Three Minutes

by gottaLoveLOVE

Unable to reach Penelope's carriage on foot, Colin had no choice but to chase after her with his own carriage. Now, not only did he fail to express his feelings for her, but he also found out that she was Lady Whistledown. - A mere few minutes of delay drastically altered the course of events, a season 3 canon divergence, fix-it fic.

6. Joining of Hands

A/N: HELLO!

I am honestly shocked? I really thought this chapter was going to be short, and then this happened. I do not know what to say...you are welcome? I am sorry? LMAO.

As everyone can see, the chapter count has increased to 7, indicating that I am writing an epilogue (which is already being written and should be posted soon).

Now, about THIS chapter... I have comments but I will make them on the end notes where they'll make more sense.

ENJOY!

---

Dearest gentle reader,

It is often remarked that the wheel of fortune turns in curious ways, and such may indeed hold true for a certain esteemed family residing in Mayfair, for it appears that a particular nuptial did not unfold with the decorum that was initially intended.

Indeed, Miss Francesca Bridgerton, now Stirling, and her new husband anticipated a ceremony as unremarkable as their own personalities. Yet, as destiny would decree, they found themselves among the fortunate few whose gathering was graced by none other than Her Majesty. Or perhaps it is a matter of misfortune, as it seems to have become a most unfortunate custom among the Bridgertons, to provoke her ire during their matrimonial celebrations.

Although the precise topic of discussion is undisclosed, it can be asserted that the facades are at last beginning to disintegrate. It is the fervent desire of this humble author that her Majesty, in all her graciousness, might have perceived such a truth.

Yours truly,

Cressida Cowper.

---

Upon waking the next morning, Eloise lingered in her bed for a few extra minutes, a departure from her usual routine.

Despite her distaste for all things related to London society, she rarely hesitated to face a new day, promptly getting up and ready for whatever came her way. That particular day, however, made her pause. Or even more troubling, it filled her with a deep, profound sense of sorrow. Because as soon as she walked out of that door and proceeded for breakfast, she would be forced to face the rest of her life without Penelope and Colin. Still, she reminded herself that they did what was necessary, and with that in mind, she eventually made her way outside.

And then, as soon as she walked into the drawing room, she saw Colin.

Colin, who was sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, was sipping tea and reading a newspaper, as if the emotionally charged goodbyes they had shared just a few hours ago had never happened.

Without a moment's delay, he glanced upwards and met her eyes, but before he could react, she swiftly approached him, leaning in with a hiss, demanding, "What are you doing here?"

He fixed his gaze upon her, tightly pursing his lips before responding through clenched teeth, "She didn't want to leave."

She furrowed her eyebrows, perplexed by Penelope's reckless behaviour. Still in a daze, she turned and sat down next to Colin, who continued sipping his tea. Now, from up close, she noticed his hands were trembling, his hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes looked weary.

"Good morning," Violet said with a strained smile as she approached the food table to pour herself a cup of tea.

Her children observed her while she feigned complete concentration on her tasks, deliberately averting her gaze from them as if to conceal any hint of her apprehension. Eloise and Colin shared a knowing look, silently acknowledging that their mother was putting on a façade of everything being perfectly fine. He then gave a nod to his sister, indicating that he was ready to talk to Violet.

Eloise immediately rose to her feet, perfectly timed to catch sight of Benedict and Gregory making their way towards the room. The two brothers smiled at her, but before they could offer their greetings, she simply gestured with her hand for them to wait outside and closed the drawing room door behind her, despite their protests.

Violet tilted her head slightly towards the direction of the closed door, her minimal reaction revealing that she was simply biding her time for the promised conversation with Colin. She then reached for a few biscuits while he observed her from behind.

"Mama, I…" He fell silent, unsure of how to start.

"Is the queen aware?" Violet asked, cutting him off. Colin appeared silent following that, and while she stirred her tea, she slightly turned around and met her son's confused expression. "Is the queen aware of her identity?"

Colin gulped. It was clear that Violet had already connected the dots, so it was best to confront the conversation directly rather than pretending otherwise. With a slight throat clearing, he placed his teacup and saucer on the sidetable beside him. "Yes," he replied.

Taking a moment to gather herself, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh before moving towards the sofa across Colin's. He waited to hear what she might say next, wondering if she was offended at Penelope. This possibility strangely made Colin feel pre-emptively defensive, which didn't quite make sense given his own reaction to the Lady Whistledown news.

"Is she alright?" Violet asked.

Her eyes were slightly red, a subtle hint of the emotions she had been trying to hide, and her mother's worried expression caught him completely off guard.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he confirmed, "Yes, for the present moment." Colin leaned forward, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he finally felt at ease in that conversation. "Mama, are you alright… withthis,I mean?"

It was unclear what he meant bythis; whether it was the fact that Penelope was Lady Whistledown or that Colin loved her. Nevertheless, the answer remained unchanged.

"My son, I am perfectly fine as long as you are," she said truthfully as she leaned forward, careful not to spill the teacup in her hands. "It was you who she wrote about endlessly, not me. Are you certain about this?"

To her utter surprise, Colin smiled wistfully, his eyes with a faraway look to them as if he had gone somewhere else entirely. "I am certain," he responded, then redirected his attention towards Violet. "It appears she has defended our family so extensively that even Her Majesty has taken notice. How amusing it is that I had never perceived it in such a manner before."

"None of us had," Violet responded, delicately taking a sip of her tea before casting her gaze thoughtfully upon the saucer.

"And she certainly has. Defended us, I mean," Colin said, reclaiming her attention. Deep down, despite her mother's assertions that if he accepted Penelope as Lady Whistledown, so did she, he required her mother's genuine approval. He was unable to bear the thought of his family despising her, regardless of how society felt after that day. "Undoubtedly, she had committed numerous errors, just as I have. But, I conversed with her regarding this matter. In an extensive manner."

Violet's eyebrows arched in surprise at the response. She had never truly imagined the reality of Penelope's status as Lady Whistledown, nor had she ever contemplated the length of time Colin had been aware of that fact. It was strange enough to think about her son knowing the gossip writer, but it was even stranger to imagine that they had ever talked about such things.

"She embraces her duties with such fervour that I have often deemed it rather excessive," he said, his eyes returning to the same distant stare. "She takes great care to address the matters of society with a candour that leaves no one unscathed, not even herself. Particularly herself." He pressed his bottom lip between his teeth, and Violet, filled with curiosity, continued to listen intently. "The cruel machinations of society have long cast a shadow upon us, and yet we have remained silent in our suffering. However, now that I have really come to understand her, it is evident to me that silence was never an option for her. And I cannot find fault with her for such a decision. Admittedly, I held her accountable for numerous issues in the past, all of which she had expressed remorse for. However, it would be hypocritical of me to continue to hold her mistakes against her, particularly in light of the extent to which I have wronged her in the past."

A small chuckle escaped from Violet, grabbing his attention. With a sparkle in her eyes, she smiled at him and said, "You do love her," her voice filled with relief, as if the mere sight of such affection brought her comfort.

Colin then simply sent her a small smile, his lips curving upwards as he nodded.

"What do you plan to do now?" she asked.

He shook his head and leaned back on the sofa, taking a deep breath. "There's not much I can do, mama," he replied, causing her eyes to instantly reflect sadness. It was as though she recalled that despite the joy of witnessing her son in love, everything was still far from being resolved. "The decision rests with Her Majesty, and with Penelope."

With a nod, Violet's eyes returned to the teacup, studying its intricate flowery design. "Then, whatcanyou do?" she enquired.

He pressed his lips together, having already pondered the only course of action left after exhausting all possibilities the night before.

"I can go to Hatton Garden," he said, and Violet lifted her brows.

---

Penelope did not wake up early that day.

Since waking up early implied sleeping in the first place, which she did not do. Instead, she kept Colin's coat by her side all night, folding it neatly and holding it close as she desperately tried to sleep, inhaling its familiar scent. At last, when the day came, she realised that she had no alternative but to confront it head-on.

Her mother was still upset that day, but Penelope understood it had less to do with her and more to do with the limited time that seemed to remain for their family following the recent visit from the crown barrister. So Portia wasted no time on beginning her drinking spree, starting with wine at breakfast and moving on to brandy at lunch. Surprisingly, she managed to maintain her composure as they prepared for the Dankworth-Finch ball.

Adding to the problem, Cressida's column arrived unexpectedly early, as sharp and deceptively cunning as always. Yet, Penelope couldn't help but wonder if the queen would eventually notice that, despite her deliberate attempts to mislead, she showed more compassion towards the crown. Whether it was a positive or negative outcome remained uncertain, but perhaps Charlotte seemed indifferent.

Regardless, although the queen hasn't explicitly stated how she would locate Penelope after the 24-hour period, she had a strong intuition that it would be at her sisters' event. After all, exposing her in a public setting would undoubtedly be the simplest approach.

Thus, Penelope resolved to take the only course available to her: she seized her exquisite gown of shimmering orchid hue, a garment that not only brought out the radiant shade of her hair but was also reserved for the most special events. With Rae's assistance, her hair transformed into elegant, cascading waves that flickered like fire, perfectly complemented by a brooch adorned with dark purple stones. She made up her mind that if she were going to experience her final day in London society, it should be an unforgettable one.

"You look stunning, Miss," Rae remarked, prompting a bittersweet smile from Penelope, who left her room contemplating whether she would return to it by day's end.

With as much of a smile as she could muster, her mother met her by the stairs. Mrs Varley joined them and together they made their way towards their carriage, all prepared to attend what would be the last ball ever organised by any Featherington.

And what a splendid occasion it proved to be, as Mrs Varley truly heeded Penelope's request and provided her sisters all that their hearts could desire and beyond. Majestic tall pillars, luxurious velvet drapes, grand floral displays of purple peonies and orange lilies, and finally, not four, not six, but eight musicians—one pianist, two violinists, two cellists, two singers, and one cornetist.

Philippa was radiating joy when she greeted them at the entrance, nearly bouncing with excitement like a child. Even Prudence, typically cranky and sharp-tongued, appeared to radiate a rare and delightful happiness, perhaps for the first time in her life.

