit at his urging.

"The two of you couldn't sleep?" he asks, preparing three cups of tea to their preferences.

"I took ill last night," Daphne says. "Possibly something I consumed at supper did not sit right, but Cook is currently preparing me some plain crackers and broth."

"Anthony was so warm that I woke up sweltering under the blankets," Kate answers. "I thought about kicking him from bed but decided to spare myself his dramatics."

"Oh, that is the worst," Daphne replies with a grimace. She gratefully takes the teacup Colin offers her with a saucer. "I might as well be laying next to a furnace with Simon in bed."

Colin wrinkles his nose at the image that pops into his mind. He hands Kate her own cup of tea before sitting down across from the two of them.

"I was absolutely roasting," Kate agrees. "Anthony is a snuggler which was great before I was with child but now I wish to perish from heat."

"They get so offended when you ask them not to touch you as well!" Daphne replies. "And they consider us dramatic . Simon rather thinks I hate him if I do not wish for him to be in my space."

Colin drinks his tea in silence until he feels two sets of eyes turn onto him. He looks up from his tea and blanches when he notices Kate and Daphne staring at him intently.

"What is going on with you and Penelope?" Kate asks directly.

"All is well between us now," Colin replies. The disbelieving looks this statement earns him causes his ears to flush bright red. He never has been very good at lying.

"The two day stint at my house and your drawn countenance tells me that is a lie," Daphne replies dryly.

Kate scoffs, "The smell of fermented fruit emanating from your person also indicates otherwise."

"It was celebratory!" Colin protests. "Frannie and John are engaged! We had a successful group hunt. The Courtney ball was a fun experience. Can a man not enjoy himself?"

"Two glasses is celebratory," Kate responds. "One whole bottle is a cry for help."

"Would a celebration for Frannie and John not require one of them to be present at the club while you drank yourself into oblivion?" Daphne inquires.

"I do not wish to unburden myself to you two, with your perfect marriages," Colin answers. Kate and Daphne erupt into laughter simultaneously.

"You think my marriage is perfect?" Daphne asks, nearly breathless with laughter. "Did you forget the conversation we had about the beginning of our lives together?"

"I second that query," Kate adds.

"Simon and I are more than happy now," Daphne implores, "but it took us time and hard work to get there."

"Anthony almost married my sister," Kate says, amused. "Need I say more?"

"You and Penelope have been close for years," Daphne responds, her eyebrows arched high.

"Well yes, but things have been revealed to me as of late that made me question my value or place in her life," Colin replies. He attempts to hide his anxiety but the growing seriousness on both of his sisters' faces reveal that he is failing at it. "It has been difficult to parse through my feelings. So many mistakes have been made; on both our parts."

"Every one of us has secrets or has made mistakes once or twice in our lives," Kate replies solemnly. "Love is not about perfection, Colin. It is about transparency. Marriage has been a magnifying glass of every fault I possess. Being with Anthony gives me courage to face those flaws and grow from them."

"Penelope has been so dear to you for so long," Daphne says. "You must decide if this one thing that was revealed to you prior to becoming engaged is the end of everything you have been building with Penelope. Does whatever new information you learned truly negate all that?"

After a long pause, Colin shakes his head no.

"Then you cannot let one mistake define your entire relationship," Kate answers. "Love takes hard work, but it is work that is worth it." It is the second time in as many days that Colin heard such advice.

"Love means that you are constantly having to place your anger and selfishness on an altar as a sacrifice," Daphne says. "You will never experience only one emotion at a time, Col. You must choose to love someone while feeling whatever you feel in that moment. Vexation should not shake it."

"You cannot claim to love someone if you are unable to love them while being angry," Kate adds. "My marriage is a perfect example of that."

"Oh dear, mine as well," Daphne exclaims. "Simon can be exasperatingly stubborn."

"I rather think it is a male problem," Kate teases. The two of them burst into laughter and Colin shakes his head at them both.

"Sisters," he sighs in exasperation. "Do either of you think Lady Whistledown will write about this?"

"That is always a possibility but I would not concern yourself," Daphne replies.

"Why not?" Colin inquires. He thought Daphne would be the angriest of all. She appears distinctly unruffled as she sips her tea.

"Lady Whistledown reported the truth. A truth that saved me from that grimy slug of a man," Daphne responds with great distaste. "I am not a fan of my embarrassing situation being published but she never printed a falsehood."

"I think Lady Whistledown knew of the feelings Anthony and I shared long before he gave up his farce of a courtship with Edwina," Kate answers. "She was gracious enough to remain kind in her hints and words toward me. She even remained rather ambivalent when the wedding fiasco occurred."

"At tea recently, Eloise told me that she was sneaking off to rallies and the Queen approached her directly!" Daphne exclaims. "Apparently, she was seen near one of the printers in Bloomsbury and a footman thought she was Lady Whistledown. Can you imagine?"

"Eloise? As Lady Whistledown?" Colin questions in disbelief. "We all would have known within a season." Daphne snorts inelegantly in agreement.

"Her opinions are certainly well-established," Kate replies, smiling behind her tea cup.

"Neither of you are upset with Lady Whistledown?" Colin asks, needing to know for certain. Kate shrugs in reply.

"I was but I am not any longer," Daphne replies earnestly. "I quite enjoy reading the gossip around town."

Colin retires to his room after their teas are consumed. He presses parting kisses to a cheek on both of his sisters before he leaves them to their chattering. Settling down at his desk, Colin tugs the copies of Whistledown from his desk drawer and unearths a stack of letters from the same drawer.

He tugs the twine apart, seeing Penelope's feminine scrawl stretched across the outside of each parchment. Sitting the two side by side, Colin begins reading. He spends the entire day going through all of their old correspondence.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, September 1813

It has come to this author's attention that the Ton is abuzz with the most sordid tale. It is said that one cannot judge a book by its cover. But in the case of the bumbling Baron Berbrooke, it seems his displeasing appearance is quite an apt metaphor for the state of affairs in his household. I would not be surprised if Lord Berbrooke were called away to the country on alleged business. Business which, perhaps, might involve sending some much overdue funds to one former maid and young boy, who we can only hope takes after his mother.

He thinks back to all of their conversations, her biting commentary and her sense of humor. It becomes so obvious that they are the same person.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, January 1814

All is fair in love and war, but some battles leave no victor, only a trail of broken hearts that makes us wonder if the price we pay is ever worth the fight. The ones we love have the power to inflict the greatest scars. For what thing is more fragile than the human heart? The bond between man and bride is private, sacred. But I must tell you, I have learned that a grave fraud is afoot. As if the Featheringtons did not have enough to be dealing with, Miss Marina Thompson is with child and she has been since the very first day she arrived in our fair city. Desperate times may call for desperate measures, but I would wager many will think her actions are beyond the pale. Perhaps she thought it her only option or perhaps she knows no shame. But I ask you, can the ends ever justify such wretched means?

Thinking back to that fraught season, he finally recognizes all the ways she tried to tell him.

It would have been most inappropriate for her to confess that Marina was with child, especially considering her lack of knowledge on the subject. Eloise confessed that Penelope believed it was love that created a child, which can be true of course, but neither of them had any understanding of the biological process. In Penelope's mind, saying that Marina loved another probably felt like she was telling the truth.

Penelope was correct in her assertions that he would have wed Marina to save her. He had been so desperate for a purpose and consumed with infatuation that if Marina told him of her plight, he would have married her immediately and spent the rest of his days regretting his decision.

Lady Crane's ambivalence toward him during their last interaction reinforces this understanding. Her words about Penelope make more sense as well, now that he understands how long Penelope has held him in romantic regard.

Penelope to Colin – May 1814 – Vougliameni

Dearest Colin,

The way you described Lake Vouliagmeni nearly made me swoon! Closing my eyes, I could almost feel the frigid crystalline waters sweeping over my feet. Do you think the Mediterranean folk would fear a pair of bared ankles? I lack the bronze flesh most Grecians are blessed with. Maybe it is the paleness of my skin that would frighten them instead of my unadorned joints? I imagine my coloring makes me appear near death in that region…

Penelope has always been funny. Her charm and impertinence present in every letter she mailed him. On his worst days abroad, he found himself rereading her words and laughing. She lightened his heart from oceans away with barely any effort. What a gift it is to be a recipient of her attention.

Penelope to Colin – May 1814 – Legrena

Dearest Colin,

There is no need for pretense with me. You can be surrounded by beauty and still find yourself drowning in emotional suffering. Of course, beauty can be quite the distraction but inevitably, the emotions you bury find their way to the surface.

You are allowed to grieve, Colin. The indignity you faced was two-fold: it was the cruelest possible ending to a first love and being betrayed at the behest of your own kindness.

She used the best thing about you, your kindness, to manipulate her narrative. Do not be ashamed of the way such betrayal makes you feel…

She never dismissed his feelings or anxieties. If anything, she encouraged him to feel whatever it is he was feeling. He shared emotions with Penelope that he never did with anyone beyond his mother. He trusted her and confided in her more than anyone he knows. She was a safe harbor while he processed the loss of his first love. How blessed is he to have such a great friend become the woman of his dreams?

Penelope to Colin – June 1814 – Heraklion, Crete

Colin,

I am overjoyed to hear that you are experiencing such wild things. Did you truly jump into the sea from a cliffside? While exhilarating, I am sure, all I could envision was you being a floating corpse in the Balearic. What inspired such risk-taking?

Next, you shall confess to wanting to jump off the back of a horse! Please promise to keep your thrill seeking over soft landings or water? I would like you to return whole and well…

She relished his stories, encouraged all of his fanciful imaginings, and supported him through every decision he made. She always offered a listening ear for his troubles and did her best to advise him without making him feel mothered or stupid.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, September 1814

To be fair, one might call this author the biggest secret-sharer of all. For who else could possibly keep all of you honest? When even the most well-kept of secrets must eventually come to light.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, October 1814

Of course, not everyone can always get things so right. Though, I do suppose for some, it may be simply too late to change course and undo any damage.

Penelope kept all the secrets they'd shared in private letters, even before he returned from Greece. There are truths only Penelope knows about it and she has kept it all close to her heart. It feels insane that he thought she would ever betray him openly.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, December 1814

Duty. More than laws or faith, I have often thought it the bond that holds our fragile society together. Duty to rank and title, fidelity to one's family name. It demands both utter obedience and total sacrifice. But what happens when such duty is in conflict with the heart's true desire? Why, then, there is the potential for a considerable scandal, indeed. The only question is, will the parties in question heed my warning? Or is it already too late to turn back to duty and away from desire?

Perhaps Kate was correct in her assumption that Lady Whistledown knew of the shared affections between herself and Anthony? The column is vague with names (which is unusual), but earnest in its wording.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, February 1815

A jilted groom. A broken-hearted bride-to-be. A royal wedding in shambles. Sensational? Quite. But is it true? This author may traffic in chatter and speculation, dear reader, but misinformation? Never. Explanations of why Miss Edwina absconded from the altar may be greater in number than anyone could possibly fathom. But we must not forget, it was Her Majesty the Queen who placed the young miss on that special stage so that she could make her grand exit. Allow this author to hope for Her Majesty's sake as well as both the Sharmas and Bridgertons, that an official explanation emerges swiftly, lest the Ton run away by their tawdry imaginings.

What a bold statement from her! It was a direct challenge to the Queen, but it was also a bold way to redirect people's attention. How cunning and strategic of her to blame the Queen for the drama, instead of the people directly involved. Her protection shines in this article. Now that he knows what to look for; it is increasingly obvious. She mentioned his family only when she had to, and even then, she saved them from disgrace in any way she could.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, February 1815

What is it about betrayal that excites us so? The Ton itself has certainly felt its peculiar kind of frenzy after the promise of the wedding to end all weddings was broken. Yet this author has it on very good authority that the viscount's failed nuptials may not be the only betrayal our dear Bridgertons must manage at present. Should our lives be distilled down to the sum total of our choices, then Miss Eloise Bridgerton has certainly made a dangerous, perhaps ruinous one. For she's apparently been associating, unchaperoned, with improper company. Political radicals, in fact. It might be that the young miss spent a great deal of time considering her decisions or, perhaps, they were made in haste. Whatever the case may be, we all must remember, as one makes one's bed, so one must lie in it.

This was by far the most damning column she wrote. Yet, understanding the full context of how much trouble Eloise was in with the Queen, he can understand her logic. It is a blatant redirect. If Eloise were the author, she would never pen such ruinous things in her own scandal sheet. Based on what information Eloise has told him, Penelope only wrote of the surface level things that occurred despite knowing intricate details.

Her protectiveness for his family's welfare bleeds through the pages of her column.

Taking in her written words and the forgiveness he has observed from his sisters, he cannot continue being angry at Penelope for authoring Lady Whistledown. Her actions protected them as much as she could without drawing suspicion to herself.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers, March 1815

It has been said that silence can wield more power than words. No one knows that better than me. It is in silence where one may find truth. All one has to do, I suppose, is listen for it. I know there will always be times when silence is necessary. An, of course, times when it is not.

Gentle reader, you thought I was silenced, but you thought wrong. And if there is one thing you should know by now, it is that this author cannot keep quiet for long.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

A voice. Her entire life has been defined by the absence of kind words. Perhaps, her rejection of him comes from not understanding what he has been trying to say. Her whole life she never received words that spoke value into her. He'd thought his actions were enough to make her understand how he feels but perhaps, Colin needs to say things as much as he needs to provide for her?

Wracking his brain, Colin realizes that he has not once told Penelope directly that he loves her. He has said it to Eloise. He has told Benedict and Anthony. He's said it a hundred times over in his own mind. Not once has he said it aloud to Penelope.

Egads, he is a complete fool.

Penelope carries a tray of toasted bread, honey and strawberry jam into Philippa's bedchamber. Her sister sits propped up by fluffy pillows at the head of her bed. To Penelope's surprise, her sister holds a book open in her lap, and she appears to actually be reading it.

As she approaches her sister's bedside, Philippa looks up and seems distracted before she notices Penelope. Her sister's face lights up at the sight of her, which Penelope will never become used to.

"Penelope!" Philippa greets. "Good morning, sister."

"You seem cheerful," Penelope replies, setting the tray down beside her sister on the bed.

"I actually managed to eat an entire sausage roll last night," Philippa replies, reaching for the bread and honey. "I do think the doctor's medicinal tea is working! I made it almost six hours without being ill."

"I am so glad to hear it," Penelope replies. Her sister slathers a corner of bread with honey and chomps on it eagerly. She has regained some color in her cheeks again and the dark circles under her eyes are a tad lighter. It is good to see her beginning to recover.

"I am so glad to feel it," Philippa says between bites. "The last two months have been awful. I hope this is a good sign that the baby shall be healthy."

"Is the doctor due to visit?"

"I believe he is to return on Friday for a check-up," Philippa answers. "As much as I am starting to enjoy your company, it would be quite nice to be out in society again. I am hoping to feel good enough to attend Friday's ball."

"A ball?" Penelope exclaims. "Is that not a bit too strenuous, especially so soon?"

"If I start to feel ill I shall return home straight away," Phillipa responds, "but I am tired of being confined to a bed. Do you know how utterly boring it is to be sick and trapped in the same room for days on end? I've started to get excited when the maids come in to change the sheets!"

Penelope cannot stop the amused giggle at her sister's dramatics.

"You laugh at me but I have been so bored that I started reading, Pen!" she says with a pout. " Reading ! Can you believe it? And I actually think I like the book. What madness has overcome me?"

Philippa's indignant muttering makes Penelope laugh.

"Perhaps, reading will become a new hobby for you?"

"At least it is something to do other than crying. I have been little more than a watering pot lately," Philippa says as Penelope hands her a cloth to clean the droplet of honey on her chin. "Though the flowers from your Mr. Bridgerton certainly brightened my day."

Penelope stares.

"Flowers?" she asks, shocked.

"Yes."

"What flowers?"

Philippa stares back before nodding her head towards the windowsill in the far right corner of the room. "Those flowers," she replies, pointing toward a large crystal vase filled with stunning green roses. "I received them this morning. They are quite beautiful. Albion says they symbolize best wishes for good health and recovery. I thought it was extraordinarily kind."