"I knew you would find a way, mama," Philippa smiled at Portia and took one of her hands, as the mother in question gazed at the spectacle in utter confusion.

Portia's voice trailed off with a "Yes...Naturally…" as she furrowed her brows, captivated by the sight of the massive food table.

She shifted her attention to the musicians, who were already engrossed in playing with great enthusiasm, while numerous couples swiftly filled the dance floor, creating a mesmerising spectacle of vibrant hues and graceful motion. And, indeed, what a multitude of couples it was, reflecting the astonishing number of guests at the ball, including members of society she had not seen in a long time, such as Lord Debling and, as infamous as she was, Cressida Cowper.

Meanwhile, Penelope and Mrs Varley exchanged a look of unspoken understanding before turning their gazes forward, pretending to share Portia's confusion. However, their need to pretend would soon become irrelevant as something far more distracting would capture all of their attention.

"Lady Featherington," Violet Bridgerton said, greeting them with her usual politeness, behaving as though no animosity had ever existed between their families. Eloise, Benedict, and Colin accompanied her, each displaying a distinct contrast in their demeanour. Benedict maintained his detached and aloof spirit, Eloise was visibly trembling with nervousness and Colin had a fierce, determined gaze that gave the impression he was prepared for a battle.

If it had been any other day, Portia would have gladly taken this opportunity to snub them, especially considering their recent scandal. However, aware that defamation was as imminent at her door as it had been at the Bridgertons', she offered a graceful curtsy and a courteous greeting, prompting her daughters to do the same.

Penelope made a conscious effort not to stare too intently at Colin, but her eyes, as always, gravitated towards him like a moth to a flame. Nevertheless, he appeared intent on evading her gaze, which felt like the most appropriate response given the absurdity that had unfolded between them the night before. Her gaze shifted to Eloise, who appeared to regard her with a blend of fear and exasperation, and then to Violet, who seemed far more focused on Penelope than usual. The redhead eventually decided that if Benedict was the only Bridgerton she could handle looking at, the night should end right there before she went insane.

However, it appeared that Violet was on the verge of turning around and proceeding with her children, thereby bringing an end to that exceedingly uncomfortable moment.

That is, until Colin paused.

"Lady Featherington," he uttered, and in that instant, all eyes from their surrounding family members were drawn to him. As far as they were aware, the sight of Colin deliberately engaging Portia in conversation was as uncommon as pigs taking to the skies. "A few weeks past, if your ladyship remembers, we came to an agreement."

Portia furrowed her brow, not due to any lapse in her memory, but because the Bridgerton boy's mention of that conversation was, astonishingly, the most unexpected twist of the evening.

The Featheringtons and the Bridgertons around them regarded the pair with bewilderment. And, despite not fully understanding the circumstances, Penelope's heart pounded intensely within her chest. Her mother and Colin had indirectly discussed their fallout with her, but they never mentioned such an agreement.

"Yes, I do recall it," Portia said hesitantly, studying Colin as she tried to decipher where the conversation was headed.

"Very well," Colin nodded, "According to the demands you set, I would like to ask for your permission to speak to your daughter."

Portia's eyebrows went to her hairline as everyone around them watched in silence. Casting a glance at Eloise, Benedict's eyes widened and a smile of amusement played on his lips. He wordlessly mouthed the question, "What is happening?"to which she responded with a genuine shrug.

"May I?" he asked again, looking pointedly at Portia, who unlike everyone else, understood exactly what Colin was asking.

Had she not been so utterly shocked by Colin Bridgerton's unexpected request for her blessing to propose to her daughter, which she had previously set as a requirement for him to communicate with her, she would have been able to appreciate the boy's intellect. But alas, she could only stand there, stunned, as she tried to make sense of that baffling sequence of events.

She had believed that a Bridgerton showing genuine interest in Penelope was as likely as the heavens pouring fire, yet she found herself proven wrong. And despite their family's tarnished reputation, she wasn't foolish enough to think her own family would be unaffected by recent events. If she was a smart woman, which she prided herself on being, it was a natural conclusion that her unmarried daughter would suffer the most once their family lost their title.

Do I only matter to you if I have a lord's ring on my finger?Penelope's question echoed in her thoughts. The one who brought a sudden rush of shame into Portia's otherwise icy attitude. The truth was that her daughters' well-being was her top priority, ring or no ring. Yet, it would be foolish for her to disregard the fact that a lord's ring was the most effective means of ensuring their safety. Colin Bridgerton, despite being an untitled third son, would ensure Penelope's shelter from society in ways that Portia couldn't.

"You may," she responded, tilting her head slightly as they finally reached a mutual understanding.

Colin nodded assertively, his eyes filled with resolve as he turned to Penelope who was watching him with wide eyes.

"Miss Featherington, might I have the privilege of your next dance?" he asked, extending his hand towards her in a gentlemanly manner.

Under the scrutiny of their family members, the redhead blushed and gave him a look that suggested he had gone completely mad. Distrusting her own voice, she chose to silently place her hand on top of his, granting him permission to whisk them away to the dance floor. As they went, she caught a glimpse of Benedict's wide and humorous grin directed at Eloise, as if he couldn't fathom Colin's audacity.

"What was that all about?" Philipa eventually voiced the question that everyone had been wondering.

Portia responded with a simple, "Nothing of importance," while maintaining her focus on her daughter and the Bridgerton boy.

Meanwhile, just as they were about to join the other dancing couples, Penelope turned to Colin and asked him the same question, only to be met with the same level of detail in his response.

"Nothing to be concerned about," he replied enigmatically, much to her annoyance, before adding, "and nothing you are unaware of either."

Penelope furrowed her eyebrows as she positioned herself in front of him in the queue of waiting couples. "Nothing to be concerned about, yet you caused a scene?" she asked.

As the opening chords of the next song played and Colin acknowledged her with a bow, he observed the perplexity and unease reflected in her face, prompting him to choose an answer that would provide some clarity in that moment.

"I merely wished to share this final dance with you before…" He faltered in his speech, and as her face illuminated with understanding, he drew nearer, encircling her waist with his arm and gently clasping her hand within his own. "Before everything," he murmured.

Then he regarded her with a fervour that had become all too familiar over the previous weeks, his gaze so penetrating that it stirred a tumult of emotions within her, as though the very act of refraining from kissing him at that instant might unravel her sanity. Then he twirled them about, and she averted her gaze, choosing to fix her eyes upon his chest instead, where she felt a sense of security.

"This is precisely why you ought not to be engaging in such a dance with me," she retorted in a similar hushed voice. "It would be prudent for you to maintain as much distance from me as possible, particularly at this time."

Much to her surprise, Colin released a chuckle, one that she could feel reverberating in her chest as a result of their close proximity, causing her to raise her gaze towards him.

"Pen, have you not observed anything over the past months? Perhaps even the pasty years," he said. "I have no desire to be prudent. My desire is to be with you."

The sincerity in his voice was so powerful that it made her eyes well up with tears, prompting her to lean in closer to him, almost nuzzling her head against his shoulder, despite the fact that he was supposed to be spinning her around during that part of the dance. Colin resisted the urge to gently cradle her head, aware of the prying eyes and judgmental gazes around them.

As she sniffed, he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against him. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry for ruining everything, for not being able to offer what you want." She scrunched up her nose, trying to hold back tears and avoid sobbing in public. Yet, she found herself overwhelmed with sorrow, reflecting on the unfairness of it all. "I wish I could...for all of my life...I really... I really did," she replied wistfully, her words becoming jumbled.

Colin closed his eyes and let out a sigh. With his hand still intertwined with hers, he gracefully twirled her around, perfectly in sync with the dance. Finally, he brought her back to her original position, standing in front of him, so he could gaze into her eyes. His suspicion was confirmed when he noticed they were red and moist, and she continued to avoid looking at him.

"All will be well," he declared, his optimism bordering on the absurd in that moment. "Do you know how I know that?"

Penelope couldn't help but chuckle humourlessly, shaking her head in disbelief at the sheer absurdity of his ideas.

"Because you are the most capable person I know." He looked at her with admiration, squeezing her hand tightly to emphasise his point. "Rest assured, had I deemed today to be hopeless, I would not have left yesterday," he said with a slight touch of hilarity, finally prompting a reluctant smile and eye roll from Penelope.

One could always rely upon Colin to conjure humour even amidst the most ludicrous of circumstances. "Occasionally, your humour is quite scandalous." She said, "Has anyone ever informed you of that?"

However, finally, she was looking at him with an expression that went beyond just sadness, and it made him smile.

"I acknowledge that my character may be questionable," he confessed, and she kept her eyes on him as the song gradually ended. "However, I am a person of questionable character who loves you."

Penelope immediately stopped dancing, nearly colliding with the pair next to them. It shouldn't be a surprise really, not after everything they had said to each other on the previous night. She merely wished he had picked a better time to say it, one without hundreds of people around them, leaving her with no appropriate way to answer.

Fortunately for her, the music had ceased playing, even if the rushing in her ears had made her unaware of that. And though propriety dictated that they should withdraw from the dancefloor to make way for the next couples, Colin lingered before her, his hand delving into his pocket before he gently took hold of one of hers. He gently set the object in her palm, and Penelope's eyes widened as she instantly recognised what it was. She gazed up at him in disbelief, yet he appeared entirely unfazed, gently placing his fingers over hers and guiding her hand to close around a small ring box.

"Colin… you cannot—" Her phrase was swallowed with a hitch in her breath.

"I purchased this today to ensure that you understand my intentions, Pen," he stated, a hint of tension in his jaw as he observed their hands clasped together over the box. He then continued, gazing intently into her eyes, "This is not about how I disrespected your honour, nor is it about my desire to assist you in fleeing." He gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and inched closer to her, as she watched his every move, both completely unconcerned about the attention they might be getting. "I purchased this ring because I wanted to. And I will refrain from asking again, because this is now yours, to keep or to throw away as you see fit."