Penelope stares at the vibrant blooms. Her heart rate accelerates in her chest.

"Colin sent you flowers," Penelope repeats slowly. Penelope is stunned speechless.

"Yes, sister!" Philippa replies carefully. "And a note as well. He only said, 'Wishing you a swift recovery during this frightful time.' It was quite thoughtful."

Penelope's eyes burn with tears. The sheer love rising in her chest for that handsome, awkward, funny man nearly overwhelms her senses. She finally understands what Albion meant. Colin has been declaring his love from the start. He may not have said the words but his actions say everything.

The way he stood up to her mother; how he had invited her into every part of his life; the passion in his kiss; how he was so overcome with worry that he never wished to leave her side; his offer of marriage to protect her. It was a powerful representation of three words he has not spoken to her out loud. Penelope feels a soft hand touch her arm. She turns back to her sister with tears in her eyes.

Philippa is quiet for a moment before she says, "I know you say that you are at odds, but a gentleman who does not love you would not send flowers to your ill sister."

"He loves me," Penelope breathes.

Philippa's eyebrows raise.

"I may not be clever but I would think that is plain," she replies frankly.

Penelope laughs before her laughter morphs into overwhelmed tears of joy and understanding. Philippa looks surprised but she sets aside her tray to pull Penelope into an embrace. She cries into her sister's arm and knows for a fact that Colin Bridgerton loves her.

—-- Friday, December 1, 1815

The morning air is crisp and the sun shines vibrantly overhead. It is a particularly beautiful day. The Mayfair markets are all but a twenty minute promenade away from Bridgerton House. Colin has made the journey many times, but today Francesca joins him. He rose early, mission-driven to visit Flora's stall downtown.

On his way out of the door, Frannie surprised him by requesting to accompany him. It has been quite some time since he and Francesca spent time together, just the two of them. After a swift morning meal, the two of them head into town. Francesca walks with her hand tucked into his elbow, humming music to herself. They stroll arm-in-arm toward the market.

Colin forgot how easy it was to be with Frannie. She does not anticipate conversation. She simply enjoys his company. Hearing her hum as she figures out the cadence of her new sheet music in her head offers him free entertainment as well.

His sister's skill on the pianoforte is a point of pride for the Bridgerton family. She is talented and it brings her great joy. Colin is rubbish with musical instruments but he has a fine singing voice. He can hear her sounding out notes and pacing as they approach the floral stall.

Flora is a tiny, spitfire of a woman. She hails from France and has a sternly fond personality. He always leaves her stall feeling scolded but loved at the same time.

"Mr. Bridgerton!" Flora calls out. Her brown eyes light up as he approaches. The sound of her voice pulls Frannie's attention from her music. Flora stands almost a foot shorter than Colin, but it makes her no less intimidating. She stands with her hands on her hips and a delighted look on her face. "Where have you been the last week? I thought you had a lady to woo!"

Francesca hides a laugh behind her hand as he blushes.

"Good day to you as well, Flora."

"I have no patience for your niceties, young man," Flora responds directly. "Are you still courting the young lady or not?"

"I am," Colin replies, blushing. "Things have been tumultuous."

"Bah!" Flora grunts at him. "Romance waits for no one! What is this tumult you speak of?"

"Any chance you can help me create a bouquet that says, "Forgive me?" or "New beginnings?"

"Ah, so you have quarreled," Flora surmises. "I assume it was your fault?"

Francesca giggles openly at the affronted look on his face. "Why must you assume I am at fault?"

"Because most men are idiots," Flora answers. Colin's ears flush hot with embarrassment. He huffs in frustration at the florist, who stares back unapologetically. If she were not French, he would ask if she was related to Lady Danbury. Their forthrightness is frighteningly similar.

"Brother, go with new beginnings," Francesca says. Her quiet voice garners the attention of the florist.

"Are you certain, sister?"

"Trust me," Frannie answers confidently. "I may not be an expert in love or marriage but you and Penelope require the turning of a new page. Your friendship has built the basis of your affections, but now a chapter based on romantic love needs to begin. It is the beginning of the next chapter in your lives."

Flora nods approvingly. Without a word from Colin, she snatches his sleeve to drag him toward her stall. "Let us prepare a sizable bundle for you. Come! I will teach you." Colin allows the tiny woman to push him around. Francesca follows them, visibly amused by it all.

"Do not trample my peonies!" Flora scolds after she is the one who almost pushes him into the basket carrying her goods. The longsuffering look he shoots Frannie makes his younger sister laugh in reply.

"Miss Penelope!"

Penelope hears Rae's hushed voice before a firm hand shakes her shoulder roughly. Yanked rudely from the first restful sleep in days, Penelope grunts as she pushes her lady's maid away. Rae lets out an exasperated sound before she tugs the blankets off Penelope's bed. A rush of cool air makes Penelope yelp.

"Rae!" she exclaims. "What are you doing?!"

"Get up at once, Miss," Rae instructs. Her lady's maid wears a harried look on her face and she carries Penelope's dressing gown in her hand.

"What is it?" Penelope asks. The urgency in Rae's expression makes her heart beat faster.

"Come with me right away," she replies. "There is something you need to see."

Penelope slides off the bed, grabbing the dressing gown Rae offers her. She puts on her wool socks to cover her feet and fastens the gown closed. Rae takes her hand and all but drags her from her bedchamber.

Her lady's maid swiftly leads her down the servant's staircase into the corridor on the first floor. Penelope gets hustled through the pantry and kitchens until she reaches the servant's entrance to the Featherington House. Penelope remains bewildered until she is shoved outside into bright sunshine. Squinting, she freezes when she spots the attire of a Bridgerton footman standing in the courtyard.

Penelope has not seen a Bridgerton footman at her home since before she and Colin quarreled. To see one now brings her equal parts excitement and terror. The footman steps forward, revealing a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a neatly folded piece of parchment. With a brief moment of hesitation, Penelope takes the outstretched letter to read. Rae accepts the large bouquet of flowers on her behalf as Penelope opens the parchment.

Penelope,

A written missive cannot express all the things I must say to you. Would you be able to leave your window open for me around nine o'clock tonight? We need privacy to talk through everything.

I must see you without the weighted gaze and stretched ears of others attempting to intrude on our conversation. If you wish to speak with me, please send word via my footman, John. He has been instructed to wait for your response; be it affirmative or a refusal.

The last thing I wish to tell you is that I love you.

I should have said it outside of the modiste, or one of the many times before when I felt the words wanting to burst forth from me. Despite how angry or upset I have been over the last few days, my love for you remains unshaken.

Hopefully (still) yours,

Colin

Colin loves her. It is there written in black ink. A declaration that he cannot rescind or pretend did not happen. She has never seen more beautiful words in her life. Tears swell over the brim of her eyes as she reads his missive once more.

Overwhelmed, Penelope looks up at the footman. He stands stoically, his hands folded behind his back as he awaits her reply. The tears stream down her cheeks as he looks at her with the slightest hint of concern visible in his eyes.

"Can you tell him yes?" she asks, voice hitching. The footman nods. He turns to walk away, but Penelope calls out for him to wait. She tears off a jagged piece of parchment, protecting his words but needing to respond back to him. Rae hands her a quill to use and she scribbles a hasty note back to him.

Col,

I love you too. I shall see you tonight.

Love,

Penny

Penelope folds the note inelegantly and hands it to the footman. He hesitates for a second before he straightens and walks away quickly. Penelope could swear there was the hint of a smile growing on his face as he turned, but she is too busy reading his letter again to care.

Rae and Penelope must muffle their excited squeals as they engineer a plan for the night. Her lady's maid beside herself with apparent joy for Penelope's courtship.

Penelope paces the hardwood flooring of her bedchamber. It has only just turned nine o'clock but her mind wonders if he truly will show tonight. Colin has yet to break a promise but anxiety floods her chest regardless of this fact.

When she hears a soft tink of something hitting her window, she jumps in fright. Penelope stands still, hoping that it was not her mind playing tricks. A second pebble strikes her window and she rushes over to open it. Leaning outside, Penelope sees Colin's tall form in the dim lantern lighting of the courtyard.

His handsome face is a wondrous sight to see. He offers her a silent but questioning motion asking if his presence is still welcome. Penelope nods eagerly. The sight of his smile makes her heart rate increase. Colin moves closer. Peering down, she watches as he gains a foothold to climb. Using vines along the trellis and the stone siding of the house, Colin makes his way up to her second floor bedchamber.

As he reaches her open window, one of his feet slips off the wall. The momentary terror on his face would be comical if it did not incite her panic. Without hesitation, Penelope grabs his shirt collar and left arm. Between the two of them, they manage to haul him inside.

His entrance to her room is quite undignified. Colin folds over the windowsill and drags himself all the way in with Penelope's assistance. The ungraceful clambering and his resulting collapse into a heap on her floor sends them both into fits of laughter. If she did not already love this man to the fullest extent, this ludicrous and inelegant display would certainly make her fall for him.

"Did you hurt yourself?" she asks, biting back another laugh at his disheveled state on her floor. Colin snorts as he rights himself.

"Only my dignity," he replies dryly. The two of them burst into quiet giggles.

"That was not a great display of athleticism," she answers, amused. Colin stands from the floor, brushing stray leaves and dust from his black breeches and dark blue shirtsleeves. He offers her his hands to help her off the floor. Penelope takes them and allows him to hoist her up to her feet.

"It was supposed to be romantic! I never claimed it would be graceful," Colin protests. "Although, a little less fumbling and terror would not have been remiss."

"Give yourself credit, Col," Penelope teases. "The terror only came when you felt near death, not climbing the vines."

"Your impertinence is noted," Colin says, an amused smile on his face.

"The next time you climb that trellis it will be more graceful, I am sure," Penelope reassures. Colin's blue eyes light up with hope and his smile softens.

"Shall there be a next time, Pen?" he asks. Penelope watches as a serious expression overtakes his handsome features. She knows Colin suffers from insecurity. It is plain to see on his face. It breaks her heart to know that this wonderful man feels like he is not enough.

Since Colin responds better to actions over words, Penelope makes a bold decision. She reaches up and grabs the collar of his dark blue shirt. Without a word, she yanks him down to her level and plants a firm kiss onto his surprised mouth. It is the first time Penelope initiates a kiss. She hopes that she is practiced enough to entice him. For a split second, Penelope fears he will not reciprocate her kiss, but Colin responds to her touch shortly after.

She keeps the kiss soft, sweet, and most importantly, reassuring for him. Colin relaxes into the affectionate touch. Their lips slide together deliciously. The feeling of his soft lips against hers makes her melt into his chest. His large hands slide to her waist as he leans into the kiss.

She has missed him so very much.

Blissful moments pass where Penelope feels enveloped by Colin. He steps fully into her space as their affectionate embrace continues. His presence and his scent surround her. Penelope feels settled into her skin for the first time in days. His kiss feels like home.

When they finally pull apart for air, Colin rests his forehead against her own. He slides his hands to the small of her back and tugs her even closer. Penelope rests her hands on each side of his neck, allowing her fingers to play with the loose curls along his nape. Colin presses a gentle kiss on her mouth as they relax into the hug. His anxiety is gone from his eyes. Penelope offers him a gentle grin.

"Come, let us sit," she says quietly. Colin nods but does not move. Penelope adores his attachment and reticence to let her go. However, they do need to talk.

She slides her hands from his neck, across his shoulders and along the length of his arms. When she reaches his forearms, she steps away from him. He allows the movement and his dark blue eyes shine with pleasure when she grabs his right hand to entangle their fingers.

Penelope steps away fully, leading him from her window to the area before her fireplace. The hearth is lit with a crackling fire. Penelope and Rae spent ten minutes layering the floor in front of it with soft blankets and pillows. Rae insisted on keeping their dalliance off her bed for some reason and Penelope obliged her despite her confusion.

"This is nice," Colin says as she sits down. He follows her lead to the soft pile of blankets.

"I figured it would be more comfortable than sitting on the floor and I have little desire to be so far apart if we were to sit on the furniture." Colin's responding grin is shy and handsome. Penelope's heart flutters in response.

"Where is your family?" he asks, keeping his voice low. "Are they in residence?"

"They departed for the Malhran ball about two hours ago," Penelope answers. Some of the tension bleeds from his frame. "It took some convincing for them to leave me behind but Rae promised to be vigilant in her duties."

"Where is Rae?" he questions, glancing around curiously.

"In her servant's quarters," Penelope replies. Colin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"She agreed to that?" he asks.

"She did," Penelope says. "She also gave me explicit instructions not to allow you anywhere near my bed or my virtue." Colin chokes on air. Penelope peers at him, wondering what made him respond as such. His face turns a faint pink but he nods in understanding.

"I will not abuse her trust then," Colin replies. He looks displeased to release her hand, but he does so to pull off his waistcoat and boots.

There is something deeply intimate about seeing him only in his shirtsleeves and breeches. His socked feet look oddly vulnerable against her light colored blankets. His chestnut curls are wild and untamed on his head. Faint stubble is visible on his skin. As he sets aside his discarded clothing, it strikes Penelope how scandalous this all is if they were to be caught out. She finds that she does not care. Being alone with Colin, sitting this closely to him, is far more important than propriety.

Once finished disrobing, Colin turns back to her and reaches out a hand to entwine their fingers again. He seems to crave their closeness as much as Penelope does. For a moment, they stare into each other's eyes.

Colin breaks it. "I am sorry to have abandoned you as I did," he apologizes. His eyes do not leave her own.

"You had every right to be upset."

"I know," he replies. "It would not have been good had I stayed but I still dislike that I had to leave you."

"How do you feel now?"

"Ready to talk."

"We can most certainly do that," Penelope agrees. She watches him search for a place to begin. Sensing his rising anxiety, Penelope says, "It occurred to me that I am so used to caring for myself that it is difficult for me to allow someone else to do so. You wish to take care of me, do you not?"

Colin blinks at her but he nods slowly. "I do. It is how I show my affection," he says. "While I traveled, I heard from no one. It felt as if everyone was busy with their lives, without a need for me in them. I attempted to pardon myself into a man with no needs of his own. Even after our courtship began you seemed reticent about me trying to care for you. I felt burdensome.

"Oh Colin. I am so sorry! That was not my intent at all," Penelope answers. "It is difficult for me to trust someone else to provide for me. I will allow you to care for me, if you can meet my emotional needs as well?"

"What do you need?"

"I need you to talk to me. Do not assume I know your feelings about something," Penelope replies. "You show love through serving me, but I need to hear you say that you love me. Your words affirm me in ways that your actions cannot."

"I promise to work on that," Colin states. "I need you to know that despite how upset I was, I remained sure that I love you."

"Colin," Penelope gasps. "Are you sure?"

"I love you," he declares firmly.

"I love you too," she replies.

Penelope cannot resist moving closer. They breathe each other in, communicating feelings and emotions with just their eyes. Boldly, Penelope tugs Colin down to the blankets. He swallows hard as she lays prone before him but he arranges himself on his side right next to her. Their eyes remain locked together as he places the side of his head in the palm of a hand and rests his weight on a propped up elbow.

"Will you be upset if I keep publishing?" she asks. "I truly cannot disappear so soon after our courtship was announced. People are already furtive about Whistledown's absence."

Colin's fingers tighten around her own. He pulls their entwined hands to his mouth to press a kiss there before he places them onto her belly. "We may have to discuss issues before it goes to print but I will support you," Colin replies. "Can you promise one thing about writing your column?"

"I will do what I can," she replies hesitantly.

"Be kinder to yourself?" Colin asks. Penelope blinks at him. His request is far from what she expected. "I hate the horrible things you say about yourself."

"I think I can manage that," Penelope agrees.

"I must confess…my mother knows about you being Lady Whistledown," he says, wincing.

"You told her?!" Penelope exclaims. She attempts to sit up but Colin presses a hand against her lower ribcage to keep her prone. "Is she furious with me?" Losing Lady Bridgerton's regard would devastate her.

"I have never seen her so quickly shocked," Colin responds. "And then so quickly impressed."

"Impressed?" Penelope repeats, taken aback. An amused and delighted smile spreads across his features.

"She called your accomplishment spectacular," Colin answers. He looks absurdly proud. "I could not have said it better myself. Once I set aside my sense of betrayal and envy, it is incredible to understand what you have built. I would like to hear more about your business venture in the coming days, if you are willing to share it with me?"

"I would love to tell you everything," Penelope replies. His answering grin makes her love blossom wide in her chest. There is one other thing she absolutely needs him to know. "Speaking of sharing things…You must know that I truly loved your writing. It was seductive and thought provoking. You may doubt yourself, but I never will."

Her statement stuns him into abrupt silence, even more than her affirmation of her love for him.

Colin stares at her, overwhelmed. Her blue eyes shine with earnestness. To know that Penelope, the secretly most renown author in Mayfair thinks that he is a great writer. He can tell that she truly means it. What a wonder she is to be so supportive of him.

"Penelope," he breathes. "I love you."

Her eyes widen at his declaration. The flare of shock and joy radiates through her expression. He now understands how deeply his spoken words affect her. The way she lights up at his reassurance tells him everything he needs to know.

"I love you too."

Colin lifts their entwined hands to his mouth, pressing a firm kiss to her bare hand.

"I am sorry I did not say it back to you before," he replies, kissing each of her knuckles individually.

"You were not ready," she responds, her voice hitching as he flips her hand over to kiss the inside of her wrist. "I am so glad you waited until you were."

When Colin kisses the palm of her hand, Penelope sucks in a sharp breath. Colin lifts his mouth from her tantalizingly soft skin to meet her eyes. Her blue orbs are blown wide with the beginnings of arousal. Her lips are parted slightly as she stares at him.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me, Penelope?" he asks, feeling an answering arousal flare in his stomach.

"If it feels anything like the madness I feel for you, then yes," Penelope responds. Her cheeks burn bright with shyness but she does not look away from him.

"Madness?" Colin questions, sliding closer. The cotton of her night gown touches the back of his hand.

"It is the only word I can find to describe it. I look at you and I am consumed," Penelope says. "I kiss you and I am suddenly aware of parts of my body I never think of."

"Like where?" Colin leans closer to her and he sees the moment her breathing picks up. "Will you tell me where you feel this awareness?"

"I cannot," she protests weakly.

"Why not?" he asks. Boldly, Colin presses kisses on her wrist and then he pushes the sleeve of her gown up to her elbow. He presses his lips to the vulnerable skin of her inner arm, feeling the way her pulse pounds against his mouth.

"They are private places," she replies, voice shaking. Her beautiful blush spreads from her cheeks to her neck. "It is uncouth to speak of these things."

"Not to me, Penny," Colin replies. "You can tell me anything."

"Colin…" her voice trails off as Colin kisses his way up her arm, to her shoulder. He uses his fingers to pull aside the sleeve of her dress and presses his lips to the lush skin hidden underneath. Penelope shivers.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, do not stop."

Colin," she gasps. He presses kisses against her shoulders up to her neck. The moan she releases and how her body melts into his side is Colin's undoing. In a smooth motion, he rolls Penelope to her back and lets some of his weight fall against her. Her legs spread instinctively to accommodate his hips.

Penelope's eyes widen in abject shock but she does not push him away as he rests his weight on one elbow before leaning down to kiss and nip at her neck.

"Oh heavens, Col," she moans.

Colin has to fiercely remind himself that she is innocent and he cannot devour her whole on the floor of her bedchamber. They kiss slowly until Penelope pulls his head closer to deepen the kiss. The way she takes control causes him to harden in his breeches. She is everything. Their tongues twine together. The way their lips drag and press against one another makes his head swim. She wraps her arms around his neck and Colin lets his hips rest fully against her own as he drapes himself over her.

Most of his upper body weight balances on his elbows resting on the blanket. His hands bracket her head as he stares down at her. She is divine. Her blue orbs blown wide with shyness, desire and intrigue. Her red curls fan across the blankets under her like a fiery halo.

Her long sleeve white nightgown slips off her shoulders where he'd planted kisses. A lovely blush is near her collarbones. Colin has been painfully aware that she is bare beneath this gown. Her nipples are firm peaks beneath the fabric of her dress. Her breasts appear heavy and full without being corseted. It drives him mad to know that she likely wears no stays or chemise beneath it.

"Penny, will you tell me where my kisses make you feel things?"

"I feel warm all over, Colin," she says, gasping as he returns to her neck with fervor. She smells so sweet. Her skin is soft and supple beneath his lips. He trails down to her bustline and licks a hot line across one breast.

Penelope's moan is shocked and arduous. He feels her knees tighten around his hips on reflex. Colin scrapes his teeth along the soft skin of her breast, groaning at her words. The desire to mark her with his mouth intensifies as she releases an overwhelmed sound.

"My breasts ache," she says as Colin gives her other breast the same treatment. "They have never been so sensitive, but every time you are near, it is like they want to be touched."

Colin wants to tug the thin cotton of her nightdress down and soothe that ache right now but he cannot.

"I think of you and I hold them myself after I undress but the ache does not abate."

She is going to kill him.

"And my center," she says. Colin freezes and lifts his head to meet her eyes. Her eyes are blown wide with what he can tell is arousal. Her face lax with want and her cheeks shine bright red with shyness.

"What happens to your center, Penny?" he asks her, pressing his hips against her core.

Penelope grabs his shoulder at the sensation, gasping. Colin does it again just to see her mouth part in a moan. He grinds into her at an angle and her head drops down backwards to the blanket. Her neck stretches and her bosom arches towards him. Colin wants to strip her bare, make her scream his name with his mouth and then sink into her again and again until he fills her up.

"Do you mean there?" he asks, using his hand to lift her leg higher to his waist. He presses forward and her face contorts with shocked pleasure. Her sweet lips part in surprise and arousal. She clearly has no idea what to do with all the sensations he awakens in her.

"Colin," she gasps, squirming against him. Colin feels drugged by how responsive she is. She will be the death of his self-control.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he says, "Is this the place you mean? Between your legs?"

Penelope's face turns a darker red, even though her blue eyes shine with molten heat. Colin presses against her again, feeling her heat through her thin nightgown. Seeing her discover her own desire is the sexiest thing he has ever been witness to.

He is so hard that his breeches feel suffocating.

"Yes," she groans, her hands grasping at his hair in response to his movement. "Colin, what is this feeling? The ache is worse there. I do not understand."

"That is your cunny, darling," he tells her. Penelope blushes at the word. She looks both shocked and intrigued. "It is a sign of arousal when you grow warm there and ache for my touch. It is natural."

"What about wetness?" she asks, biting her lip. "Every time you kiss me, I grow wet there. Is that natural too?"

Colin might spontaneously combust in his breeches like a green boy. God and above, she has no idea what she is confessing to wanting from him.

"Yes Penny, that is natural," he tells her, sure that he will perish from the flames of his own arousal. "It means you want me to touch you there. It helps with marital relations."

"Oh!" Penelope exclaims. Colin cannot take her saying another word, so he brings their mouths together for a passionate kiss. Penelope falls into it. She relaxes into the kiss, far less self-conscious than she had been before. She kisses him with fervor, keeping pace with him. She is so responsive to his touch and their movements sync with each other.

It feels good in ways he has never experienced.

None of his other relations compare to this. Colin feels consumed by desire. His blood burns hot and his cock is harder than it has ever been. Truthfully, Colin did not know he could be this erect. Sex was satisfactory before but this…the way Penelope makes him feel is indescribable. He has never sought to physically connect to another person like this.

Her hands twine into his curls. He can feel her tugging lightly, seeming to test whether or not he likes it. Colin delights in her forwardness and curiosity.

He groans into her mouth to encourage her exploration, tangling his own hands into the red strands spread out across the blanket. She melts into the kiss even more, her legs drop open wider causing Colin to sink fully against her with his erection pressed to her core completely.

He nips at her bottom lip, tugging it with his teeth. Penelope pulls away to moan. She subconsciously arches her back, pressing her breasts to his chest with her head tilted back. Colin takes great joy in pressing open mouthed kisses to her neck and sternum. Penelope squirms under him and shifts her hip upward. His erection presses against her and he has to bite down on the cloth of her bustline to stop himself from damning propriety and taking her right here.

Penelope sounds breathless when she tugs at his hair to get his attention. Colin loosens his teeth from the fabric of her dress and shifts to look at her. He can feel himself throb at the sight of her. Her red curls are a complete mess. Her lips swollen and bruised from kissing.

Colin can just imagine what her cunt looks like. She has to be glistening with arousal for him. His mouth waters with desire to get his mouth on her. He wants to devour her whole.

She is still trying to regulate her breathing when she asks, "What is the hardness in your breeches?"

Colin groans in agony. He rests his head on her breasts because he will have to teach her these things, and it just may be the death of him.

"Colin," she says, tugging at his curls again gently. "What is it? Are you well?"

He chuckles to himself as her hair-tugging becomes a bit more insistent. He gathers his wits to meet her gaze again.

"Do you know anything of male anatomy?"

"No," she says. Colin suddenly understands Daphne and Eloise's frustration with keeping young ladies in the dark. It is ridiculous that women in society are kept so chaste that they do not know basic biology.

"It is called a penis, but there are other words for it," he tells her. "Where you feel warm and wet, that is where the male part goes during marital relations."

Penelope looks ready to swoon.

"Are you certain?" She sounds positively scandalized. "It goes inside?"

Colin cannot prevent his laughter. "Yes, sweetheart. I am certain."

"Perhaps, you learned it wrong," she replies, nervously. "It does not seem like anything should be going in there, Colin."

"I swear that it feels magnificent," he says, pressing pecks against her lips. "I can bring you great pleasure if performed correctly."

"You want to put yourself inside of me?"

"Yes," he tells her, softly. "I strongly wish to join with you in that way."

"Is it alright that I am not ready for that?"

"Of course, Pen. I shall never do anything that you do not consent to. If it makes you feel any better, I am not ready for us to join either."

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks and Colin lefts himself to make sure their eyes connect. Her insecurity is plain, and he has no plans to let her think she is a disappointment to him in any way.

"No, you are wonderful," he says firmly. "You have done nothing wrong at all. Do you understand?" he asks, wanting to make sure that his honesty is coming across clearly. Some of the tension in her face melts away and she nods.

Colin leans forward to press a kiss to her mouth. She returns it. He pulls back and carefully rolls off of her. He slides to her left side and he pulls her body towards him. They rest on their sides, face to face with his head in his hand and his free hand around her waist. He leans forward and she tilts her head up into his kiss. It stays soft, chaste, and loving. Colin will never tire of kissing her.

Pressing their foreheads together, he says, "I am still rather vulnerable and emotional. I do not wish to seek intimacy with you before I have settled my mind and heart." Penelope reaches up to cup the side of his face. Colin presses a kiss into the palm of her hand and asks, "Is that alright?"

"Of course, Colin," she says. She applies gentle pressure to his jawline until he turns his eyes back to hers. "I shall never do anything that you do not consent to either."

Colin can see the honesty shine in her eyes. He must blink back tears before he leans down to press their lips together in a sweet, affirming kiss. Penelope's hands cup his face as their mouths move together sensually. It is a kiss that says "I love you", "I will wait for you", and "I forgive you".

"I love you," he tells her, overcome with feeling.

"I love you too," she says.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Notes:

I apologize for the delay. Life got difficult for a few months. Thank you for being so patient with me!

Chapter Text

-- Saturday, December 2, 1815

The soft light of the rising sun wakes Penelope from deep slumber. As her eyes blink open, she feels rejuvenated and rested for the first time in weeks. Penelope pauses when the first thing she sees are the dying embers of her fireplace and not the yellow wallpaper of her bedchamber wall. It takes her a moment to realize that she is lying among several blankets on her room's floor. As she regains her bearings, she becomes fully aware of the warm body pressed against her from the back of her head to her feet tucked between a pair of calves. Colin's arm drapes across her hip and belly, his right hand nearly underneath her. The solid weight and heat of him makes her relax in his embrace. Penelope snuggles closer and feels Colin's arm tighten around her waist. His lips press against the back of her head in an unconscious kiss, but he does not wake.

Last night with Colin was incredible. She will never forget the encounter.

Although she has never had a man in her bedchamber before (much less sleeping behind her), Penelope feels safe and loved in his embrace. If she can wake up next to him for the rest of her natural-born days, she would love to do so. It is a divine experience to connect with another person so deeply.

Unwilling to rise just yet, Penelope lets herself drift mentally.

Colin allowed himself to be vulnerable with her. He spoke of his sisters, his forgiveness, and his appreciation. He also disclosed his fear of inadequacy. Penelope reassured him as insistently as she could, but it is apparent that insecurity still plagues him. She reckons that time shall be the only solution to that issue. At some point during their exchange of words and frequent kisses, the two of them dozed off into sleep. Penelope has a faint memory of him telling her about Anthony's duel with the duke. She likely fell asleep during his story to her dismay. Perhaps, she can talk him into sharing the tale again when they are both more awake. Her position against his side with her head on his chest had been so warm and comfortable. Penelope felt wrapped up in his presence and she found it easy to drift off to the soft cadence of his voice.

Penelope comes back to reality when she feels movement behind her. Colin's arm tightens across her belly and he tugs her closer. The gasp she releases when she feels his hardness press against her rear is unintentional and loud. It startles Colin into wakefulness.

"Penny, you alright?" he asks, voice heavy with sleep.

Blushing hotly, Penelope wiggles anxiously and Colin groans in response. His hand slips from underneath her side to her hip. He stills her with a firm touch.

"Fuck," he swears as he pushes his hips back. Hearing such foul language from him makes her body tingle. Penelope did not realize how stirring such words could be. "I apologize, sweetheart."

Colin rolls onto his back, separating their bodies with a groan. Penelope rolls onto her belly, lifting her upper body with her elbows. He throws an arm over his face. She can see his cheeks blossoming pink with a blush. His dark blue shirt contrasts the olive tone of his skin. His chest hair peeks from his wide collar. He is far too handsome for a man who just woke up.

"Did I do something particularly…enticing?" Penelope asks. Could she have been so alluring in her sleep that she inspired such a response? It is a rather titillating thought, if so.

Colin lets out a sleepy laugh. His sleep-roughened voice has the odd effect of making her nipples tighten. He truly makes her body mad! Penelope does not understand what is happening to her, but her breasts ache for his touch again. The memory of his tongue sliding across her cleavage makes her ears burn.

"You are incredibly enticing at all times," he replies, resting his arm above his head. Colin turns to look at her and the dark blue of his eyes shines resplendently in the soft light of her bedchamber. He is so classically handsome with the shadows of facial hair erupting on his jawline, his lips pink and slightly chapped, and his curls flattened on one side but fluffy on the other. "However, this is a rather normal affliction in the mornings."

He looks vulnerable and sweet. His cheeks shine a soft pink with shyness present in his gaze. It is nice to know that he too is affected while navigating this change in their relationship.

Colin's blue eyes drift from her face to her neck. When she sees his pupils dilate and his blush deepen, her brows scrunch together in confusion. Following his gaze, Penelope looks down and sucks in a breath when she sees her breasts nearly spilling out of the top of her nightgown. Her lifted position on her elbows puts them on display and one of her nipples threatens to slip from the cotton. She can see the pink of her areola above the neckline.

Penelope drops down to the blankets in mortification. God and above, she must look like a wanton wench! Wishing she could melt into the blankets, Penelope rests her head against the floor. She hears Colin chuckle. Reaching out to punch him in the side is a reflex. The resulting exhalation of surprise he lets out is incredibly satisfying.

"Pen," he says, amusement clear in his voice.

Penelope continues trying to disappear as he shuffles around on the blankets. She can feel his warmth come closer once again. His hand presses against the small of her back. "Look at me."

"I think death would be preferable," she responds. He laughs softly. His thumb rubs soothing passes up and down her spine. Penelope, against her will, feels herself start to lose the tension in her body.

"That would be unfortunate," he says. "I rather like you alive."

"Colin," she replies. "Can you not leave me to my embarrassment? I am sorry you had to see me in such a state."

"What in the blazes do you have to be embarrassed about, Pen?" he asks incredulously. "I would be a blessed man if I could see you in that state every day."