Colin moved back slightly and allowed his hand to drop, while Penelope struggled to catch her breath. Despite their lengthy history of playing with fire, it was only at that specific moment that she came to terms with the fact that he was not acting on impulse. That Colin Bridgerton truly, truly, wanted to marry her.

With a trembling hand, she opened her palm ever so slightly to gaze at the tiny jewellery box, as if she feared it had been a mere figment of her imagination moments before. But it was there, so very real.

"What if it all goes wrong?" She asked, gazing at him as though he had not carefully considered the situation. "What happens if I can't take this with me to where I'm going?"

"It's still yours, Pen," he replied with steadfastness, and her heart raced uncontrollably against her ribcage. "It will always belong to you," he stated. "As will I."

Penelope tightened her grip on the tiny box as her throat constricted, bracing herself to answer him.

"Your majesty!"

The girl's eyes widened when Charlotte entered the ballroom, capturing everyone's attention and abruptly interrupting her and Colin. She then watched as Prudence approached the queen for a brief moment before Charlotte commanded the musicians to stop playing.

With her heart in her throat and her hands trembling uncontrollably, Penelope couldn't believe that her time had finally come to an end. What a lamentable sight for someone as glorious as Lady Whistledown to find herself reduced to the state of a frightful little girl.

But then she felt a hand grasping hers, steadying it.

"Colin…" Penelope said, her gaze fixed on the queen, who was glancing around the room, her gaze briefly meeting Penelope's. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered. If it was indeed the moment for her to be exposed to society, being seen alongside her was certainly the last thing he ought to be doing.

Without breaking his own gaze from Charlotte, Colin shook his head and intertwined his fingers with hers, refusing to let go despite the possible consequences.

"Good evening," Charlotte declared, her voice commanding attention as the room quieted down. "Through my relentless enquiries over the past weeks, I have come into possession of a wealth of information regarding the elusive gossip writer, known to society as Lady Whistledown."

A wave of gasps and murmurs swept through the room as the reason for the queen's sudden address became clear to all present.

"I must confess, I have never been so close to revealing her true identity," she continued, her gaze fixed upon the visibly agitated Penelope. "Indeed, I have encountered numerous deceitful scribes, however, I am here to provide you with valuable information." She surveyed her audience, each person fixated on her, eager to finally uncover the true identity of Lady Whistledown, whether it be Cressida Cowper or another.

Averting her eyes from Penelope, Charlotte then turned her gaze to the blonde, before stating,"The first thing that we must clarify is that Miss Cressida Cowper is not Lady Whistledown."

The girl opened her eyes wide, pressing a hand to her chest as the whispers in the room grew increasingly intense.

"I truly cannot comprehend why a lady from such a distinguished family would create such a falsehood, but let us embrace honesty today for a change," Charlotte spoke before turning away from the girl, leaving her to face the glares and judgements of those around her. "The second matter upon which we must reach a consensus is that Lady Whistledown cannot possibly be one of the Bridgerton progeny," she cast a discerning glance at Violet before proceeding with her discourse. "Let us, therefore, put an end to these deceitful contests of penmanship and restore the harmony of our social engagements. And third," she declared, pivoting once more,fixing her gaze on Penelope for a second time.

The redhead tightened her grip on Colin's hands, even though she reassured him he shouldn't have stayed beside her. However, it was ultimately pointless; sometimes it was easier to admit her fear.

"The true identity of the gossip writer remains a mystery," the queen proclaimed, eliciting even louder gasps and exclamations from the crowd while Penelope's hitched. Surely she must have heard her wrong. "It appears that none among you have been able to provide a single enlightening clue regarding her true identity, for she continues to elude us all," she said with fake disdain, while Colin's hand went limp in Penelope's grasp, mirroring her own confusion and shock.

Charlotte arched an elegant brow at Penelope, her voice laced with finality as she declared, "That is all," before gracefully turning to exit the chamber, accompanied by her ladies and Brimsley, thus allowing the room to descend into a tumultuous and bewildering uproar.

Penelope's gaze trailed after her, convinced that the queen's last glance held a significance beyond mere formality. She then glanced at Colin, who appeared as unsettled as she was.

"I… I think I have to…" she trailed off, her throat feeling as rough as sandpaper, trying to convey to him that she felt the need to follow the queen.

"Go," Colin said, giving her hand another comforting squeeze. As Penelope looked up at him, she saw nothing but honesty in his eyes. "I shall remain here, awaiting your return," he declared, his voice imbued with an unwavering conviction that she would indeed come back to him.

Penelope nodded, her mind in a haze from everything that was happening, unable to offer any additional input. And then, as the music started again, the chatter grew louder and people appeared thoroughly distracted, she made her way to the same door the queen had just passed through.

---

"Well, it is quite refreshing to discover that I have not made an error in assessing your intellectual capabilities," Charlotte remarked as soon as Penelope entered the balcony that provided access to the exit stairs.

Penelope nodded, still uncertain about what would happen next. The queen glanced at her ladies and Brimsley, silently signalling them to step back and give them privacy.

Slowly, the girl known to only a few as Lady Whistledown approached the stone bannister, positioning herself beside the queen as she gazed at the gardens ahead with an empty stare.

"I do not understand," Penelope admitted, waiting for Charlotte to clarify the situation.

"Do not mistake my silence for leniency," the older woman responded, her gaze still fixed intently on the horizon. "Our discussion yesterday has provided me with much to ponder. I am forced to acknowledge that we have unintentionally reached a mutual understanding, as you were correct: while some excitement may lend a certain charm to our social engagements, an excessive amount can be disruptive. At the same time, you were correct in your assessment of another issue: the author's identity is no longer a significant factor."

Penelope furrowed her brow but nodded; she did not understand how all of those factors led to the queen not outing Lady Whistledown in front of the entire society, but she wasn't going to complain.

"The issue is that there will inevitably be an author, won't there?" Charlotte pressed on. "Whether I opt to stop you presently, through any means or manner, another individual will inevitably emerge and assume your position, as someone already has. In light of this undeniable truth, my punishment for you is clear," she stated, finally directing her gaze at Penelope. "You shall persist in your role as Lady Whistledown."

"Pardon?" Penelope's voice rose in a sharp pitch, the shock overwhelming her to the point where she lost all sense of grace and propriety, failing to rein in the words spilling from her lips before she fully grasped them. "I cannot."

Charlotte arched her brows in response to the young lady's boldness. "You have, with great resolve, penned this column for three years, enduring the critiques of many, myself included, and now, when the queen herself requests it, youcannot?"

Penelope opened and closed her mouth, realising she had spoken brashly in face of her astonishment. She had not once entertained the notion that Charlotte might request her to remain as Lady Whistledown, and it was only upon the queen's insistence that she came to the startling realisation that she truly did not desire such a role anymore. The thought of continuing to write the one thing that has allowed Cressida to harm so many people—even herself—brought a chilling wave of trepidation to her heart. Who knew how many times Penelope could have inflicted the same pain on others that Cressida had inflicted on her.

"I have caused enough harm to last me a lifetime, and I could not bear the weight of my conscience should my actions once more unleash such turmoil upon society," she said. "Your majesty, with the utmost respect, I assure you that, though it may not appear so, I am fully cognisant of my errors. I did not enumerate those sentiments in a bid for your pardon; I spoke them with the utmost sincerity."

Despite her arguments, Charlotte remained unfazed. She gazed at the garden before her once more, absorbed in her reflections. "Do you wish to know what I consider to be the most lamentable counsel I have ever received throughout my extensive years of leadership?"

With a furrowed brow, Penelope shook her head. She never anticipated that the queen would pose such a personal question, given how distant and unyielding the woman always seemed.

"Uneasy is the head that wears the crown," Charlotte remarked, her lips curling in distaste at the very thought of such a quotation. "Unbearable author, Shakespeare. Nevertheless, he was regrettably correct for the first time. And in the same way that I was required to comprehend the repercussions of my actions and acknowledge all of my obligations, you must do the same." She then turned to the writer, her lips pursed with a hint of amusement. "Uneasy is the hand that holds the pen."

Penelope found herself in agreement with Charlotte's observation. It was a most vexing statement to hear.

"So yes, child, I am aware of the sincerity behind your words. I possess enough intellect to distinguish genuine sincerity from flattery. Or did you assume you could deceive me?" She asked sharply, and Penelope turned her gaze away, a flush of red spreading across her cheeks. "I am aware of your sincere intentions and your deep understanding of the extensive harm caused by Lady Whistledown. That is precisely why I believe you are the ideal candidate for this task. If we are to have Lady Whistledown in our lives, let it be with the finest of them all, and that is certainly you."

The girl turned her head sharply towards the queen, her eyes growing wide at the unbelievable compliment. Charlotte, aware of the direction her thoughts might take, regarded her with a hint of condescension and redirected her attention to the garden before them.

"Do not misconstrue this as a token of admiration," the queen declared with a regal air. "Your presence is required to control the tumult you have so carelessly brought about, nothing more."

The red-haired woman grimaced, finally coming to terms with the reality of the situation, yet uncertain about what it would entail to carry on as Lady Whistledown with the queen now aware. "So what is the course of action moving forward?" she asked.

Charlotte, however, fixed her gaze on Penelope with the familiar air of judgement, as if she were uttering complete nonsense.

"What is the course of action moving forward?" she echoed. "Must I also elucidate the procedures of your own occupation?"

She then silently gazed at her ladies and Brimsley, signalling that they were about to depart for good. Before they all departed for their respective carriages, she informed Penelope, "I shall see you around."

Penelope then observed her departure, contemplating whether she should feel privileged or disturbed by the fact that the queen of England had mentioned she would see her later. But suddenly, almost as if her brain had reactivated now that she could unwind, she remembered there was something more she needed to deal with.

"Your majesty, please wait," she uttered, catching Charlotte's attention and eliciting a quizzical expression from her. Nevertheless, she mustered up the bravery to express her next statement, "If I may be so audacious, if my presence is truly necessary, I have a favour to request."

---

When the queen rushed into the ballroom to deliver a dramatic proclamation, Eloise felt a chill run through her veins. Despite her efforts to ignore the looming threats and convince herself they didn't exist, she understood that would be the moment she would lose her friend.
However, once the announcement concluded, she came to the realisation that she had misjudged which friend it was.

As the eyes of every person in the room shifted towards Cressida, she, for the first time ever, faltered in front of an audience. While more and more individuals focused their attention on her, passing judgement without mercy, she took a step back, desperately searching for help from the one person who should have always stood by her. Nevertheless, her mother turned her gaze away and distanced herself, feigning the same shock and disgust as the others.

And so Cressida ran.

"Um…" Eloise coughed and passed the glass she held to Benedict. "Pardon me," she uttered before swiftly lifting her gown to hasten her pace and approach the girl who had once identified herself as Lady Whistledown.

In spite of the chaotic and packed ballroom, Eloise swiftly made her way to the back gardens, catching a glimpse of her friend's retreating figure, growing smaller and smaller with each step. With a low curse, she started to run, feeling the air rush from her lungs as she tried to call out, "Cressida!"

The blonde halted suddenly, letting go of the hem of her dress as it cascaded to the ground, all without looking back.

Eloise finally managed to slow down, leaning over her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. "Wait," she said softly, struggling to catch her breath.

"What is it that you want?" Cressida asked, her back still turned.

Eloise scoffed breathlessly, her eyes fixed on the other girl's figure, her body still slightly hunched forward. "I wished to enquire after your well-being. Clearly."

"Truly?" Cressida said, finally turning to her. "Given that you displayed no regard for my well-being weeks ago when I was confronted with a forced marriage to a senile man, I find it perplexing that you would start to show concern now."

"Well, I certainly shouldn't start now," Eloise remarked, wincing as she adjusted her posture. She couldn't help but notice how Cressida, concealed in the shadows of the garden, appeared rather sombre, causing Eloise to recall her past beliefs about the girl's dark nature. "I genuinely have no idea why I'm here. You certainly did not provide me with any justification for the weeks that you spent disparaging my entire family."

At that, the other girl remained silent. Her tall and slender figure gave her the appearance of a beige statue, standing against the backdrop of a lush green shrub. Her eyes were glistening, holding an unsettling quality that made Eloise uneasy, but she continued nonetheless.

"And I truly do not understand what we have done that has been so terrible to you," she said. "I would be able to comprehend if you desired to utter anything about me, but my brothers?"

Cressida simply shook her head and turned her gaze away, remaining silent.

"And for what purpose?" As Eloise became increasingly angry, she gestured with her hands while speaking. "All for a lie?"

Cressida scoffed without any hint of amusement and deliberately avoided looking at Eloise, as if she couldn't stand to see her. "You take great pride in your intelligence, yet you fail to recognise what is right before you, do you not?" she asked, then turning to the Bridgerton girl she added, "It was not I who wrote those columns, Eloise."

The brunette was frozen in disbelief, struggling to grasp the information Cressida had just shared.

"What?" She exclaimed with a sharp tone, her eyebrows furrowed as she pointed at the girl, accusingly saying, "You brazenly paraded into every ballroom proclaiming to be her, and it was your name plastered on those pamphlets."

Cressida looked worn-out, her eyes filled with exasperation as she shook her head in resignation. Sometimes it was impossible to get through Eloise's thick head; that season had taught her that lesson. However, it was her surrendered demeanour that ultimately made Eloise realise that she was telling the truth.

"How… is it possible?" Eloise altered the question and trailed off, analysing Cressida's stance. It seemed as though she was feeling ashamed of herself. "Who is the author, then?

Pressing her lips together, Cressida said, "My mother," then neatly folded her hands in front of herself, gazing at Eloise as if she were striving to remain unaffected. "It appears that I am, in truth, rather inept when it comes to the art of writing."

And then, at last, everything began to align seamlessly. For one, Cressida was indeed known for her lack of eloquence, but also it would also require a decade-long feud with the Bridgertons to generate such bitterness, a sentiment that appeared excessive even for the Cowper's only daughter.

Eloise approached the girl, realising that she had once again been fooled by her own false assumptions about a friend. "Why would she do such a thing?" She asked, hoping Cressida would return her gaze rather than respond evasively.

"Because I am hopeless, Eloise," she said, and as she gazed at her friend, her eyes glistened with a vulnerability she had never shown before. "I made an attempt to break free from that marriage, but unfortunately, my father's plans for me are now even more dreadful. I had no other option but to succeed as Lady Whistledown."

The intense despair evident in Cressida's voice had a nauseating effect on Eloise, compelling her to search her friend's face for any clue or explanation that would undoubtedly reveal that the situation couldn't possibly be that dire.

It couldn't be.

---

Penelope had been leaning on the stone bannister for several minutes, taking in the breathtaking night scenery and feeling the cool breeze against her skin. She felt a tug-of-war inside her mind, torn between the relief she felt and the challenge of sorting through all the decisions she had to make. Despite this, she stayed calm, taking deep breaths as she nervously fiddled with the ring box she had been holding during her entire conversation with the queen.

"So you are not in custody, I presume?"

It was peculiar how her heart soared at the mere sound of his voice. It had become such a normal part of Penelope's life that she hardly gave it a second thought. But there was something about hearing him now, at the end of everything, that made her very blood flutter with anticipation.

She spun around, and there he was—Colin Bridgerton, leaning against the door, looking as charming as ever. At last, she found the time to appreciate his exceptional attractiveness on that specific night, with his dark blue coat, a slightly more relaxed cravat, and his hair in beautiful waves. Hisherohair, the acid and ironic side of her brain echoed back, and she bit her bottom lip as she looked at him.

"No, I am not," she replied.

Colin seemed to sense her lighter mood, and as he squinted slightly at her, he took a few steps in her direction, his eyes filled with curiosity. "For the sake of clarity, is there a possibility of your arrest in the near future?"

A soft laugh slipped from her lips. "I fear that is not the case," she responded with a playful wit, and he regarded her with a smile.

With each step he took towards her, his eyes shimmered with increasing joy until he stood before her, radiating happiness. She just smiled back at him for a moment, before her inner thoughts got the best of her, as well as everything they needed to sort out.

Then, she gently grasped one of his hands and held it in her own, gazing down at their intertwined fingers as she uttered the words she had to say, "My penance is... I must persist in my role as Lady Whistledown." When she looked up at him, she observed his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "It seems I am of lesser consequence to society than any who might presume to occupy my position."

"That is…most surprising," Colin admitted, struggling to articulate his thoughts in response to the queen's unexpected choice. "But, Pen," he asked, sensing her oddly sour mood despite the shockingly good news, "is that not everything you wished for?"

Penelope pursed her lips, inclining her head as though her response was an unspokennot quite."I am most grateful for this opportunity; and strangely honoured by her majesty's convictions, yet in light of all that has transpired this season, the deceptions, the hurt, and all due to my actions…" She swallowed hard, locking her gaze on him."I am frightened. Of committing the same errors and inflicting harm on the people I care about once more."

Unexpectedly, a small smile played on Colin's lips. With each step he took closer to her, he gently adjusted his hold on her hands until he was only holding her right one.

"You might," he said, and Penelope nearly lifted her eyebrows in surprise, half-expecting Colin, who always reassured her, to simply lie to her instead. "Yet, I have every confidence that you shall mend matters once more, as you have so often accomplished in the past. Imperfection is inherent in all of us, Pen, and I find greater value in reading the words of a columnist who acknowledges this truth, rather than one who remains indifferent to the feelings of those she may hurt. So I must concur with Her Majesty's sentiment that Lady Whistledown's presence benefits us all."

Penelope bit her lip, thinking that those words were strange coming from Colin's mouth, given that he had always despised the gossip writer.

She looked down at her hands and said, "If you say so," to which Colin responded, "I know so."

"That presents an issue, however," she said, keeping her gaze down as he looked at her with confusion. And when she gazed back up at him, she almost had to force herself to meet his gaze instead of looking away. "When you proposed to me today…" she trailed off. "I was no longer going to be Lady Whistledown. You did not expect me to be her anymore," she explained, but he only furrowed his brow at her. "You requested Penelope Bridgerton's hand in marriage, free from any complications attributed to Lady Whistledown."

The furrows upon his brow deepened with each word of her rant, and he advanced a step closer to her. "Pen…"

"But that is simply not true anymore," she rambled on, and he paused. "But from now on, I willhaveto continue assuming her identity and this was never… your disapproval of her has always been evident, Colin."

He opened his mouth to retort, but her mind was already buzzing with a million doubts.

"This was not what you desired, and in all honesty, my love for you is too great to bind you to a vow that may potentially trap you for the rest of your life," she said, nearly causing Colin to experience cardiac arrest.

He wondered if she had even noticed that she had declared her love for him during her speech, but it seemed Penelope could effortlessly upend his world without being aware of it. Which was befitting of her, truly.

"And it is alright. I assure you that it is alright," she continued. "It won't alter my perception of you; I will continue to love you regardless. I shall always… Ihavealways loved you and I do not hold you accoun—"

Any absurd notion she had conjured in her mind was swiftly silenced as he pressed his lips to hers. He just didn't know what Penelope expected as she continued to declare her feelings repeatedly, but he refused to leave them unanswered, even if they were at a ball. And as Colin's hands lovingly cupped her face, the thought of getting caught didn't matter to him at all.

After all, the confusion in his mind and heart had finally passed. Penelope was now officially free, and even if they were caught and pressured into marriage, at least she wouldn't have any more excuses to delay it.

Pausing their kiss, he took a moment to relish her dazed and slightly shocked expression before tenderly touching his forehead to hers. Taking a deep breath, he sensed Penelope doing the same and realised her hand was gently resting on his chest. With a feeling of déjà vu, he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time: "Will you marry me or not,Lady Whistledown?"

And then Penelope understood. Or perhaps finally accepted that it was all real. That despite the many years of heartache and uncertainty, despite the countless days she wept believing she was nothing more than his invisible girl next door. Someway, somehow, the man in front of her loved her with all of her parts, even the ones she was unsure of herself.