Penelope turns her head to the side to peer up at him. Colin lay on his side, jaw planted in the palm of his hand as he sits up using his elbow. She cannot detect any dishonesty on his face.

"You liked seeing my bosom?" she asks. Colin's ears turn red immediately and she sees him swallow hard.

"Indeed," he admits. "You are beautiful beyond what I've imagined."

"Do I look like a mess?"

He takes a beat to glance from her tangled curls and down her body. His gaze feels scorching as he looks her over.

"Yes," Colin agrees, "but you are my mess."

He leans his forehead against her own. The romantic moment shatters when Colin presses a gentle kiss to her mouth. The way her nose wrinkles is inadvertent, but it catches Colin's attention when he pulls back.

"Pen?" he questions.

"Colin," Penelope begins slowly as she inches back from him. Colin's confusion grows but he allows her to retreat. "Forgive my forthrightness but your breath is awful."

For a second, there is shocked silence. Penelope fears that she has offended him into speechlessness. Colin blinks at her twice in disbelief before he collapses into near-silent stitches. His wheezing laughter makes Penelope laugh as well. The two of them spend minutes in hysterics, each time they catch each other's eyes it renews their giggles.

By the time they settle, Colin's eyes brim with tears and Penelope is red-faced.

"I have an extra brush for your teeth," Penelope says, keeping her mouth tight to prevent her own breath from reaching him. Penelope rolls to her back and sits up from the floor. She tucks errant curls behind her ears and tugs the neckline of her dress up. She glances at Colin, who is sitting up beside her. "Let us go to the bathing room."

Colin stands and reaches out both hands to help Penelope off the floor. She takes them with a grateful smile as Colin says, "Forgive me I have never done this before."

Penelope looks at him curiously as they walk towards the bathing room. "Done what?"

With his free hand, Colin rakes his fingers through his curls. He looks nervous. "I've never woken up next to someone in the morning," he replies. Penelope pauses for a moment. His ears burn bright red in response to her surprised look.

Penelope leads Colin into the bathing room. She rummages around in the cabinetry to retrieve an extra toothbrush for him. They stand near the basin in the corner of the room, Colin pouring some water over both brushes.

"You never slept next to anyone?" Penelope asks. "Not even with the woman in Paris?"

Colin's ears turn bright red as his shyness flares. His cheeks shine the lightest shade of pink, and despite the sting of jealousy she feels about him being with another woman, Penelope is charmed by how flustered he is.

"Never," he replies. "That was a rather brief encounter."

They clean their teeth in a silence that is equal parts relieved and reticent. When finished, Penelope uses a damp cloth to clean her face and rinses her toothbrush. Colin copies her actions. Penelope finds herself taken in by the way his biceps move under his shirt as he washes his face. Watching the way his body moves feels intimate and arousing in ways that she is wholly unfamiliar with.

Unable to restrain her nerves any longer, Penelope asks, "Was I alright for you?"

Colin's dark blue eyes swing in her direction. He blinks in apparent confusion before he says, "Alright?" Penelope tugs on the end of her braid as she nods at him. Colin steps closer. She sucks in a breath when he extends his left hand and uses the knuckle of his pointer finger to tilt her chin upward.

Their eyes connect. His eyes shine earnestly. "Nothing compares to this," he answers. Colin's expression is open and vulnerable in a way that makes Penelope's spine melt. She finds herself grabbing the back of his hand.

"Truly?"

"Truly," he admits, moving his hand from her face to change the position of their hands. His large palm covers the back of her hand and their fingers entwine. He continues, "Sleeping next to you has brought me greater joy than I have ever experienced. Anything I have done before this pales in comparison to the way I feel when you kiss me or touch me."

Colin raises their tangled hands to his mouth and presses kisses against each of her fingers. Penelope feels her blood rush in response to the intimate touch.

"I love you," he says against her skin. Penelope lifts her free hand to cup his jaw. His unshaven face makes her skin prickle as she smooths a thumb across his cheek in a caress.

"I love you too," she replies. His eyes flare with joy and she feels the apple of his cheek firm under her fingers as he smiles. His vulnerability, love, and trust remind her that there are things they still must discuss. It is early, but they do not have infinite amounts of time before he must leave. Marrying Colin is no hardship, especially in light of last night, but Penelope would prefer it to be on their terms and not because they were caught out.

"We still have time before you depart," Penelope says. "I must show you something."

Colin follows her from the bathing room to her bedroom window. When she moves the carpet out of the way, his eyebrows arch high in surprise. He looks even more surprised when she kneels down and tugs a loose floorboard away to reveal organized stacks of money.

"This is where I store my Whistledown earnings," she confesses. "There is close to 15,000 pounds here last I counted."

"You have made that high a sum?" He asks, shocked. Colin joins her on the floor. She lets him reach out and touch the money. He runs his finger across the stored pamphlets on one side.

"This is incredible, Pen."

There is fierce pride on his face but Penelope can read the tension at the corner of his eyes.

"Colin, what is wrong?"

"It does not matter," he says slowly. He traces the stacks of money with a fleeting look of discomfort on his face. Penelope touches his knee.

"You promised to talk to me."

Colin sighs. He sits fully on the floor next to her and she joins him after covering her hideaway with the floorboard again.

"You have money, and employment, and can defend yourself," He says quietly. "What do you need me for?"

"Knowing that you would step in to shield me or protect me means everything," Penelope insists. "Colin, that confidence comes from knowing I have your support. I can do so much with you being by my side."

Penelope watches insecurity and relief battle for control in his blue eyes. She allows him his moment. Her heart lightens when he chooses to reach out and grasp her hand for support over withdrawing into himself. He sucks in two long, steadying breaths before he looks at her again.

"I apologize for allowing my insecurity to dampen this revelation," Colin replies. "It truly is incredible what you have amassed."

Discomfort flickers across his face as he glances at the floorboards again. A series of thoughts crosses his face as they fall into a companionable silence. Colin squeezes her fingers and asks, "Knowing what money you have, why do you withhold from your family?"

Colin loves her, but she knows that his view of her character is contingent upon her answer to this query. She cannot blame him for his concern. After the lengths Miss Thompson was willing to go for money, any woman willing to sacrifice her integrity and family for money would undoubtedly lose his favor.

"Although spite was part of my reasoning when Whistledown first became successful, things are more complicated now," Penelope answers honestly. "I cannot use Whistledown funds because my family's financial situation is precarious. It would be suspicious if I suddenly had money. It is one of the things I wished to talk to you in detail about."

Colin does not announce his relief audibly but tension drains from his posture. They gaze at one another for a prolonged moment. His thumb rubs soothing passes along the butt of her hand. The movement both reassures her and causes her heart rate to quicken. He truly makes her body mad.

"I will think of our options," he responds. "I may consult Anthony. He may have some plausible ideas for us to pursue–." Colin's words are cut off by the sounds of the house coming to life below them. They both pause. Penelope glances at the clock on the mantle and winces when she realizes the time.

"I must go," Colin whispers and Penelope nods.

He helps her stand from the floor. Penelope watches the muscles of his back move underneath the dark fabric of his shirt as he opens her window. Penelope steps close to him and peers down at the ground. They are only on the second floor, yet climbing down unnoticed seems far more dangerous than climbing up. Pulling back from the windowsill, Penelope looks at Colin.

"Please display greater athleticism on your departure, Col."

Colin looks shocked and then delighted at her tartness. The boyish grin that overtakes his face brings out her own smile. He coughs out a laugh, clearly amused by her impertinence.

"We have the Green-Haversham ball tonight," he replies. "I must descend with the greatest display of masculinity lest I injure myself."

"Are we to dance tonight?" Penelope asks.

"If it were allowed we would dance every set together," Colin answers. This man and his charm surely will be the death of her. Penelope wishes to melt into his embrace but they both know how dangerously they tempt fate.

"I have to go, darling," he says quietly.

"I hate that you have to leave," Penelope responds.

Colin's blue eyes darken with affection as he steps away from the window. Penelope gasps when his hand wraps around her fleshy hip and tugs her into his chest.

"As do I," he replies before he leans down and plants a deep kiss on Penelope's mouth. She opens to him immediately, head swimming with the affection of his touch. Commotion from below them causes them to part with a smack of lips. The sound is enough to make Penelope's nipples tighten. Colin kisses her once more before he makes his way swiftly out of the window. She watches him descend quickly and quietly, only stumbling once or twice. When he lands on the grass layering the courtyard, he looks up at her and blows a kiss.

With a roguish wink, he turns and hastens from the Featherington courtyard. Penelope watches his form until he disappears between tall shrubbery. She misses him already.

The ball tonight cannot come fast enough.

Sneaking into Bridgerton House offers Colin a thrill he did not expect. He spent the morning flitting around his bedchamber after returning from the Featherington home. Colin forewent breakfast with the family because he knew he would be found out the moment any of his siblings spotted him. The beaming smile on his face is relentless. Spending the night with Penelope was an indescribable experience. He bedded women in the past and faffed about with the fairer sex but never spent an evening sleeping in close quarters.

How is he to ever sleep alone again?

Her soft breathing kept his thoughts tied to the earth. Her plush warmth and the gentle clove scent of her hair soothed his mind and body. Being close to Penelope for hours at a time lessened the frenetic pace of his thoughts and lowered his insecurity to negligible amounts. He never knew how reassuring sleeping next to someone could be. Colin feels settled in ways he never has before.

His large canopy bed seems cavernous and cold in comparison to the soft nest of blankets he shared with Pen. Until they marry, he must accept this reality despite his displeasure.

After hours milling around his bedchamber, unable to concentrate on anything other than his cloying affection for Penelope and his besotted feelings over her bosom, Colin leaves his room. He wears only a fresh linen shirt and trousers with brown leather suspenders. He mindlessly descends the stairs and bursts into Anthony's study without knocking.

Anthony sits behind a stack of paperwork, scribbling with a dapper quill in one hand and drinking a steaming mug of tea. He squints up at Colin at the disturbance. Anthony, amid Viscount business, is a strange creature. Whilst focused, he is a man of few words and any interruption can be met with irritation or brusqueness.

With only a grunt of acknowledgement for his younger brother, he returns to his business. Colin takes great joy in dragging an armchair in front of his elder brother's desk, making a loud and disgraceful ruckus for his own amusement. When Colin noisily settles down into the chair before Anthony's desk, he meets his brother's deeply unimpressed stare with a chortle and an impish grin.

"I see that you are in high spirits this afternoon," Anthony states with an eyebrow quirked in irritation at the commotion. "What brings you to my office?"

"Can I not simply wish to keep you company?" Colin muses, stretching out like a sun-warmed feline. He lounges in the chair, Anthony's deadpan look growing deeper with each movement.

"You skipped breaking your fast with the family and appear in my office being impertinent," Anthony responds. "I know you well enough to sense something is afoot."

"Brother, if you had a large amount of money you wished to invest," Colin asks. "What would you do with it?"

A furtive look flares across Anthony's face. After a tense moment, he places his quill down onto his desk and caps his ink pot.

"Should I be concerned?" he asks.

"No," Colin says, filling his glass with fresh water. Anthony does not look convinced. Colin rolls his eyes.

"Nothing nefarious is happening, brother," he insists. "I was wondering if publishing my writing would be a good investment. The upfront cost would be significant with no publishing house to back me."

"It might be a decent investment," Anthony responds. "Travel books have always been rather impersonal and factual. It helps plan a grand tour, but perhaps a more personal experience shall create a new interest?"

"Would you support me?" Colin questions. "You have made no secret of your impatience with my wanderlust, brother."

"I confess to being harsh about your impulsiveness, Colin, but that is out of concern for you," Anthony says. "Gentlemen romanticize travel because it is a way to escape their responsibilities at home. You are three-and-twenty so I confess there is no rush to get married but I greatly wish to see you happy and settled."

"I am happy," Colin replies. Anthony gives him a look. "This last week notwithstanding, I am!"

"I suppose I should be pleased you have moved beyond drowning your sorrows in my fine bottles of brandy,"

"I had a nearly devastating fight with my intended," Colin responds. "Allow me one terrible way of coping for this first occasion, Ant."

"Was a quarrel with Penelope truly enough to render you inconsolable?" Anthony asks. His brother is accomplished at hiding his feelings, but Colin can tell that he remains concerned.

"It was difficult," he replies. "Made worse by my own humiliation."

"Humiliation?" Anthony responds.

"I rather thought myself useless to her," Colin admits.

"Why in the blazes would you think yourself useless, Col?"

"Oh come off it Ant, we both know that the Ton sees me as the charming, brainless one," Colin rebuts, good mood decreasing. "I was almost swindled of my dignity by Miss Thompson."

"That speaks more of her character than yours," Anthony insists.

"Perhaps," Colin replies, "but it is a scar I will carry forever."

"Surely Penelope has not said such things to you?" Anthony questions, his brow furrowing deeply.

"Of course not!" Colin exclaims. "If anything, she did the utmost trying to reassure me."

"What brought this on?"

"She is an incredible person, brother. The only reason she is not awash with money and success is because of her sex," Colin says. "How am I to provide for such a capable woman? She did not seem to need me and I allowed my insecurity to nearly destroy our relationship."

"Insecurities can create a self-fulfilling prophecy, brother," Anthony answers. "Do not allow your fears to dictate how you believe you deserve to be loved."

"It is easy for you to say."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have a purpose. You do not lack responsibilities!" Colin replies. "Perhaps, you take a trip with your wife but you always have the management of the estate to come back to."

"You seem to have minimal understanding of what it is like being me," Anthony says quietly. "Managing our estate can feel like being shackled to the ground."

"I have found that aimless wandering and infinite time with nothing to tether you can feel like its own hellscape," Colin responds. "It is unsettling to know that you could disappear and people would not even notice."

"Is that what you believe?" Anthony sounds horrified. His tone draws Colin's gaze away from the window and to his brother. Anthony is equal parts reserved with his emotions and emotive beyond imagining. The look on his face openly displays his dismay. "That no one would notice if you were gone?"

"I serve little purpose, brother. Most people of the Ton find me charming but my status as a Bridgerton is the only thing saving me from a life of invisibility," Colin answers. "I do not know how Ben is content with a life of drifting. I want more , brother."

"I did not realize you were unaware of how deeply your presence is felt while you are away. You are missed when you are not home, Colin," Anthony says. "It may not mean much since I am naught but your elder brother, but I promise that if you were to disappear, it would be noticed."

"Thank you, Ant," Colin responds.

There is a moment of shared affectionate quiet between the two as Anthony leans back into his chair and Colin drinks his water in contemplation.

"As for your pursuit of something more, I cannot steer you directly towards a field of employment seeing as high society men are not supposed to have menial jobs," Anthony muses aloud.

"It is something I shall continue to ruminate on. I very well may pursue publishing by the end of the season," Colin replies. "Have we discovered any way to help the Featheringtons?"

"Not as of yet. Beyond charity, there is no feasible way to assist them outside marriage," Anthony says. "Giving them money would cause more social disgrace for them even if it were a financial boon."

"Could I say that I gifted them money but it was inappropriate to declare as such because Pen and I were not yet engaged?"

Anthony's alarm is immediate. "Let us not be hasty and foolish brother," he warns. "We shall ponder this problem and design a solution that will not ruin us both."

As it is every year, the theme of the Green-Haversham ball is the color green. It is not a particularly innovative theme for a winter ball, but both ladies are absurdly fond of verdant shades. Lady Green and Lady Haversham are sisters who married well in society. They live adjacent to one another and successfully made their combined ball an annual affair.

Thankfully, both Lady Green and Lady Haversham possess impeccable taste in decor despite the simplicity of their theme. Tonight's festivities are no different.

Greenery tracks along the walls, the stone columns and threads through every dark corner of the ballroom. Fresh flowers and vines create a stunning centerpiece for the room. Although the decorations meet the assigned green requirement, the aesthetic remains demure and fanciful without being overbearing.

Penelope strides into the room on her mother's arm. Her Mama wears a gown made of emerald velvet and a feathered headpiece. Within her colorful wardrobe, the look is almost muted. It took twenty minutes to convince her Mama that her dress did not require any additional feathers or sequins. Penelope is sure that her mother feels plain and homely in this simple attire but Penelope thinks she looks beautiful without all the extra flash and flare.