Just as she did the same, for him.

Penelope let out a soft laugh, and her hand gently clenched his shirt over his chest. "You know, Colin, I love you, but sometimes you can be a very distracted man."

He angled his head slightly away from hers, displaying a subtle frown in response to her peculiar reply. Instead of providing any answers, she persisted in gazing at him with a playful grin, clutching onto his shirt as if she intended to draw him back into the kiss.

But then he saw it: a glimmering ring on her index finger, resting on the same hand that lay on his chest.

He whipped his head up, staring at her in bewilderment, as if he needed the confirmation in her eyes of what was already clear by her finger. Penelope's smile only grew wider. As usual, Colin missed the obvious, even though it was staring him in the face the whole time. Things with him always seemed to be this way.

Then she grabbed his shirt and kissed him again, unconcerned about the risk of being caught. Against her lips, Colin smiled, a moment that felt surreal for both of them, to experience such joy together. Colin's hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her into an intimate embrace, while her other hand found its way to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft locks.

With his mind going blank, Colin pressed her against the bannister, his arm sliding up to firmly grip her shoulder blades. The sensation sent shivers down her spine as he tilted his head and gently nibbled on her bottom lip, deepening their kiss. With a groan, she pulled at his hair and pressed her lips more urgently against his, yearning for his touch even more.

Suddenly, a piercing scream made them break apart, though only slightly. Colin's hand remained on Penelope's waist as she kept hers on his chest, both turning their heads towards the source of the sound.

"That image...will haunt me for the rest of eternity," Eloise said, dramatically placing a hand on her face as she caught her breath, absorbing the sight of her brother with dishevelled hair and her blushing best friend. She then dropped her arm to the side and took quick strides towards them. "Have you lost your senses? Had it been anyone else who had witnessed the two of you, what would the consequences have been?"

Colin glanced at Penelope, observing the smile on her lips that showed she also found humour in the situation. Casting a quick glance at his sister, he responded with a sly raise of his eyebrow, saying, "Then we would have no choice but to wed."

Eloise knitted her brows, sensing something peculiar in his amused tone. Her gaze shifted to Penelope's hand, for she, unlike his brother, was attentive to the details.

"Is that…" she pointed at the engagement ring on the redhead's finger, her voice wavering before she could finish the question. She then glanced at the two of them, at Colin's self-satisfied grin and Penelope's lively, twinkling eyes, before she nodded.

"Oh," was the most articulate response that Eloise could muster, as a peculiar blend of joy, relief, and melancholy enveloped her. The weight of her emotions caused her to grimace, and she practically lunged towards them, placing her arms around them in a tight and uncharacteristic group hug.

"I detest this," she said, her voice thick with emotion, her eyes welling up despite her usual composed and detached demeanour.

Penelope chuckled as Colin affectionately shook his head at his sister's antics. They held her in a warm embrace until she suddenly let go, her eyes fixed on both of them.

"You're both going to leave me all alone," she complained halfheartedly. It was difficult to be upset about it when she was overjoyed that, after everything they had endured, her best friend and brother were finally getting married.

She grasped one hand of each before turning her attention to Penelope. "Does this mean it is over now? You are no longer at risk?"

"I am safe, yet the matter is far from resolved," Penelope replied, and to Eloise's perplexed look, she clarified, "The queen requires that I continue as Lady Whistledown."

"What?" Eloise exclaimed, her hands going limp and her arms dropping to her sides. "Has she finally reached the point of complete madness?"

"It is likely that she had come to the realisation that Cressida would not be the last person to attempt to impersonate Lady Whistledown or any other gossip writer who chooses to disclose people's names on their pamphlet," Colin answered on behalf of his fiancée. "To be completely honest, if there is anyone suited for that position, it is Pen."

Eloise gazed at him with disbelief and remarked, "It is quite alarming to hear such words from you," to which Penelope quietly acknowledged with an "I know" before Eloise locked eyes with her and proceeded, "However, he is not mistaken. And I should have been the first to acknowledge that."

The redhead blinked at her, sensing that the Bridgertons had orchestrated a secret plan to utterly astonish her that day.

"I apologise, Pen," she said, at last. Then, taking her hand once more, she squeezed it firmly before finally expressing what had been lodged in her throat since their carriage ride the day before. "I have underestimated you, more than I care to admit. It was simpler for me to harbour resentment towards you than to acknowledge that I had completely overlooked you, which seems to be a frequent error on my part, or so I've been informed," she said, and Penelope chuckled. "You are the most intelligent woman I know and also the kindest. If there is an individual within this city who possesses the capacity to embody her and genuinely contribute to the betterment of society, it is undoubtedly you."

Penelope's face contorted in a clear indication that she was on the verge of tears, and the two girls found themselves embracing once more, while Colin observed them with a sense of amusement.

"I'm sorry, El," Penelope said, her voice soft and muffled as she pressed her face into Eloise's shoulder. "I apologise for causing you so much pain; that was never my intention—"

"It's alright, I understand now," Eloise said, comforting Penelope by cradling the back of her head.

"However, I am never….I will never do that again," Penelope went on.

"I know," Eloise responded. "I know. And I will never doubt you again."

Sniffing, Penelope replied, "I know."

"Um… Should I take my leave?" Colin interjected, breaking their sentimental moment, causing Penelope to laugh while Eloise responded with a firmyes.

As they broke off their second hug, Penelope used her index fingers to wipe away her tears, her gaze fixed on Eloise, who was also sniffling.

"Well…I am deeply appreciative of your belief in me, but I may require assistance now. From both of you." She glanced at Colin. "For one, maintaining my identity was already challenging, and now with even more people aware of it, I genuinely need strategies to avoid revealing my cover for the entity of London. However, I've been reflecting: I have no desire to intentionally harm anyone again, and people often believe there's a great deal of good that Lady Whistledown can accomplish, so I'm genuinely receptive to ideas."

The Bridgerton siblings exhibited remarkably contrasting responses to that request, with Colin appearing motionless, mouth agape, while Eloise's eyes widened as though Penelope had just sparked an idea.

"I may have a suggestion at this very moment," the brunette remarked, prompting Penelope to raise her eyebrows. "Please do not be upset with me. I assure you that there is a legitimate reason behind this."

"What is it?" Penelope asked.

Eloise replied with a subtle grimace, "It's Cressida." And as both Penelope and Colin were about to raise their voices at her, she continued, "Before you begin, it was not her who wrote her columns; it was her mother."

"And you believe her?" Colin asked with irritation.

"Actually, I do," Eloise asserted, narrowing her eyes at her brother before shifting her gaze to Pen. "I have dedicated a significant amount of time in my life to misjudging my friends, so this marks my commitment to a fresh start."

Penelope blinked, her emotions conflicted as she processed the fact that their fight had indirectly caused Eloise to also patch things up with Cressida. "But why? What could possibly explain her mother's decision to do that?" The writer asked.

"Because…" Eloise took a deep breath. "As I told you before, she attempted to escape her marriage with Lord Greer. However, her father became furious when she made a false announcement as Lady Whistledown. He confiscated her dowry and proceeded to threaten Cressida with banishment to Wales, where she would be forced to live with her aunt and be isolated from society. The mother proposed the idea of accumulating funds to assist Cressida without her dowry, however, Cressida lacked the ability to compose a persuasive Whistledown pamphlet on her own."

"Oh," Penelope said, her stupid heart beginning to ache for the girl despite the years of animosity between them.

"No," Colin replied, already perceiving the change in his fiancée's demeanour. "Pen, you are under no obligation to assist her. Throughout all these years, she has consistently treated you terribly, she stole your identity, she—"

"She was entirely unaware it was Pen's identity," Eloise responded. "And it was not her who disseminated the information to everyone when I informed her that you had been assisting Penelope in finding a husband."

With a glare, Colin sarcastically remarked, "Well, that's certainly a relief."

"But," Eloise remarked pointedly, redirecting her focus to her friend rather than her dim-witted brother. "Colin is correct; she has treated you poorly all these years, and you are under no obligation to offer assistance. I mentioned it because I believed you would relate, as I do, to the feeling of being confined by illogical rules and having your choices dictated by another person. Now that the queen has made her announcement, it is inevitable that her father will exile her from London. Unless… unless someone takes action."

Penelope glanced at her feet, immediately recalling each and every hurtful action Cressida Cowper had inflicted upon her, from derogatory remarks to tearing her dress. That woman was nowhere near being a good person. However, Penelope had to concede, for the first time ever, that she could possibly empathise with her, even if it was just a little. If not for her family's scepticism about her marriage prospects, then for the need for someone to assist her when it was the last thing she deserved. It was a lonely place to be when all of your lies and wrongdoings caught up with you, and Penelope might have ended up there if no one had found it in their hearts to forgive her.

"I will give it some thought," she said, and Eloise nodded. That was definitely better than a complete rejection.

"May we now address the other issue?" Colin asked, and both of them looked at him in confusion. He then turned to Eloise as he continued, "The part concerning the excessive number of individuals being aware of Penelope's other identity."

"Oh…" Eloise knitted her brows together, and then her eyes grew wide. "Oh"

"What…" Penelope looked between them, sensing they were discussing something she wasn't privy to. "What is it?"

With a grimace, Colin scratched the back of his head before turning to her. "I have something to tell you."

---

Dearest gentle reader,

How does one navigate the weighty obligations that life bestows upon them? Shall we flee in trepidation, or might we entrust the matter to another, when the other option is to bear that weight eternally, longing to be anyone but our own selves?
After a season filled with deceit, this author has come to the realisation that it may now be my time to address that question, providing the singular thing that has been withheld from society for far too long, the one thing that, above all else, it is my obligation to impart: the truth.

Indeed, whilst Mrs Cowper occupied herself with the art of disparaging the Bridgertons, it appeared that Lord Montgomery had devoted an equal measure of his efforts to persuading a particular visitor to depart from London, burdened with an illegitimate offspring. Which may have been the standard in our scandalous society if she were not Lady Montgomery's niece.