Her lady's maid outfitted Penelope in a form-fitting silk gown with an empire bust, long sleeves, and chiffon skirts adding an element of whimsy to her gown. It is a seasonally appropriate evergreen color, perfect for a winter time ball. Rae curled her hair into a cascade of spirals with sprigs of greenery twined throughout. The bustline of this dress is more daring than usual. It seems to garner Penelope more attention than she knows what to deal with.

Before she loses her confidence, Penelope spots Eloise's lithe form striding quickly in her direction. Her best friend is a vision in her sage green dress, embroidered with dark vines around her bust and stretching along her skirts. The color offsets the dark brown of her curls and makes her bright blue eyes gleam under the candlelight.

"Pen!" Eloise greets.

"Good evening, El," Penelope replies. Her friend all but snatches her bodily away from her Mama's side. Eloise never lacks enthusiasm with her greetings.

"Thank goodness, you are here," Eloise says. "I am positively starved for intelligent conversation."

"The ball began not even half an hour ago!" Penelope replies. "How can you be in dire straits already?"

"My brothers were all sequestered away doing things men do, I suppose. Mama spent the day over at Daphne and Simon's home. Hy and Frannie were trying to figure out some duet in the music room, so I was left to my own devices all day!" Eloise responds. The melodrama in her tone amuses Penelope endlessly.

Eloise tucks her elbow into the crook of Penelope's as she bodily steers them toward the gathering of chestnut haired Bridgertons across the ballroom. Penelope glances over her shoulder to her Mama, who simply waves her approval before she is caught by Lady Armstrong and her fresh-faced debutante daughter named Abigail.

Penelope turns her attention back to her best friend. Eloise wears a petulant scowl as she continues speaking, "And then I arrive here with all my siblings only for Mama to send me directly into the arms of a philistine!"

"How unfortunate," Penelope answers dryly. Her tone makes Eloise narrow her eyes in irritation, which causes Penelope to giggle instead of cowering. Eloise looks put out at her response.

"Who were you cursed to suffer with this time?" she asks. Eloise has long legs and Penelope does not. Her friend's strides force Penelope to quicken her steps as they come within earshot and eyesight of the Bridgertons.

"He was such a bore that I do not even remember his name," Eloise groans. Penelope laughs at her friend. "I asked him his thoughts on–"

" Eloise Bridgerton !" Violet interrupts sternly. Both Penelope and Eloise freeze at the hissed whisper. Penelope and El glance up at the Bridgerton dowager. Bright red spots of anger are visible on Violet's cheeks. Eloise's mama appears livid as she hastens over to them.

Eloise finds herself snatched into the Bridgerton cluster by Violet; Penelope pulled along because Eloise keeps their elbows locked together.

"Did you ask a gentleman if he would care more about politics if said knowledge affected the growth of his manhood?" Violet demands, lips pressed tight together with disapproval.

"It is a valid question!" Eloise retorts.

"You do not even know what manhood is!" Violet snaps back.

"I have heard enough to know that whatever it is; it is of great importance to men," is Eloise's tart reply.

Penelope hears Colin's laugh before she sees him. She moves her gaze from Eloise, past a furious Violet and spots him next to Anthony and Kate. He looks utterly dashing with an evergreen coat, a light gray and dark gray vest and a silk cravat.

Anthony wears a severe expression on his face but the twinkle of laughter in his eyes gives away his amusement. Benedict is beside himself, leaning against Kate's side and snickering. The Duke's eyebrows sit high on his forehead as he watches the rapid back-and-forth argument between Eloise and Violet. The Duchess rests against Colin's arm, nearly breathless with laughter. It seems Daphne's formidable social graces cannot withstand witnessing a ridiculous argument between her younger sister and her Mama.

Her best friend releases their elbows as she and her mother engage in a whispered argument about her behavior. Per usual, El is resolutely unrepentant about insulting another dull high society gentleman. Eloise flaps about angrily as they move further away from Penelope's side. Violet wears a particularly murderous expression in her sharp blue eyes. Violet appears one pithy comment away from pinching Eloise's ear; propriety be damned.

Penelope would fear for her best friend's continued health but her gaze is caught by her rather handsome gentleman instead. Colin's bright laughter tapers off as his eyes meet her own. Heat flares in Penelope's stomach as his dark blue eyes fasten onto her person.

Penelope feels her heartbeat quicken as he brazenly rakes his eyes from the top of her head and down to her chiffon skirts. He is nowhere near touching her but the phantom feeling of his body pressed against her own overtakes her senses. The memory of their shared slumber makes her blood run hot. One night laying next to him is not enough.

Penelope craves more – of his touch, his kiss, his everything.

Penelope watches as Colin leans down to press a kiss to the crown of Daphne's head before he steps away from his sister. In response, Penelope straightens her posture and lifts her chin in his direction. Despite how her knees wobble as she stands under Colin's full attention, she meets his dark blue eyes with her own. The slow grin that overtakes his features is flirtatious, mischievous and unbelievably alluring.

Colin approaches her with confident strides. Penelope holds her ground and waits for him to reach her side.

"Penelope," Colin greets, extending a hand for her gloved one.

Penelope gives him her own once-over, being slow with her gaze as she studies him from his chestnut curls down to his perfectly-shined boots. His broad shoulders and strong thighs cause a nervous, fluttery feeling to rise in her stomach but she refuses to halt her appraisal. By the time she has finished looking him over, her cheeks burn with a shyness that is reflected in Colin's red-tipped ears.

Penelope quirks her eyebrow at him before placing her hand into his. Colin bows in her direction and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

"Might you honor me with a dance or two this evening?"

"Only two ?" Penelope quips. "You do not wish for the husband-hungry Mamas to clutch their bosoms this evening?"

Colin appears delighted by her sass.

"There is only one lady I would like to clutch her bosom in response to my actions," Colin replies, eyes intent. "To both our misfortune provoking such a reaction in public would be rather unseemly."

"Unseemly by high society, I am sure," Penelope says. "Though I am certain that the lady you are intent upon would welcome your actions most fervently, even if said actions are more audacious than any respectable lady should ever encourage."

"For such an innocent young woman," Colin answers, stepping fully into her space to prevent his voice from carrying beyond the two of them. "Your statement carries quite heavy and dangerous implications. Such encouragement might tempt a gentleman to forget his typical restraint and adherence to propriety."

Tension builds in the negligible space between their bodies. Penelope wants to sink into the masculine cedar scent wafting off his clothing. The heat of him combined with the dark look in his eyes feels all-encompassing and intoxicating. She wavers into his space before a loud throat clearing startles them both.

Penelope blinks at Lord Bridgerton, uncertain when he walked so close to her and Colin. From the corner of her eye, she spots Benedict slap the back of Colin's head. He glares at his elder brother but moves to a respectable distance. Penelope forcibly hides her displeasure at how far away he now stands.

"Your dance card, Pen?" he asks.

Without a word, Penelope gives him her hand back. He makes quick work of signing his name on three lines to Penelope's absolute delight. Lord Bridgerton rolls his eyes at his younger brother but offers no protest.

Penelope pulls her hand back to curtsy.

"Would you like a refreshment?" he questions. "The first dance should start soon but I can retrieve a cool drink for you."

"That would be lovely, Colin," Penelope answers.

Colin's resulting wink makes her giggle but he strides off towards the west end of the ballroom. Penelope follows him with her gaze until his form disappears beyond a gaggle of young ladies. When she turns back around, she is met with several sets of amused eyes. The attention causes her blush to flare up immediately.

"I take it that the two of you have reconciled?" Eloise asks, tucking her arm back through Penelope's.

"Uh," Penelope stutters knowing she cannot ever tell Eloise how that reconciliation came to fruition. Eloise would go mad if she knew the details. "Yes. All is forgiven. Being at odds was awful."

"When did you get a chance—" Eloise's question fades as she stares at something over Penelope's shoulder. Penelope sees curious looks appear on several Bridgerton features as a throat clears behind her.

"Miss Featherington?" An unexpected yet familiar voice pipes up from behind her. Penelope turns with a confused but pleasant half smile on her face as she greets Lord Fife. Her confusion grows as she spots Lord Wilkes just beyond Lord Fife, both of them peering at her with interest.

"Lord Fife," Penelope replies politely. "Lord Wilkes." She curtsies in greeting and both men bow shallowly in response.

"Might you do me the honor of a dance this evening?"

"A dance?" she repeats blankly. Certainly, she must have misheard him. Why would Fife, of all members of high society, request a dance from her?

"Yes," Fife responds.

Penelope blinks at him before she glances over at Eloise. Her best friend appears similarly taken aback. Lord Fife has been openly contemptuous in his disregard of Penelope. His unkind words and relentless mockery have frequently inspired Cressida's insults.

"Are you declining my offer, Miss Featherington?" he asks slowly.

Penelope stares at him, alarmed and affronted. The temptation to say yes is powerful, but even Eloise knows the implications of her outright rejecting him when she remains unengaged or married. Her best friend squeezes her forearm and Penelope resists the urge to narrow her eyes at Fife in suspicion.

"Of course not, my Lord," Penelope replies, her tone verging on deep unfriendliness.

She offers him her dance card. She watches as a slimy half-smirk appears on his features. Penelope greatly wishes to plant a facer in the center of his smug expression. She cannot fathom his or Lord Wilkes' motivations but neither of their expressions inspire comfort.

Penelope watches balefully as Lord Fife claims one dance and then Lord Wilkes swiftly follows. She offers them the barest curtsy possible and then two men depart.

"What in the blazes are those two planning?" Eloise mutters.

"I would like to know that also," Penelope responds.

She tugs her dance card into her side, feeling upset that there are still three dances unclaimed. Insecurity rears its head with a tug of discomfort in her ribcage. Who else is in on whatever the devil Fife and Wilkes have planned?

Looking up from the parchment tied around her wrist, Penelope meets the sympathetic eyes of Kate and Daphne. Violet has a small apologetic frown on her face. It is increasingly obvious that all the ladies in her immediate vicinity understand the precarious position she was in. Penelope would suffer extremes to be openly in Colin's arms. Until they are wed or engaged, she will have to abide by society's expectations.

Before her discomfort can grow, Anthony appears next to her. She looks up at him. His blue eyes are kind and understanding. Few people witness the softer side of Anthony. He is a no-nonsense business man and head of his family. Penelope considers it a privilege to know his kindness.

"Penelope, might I have one of your dances?" he asks. Eloise chokes on air and Penelope's mouth falls open. When her silence continues, he raises an amused eyebrow at her and motions toward her dance card.

"Uh, of course," Penelope stutters, offering her wrist to him.

It is unreal to watch Anthony Bridgerton sign her dance card. He writes his name in clean script under Lord Fife's scrawl before he releases her wrist. Anthony has barely stepped away when Daphne's husband approaches. Her shock continues as the Duke of Hastings signs her card next, and finally Benedict takes her last available slot.

Glimpsing her filled dance card, the gratitude she feels overwhelms her. She looks up at the Bridgertons surrounding her with a tremulous smile. Eloise squeezes her elbow. Penelope doesn't get an opportunity to thank them aloud before Colin returns with several glasses of lemonade balanced precariously in his arms.

"I brought refreshments for all the ladies," he announces.

"Who could you possibly be trying to charm, brother?" Benedict asks, winking. "I have never seen you cart four glasses of lemonade to us before."

"I am always a gentleman," Colin replies with a sniff as he hands Daphne and Kate a glass each. "It is called being thoughtful."

"Thoughtful," Benedict mutters as Colin barely looks at Eloise when he hands her a glass. He does not appear impressed by the tight hold her best friend has on her. He stands in front of Penelope and places the drink in her hand.

"Your drink, Pen," Colin says quietly. Penelope grants him an appreciative smile.

"Mawkish sounds more appropriate," Anthony replies. His words earn him a soft laugh from Benedict. Penelope tunes out their teasing.

"You do not appear mauled," Penelope says, sipping on her lemonade. "Were you able to avoid all the young ladies?"

"Ignore is a more fitting verb," Colin responds. "Several attempted to draw me into conversation. I advised them frankly that the drink for my lady was growing unpalatable due to their delay."

"You jest!"

"I do not," he says. "I expect grumblings from at least five young ladies to appear in Whistledown should she ever continue publishing."

"Five?" Penelope asks. She cannot determine if she is speechless from his insinuation about her publishing again or the reality of five young women trying to get his attention in the short period of time he was gone.

"It would have been six but one young Miss accidentally tripped over Lady Danbury's cane," Colin replies, amused. Knowing what she does of Lady Danbury, Penelope can only assume that the incident was intentional on the spirited elder's behalf. Colin seems to know as such too. His impish smile is quite telling.

"It never ceases to amaze me how simpering ladies behave when they encounter a handsome bachelor," Eloise says. It bursts the flirtatious bubble Penelope and Colin fell into. Colin glances at his sister.

"You admit that I am handsome?" he questions. El rolls her eyes and Penelope laughs.

"That was an insult, brother."

"It was a compliment for me," Colin replies. "As a male, hearing any sort of kind word from your mouth is worthy of excitement."

"I would not openly scorn the male sex if they were not pathetic," Eloise answers.

"Pathetic is a subjective assessment, El," Penelope replies. "An assessment of yours that appears quite broad, indeed."

Colin laughs and Eloise wrinkles her nose. "Is this where the traitorous behavior begins?" she asks. "Are you advocating for my brother over me?"

"Perhaps," Penelope responds with a shrug of her shoulders. "It truly depends on which of you are incorrect within the argument. I will never blindly take sides."

"I can accept those terms," Eloise states. "As long as you know that I will likely be correct more often than I am not." Colin rolls his eyes at his sister and Penelope laughs again. Penelope spots the quartet setting up in the corner of the room and she finishes the last of her drink.

Colin sweeps the empty glass from her hand without her saying a word. He finds a nearby servant to hand the glass to before he returns.

"Might we venture to the dance floor, Pen?"

"Lead me away, Colin," she answers. Colin takes her hand and tugs her away from Eloise's side. He sweeps her out onto the dance floor.

The swish and sway of Penelope's chiffon skirts are easy to follow as her brother leads her best friend away from her side. Eloise briefly considers being resentful of her brother sweeping Penelope into this courtship dance, but she remembers the display of love she witnessed only last week. Shockingly, she finds herself with a soft heart as they reconnect. She stares after them in wistful fondness before her eyes are caught by a tall figure standing across the ballroom.

Cressida's ornate braided hair and striking figure are as hard to miss as the daring dress sleeves she wears with tonight's gown. Eloise could never understand Cressida's fashion. Each dress seems more like untouchable artwork than appealing to the eyes of gentlemen. Part of her wonders if it is a form of rebellion for Cressida; her Mama and Papa rarely appear pleased with her choice in clothing.

Eloise stands torn between action and inaction. Their previous conversation was hardly pleasant. Eloise recognized hostility and finality in her words. Approaching Cressida after their less than joyful interaction last week may not be a wise choice, but Eloise is as stubborn as she is intelligent. Watching Penelope and Colin disappear into the crowded dance floor, Eloise hedges her bets on Cressida possessing too much pride in her social graces to completely ignore an open appeal.

She hands her tepid glass of lemonade to a nearby footman and she moves swiftly through the crowd along the edges of the ballroom; staying out of Cressida's vision until she is too close for the blonde to turn away politely.

"Cressida?" Eloise asks. "Might we speak?"

Cressida's shoulders tense. Her blue eyes flare with irritation and malcontent.

"Speak of what, Eloise?" she asks curtly. "I thought I was perfectly clear during our last exchange of words."

Cressida's hard stare challenges Eloise to pretend ignorance. They both know Cressida expressed herself perfectly. Eloise simply chose to try again despite the lines drawn harshly between them.

"You have every right to be upset with me. I wish to help if I can," Eloise says, quiet but earnest. "We do not have to be close friends for me to care about your future."

Cressida releases a bitter laugh. The sound makes Eloise's stomach tighten in discontent. She did not expect this conversation to go well, but the extent of emotional damage she caused is far deeper than Eloise initially realized.