Furthermore, Lady Punchard, who had experienced a sense of relief for weeks, presuming that she had gone unnoticed by Mrs Cowper, proceeded to dismiss almost half of the house staff following their witnessing of an unseemly encounter between herself and her neighbour in the kitchen.

Yet, of utmost significance is Lady Cowper herself, who not only appropriated this author's identity but also that of her own daughter. It appears that merely dismissing Lord Cowper's ludicrous idea of clandestinely dispatching Miss Cowper from London was insufficient; it was equally imperative to sully her reputation beforehand. It seems that in our esteemed society, many individuals fail to fulfil the responsibility of being an exemplary family.

However, it should not be assumed that those who assume such responsibilities are completely without flaws. Though the Bridgertons had undoubtedly endured a season of unfounded calumny, it would be remiss to assert that they were without their share of past missteps. Yet, there exists none of recent note that warrants mention, and to that, I extend my sincere praise.

For the present moment.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

---

Upon waking the following day, Portia Featherington had devised a strategy.

Initially, she would extend an invitation to her daughters and sons-in-law to celebrate their achievement of hosting the most successful ball of the season. Secondly, she would gently reveal the news that they were on the verge of losing their title, but that society would hardly be concerned with such a trivial matter in light of the previously discussed successful ball.

Additionally, she would complete all of those tasks prior to the arrival of Penelope's fiancé.

(Or at least that's what she hoped Colin Bridgerton had become after everything, especially since her daughter had spent almost the entire ball with him, only coming back home late at night. Or so help her, she would disinherit Penelope from the 10 pence they had to their disgraceful, titleless name.)

And so far, the first phase of her plan had gone well. The two couples arrived for an early lunch and made a brief stop in the Featherington drawing room. They chatted animatedly, laughing and talking loudly, while Portia forced a smile and pretended to join in.

Shortly after, Penelope came downstairs. She appeared remarkably poised for a simple Saturday lunch, sporting a new dress and an elaborate hairstyle, all while exuding a relaxed demeanour that Portia had seldom observed in her.

"Good morning, mama," she said cheerfully, causing Portia to nearly raise her eyebrows, just before her gaze shifted downward to the ring on her finger.

No disinheriting was necessary, then.

"Good afternoon, you mean, Penelope?" She stated sharply, and Penelope simply bit her lips and stepped shyly towards the window.

Philippa's attention shifted to Portia once she noticed her sister's arrival, interrupting the ongoing conversation between her husband and Prudence about the top 100 best types of cheese. "Mama, may we go eat now? I'm absolutely famished."

"Um," the head of the Featherington family cleared her throat, casting a glance among her children before abruptly straightening her posture. She folded her hands in front of herself and began to walk in circles before them. "Before we proceed with lunch, there is an important matter that I need to address with all of you," she stated.

Her mother's unfamiliar behaviour left Prudence and Phillipa perplexed, while Penelope watched her with keen interest. With an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, Portia hesitated to speak, repeatedly opening and closing her mouth before finally settling on a starting point.

"You see," she paused, her voice trailing off as she nervously covered her mouth with her hand. "I received a visit from the Crown banister earlier this week."

"Really?" Prudence interrupted, her tone oddly joyful. "Are we going to expand our land holdings, mama?"

Phillipa's eyes widened in surprise at the question, her posture straightening up as she eagerly smiled in anticipation of a favourable response.

In utter disbelief, Portia stared at her, unable to comprehend how someone could be so clueless. "Um..." she blinked, "No."

Penelope suppressed a laugh before glancing out the window for the tenth time in the past five minutes, while Portia observed her surroundings and pondered why she ended up with such a family.

She cleared her throat once more. "As I was saying," she stated, sensing the weight of their gazes upon her. "The Crown bannister has visited this week and…" she faltered, unable to say what she inevitably had to, "and…"

"Ma'am," Mrs Varley burst into the room, her nervous stare revealing everything Portia needed to know. "Someone has arrived to see you."

Portia closed her eyes, sighing for a moment. "Please ask them to wait, Mrs Varley," she said, then faced the bewildered individuals in her drawing room, desperately hoping she would have enough time to convey her message before the devastating news arrived.

"As I previously mentioned…"

"Ma'am," Mrs Varley insisted, but before Portia could snap at her to wait, the barrister in question burst into the room.

Portia widened her eyes and quickly curtsied to the man, who appeared to be in a particularly foul mood. "Mr…. Mr Dundas," she stammered. "It is delightful to see you. I was just discussing our recent conversation with my daughters," she gestured towards her children half-heartedly, hoping to dissuade him from repeating the matter in their presence.

"That is indeed fascinating, but entirely unnecessary," he said impatiently, while adjusting his vest and purposely avoiding eye contact with her. "I am here today on behalf of Her Majesty," he stated, before retrieving a document from his pocket.

"Right," Portia said, a sense of foreboding on her stomach. She then redirected her attention to the rest of the group, stating, "Girls, as I mentioned earlier, Mr Dundas has arrived to..."

"As per a royal decree, The Dowager Baroness Featherington must retain maintain possession of the estate until the birth of the first male heir from the Featherington family," he recited the text in a detached manner, disregarding Portia's escalating astonishment. "At that point, the aforementioned heir must assume ownership."

The oldest and second oldest Featherington sisters looked at him with confusion, wondering why he was stating something they were already aware of. Meanwhile, Portia observed him with a puzzled expression, pondering if he was mocking them in some way. Nevertheless, the man deliberately avoided eye contact, preferring to devote his attention to his reading.

"Furthermore, the Monmouth state, presently lacking an heir, will also be transferred to him."

Portia widened her eyes in disbelief, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Ex… excuse me?" she asked, as Penelope stifled another chuckle, her hand over her mouth.

Mr Dundas then swiftly returned the paper to his pocket, giving them a formal bow and stating, "I wish you all a pleasant day."

As he departed, seemingly unfazed by the life-altering revelation, Prudence enthusiastically exclaimed, "I knew it, mama, I knew it!"

Completely bewildered, Portia stared at her, utterly at a loss for words in the face of such an extraordinary turn of events.

"Behold, a rare sight in your lifetime," Philippa replied with biting sarcasm, her eyes scanning Prudence up and down while a smirk played on her lips.

"Bonbon, you are undeniably the most intelligent woman in the world," Harry grinned goofily, a remark that only managed to slightly irritate Prudence, as her mood was far too positive to be dampened.

"I suppose it is because he knows," Prudence stated, her hand firmly on her belly, as if communicating with the unborn baby, "that it will all belong to him."

Phillipa let out a disdainful scoff. "That is highly unlikely," she declared, gently caressing her own belly. Albion proudly imitated the gesture, their hands intertwining as the girl defiantly locked eyes with her sister. "Rest assured, when Grimsby assumes ownership of this house, he will warmly welcome you for tea."

"Who?" Prudence asked.

Philippa gave her an annoyed look and said, "The baby!"

While the argument about their unborn babies raged on, Portia leaned against the side table, feeling a bit lightheaded. Standing near the window, Penelope observed the scene with amusement instead of her usual annoyance, a rare occurrence in her life. Admittedly, her sisters remained as irritating as ever, yet their utter cluelessness was amusing, and perhaps, at long last, her mother would find some peace.

And then she saw him, and a wave of contentment washed over her, making her realise that maybe, just maybe, leaving the Featherington name behind brought a sense of joyful liberation. With the knowledge that her sisters' insanity would no longer dominate her future, she found the strength to accept it as it was.

"… as if the window could bestow offspring upon her," Phillipa was jokingly saying and everyone was laughing uproariously when Penelope refocused her attention on them.

"I specifically warned you about tormenting your sister," Portia interjected, gradually returning to a state of lesser astonishment and leaning away from the table.

"Do not worry, mama," Phillipa responded confidently, "I am certain our child will also permit Aunt Penelope to pay a visit." She smiled with satisfaction as she glanced at her youngest sister, who appeared to abruptly move away from the window and instead make her way towards the door, seemingly indifferent to Phillipa's words.

"Are you paying attention?" she asked her sister, who appeared to be distracted.

Instead of speaking, Penelope simply hummed in response. With furrowed brows, Phillipa and Prudence exchanged a glance, taken aback by the girl's nonchalant attitude. Despite years of mocking their younger sibling, she hardly ever responded with such indifference.

"And we intend to sell all of your books," Prudence jabbed, hoping to catch their sister's attention with a deliberate remark.

"Wonderful," Penelope vaguely responded, rising on her toes to peer through the open doors.

The other two sisters shared a glance once more when Philippa enquired, "Is she unwell?"

"Hush, be quiet," Portia suddenly whispered, gesturing frantically at them, her attention now divided between the door and Penelope.

And then Colin Bridgerton entered the room.

In a composed manner, he greeted the room with a calm "Good afternoon," seemingly oblivious to the six people who were openly gawking at him. However, it was clear that his attention was solely focused on one person among them.

Penelope smiled at the man as if he had hung the moon and stars, curtsying to him only for the sake of propriety while her sisters exchanged glances, as if they had missed something significant.

"Lady Featherington," Colin greeted the woman, who responded with a half-hearted attempt at a condescending look. "How is your ladyship faring today?"

"I am doing splendidly. How are you, Mr Bridgerton," she replied neutrally while Penelope observed them both with a perplexed expression, as if they were strangers.

"I am also doing exceptionally well," he answered, completely ignoring the questioning look Penelope gave him. "I am aware that this may be a late request, but would it be acceptable for me to bring Miss Penelope with me for lunch at the Bridgerton house?"

"Of course," Portia responded immediately, as if his hesitancy were absurd, causing everyone in the room to look at her with confusion, except for the man in front of her.

Colin then nodded at her, extending his hand for Penelope. She looked at him with a shocked expression, and he replied with no more than a simple "Shall we?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, but nevertheless, she held his hand and followed him out of the room, as if it was a common sight on an ordinary Saturday.

As Portia turned around, she caught sight of her daughters and sons-in-law, their gazes fixed on her, silently conveying a million unanswered questions.