" Now , you wish to assist," Cressida replies. Her delicate features twist into a derisive sneer as her blue eyes grow cold. "It is strange that you seem to only ever notice other people's suffering when it directly impacts your personal comfort. You rarely think of people outside of yourself because there are few things you are required to sacrifice."

"I confess to being oblivious," Eloise insists, stepping in Cressida's path. "I am truly sorry for my behavior!"

"Your apology is worthless to me as is your company. The Bridgerton name might be powerful but your vitriol toward marriage and society are renown in the Ton. I cannot find a suitable husband and befriend a person who besmirches all my options without compunction," Cressida replies, her voice a harsh whisper. Her winter blue eyes flit around the room before she lowers her voice even further. Eloise leans in to be able to hear her clearly.

"Whether hurting me was due to ignorance or purposefully done, I have little need to be mistreated by another person in my life," Cressida states. "No matter how we parse our options, your acquaintance hinders my chances."

"Cressida," Eloise begins in protest but she pauses when she notices the flare of desperation flash across Cressida's blue eyes. Eloise shuts her mouth, finally paying attention to the stiff postures of people nearby. It is obvious they are trying to eavesdrop on her and Cressida's disagreement. Understanding dawns on Eloise.

All of the conflict and desperation in Cressida's hissed words and demeanor finally make sense. Every person in high society knows her radical views on how the fairer sex should be treated. Openly befriending Eloise would be a challenge to norms that Cressida seeks to fit into. That may have been acceptable to Cressida over the summer but Eloise's person and reputation only reduce her chances of finding a husband.

Swallowing her pride, Eloise relents. She steps away from Cressida, holding her hands clasped together in front of her body; a stance of both submission and respect.

"You are right," she says. "I wish you luck in your search, Cressida."

For a moment, the yearning for companionship overcomes Cressida's increasingly arduous search for a suitable husband. Her eyes tell a conflicted tale of sorrow and desperation. Eloise attempts to offer comfort to her through an imploring gaze. Without another word, Cressida sweeps away quickly. Eloise watches her leave, feeling the crushing sense of failure seep into her chest.

Her rapid descent into self-loathing is interrupted by a small hand tucking into the crease of her elbow. Eloise looks to her right and spots Daphne standing next to her. Daphne wears a lily green gown with chiffon skirts, a pearl-beaded neckline and her chestnut hair tucked into a pearl-lined circlet with a riot of curls cascading down her back.

Her elder sister is resplendent. The curve of her belly adds to her femininity. She glows under the candle light.

"Sister," Eloise greets quietly.

Daphne gives her an encouraging smile as she tugs Eloise away from the lingering disquiet of her altercation with Cressida. As Daphne steers her back toward where the rest of their family stands, her sister presses their temples together.

"It is my last social event for the year, possibly the season. Let us be merry, sister!" Daphne says. "Your grievance with Cressida will certainly remain for another day."

"I find it ridiculous that expectant mothers are forced out of society as they approach birth," Eloise responds. She does not wish to delve into the complicated situation between Cressida and herself.

"There are many aspects of high society which I disagree with," Daphne replies, allowing the redirect of conversation. "Leaving behind the responsibilities of attending numerous social engagements while carrying a baby is not one I find fault in."

"You love balls," Eloise protests. Daphne has always expressed fondness for such occasions. Has motherhood changed her character as such?

"I certainly do when I am not expectant. Standing and dancing for such lengthy amounts of time is exhausting," Daphne answers. Eloise stares at her sister askance. Daphne catches the disbelieving tilt of her eyebrows and rolls her eyes.

"Do not give me that incredulous look, El," she states. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to squeeze into these garments? Positively everything chafes and I constantly need the chamber pot."

Eloise finds her sister's put out expression amusing. Daphne squeezes her arm affectionately before leaning in to whisper, "I look forward to sitting at home with a plate of grapes and cheese in my nightgown."

"Grapes and cheese, sister?" Eloise chortles. Her snort is disgraceful but it makes Daphne giggle behind her free hand.

"I might even have some crisp bread to go with it," she replies conspiratorially.

"How adventurous of you, Daph," Eloise says, grinning.

"I live to surprise, El."

Parched and blissful, Penelope finds herself on the edge of the dance floor waiting for Colin to return with a fresh beverage for her. Although she intended to gather a drink for herself, Colin's dark blue eyes looked deeply offended at the assumption. She allowed him to escort her to the side of the room to wait as he departed to get her a lemonade. Penelope fans herself idly, hoping the moving air would cool her flushed face. Colin's adept handling of her on the dance floor made her blood run hot. Being pressed close to him and swept up in his energy and scent made Penelope dizzy with affection.

She remains consumed by her memories of their shared dance and jumps when she hears a voice from just behind her say, "Consider me quite impressed, Miss Featherington."

Startled, she turns her head to the side. Penelope's eyebrows raise in intrigue and delight as she spots the widowed lady standing next to her. "Lady Danbury?" she asks in greeting. Penelope turns her body to face the matron, snapping her fan closed as she shifts.

Lady Danbury appears regal as always. Her posture perfect, clothes refined and ornate, and her hair slicked back into a handsome updo. She commands respect with her presence alone. It is a skill Penelope wishes she possessed.

"I thought your victory this season lay with stepping from the shadows," Lady Danbury says, folding her two hands over the top of her cane. The elder wears a small smile and her brown eyes twinkle under the candle lit chandeliers. Her dress is a deep emerald green that brings out the honeyed undertones in her brown skin.

"Your mind has changed?" Penelope asks.

"I rather think your true accomplishment is learning not to fear the shadows themselves," Lady Danbury responds. "There is something rather powerful about a young woman accepting their individuality."

Penelope hums. "Being different is isolating but I am discovering it is not a negative thing altogether," she admits. Despite Lady Whistledown being a heady secret, standing apart from the crowd forced her to develop an actual personality; something that seems to be quite a feat.

"It is far easier to conform than it is to stand apart," Lady Danbury answers. "I would know."

"You are a respected figure, Lady Danbury," Penelope replies. "The Queen reveres your friendship."

Lady Danbury releases a loud laugh; brazen and guttural. Heads turn at the sound and quickly turn away when they recognize the source of it.

"I demanded respect because I failed to fit into the suffocating box of society's expectations for the fairer sex. It is simpler to terrify and outwit those in power," Lady Danbury states. Her tone is equal parts impish and imploring. "Playing the political game required finesse and great sacrifice. I earned my place and I am unashamed of what it took me to do so."

"It must have been lonely being in a position you have earned but being the only one of your sex standing in the crowd," Penelope muses. A deep chasm of emotions swell in Lady Danbury's brown eyes. Penelope recognizes a kindred spirit when she sees one. It is the first time Penelope looks beyond the hardened exterior and commanding aura to see a woman who survived a turbulent life. She must have been extraordinarily lonely, indeed.

"Lonely for a while, this is true. It was worth the sacrifice," the elder admits ruefully. Her eyes become guarded once more. Penelope considers it a privilege to have witnessed Agatha Danbury being vulnerable. She knows it was not an accident nor a coincidence.

"Seeing bright young women buck against what our society limits them to is more than I ever dreamed," Lady Danbury continues. Penelope blinks at her and the older lady's eyebrows twitch higher in amusement.

"Me?" Penelope sputters. "I am only finding my footing!"

"Finding your footing is a rare journey for a young woman to take. I may have some literature and advice for a young woman establishing her own path."

"Advice, Lady Danbury?"

"I would like you to attend tea at Danbury House in the coming weeks," the matron responds. Penelope forgets herself in that moment as her mouth hangs open in absolute shock at the sudden invitation. Tea at Danbury House?! It is not something offered often, and typically, only to Violet Bridgerton.

"Close your mouth, dear," Lady Danbury says. Penelope obeys immediately, her face burning red with a blush. "Are you accepting my invitation or not?"

"Of course, Lady Danbury!" Penelope replies. "It would be my honor."

"Excellent, I shall send an invitation to Featherington House after reviewing my calendar."

Colin stands to the side of the ballroom, agape. He watches his former friend escort a visibly uncomfortable Penelope to the dance floor. After signing her dance card, Colin never thought to look at it again to see if anyone else requested a turn around the floor.

"What is Fife playing at?" His hostility bleeds into his voice, causing Anthony, Benedict and Simon to peer at him with varying degrees of surprise in their expressions. The three of them exchange looks before Benedict decides to state the obvious.

"I do believe he asked her to dance," he says slowly.

"Clearly," Colin responds, gritting his teeth. "I am asking why did he ask her to dance?"

"That is a rather dangerous line of questioning, Col," Simon replies. Benedict does not utter a verbal response but the look in his eyes agrees with Simon.

"Do you not think Penelope is deserving of suitors?" Anthony asks, unimpressed.

Colin realizes how badly his statements could be interpreted. "Are you mad?" he asks. "Of course, I do!"

"Then why are you in a strop?" Benedict questions.

"Fife has shown no romantic inclinations towards Penelope in the past. He has outright ridiculed her several times!" Colin replies. "He is more deserving of her ire than her attention."

"Ohhhh what is this now?" Anthony asks; an impish grin stretching across his face.

Simon appears equally smug as he says, "I do detect something peculiar in the air."

"As do I," Benedict adds. "Can we marvel at this fine specimen of discomposure, gents?"

"What in the blazes are you three on about?"

"Jealousy, brother," Anthony sing-songs.

"His eyes do look rather green under the haze of envy he is experiencing," Benedict says with a chortle. He throws an arm around Simon's shoulders and the two of them share muffled snickers. Colin rolls his eyes when Anthony joins in on the laughter.

"You are making her nervous, Col," Simon observes.

Colin narrows his eyes at the man standing far too close to Penelope. "It is he that should be concerned."

"Well, they are dancing together . You glaring in their direction could be for either of them," Benedict replies, motioning towards the pair on the crowded dance floor. "All that closeness makes it difficult to discern who the victim of your hostility is."

"Yes, very close indeed," Anthony hums. "Fife does not appear to be leaving much room for the protection of the Lord between them."

Colin feels his upper lip curl in distaste. His expression has Benedict barking out a laugh and Anthony chuckling to the point of tears. Simon recovers from his laughter before either of his elder brothers can pull themselves together. "You are not truly concerned that her attention shall stray, are you?" he asks, brown eyes still deeply amused.

Colin grunts in acknowledgement. "I simply do not like her dancing with Fife," he responds with an indignant sniff.

"By the look of her dance card, Lord Wilkes has taken a dance too," Anthony pipes up between chuckles. "Perhaps, you shall be less jealous then, brother?"

His brothers stare at him openly and Colin cannot control his frown.

"I do believe his expression says he shall dislike that just as much," Benedict loudly whispers. It sets their hysterics off once again. Simon tries (and fails) to keep some decorum but the wheezing laughter from Anthony and Benedict cracks his composure.

"I never would have taken you for a jealous man," Simon quips.

Anthony wipes tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes as he says, "I rather think possessive is a better word."

"Do they not imply the same things?" Simon asks.

"One is far more socially acceptable than the other," Benedict answers.

"Did Lord Wilkes truly ask her for a dance?"

"He did," Anthony states. "He seemed especially interested in dancing the Reel with her."

Colin snatches Benedict's drink from his hand.

"That is my drink, brother," Benedict states, wholly unamused by having his beverage pilfered.

"It is now mine," Colin says before he shoots it back. His brothers stare at him with varying degrees of amusement and concern.

"I thought we passed your era of drinking away feelings?" Simon questions.

"We have," Colin replies honestly. Tension drains from Anthony's shoulders and Benedict releases a relieved sigh much to Colin's consternation. "I needed a couple ounces of liquid courage to keep me from allowing my possessiveness, as you all call it, to overtake my good sense."

Benedict looks at Anthony when he says, "At the very least, he is self aware."

"You try having Mother tell you off about being a drunkard," Colin scoffs. "See how you respond afterwards." All three men wince in near unison.

"She even insinuated that I would be unfit as a husband for Penelope were I to become beholden to a vice!" Colin exclaims. His Mother certainly knew how to pierce a man's ego with words alone.

"She is rarely ever wrong, your Mother," Simon responds dryly.

"She is your mother now as well, Simon," Anthony adds, clapping his brother-in-law on the shoulder. A small smile curves along the corners of Simon's mouth in response. He appears quietly pleased about the reminder that his family has grown exponentially since his marriage to Daphne. He has siblings and maternal love he never truly got to experience before.

"Why are these men intent on asking her to dance now?" Colin asks. "Our courtship has been announced!"

"If it soothes your anxieties, Penelope does not appear to want to dance with these men," Benedict replies, nudging Colin's shoulder in reassurance.

"Then why does she?"

Anthony gives him a look. "You know very well that a young lady cannot say no to an eligible gentleman if she is unwed or not engaged."

"That is a distasteful expectation," Colin mutters.

Simon adds, "If she does say no to one gentleman, she must turn away all other dance offers, including yours."

"Perish the thought," Colin replies.

"Seems there is an easy solution to this issue," Benedict drawls, throwing an affectionate arm across Colin's shoulders. He peers at his elder brother in curiosity.

"What solution would that be?"

"Ask her to marry you," Benedict whispers. Colin sputters.

Colin barely allows Lord Fife to bow in farewell to Penelope after their dance before he takes her hand and whisks her away. Her laughter is immediate as he twirls her under his arm and into an impromptu waltz.

"You seem quite eager to be on the dance floor," Penelope says. Her red curls bounce as he moves her into a three-step turn, steering her past men and women of the Ton. She follows his lead with ease; leaning into the way his hand pushes and pulls to direct her steps. The trust she has in him is heady and alluring.

What a gift it is to be trusted so much by a woman as spectacular as Penelope.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"To dance the next set," Colin replies.

"They have not reset their stands for the next song!"

"It does not matter," Colin says. "It feels good to be this close to you again."

Colin knows it's inappropriate but he entwines their fingers regardless. High society should consider itself lucky their intimate hand holding is the extent of his rebellion. He wishes he could tug the bodice of her gown down until her pink rosebud-shaped nipple makes another appearance. Seeing her in such disarray this morning was a blessing and a curse; his desire for her barely held at bay.

His mouth waters at the thought of suckling her nipples until they grow tender and puffy and she would beg for his touch between her legs. She is to be the death of him, surely.

"I agree," Penelope replies. "Is it possible to become addicted to something with only one encounter?" Her pale skin glows with a rosy blush. She appears self-conscious yet brazen concurrently. Her impish nature and unintentional seductiveness test Colin's resolve.

"Kissing you once made a fully enraptured man of myself, so I am inclined to say yes," he admits. Her blue eyes widen in wonder and intrigue. Watching her lips part in surprise makes him yearn to kiss her again, until they appear kiss-swollen for all of Mayfair to see.

"Is your desire for me truly so encompassing?" she asks, surprised.

"My love for you overwhelms my senses, Penny," he tells her. "I lose sight of reason and propriety when we stand in close quarters."

Colin catches her gaze and their eyes lock. They dance to silence, lost in a world that feels distant in comparison to the woman he holds in his arms. Colin is oblivious to the furtive looks, rampant gossip, and giggling around them as he leads her around the dance floor. Her eyes speak worlds into existence in his heart. He can see everything with Penelope. It is unfathomable how he managed to overlook this glorious woman for one and ten years.

How did she bloom brilliantly without his notice? How did she write with such skill and he never noticed her talents? They spin together, lost in each other's eyes. The only reaction Colin has when the music begins is to adjust their steps and pace to the music.

"I thought of little except you today," she confesses.

"What did these thoughts include?" he asks.

"I kept remembering your hands on me, your solid weight pressed against my own, and the way I grow damp and sensitive when you kiss me," Penelope replies quietly. "It boggles the mind that my mouth is connected to such private parts." Her blush grows darker with each word she speaks. Colin cannot resist pulling her closer to his chest.

"I hope you intend to educate me further on this connection you speak of," he murmurs.

Her blue eyes gleam with impertinence. "From what little you have shown me, I believe you shall be educating me, Mister Bridgerton."

"You should call me by my name, Penelope," Colin says.

"What shall you do if I do not?" she teases.

"Do you intend to ignore my request?"