"What was… that?" Philippa asked.

"Oh, that," Portia asked, casually gesturing in the general direction behind her. "Your sister is attending a lunch with her fiancé's family, naturally."

"Herwhat?" Prudence asked, while the rest could only produce incomprehensible noises.

Portia cast a disdainful glance at them, regarding their words as nonsense. "Oh, please, do pay attention."

---

"May I inquire whether my left facial features appear exceptionally fascinating today?"

"Not any more than usual, but your attitude certainly does," Penelope responded in a lighthearted manner, casting her gaze downwards towards their intertwined hands, a playful smile adorning her face.

"Really?" he said, giving her a smirk as he squinted against the bright sunlight. "To which aspect of my attitude are you referring?"

"Well," Penelope then looked forward pensively, taking in the Bridgerton house as they got near and near to it, "To begin with, you have chosen to stroll from your house to mine, and secondly, it appears that you and my mother have forged a most unexpected friendship in the span of a single night. Which is somewhat disconcerting, although I suppose it could prove advantageous when you seek her blessing for my hand."

With a slight chuckle, Colin's hair was lightly tousled by the wind as he kept his gaze fixed on the house in front of them. "I have made the decision to abstain from utilising the carriage today, for, after all, we reside directly across from one another, and it strikes me as quite absurd—"

"That has not deterred you throughout the years."

"—And," he disregarded her remark, gently swaying their entwined hands, "for it afforded me the precious opportunity to be alone with you."

Smiling, she cocked her head in amusement at his silliness. As time went on, she was starting to recognise the corniest sides of Colin within their relationship, which unfortunately caused her to love him even more. Almost to the point that she forgot to ask how her mother had seemingly overlooked the fact that she was, in fact, unchaperoned with him.

"And I have already sought your mother's consent for your hand."

Penelope came to an abrupt halt, causing them to almost collide in the middle of the street. "What? When?"

Colin flashed her a mischievous grin, the kind that could drive any person crazy, and continued strolling towards the entrance of the Bridgerton house.

"Yesterday," he said, furrowing his brows. "You were actually present."

As he took a moment to stop by the entrance doors, waiting for the servants to open them, Penelope directed her attention towards the floor, deep in thought, trying to make sense of the man's incomprehensible words.

"Colin, I'm quite certain I would recall if I witnessed you requesting my mother for my hand," she remarked, unconcerned with the servants' inquisitive stares as they strolled past.

He then narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "I may not have employed those exact words," he stated as he passed his coat to one of the footmen.

Penelope stared intently at him, making an effort to decipher his words until the memory suddenly resurfaced. "That was my mother's condition?" She asked, her voice on the verge of shrillness, as another footman appeared to retrieve her shawl.

Colin nodded and then reached out to hold her hand once more before they continued walking. "I cannot fault her, truly." He shrugged; it was genuinely the one thing he couldn't hold against Portia, if he were to be honest.

However, Portia's youngest child was unable to find words to express her astonishment, shaking her head as if she couldn't fathom how it had happened without her being aware. Portia's motherly instincts were unexpectedly awakened during that particular season, leaving Penelope perplexed about this newfound aspect of her.

"If we were to be completely honest," Colin continued, "it is undeniable that our behaviour has always been scandalous, Pen."

As the girl looked up at him, she couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in his eyes as he lifted their clasped hands to press a tender kiss against the back of hers. Penelope responded by rolling her eyes, but she didn't dispute what he said. There was no point in denying the irrefutable facts.

They have been scandalous since the day they first met.

"So… you have always loved me."

"Are you quite serious?" Penelope couldn't help but chuckle at the topic he chose to bring up next. "You had ample opportunities to discuss this matter, and yet you choose to bring it up now?" She asked, gesturing at their surroundings as they continued walking, as if to emphasise the limited time they had.

Colin pursed his lips. "Although we have spent a considerable amount of time together since yesterday, our conversations have beenlimited."

As he insinuated, Penelope's jaw started to drop, but her cheeks turned a rosy shade and her smile grew bigger. "Allow me to remind you that the entire fault lies solely with you," she stated, feeling even her neck flush with embarrassment.

If Colin hadn't kissed her the moment she walked through the door of her house the day before, they would have had a conversation instead of passionately making out against a wall, or on the sofa, or even ending up toppling over her study desk right before he departed.

"Oh, so I am the only one partaking in this particular activity," he remarked, pointing between them with their joined hands, vividly recalling how Penelope had immediately pulled him by his coat lapels and kissed him by the back entrance of her house as soon as he dropped her off that day.

She turned her face away, her silence speaking volumes, while he chuckled beside her as they climbed the stairs together.

"Furthermore," he asked, raising an eyebrow, "may I inquire about the attire you have chosen for today?" He scanned her outfit with a peculiar gaze.

Penelope furrowed her eyebrows at him, her gaze falling to her ocean green dress that Genevieve had just made for her. It was stunning, and if Colin ended up disliking it, she would seriously question his sanity. "This gown?" she enquired, perplexed as to why he was scrutinising her attire when he had never done so in their entire lives.

Colin's gaze roamed over her form, much like it had on that fateful evening when he had unexpectedly entered her room, a moment that had left her feeling bewildered then. The dress was a stunning sight, adorned with light blue flowers delicately embroidered on the hem and a subtle shimmer that graced the entire fabric. It gave her a radiant complexion, made her hair a fiery red, and hugged her curves in a manner that was simply unfair.

"A gown that shall remain unworn until our marriage," he declared.
Penelope halted at the top of the stairs, gazing at him as if he had completely lost his senses. "Colin, what on earth are you speaking of?"

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if he were searching for the precise words to articulate his thoughts. "I cannot focus on talking to you if you choose to wear it," he stated, emphasising the wordtalkingto ensure she grasped his point.

Penelope momentarily wrinkled her forehead at him, once more failing to grasp his intended meaning until she recalled the last time he mentioned he couldn't focus due to one of her outfits.

"Oh," she murmured, her cheeks turning red as a small, entertained grin appeared on her face.

Colin smiled in amusement and responded, "Yes,oh," before carried on walking.

As she followed him, her shorter legs hastening, she questioned, "Which dress would be suitable then? What about the dress from yesterday?"

"No," Colin retorted promptly, almost scoffing. And as he became aware that he was walking too fast for her to follow, he slowed down his pace slightly.

She raised her eyebrows and asked, "Wednesday's dress?" to which he replied with yet another no. "Any dress from last week?" He shook his head. Frustrated, she huffed and asked, "So, what is it that you expect me to do? Shall I retrieve those dreadful yellow dresses?"

He paused, his gaze shifting upwards towards the ceiling, as if deep in contemplation. Then he pursed his lips and shook his head with determination, finally stating, "No, that would not suffice either."

"What?" Penelope half exclaimed, half laughed.

She could hardly bear to face her reflection in the mirror back then, and now Colin was claiming he couldn't endure even ten seconds alone with that girl without feeling the urge to grab her? After years of consistently courting everyone except for her, and now he couldn't even look at her in those yellow dresses? That was completely illogical.

"Colin, have you, perchance, always loved me as well?" She asked, a playful lilt in her tone.

Despite her joking tone, he paused again, seemingly taken aback by her question.

"I am not sure... Probably?" He said, causing her eyebrows to shoot up to her hairline. Breaking from his reverie, Colin shifted his attention to her and enquired, "Weren't you the one who stated that it is currently an inopportune moment to discuss this matter?"

"Well,nowI want to discuss it," she responded with wide eyes. If she was just kidding before, now she was completely serious.

"I..." he grimaced, evidently struggling to untangle his own thoughts. "I am uncertain as to when I first fell in love with you, Pen. One day it became apparent that you were the only person I was thinking about, the one person I sought in every room, and the one woman who caused me to lose control, despite the fact that I have always been exceptionally good at maintaining it," he said, oblivious to Penelope's widening grin as he attempted to articulate his feelings. "However, it wasn't as though I fell in love with you on that particular day. I suspect that it had occurred previously or that it had always been present but I had failed to recognise it. Does that make sense?"

"A little," she replied sarcastically, but her eyes were brimming with affection.

"Why?" His reply seemed like a challenge, as if he doubted she could remember either. "At what moment did you realise you loved me?"

"When you fell from the horse and into the mud," she immediately responded, with a boldness that suggested she remembered the exact moment, thank you very much.

Colin's mouth fell open in shock. "What?" He was still trying to process that revelation, while Penelope struggled to suppress her laughter. "You have been aware since then?"

It was truly amazing how, after years of suffering and repeatedly telling herself she should have given up, the same story now brought her so much joy.

"I possess a superior intellect, I'm afraid," she joked.

Unperturbed by her playful retort, he offered a smile and shook his head in response, declaring, "No argument there," just before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Penelope almost gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as Colin leaned back, a smirk playing on his mouth. "Have you gone mad? What if we were to be discovered?"

With his lip between his teeth, he looked at her for a moment before uttering, "I had recommended that you refrain from wearing that dress until we were married," and then continued walking.

"I am genuinely uncertain about the attire you expect me to wear until our wedding day arrives," she whispered, her breathing still irregular from the lingering effect of Colin's kiss. "Would a burlap sack meet your requirements?"

"I'm afraid not," he stated, his gaze fixed ahead, avoiding her eyes as he concentrated on their destination.

"Colin!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and laughter.

"What is there to say?" He gave a slight shrug. "It appears that the most prudent course of action is for us to unite in matrimony at the earliest opportunity."

Once again, he stopped, this time in front of the entrance to the drawing room, while Penelope stood in front of him, casting a coy glance after his last statement. Of course, it would all come down to them getting married as soon as possible, a prospect she had no objections to. At all.

"I see," she replied, a smile of affectionate exasperation gracing her lips. "And that is precisely the reason for our presence here."

"And that is precisely the reason for our presence here," he repeated, his voice filled with determination, as he took her other hand in his, holding them both firmly between them. "Are you prepared? Sincerely, I mean. Because if you inform me that you are not, I will return you to your home and provide them with a fabricated reason for my decision to gather them today."