"I thought you liked a woman with her own mind?" Penelope asks, eyebrow arched high in a daring line. "I never claimed I would follow instructions blindly."

"I am beginning to realize that you have a penchant for frustrating me," Colin replies, amused at her defiance. "Will you ever listen to my orders?"

"I certainly will; whenever you choose to lead me appropriately," she responds tartly.

"You wish for me to lead?"

"I wish for my husband to lead," she emphasizes. "If you claim that is a position for yourself, then yes."

"Very well," Colin states. His frame tenses with confidence and surety. His hand in the small of her back presses her closer to his chest as he sweeps them into a seductive waltz. Penelope loses herself in his eyes. The ballroom feels empty around them as their gazes lock. Her chiffon skirts and red curls flare around her as they float across the wooden floor.

His fingertips press against the laces of her corset. Colin is enraptured by her smile. Their dance comes to an end and a tense moment stretches between them. She is as desperate to be kissed as he is to kiss her.

It ends when someone clears their throat gently behind Colin's left shoulder. Colin reluctantly drops his hold on her waist and hands. He steps aside as another gentleman offers Penelope his hand. She curtsies and leaves Colin's side with a sorrowful glance.

Watching Lord Wilkes escort a reluctant Penelope to the dance floor causes irritation to coil in the pit of Colin's stomach. Despite their courtship announcement, Colin possesses no formal claim to Penelope's attention. He makes quick strides toward the cluster of his family members.

Irritated, Colin snatches the glass of brandy directly from Simon's hand. His brother-in-law looks astounded by his audacity but Colin pays him no heed. He tosses the drink back with little decorum.

"Is this another attempt to control your impulses?" Simon questions dryly.

"I am going for a walk in the gardens," Colin replies, trying to tune out the sounds of the reel beginning.

Anthony frowns as he asks, "Would you like company?"

Colin shakes his head. "I shall be alright. I do not wish to make a fool of myself tonight, so I must collect my thoughts."

Benedict shoots him a compassionate glance. "We shall keep watch of Penelope for you brother."

With a grateful nod at his brothers and a final glance in Penelope's direction, Colin hastens out of the ballroom and into the Haversham gardens.

Penelope shares an uncomfortable dance with Lord Wilkes, followed by amusing interludes with Anthony, the Duke, and then a hilarious dance with Benedict, who is as much of a skilled dancer as he is a silly man. Dancing with highly social-ranked men who are proud to do so shall never be normal. The entire time she searches for Colin along the edges of the ballroom; growing increasingly concerned when she cannot find him.

After retrieving a glass of lemonade, Penelope turns to search for her intended; only for him to appear from the patio doors leading to the gardens.

"Have you been outside this whole time?" she asks as she reaches his side.

"I decided appreciating the beauty of the gardens better served both of us," he responds, lifting her gloved hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

"How so?"

Colin hums, dropping their clasped hands between them but not letting go. "If I stared at the gardens, I would not be on the edges of the ballroom glaring at your dance partner like a jealous, immature lover."

Penelope chokes on a sip of her drink. "You were jealous?" she asks, incredulous. "Of my dancing with Wilkes and Fife? Goodness, why?"

Colin shrugs, his self-consciousness distinctly obvious to her eyes. "I dislike seeing you dance with any man other than myself."

"Surely you do not think I have romantic inclinations towards either of those unscrupulous men?" she questions. Colin shakes his head immediately, which lessens her concern.

"Of course not. However, I can see how they recognize your beauty after all their cruel words about you," Colin responds. Penelope chooses to keep her thoughts about him having been one of them only months previous to herself. "They either seek your hand or wish to incense me after I gave them the cut direct at the Queen's ball."

"How flattering, I suppose," Penelope surmises. "Much to their misfortune, there is only one man who I wish to appreciate my beauty. He is the only man who I ever wish to touch me in such a way."

Colin sucks in a breath and releases it slowly. "You cannot say such enticing things in a public forum, Pen."

"What other choice is left? We cannot abscond into close quarters now," Penelope flirts. "Your gaze has been positively salacious and barely shy of indecent."

Colin's eyes darken as he steps forward into her space. Penelope holds her ground. "Is my gaze salacious or is that the way you feel when I gaze upon you?" he asks.

"Is the full force of your desire present when you look at me?" Penelope replies.

Colin's statement of, "Absolutely not," is abrupt and intense.

"Colin?" she asks, afraid that she has offended him.

"If the fullness of my desire for you were to be on display, our families would all but demand a special license for marriage," Colin states. "If I could remove the clothing from your body with my eyes alone, you would be stripped bare before me at this moment. I would worship every inch of your soft skin and elicit every sigh of pleasure I could."

Penelope stares at him, enraptured and flushed. He steps away from her, looking pained and wild in the eyes.

"I must leave before I act on my impulses and ruin us both," he says, dropping her hand and straightening the bottom of his waistcoat.

Penelope protests, "I do not wish for you to leave."

"I must," Colin responds, already moving around her towards the exit. "I shall call on you tomorrow, my love."

Penelope watches his hasty strides and says, "Colin, please." He stops and turns back to face her. The look in his eyes is electric. He looks over her figure openly and the scrutiny makes her shiver.

"My will to resist is in tatters, Penny. If I stay, I will ravage you before God and country," he whispers hotly. "You deserve a ring on your finger and my family name before I do so."

Colin presses a firm kiss to her gloved hand before he turns and exits the room. Penelope watches him disappear into a crowd of gentlemen. She follows his quickly trodden path at a slow pace until she reaches the doors leading to the driveway.

Colin stands at the end of the drive, his hands at his sides. She could let him depart. Good sense would mean allowing him to leave and preserving her reputation. Her heart demands otherwise. She loves this man. She cares little about what anyone else has to say.

She hears the carriage wheels rolling over the pavement; spots him lift a hand in greeting to the carriage driver and the waiting footmen. He is the only one leaving the ball at such an early hour. Penelope watches him round the broadside of the carriage until she can no longer see his tall frame.

She hastens her way outside with no further thought. She barely keeps herself from running in her heeled slippers. She hotfoots it past a surprised footman and moves to stand on the other side of the carriage, hidden from the front of Haversham House.

"Colin, wait," she says. Colin is halfway into the carriage interior when he freezes. He pulls back to glance at her in shock.

"Penelope, what in the blazes are you doing out here?" he asks, placing his foot back down onto the cobblestone. Her frame is hidden by the broadside of the carriage. The Bridgerton footmen avert their gazes as Colin steps into her direction, casting furtive glances into the driveway and back towards the Haversham estate.

"I do not wish for you to leave."

"Sweetheart," Colin sighs. "We have already discussed why I must. My impulses are barely kept at bay as it is. I do not wish to impose upon you–"

"It is not an imposition," Penelope protests.

"You have no understanding of the unholy ways I wish to consume you, Penelope," Colin responds, his voice deep with intent. The sound is enough to make her breasts ache. "It is not right for a gentleman to have such thoughts towards an unwed lady. I will not ruin you nor will I do you the disservice of touching you without us being engaged."

"What if I do not wish for you to be a gentleman right now?"

"You cannot say such things, Pen," Colin groans. He looks heavenward, visibly aggrieved. The redness of his ears grows distinct as he rolls his shoulder to loosen the tension between them.

"I can," she argues, "and I certainly mean them."

"Penelope, you need to return to the ballroom at once," Colin replies firmly. His eyes stare her down; dark blue with a heat that sears down Penelope's spine. "Before anyone notices your absence or God forbid, spots us out here with you unchaperoned."

"If you leave, I leave with you," she all but demands. Penelope tilts her head up to him and squares her shoulders. Her mind will not be changed. Colin's blue eyes flare with passion and irritation at her stubborn behavior. Penelope wonders at her own brazenness. She has never before openly defied anyone, much less a man. Yet, here she stands; prepared to disobey direct instructions and turn her back on social niceties.

Despite what Colin says being the intelligent choice, were they to be caught out here now, Penelope would be ruined anyway. Colin knows this as much as she does. He should also know that she is already ruined for him. Her heart belongs to Colin Bridgerton. She wants her body and soul to be his as well.

"I want nothing more than to be with you Colin," she says quietly. "I love you. I do not wish to part from you for another moment tonight."

For a long time, the silence between the two of them is weighted and heavy. Penelope can hear the blood rushing through her veins as their eyes meet. His manners and upbringing as a gentleman of high society are at war with the carnal desire and possessiveness clear in his gaze.

Penelope sees the moment that he gives in. The way he surrenders to his passion for her fills Penelope with a wave of love and power. This man who outweighs her and could overpower her is at her command out of sacrifice. It is a dizzying revelation.

Colin's blue eyes are nearly black with intent. He holds open the carriage door and offers her his hand. Penelope takes it and he assists her inside. As he steps into the carriage and sits across from her, he says, "John, we shall make a stop at Featherington House first."

"Of course, sir."

"And John?"

"Sir?"

"Tell the driver to take the long way there."

From the corner of her eye, Penelope sees the footman's eyes widen at Colin's implications but he nods firmly. The footman leans forward to catch her eyes, a silent question present in them. She smiles at him and offers a shallow nod. The footman returns the motion before he pulls back and snaps the carriage door shut. It is wonderful to know that a servant cares as much about her safety and consent as Colin does.

They sit in charged silence as the carriage rocks with the onboarding of the driver and footman. The rattle and shake of the carriage rolling over cobblestone fills the interior cabin. It is not until Haversham House is out of view that Colin unfastens the button holding the curtains open.

The moment the carriage curtains close, Colin is on her. He crowds into her space, near enough that the spice of his soap fills her senses. Colin kneels before her, uncaring about dirtying his trousers on the carriage floor. His hands bracket her hips and Penelope presses their foreheads together. There is a tight moment of tension where they stare into each other's eyes. She can feel her heart race in her chest as the anticipation builds. Colin's nostrils flare and Penelope lets her gaze drift to his lips.

The tension snaps and Colin descends. Penelope gasps into his mouth as he kisses her. Colin plunders her senses with his taste, his scent and his touch. She feels consumed by him, which should be terrifying but it electrifies her body.

Colin's mouth moves slowly against her own. She can feel his passion in the depth of their kiss but he moves at a pace that she can match. His thoughtfulness makes her insides burn hotter for him.

Colin breaks the kiss for just a moment, and she leans forward searching for him. He smiles when she lets out a petulant sound.

"Open your mouth for me sweetheart," he murmurs. Penelope nods and Colin presses their lips together again, tilting his head to the right. She moves her head the opposite direction and he deepens the kiss. She feels his tongue trace her bottom lip and she lets him inside. Colin kisses her deeply; twining their tongues together at a pace that makes Penelope's entire body tense and squirm. Her body feels hot everywhere he touches her and everywhere aches for his touch.

Colin groans into her mouth when she slides her hand to the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at his curls. His hair is so soft. The low timbre and husk of arousal in his voice makes her center throb at the same pace of her heartbeat.

"Colin," she says. Colin trails his lips from her mouth to the skin under her ear. Penelope shivers at the touch. "I want more."

Colin lets out a deep sound against her neck. She sucks in a sharp breath at the feel of his nose pushing away the sleeve of her gown. He scrapes his teeth along the sensitive flesh there and Penelope legs hitch towards his hips on reflex.

"Col," she says, overwhelmed. "Please?"

She doesn't fully understand what she is asking for but she knows that she needs something. Anything to center the burning feeling in her body. She needs some form of relief but she doesn't know what to ask for.

"What do you need, Penny?" He asks. His voice makes her nipples tighten against the silk of her chemise.

"I do not know," she replies. "I just need you to do something."

Penelope will beg if she must. How does one relieve these feelings? Her body prickles with sensation each time she feels the heat of his body press closer. When she feels Colin's hands touch her thighs, she remembers how he picked her up outside of the modiste. Penelope moans and Colin swears before he pulls her hips to the edge of the bench. Her legs wrap around his waist in response and Colin dives in to kiss her again.

Penelope feels his hard chest pressed against her aching breasts and she melts into the kiss. The heat of him from mouth to thighs soothes the fire burning in her veins. It is not enough but it helps take the edge off. They kiss open mouthed and dirty. It feels sinfully good to hear the sounds their mouths make against one another. Colin's left hand slides from her thigh to the small of her back. He yanks her closer and Penelope groans at the sensation.

His right hand tightens on the silk of her dress as his left drifts up over the laces of her corset into the red curls hanging behind her back.

Penelope feels it when he tightens his fingers into her hair and pulls firmly. The loud moan she responds with is involuntary. She is aflame all over again. Her cunny tightens around nothing and she desperately wishes there was something in there for the first time. The thought makes her blush bright red.

"Fuck," Colin curses, before he tugs on her hair again with the same firmness. Penelope's left hand falls onto the carriage bench as her hips swivel upward against him. She wants him closer. If only they could melt into each other then maybe he would be close enough.

"Col," she gasps, "What is this?"

The way her hips surge upward make her yearn to do it again. The firmness of his waist and hips give her something to press against. It helps bank some of the aching in her body.

"You do like that," Colin replies. His voice is husky and dark, and his blue eyes gleam at her. "Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He tugs on her hair once more and Penelope feels the same uncontrollable reflex to grind her core against him.

"Colin," she moans. "Is this normal? Why does this feel so different?"

Colin's blue eyes turn black before he fists her hair causing her to tip her head back. His teeth scrape across her collarbone before she feels him drag open mouthed kisses and licks across the bareskin above her neckline.

He uses his right hand to grip her thigh beneath her dress and Penelope feels her eyes roll into the back of her head. Colin grinds forward against her and Penelope gasps. She can feel her face contort in shocked pleasure as he undulates slowly in a regular rhythm.

"Colin," she replies, high pitched and breathy. A fire builds at the base of her spine. It feels so good and so scary that she doesn't know whether to ask him to stop or not. Colin pulls back to look at her. Penelope shakes with stimulation.

"Is this okay, sweetheart? Do you want me to stop?"

"No! Please," she responds. She will surely die if he stops whatever he is doing. Her body is on fire. "Please do not stop, Colin. Please help me. I feel so much."

Colin nods and before Penelope knows what's happening, he releases her hair and uses both his hands to push the hem of her dress up to her waist. When his hands land on her bare thighs, Penelope's skin bristles with goosebumps. His hands are large and hot against her flesh.

Colin meets her eyes again, looking for confirmation and Penelope nods at him frantically. Their gazes lock as he leans forward. She can feel his left hand snake across her thigh under the silk of her chemise. When his hand touches the damp skin of her inner leg, Colin groans.

"Penny," he says, husky. "You are so wet for me."

"That is a good thing, right?"

"That is the best thing, darling," he whispers before his fingers make contact with her center. The heat of his fingers and the roughness of his fingertips sends a shock of blistering heat up her entire body. Penelope jerks forward with a gasp as he traces the lips of her most private place with two fingers spread wide over each side of her.

"Colin," she gasps, tears springing to her eyes at the way her body trembles and burns for his touch. "What? Oh, Colin, I do not…" Penelope loses her ability to think as his fingers trace down the outer lips of her vagina, and press lightly against an opening she desires to clench closed around his warm digit.

When his hand follows the same slow motion but in reverse, Penelope's legs widen of their own accord. She is no longer in control of her body. His hands feel sinful and overwhelming.

"Colin," she begs. " Please. I do not know what I need. Please do not stop."

"I will not stop, sweetheart," he says. "Let me make you feel good."

Penelope nods and then cries out when she feels his thumb trace down the slit of her. Her right hand tightens in his curls as her body tries to get closer to him, to follow his soft touch.

"Colin, please !"

The loud cry is enough to earn his firm touch. At the top of her sex, he presses his thumb to a nub that sends heat through her veins. When he rubs a circle around this button, it goes straight to her soul. Her hips turn liquid and she tries to follow the path of his hand as it rubs tight circles over that spot.

Penelope cannot control her sounds. The gasps and moans feel yanked from her soul. Nothing has ever felt as good as this. She thought she knew what pleasure was, but those things pale in comparison.

It feels so good and so intense that she might drown in sensation.

Her head tips backwards as his pace increases. The sensitivity skyrockets and she feels heat sparking from that small bundle of nerves all the way up to her chest. Her breasts ache to be touched. Her nipples are so tight that they shift against the silk of her chemise in a frustratingly, tantalizing manner. She feels wanton, scandalous and indecent, but she might perish if he stops.

"Do not stop," she moans, feeling her hips rock into his touch. "What is this ?"

"Just let yourself feel it, Penny," Colin says. "I have you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel pleasure beyond comprehension."

A burning sensation builds at the base of her spine, radiating through her stomach and making her cunny become increasingly sensitive to his touch. Penelope moans again. Colin continues his circles around this source of so many sensations. Penelope wants to scrabble at something. She feels like she is on the surface of the sun.

Her heart races in her chest and the litany of moans increases. He keeps the same, maddeningly even pace. Penelope wishes he would do something, anything, to bring this delightful torment to an end. She pants, feeling her body burn even hotter inside.

"Come on sweet girl," Colin murmurs. He leans forward to catch her mouth in an open mouthed kiss. Their kiss sends a spike of pleasure up Penelope's spine and she cries out as her legs start trembling. Her knees bracket his waist and their tongues twine. She feels his teeth snag her bottom lip, sucking on the flesh.

Her core drips all over his fingers.

"Let me see you surrender to me, Penny," Colin whispers against her mouth. Penelope clings onto the precipice. The unknown feels powerful and terrifying. She doesn't know what happens on the other side of this feeling. It is intimidating and scary. She finds herself frightened.

"I'm scared," she cries out. Colin does not let up on his circling of her nub. "I have never felt this before, Col. Will it hurt or still feel good?"

"I know you are new to this, Penny," he says, kissing her deeply. "I am here, you are safe. Let me bring you pleasure, my sweet. I promise it will feel amazing."

Penelope's face contorts as her hips rock into his touch faster. She is spread open for him. She feels so vulnerable and wonderful that her eyes swell with overwhelmed tears.

"I love you sweetheart," Colin says. "Trust me to keep you safe."

"I trust you, I love you," Penelope replies, tears tracking down her face.

"Let go for me, my love," Colin says and Penelope surrenders.

Heat sears up her spine and flashes over her entire body. Pleasure unlike she has ever known or dreamed of rain over her body. She melts into Colin's arms, her cunt throbbing and a flood of liquid leaving her. She cries out at the release, awash with trust and hormones. Colin holds her close as she returns from the sky and Penelope bursts into overwhelmed tears.

Colin kisses her, shushing her with sweet murmurings of his love and how beautiful she is. Penelope clutches at him, tremoring with shocks. He rubs his hands across the bare skin of her thighs in a soothing caress. She lets him hold her as her breathing calms and her heart stops hammering in her chest. They exchange deep, drugging kisses as she comes out of her stupor. Colin fixes her dress, but he continues dragging his hands across her calves. The constant contact reassures her as her awareness returns.

Thinking of how wanton and debauched she just was makes Penelope tense up. Colin notices her change in demeanor immediately. He pulls back to look at her and she finds herself unable to meet his gaze.

"Penelope, do not hide from me," he says sternly. Blushing furiously she looks up at him, embarrassed.

"I cannot believe how scandalously I just behaved," she replies. "I feel so exposed."

"Penny," Colin says. "That was the most beautiful thing I have ever been blessed to witness."

"What?"

"Never apologize for succumbing to pleasure with me," he tells her. "I wish to make you feel safe enough to earn your release as powerfully each time."

"You wish to do that again?"

"If it were reasonable I wish to do that all the time."

"Is that what it is called?" Penelope asks, curious. "A release?"

"There are other names for it too," he replies, his hands moving back to her thighs. Her center tingles at his nearness. She will never not desire his hands on her now.

"Did you have a release as well?"

Colin's chuckle is strained but not mocking. "Not this time," he tells her with a shake of his head. His thumbs knead the inside of her legs and Penelope melts into the touch.

"Why not?" she asks, "Is it different for men?"

Colin's eyebrows raise in amusement as he replies, "It feels just as incredible but looks a fair bit different."

Feeling her center grow warm from his ministrations, she boldly asks, "Will you show me?"

Colin's mouth drops open. His eyes darken immediately with what she now recognizes as arousal. Before he can do more than capture her lips in a feral kiss, they feel the carriage come to an abrupt halt. They both crash into the back wall of the carriage. Colin sits up with his face twisted in displeasure.

"Do these carriage drivers not know what the long way round means?" he grumbles.

"Colin!" She exclaims, giggling into his chest. He groans before kissing her again – bruising and then sweet.

"We must get you inside," he says between soft kisses against her mouth. "Your staff has no doubt witnessed our arrival." Penelope grips the back of his head, pulling him into a deep kiss that he succumbs to with a groan.

He finally pulls back from her mouth, chest heaving. Colin helps her straighten her clothing, smoothing her skirts down and tucking mussed curls behind her ear. They stare at each other and an amused smile spreads across Colin's face. Penelope knows she must be mussed beyond repair.

"What?"

"I suggest you move with haste, dearest," he replies, grinning. Penelope loves his boyish smile and the way his chestnut curls are in disarray from their illicit activities.

"I agree," she answers. "If I look as disheveled as you appear, then we are in trouble."

Colin laughs. "You look beautiful," he replies. "It is erotic beyond all comprehension to see you a mess as a result of our passion." They kiss again, smiling against each other's mouths before Colin pulls away. "You absolutely must go before I lose every ounce of composure and take you in this carriage."

"Take me?" Penelope questions. "Is there more than what we have done?" She vaguely remembers something about his male parts going inside of her, perhaps he refers to the hardness between his legs where his release supposedly comes from?

Interest piqued, she peers down at his waist only for Colin to tilt her head back up quickly. His breeches do look raised in an odd fashion but he blocks her view.

"God, Penny, you must go," he says. "I promise to sate your curiosity when we are not in such a precarious situation."

Penelope cannot resist kissing him once more. She narrows her eyes at him and pokes him in the chest. "You better keep your promise to tell me everything," she demands. He presses their foreheads together before kissing her sweetly once more.

"You have proven to be both my weakness and my strength. I cannot deny you anything," Colin replies. He looks deeply fond and amused. "Make haste, Pen. I love you."

Watching Penelope briskly stride into the Featherington House in a flurry of wrinkled chiffon and messy red curls fills Colin with a joy he cannot suppress. She will be his wife one day, if she would ever accept his proposal. He cannot deny his hesitance about asking her again. Their miscommunication of intent from before has wilted his bravery. The carriage rattles away, heading around the square towards Bridgerton House.

He places a hand over his painful erection to calm himself, but the scent of Penelope's release in the air and on his fingers keeps him harder than he has ever been. The urge to sink into her damp flesh and claim her as his own nearly blinded him with desire.

The scent of Penelope's arousal remains heavy inside the carriage. He keeps remembering the way she looked as she surrendered to pleasure. With a quiet groan, he raises his fingers to his mouth and sucks the earthy taste of her from his digits. She floods his senses and his erection throbs under the hard press of his free hand.

He cannot wait to have her wed to him and prone in his bed. He wants to devour her completely.

He sucks her release from his fingers in time for the carriage to come to a halt in front of his family's home. He has no option but to exit swiftly and head straight to his bedchamber in an attempt to preserve the dregs of his remaining dignity. The carriage door opens and Colin finds himself blushing at the way the footmen and carriage driver avert their eyes as he emerges still painfully hard.

His footman John has a bright red face, even if he wears a small smirk. It reinforces the knowledge that he and Penelope were not at all discrete during their intimate exploration. Colin is both proud and troubled by this confirmation. The situation is so out of character for him that meeting John's eyes makes him laugh. Before the hilarity of this event can fade, he hustles inside of the Bridgerton House.

As soon as he turns away from the shut entry doors, he comes face to face with a distinctly unamused Anthony and Benedict waiting for him in the entrance hall. Colin's face falls even before Anthony lifts a stern hand and points towards his study.

"You," his elder brother's voice booms through the entrance hall. "My study, right now ."

Anthony is incensed. The vein in his forehead visibly throbs with rage and his lips are pressed together so tightly that they look pale and chapped. Colin finds himself dragged by the lapel into Anthony's study by Benedict, who looks uncharacteristically furious.

"Did you think we would not notice you absconding away with Penelope in one of our carriages?!" he questions before the door to the study slams shut with a loud bang. Colin winces at the sound as well as the shouting of his brother.

Anthony paces. "I had to leave our Mother and sisters in Simon's care for the evening to try and find you!" he exclaims. Every step of his heeled boot on the floor echoes loudly with his anger. Colin thought his proposal to Miss Thompson enraged his eldest brother, but he has never seen Anthony this way.

Benedict scrubs an anxious hand across his face, "Do we need to obtain a special license?"

Anthony's face drains of all color as he stops in his tracks. "Yes, brother. Is there any chance she is with child?" he asks, urgently. He places both hands on his hips and stares death in Colin's direction.

Colin finds that their attitude has put him in a sour mood; after such a beautiful intimate moment shared with the love of his life. "You both dragged me into this office with tented breeches!" he retorts, annoyed. "If I had joined with her, do you really think I would still have had that visible affliction?"

Benedict and Anthony go still. At once, both sets of eyes shoot toward Colin's (thankfully calmed) crotch. He lets out a petulant noise, moving his hands to cover himself. Anthony still appears angry but he regains color in his face.

"I concede to that logic," Anthony admits begrudgingly. "You still conducted yourself inappropriately!"

Benedict drops into a chair at the table. He loosens his cravat now that the situation does not appear as dire as it initially did. "Your problem does seem to have gone away rather quickly," he says, allowing amusement to color his tone.

Colin slumps into a seat at the table next to Benedict. "Seeing both your faces thankfully does not inspire arousal," he grumbles.

Benedict barks out a laugh as he leans forward to slap Colin across the shoulder. "Sexual frustration has made you rather catty , brother."

Colin bares his teeth at his elder brother, who gives him a roguish and unrepentant wink in return. Anthony finds himself a seat at the table as well. He shrugs off his overcoat and unbuttons the top of his shirt.

"What in the blazes happened?" he asks, unbuttoning his vest. "You were at odds all week."

"Do not forget smelling of the tavern floor from the drink!" Benedict adds. "We nearly had to wipe you off the floor like a drunkard."

For a moment, Colin debates if he should confess the truth to his brothers. He cannot reveal Pen's secret identity, but they can certainly understand why he acted such a fool with only parts of the story. Feeling insecure, he tugs a hand through his hair. He lets the silence continue as he shrugs off his outerwear. He has little desire to share this vulnerability with another person but his brothers should be able to understand heartbreak, especially Anthony.

He looks between Benedict's feigned disinterest and Anthony's abject concern before he places his head down onto the table. He cannot look at them. "I proposed to her," he confesses quietly. "And she rejected me."

There are small gasps from his brothers across the table and then Colin shares the worst part, "Twice." Two audible and affronted gasps echo from across the table.

" Twice?! " Anthony sputters. Colin lifts his head to look up at them and they both appear as shocked as they are outraged.

Benedict blinks at Colin, nonplussed. "How on earth did you propose and have a woman arse over teakettle in love with you say no ?" he asks. Anthony doesn't speak but he sits there still agape.

Colin anxiously tugs on an errant curl near his ear. "I went to her after her fainting spell at our home and asked her to marry me because I could not stand the idea of being apart from her," he admits. Colin pauses and Benedict exchanges a confused look with Anthony.

"I am still trying to understand why she would say no," he says slowly. "Sounds rather romantic if you ask me." Anthony nods in agreement but motions for Colin to go on.

"The second time was after a rather passionate kiss and a shouting match," Colin replies. Both his brothers lean forward with rapt attention.

"What did you say the second time?" Anthony asks, impatient with Colin's dallying during storytelling.

"The passionate kiss sounds like it should've been promising…," Benedict says, trailing off as Colin's ears burn bright red with consternation.

"It could not have been that terrible, Col!"

Colin blurts, "For God's sake, Penelope Featherington, will you marry me or not?"

Anthony and Benedict stare at him. There is dead silence in Anthony's study. It feels as though the clock on the wall stopped in dismay as well. Colin tugs at his loose collar.

"That is not how you proposed the second time, Colin," Benedict says darkly. His brother looks agonized.

Anthony seems to be in actual, physical pain. "Please tell me you are in jest," he says quietly.

Colin laughs awkwardly, already knowing he is beyond redemption. "Did you miss the part where it was after a shouting match?"

Anthony looks heavenward. Benedict appears to want to strangle him. He watches them cycle through grief and rage at his apparent stupidity before Benedict places his elbows on the table and presses his fingers to his temples.

With a guttural sigh, Benedict asks, "Col, did you ever think that she rejected you because it seems you asked out of duty instead of love?"

Anthony leans forward to add, "You did say that you loved her when you asked both times, did you not?" Colin freezes in response, which is a dead giveaway to his brothers. Anthony audibly swears and places the palm of his hand over his eyes.

Benedict shouts, "Colin Bridgerton!" Colin cannot remember the last time Benedict truly shouted at him, but apparently bungling a proposal to the love of your life is more than enough to push him beyond his nonchalant demeanor.

Colin winces as he says, "I got swept away!" Benedict looks two seconds and one good lunge away from physically striking him so he continues, "I thought loving her was obvious."

Benedict groans in agony as he replies, "One thing I can tell you about women is that what you believe to be obvious is never obvious." His elder brother places his forehead on the table and bangs it against the wood three times. "I have not seriously courted a young lady nor have I been in love, but you two idiots find spectacular women and nearly ruin things for yourselves!"

"I wish to march you both straight to the church but seeing as she rejected you, that would make her even more unhappy," Anthony says. He looks conflicted between his morals and their reality.

"You are a romantic!" Benedict exclaims. Colin would scold him for the dramatics but he deserves the dressing down for being such a ninny in his courtship to Penelope. "How do you forget the romance while asking the woman you love to marry you?"

"I would like it to be known that I only made an ass of myself once when I proposed to Kate."

"I think proposing to Edwina in front of Kate makes your ass count match Colin at two for two, brother," Benedict snipes. Apparently, Benedict's ire is not limited to Colin's misadventures.

"She just drives me mad," Colin interjects before his elder brothers can start arguing with one another. "I look at her and I see all that soft skin and pretty hair–"

"Colin!" Anthony scolds

Colin talks over him, " –and I must have her as my wife. This is torture, Ant. I want to hold her and touch her at all times, and the only place I can do either of those things is in my dreams until she accepts my proposal."

"That did not seem much of a deterrent to you today, brother," Benedict retorts dryly. Colin shoots him a heated glare.

"Be silent, Ben," Colin replies before continuing his diatribe, "How can one woman be so sweet and then be so bullheaded in the next moment? She will not listen to me!"

"And you think my wife does? Should you not know better than that by now?" Anthony questions, incredulous. "Have you met our sisters?"

Benedict continues bemoaning his fate as the only brother with common sense. "I must ask Mother if we are actually related," he mutters. "Stupidity this grand would be hereditary and it seems to have missed me."

Anthony ignores Benedict's antics. "Listen Col, no man–not a good one mind you–wants a woman with no volatility to their spirit. Your wife should challenge you, make you better and help you see beyond yourself," Anthony says. "In the last month, I have seen you happier than you've ever been. Kate rejected my proposal too after I took liberties–"

Benedict and Colin interrupt with loud cries of, "I knew it!" and, "Hypocrite!".

Anthony waves off their offense as he continues, "–but she rejected me because I proposed as a gentleman and out of duty. She loved me, but she would not marry me if I did not love her too."

Anthony reaches across the table to grab Colin's hand in a tight, reassuring grip. Colin and Anthony meet eyes and Colin recognizes the truth when he sees it. "When I humbled myself before her, she said yes."

For a prolonged moment, Colin holds his brother's hand and thinks over his options. The sting of rejection rises in his stomach but he pushes it down. She loves him. He loves her.

"Ask her again, you think?" Colin asks, quietly.

Benedict adopts a serious expression as he places his hand over Anthony and Colin's. Without dramatics or mockery, he says, "Yes, and do it right this time."

Colin shares a look with his brothers before he glances at Anthony and asks, "Might we go into the family vault, brother? I have need to procure an engagement ring."

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