"I am ready," she declared, firmly grasping his hands to convey her determination. She couldn't help but notice how his fingers lingered on her ring, as they often did now, as if he needed the reassurance that it was truly there. "You may be surprised to learn that you're not the only one eager for this wedding to take place as soon as possible."

He playfully arched his eyebrows and smiled at her, while she responded with an eye-roll and a headshake, and just like that, they were back to being clumsy teenagers. But that time, she wasn't alone in her overwhelming crush, which was equally insane and fantastic, to say the least.

Colin then faced the door, letting go of one of her hands while inhaling deeply. "Here we go," he said before opening the doors.

And despite the nervousness, as soon as they entered, it felt like an ordinary Saturday at the Bridgerton household. Gregory and Hyacinth were engaged in a heated debate over a box of chocolates on the sofa, while Benedict lounged on the other couch, nearly dozing off from sheer boredom. Anthony sat to his right, idly reading a newspaper and occasionally shouting at the younger siblings to stop their antics. Violet gently rubbed Kate's belly as they discussed babies, a topic so familiar that it had become background noise for everyone else. Eloise sat in the chair beside them, her eyes rolling endlessly until she noticed the couple walking into the room.
She straightened her posture instantly, a subtle smile gracing her lips at the sight, yet the others appeared too absorbed in their own lives to acknowledge the newcomers.

Noticing that his family was going to be loud and difficult as always, Colin then cleared his throat.

"Everyone," he said, skilfully capturing their full attention simultaneously.

It was one of those moments that felt like it was happening in slow motion, as the Bridgertons' eyes moved in perfect unison until they all arrived at the same conclusion. They first noticed Colin's arrival, then their gaze darted to the right, where they discovered Penelope's presence, and finally, with a sense of confusion and awe, their gaze fell upon their own hands. At their intertwined hands.

And then Benedict burst into laughter, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach, laughing with his whole chest.

"Hold a moment," Anthony knitted his brows.

"Is... is that—" Kate stammered, pointing at their joined hands and then at Penelope. "Is she—"

"No," Gregory stuttered, his jaw hanging open. "There is absolutely no chance."

With a deep breath, Colin prepared himself, knowing that the forthcoming announcement would address all of their questions simultaneously. "We are engaged."

Benedict continued to giggle uncontrollably, wiping away tears and managing to say, "This is absolutely fantastic."

"How did you fail to observe this yesterday?" Eloise gazed at him with a sense of incredulity, saying, "Colin was practically proclaiming it from the rooftops."

"How would I know?" Benedict replied, gesturing towards the engaged couple. "These two have always been peculiar. And she as Whistledown?" Benedict turned to a blushing Penelope in admiration, "Brava!"

Meanwhile, Gregory remained motionless on the sofa, gazing at them as if he were in a dream. "This cannot be true."

At that point, Penelope was flinching, her body tensing up as if bracing for impact. Then, she slowly lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Please, allow me to first express my sincerest apologies—"

However, any initial declaration she intended to make was immediately interrupted when Hyacinth, who had remained quiet until then, suddenly rose from the sofa and enveloped her in the most fervent embrace. As the youngest Bridgerton nearly suffocated her with unexpected love, Penelope's eyes widened, and she could feel her hands hanging in the air, unsure of how to respond.

As Hyacinth released their embrace, Penelope stared at her, completely bewildered. Out of all the reactions she had anticipated upon revealing her identity as Whistledown, Hyacinth's was by far the most peculiar.

"You are the most brilliant person I have ever encountered," Hyacinth declared, her hands still firmly grasping her shoulders. Shifting her attention to Colin, she narrowed her eyes and confidently declared, "I knew you would never fall in love with someone who mistreated Pen. I knew it."

Colin shrugged at her. "You do know me," he replied nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he was simultaneously astonishing everyone in his family.

"As do I," Benedict said, rising from his seat and patting Colin on the back in a gesture of unspoken congratulations. Then, he turned to Penelope, lifting his eyebrows and offering her a humorous smile as he said, "Welcome to the family, Lady Whistledown," and proceeded to give her a hug as well.

A question crossed Penelope's mind: was she experiencing a dream or was it all truly happening? In a slow and gentle manner, she placed her hand on Benedict's back while furrowing her brows, attempting to absorb all of their absurd reactions at once.

"Thank you," she said, blinking rapidly as he released her from the hug. "However, I feel it is necessary to apologise first before..." Her voice faded as she observed their radiant smiles, while the others rose to approach them. With a look of astonishment, she glanced at each person in the room. "Is there no one present who harbours any resentment towards me?"

Anthony then crossed his arms and inhaled deeply. "Had you posed the question in any other week, I might have answered differently. However, when the queen arrives at our doorstep, convinced that the author must be someone from our family, I must concede that your actions have brought us more advantage than detriment."

Penelope's eyebrows shot up, anticipating anyone from the family to come to her begrudging defence except for Anthony. Little did she know, Colin was wearing an identical expression right next to her, which Kate immediately noticed.

"I spoke with him," she told Colin while her husband rolled his eyes. "You are welcome," she added. Typical of Kate to manage her husband's temper even before they knew who their sister-in-law was, a true Viscountess Bridgerton.

However, the Dowager Viscountess, who had been silent until then, suddenly stepped forward. And before Penelope could feel too anxious about Violet's reaction, she reached out and took one of Penelope's hands, offering a warm smile. "It seems that the queen was correct. It was a member of our family."

The redhead felt ridiculous, but that one sentence brought tears to her eyes. Even though she was expected to display a strong demeanour alongside Colin, she couldn't contain her emotions and ended up crying like a little girl. It was truly peculiar how she had never experienced acceptance from her family, until that exact moment.

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton," Penelope choked out. "But I sincerely apologise. I am aware that I have made numerous errors and—"

"I am aware, my dear," Violet interjected. "Colin has informed me. All is forgiven," she declared amidst a chorus of loud objections.

"You knew, mama?" Hyacinth asked, while Penelope looked at Colin with the same unspoken question.

"You confided in her yet withheld the same from us?" Benedict enquired of Colin with a tone of indignation, and as Colin prepared to respond, Eloise interjected with a scoff, her arms crossed defiantly as she declared, "It is not his fault if she possesses greater intellect than the rest of you."

Narrowing his eyes, Benedict levelled an accusatory finger in her direction. "Naturally, you would assert such a thing, given that you were the one who held knowledge of the secret for the greatest length of time."

And as everyone in her family stared at her, Eloise opened and closed her mouth, unable to form an adequate response, until she lifted her chin and simply declared, "Of course, I surpass all of you in intelligence as well."

As the room filled with noise and insults once again, Colin found himself rubbing his temples.

"Alright," Colin raised his hands, attempting to quiet them. "All of you are free to continue your disagreement at a later time. I have a single request for you before you proceed: please refrain from disclosing Pen's identity to anyone. Are you able to accomplish that?" He asked on her behalf, leaving her with a warm sensation in her chest. Noticing the puzzled expressions on his siblings' faces, Colin continued, "In contrast to what was announced yesterday, the queen is indeed aware of her identity, and Penelope will carry on with her writing, but—"

"Might we assist you in the gathering of information, then?" Hyacinth suddenly interrupted, her eyes sparkling excitedly as she glanced at Penelope. Colin stood frozen, hardly able to believe such a response.

"Have you gone mad?" Gregory questioned, and just as everyone believed the least expected person was about to reprimand her, he went on, "You could never accomplish such a feat; I, on the other hand—"

"What?" she retorted.

"No one is assisting anyone," Anthony declared with authority, his voice resonating through the drawing room. "There is but one Lady Whistledown within these walls—"

"Love, lower your voice," Kate interrupted him. "Others will hear you."

With a hand on her forehead, Eloise muttered, "Incredible; we shall be fortunate indeed if her secret does not come to light within the week."

Frustrated, Colin shook his head and buried his face in his hands. Despite his best efforts to help his fiancée, he was once again confronted with the absurdity of his family. But then he heard Penelope laughing next to him. And when he looked at her, despite the chaos of his family, she was beaming.

Penelope supposed Colin would never understand, having grown up with all of them. However, that particular moment was truly one of the things she valued most about the Bridgertons: how they could be at each other's throats one moment and then stand united in defence of one another the next.

It was strange to come to the understanding that she was now included in that. That someway, somehow, she had become one of those people they would protect at all costs. Looking at the soon-to-be family members and then at Colin, the man she knew would forever stand by her side without hesitation, she realised she no longer had any apprehension about carrying on as the gossip writer.

Regardless of the challenges or mistakes that lay ahead, whether as Lady Whistledown or as Penelope Bridgerton, everything would be alright.

---

A/N:TA-DAAAA

Phew.

So first things first, I want to make it clear that this fic is basically a divergence of what was already presented on part 1, so I went to this fic with the idea of ending it as a "part 2" where it would make sense what they have decided to do for season 4...ish (LOL). I am saying this because if anyone reads my other regency season 3 polin fic, I had a very different conclusion because that is what I felt should happen if Penelope's arc was to be COMPLETE. However, with their solution on part 2 and Penelope continuing as LW, I felt that THIS solution made the most sense if I were to keep Penelope as LW as before. With that in mind, I did not think it would make sense to reveal her identity to the Featheringtons; if the LW storyline continued, I thought it would be more amusing if they did not know (until everything was revealed later).

And I say all of this because the idea of Pen openly writing gossip as herself seems impractical and unrealistic to me right now, and if I were the writer, keeping her identity a secret would simply be more interesting at this (still early) point in the story - with a few people discovering here and there to keep things exciting and interesting. And, since Penelope has become a Bridgerton, I would expect them to find out as well, given that the show is about them and LW is now a member of their family.

(also keep in mind there is an epilogue and a few more things will be addressed there)

But anyways these are all of my opinions, do send me a review if you wish to discuss more! I mean send me a review overall, I LOVE IT.

Don't forget to check the playlist because let me tell you I pictured the polin dance to song 9.

That is all! God bless you guys and have a good night.