Chapter 1
The door of the Featherington residence slammed shut in Colin Bridgerton's face with a resounding bang.
Resisting the urge to break down the blasted thing, he let out a huff of annoyance and tugged on the front his jacket with far more aggression than it warranted instead. Then, casting one last baleful glare at the doorway, he spun around and walked quickly away.
The last thing he wanted to do was alienate their housekeeper. He'd never get an update on Penelope's condition if he did, but good God that woman could try the patience of a saint.
To offer no information whatsoever apart from, 'she's still not awake, Sir', did nothing to ease nerves…or his heart.
Why was she not yet awake?
What had the doctor said?
In fact, where was the doctor?
Surely, he should be in constant attendance?
Colin swiftly crossed the square and went through the gates to Bridgerton House. Once inside, he'd just started up the stairs, when his mother's enquiring voice stopped him halfway.
"Any news of Penelope, dearest?"
He paused, then turned to look down at her and shook his head.
"She is still not awake," he replied flatly, parroting back the words that had aggravated him greatly.
"I see." Violet nodded and gave him a searching look that made him uncomfortably aware that his mother saw far more than he would have liked. "I am certain that all will be well," she then offered with a small smile.
"Are you?" he challenged sharply. "I wish that I shared your conviction, Mother."
A frown graced the older woman's face as she took an involuntary step forward.
"It wasn't your fault, Colin," she asserted softly.
And yet it was.
He should have been quicker. Stronger. Then Penelope wouldn't have had to run away and…
"Forgive me, I-I…" His hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly at his side as he looked down and tried to think of an excuse to get away. Eventually he merely muttered, "Forgive me," one more time then turned abruptly and hurried up the rest of the stairs.
Ignoring the pang of guilt he'd felt at the concerned look on his mother's face, he headed straight to his bed chamber. Once inside, he leaned back heavily against the closed door as images of that fateful afternoon assailed his mind.
He just wanted the torture to stop.
With a groan of frustration, he straightened, then strode across the room shedding his coat and cravat along the way and came to a halt in front of the large window.
He could see the Featherington house across the square and fought the very real urge to head back over and knock on their door once more. This time, however, he'd demand to be let in. He'd walk straight through that house and into Penelope's room, propriety be damned, and not leave until she finally awoke.
Please, God, let her wake…
A feeling of helplessness washed over him suddenly and he turned away from the window. Guilt gnawed unpleasantly at his insides as he walked over to his bed and crawled on top of the rumpled covers. Flopping over onto his back, he exhaled slowly. He was just so incredibly weary. Whenever he tried to sleep, however, that awful day would repeat itself in his nightmares.
Sometimes his mind was kinder to him than he deserved. It allowed him to play the hero he'd thought himself to be and he'd actually stop the balloon before it struck her.
But then, when he tried to go to her, he couldn't. He was surrounded by people. So many people. Congratulating him, stopping him. Stopping him from reaching her, holding her, touching her…
Those were the good nights.
More often than not, though, his mind tormented him with a vivid recreation of actual events.
The panic he'd felt when he realised the wind had taken the balloon.
The fear clawing at his chest when he saw it heading for Penelope.
The desperation of pulling on the rope and his feet not finding enough purchase.
The awful sound of her cry as she stumbled before the basket hit.
The deafening silence when she fell unconscious to the ground.
The sickening dread of seeing her motionless body as her name was ripped from his throat.
That was often the moment he'd awaken. Drenched in sweat. Disorientated. Breathing heavily. Thinking it was but a bad dream before he remembered in a rush of agony, that it wasn't.
That he'd failed.
And he hated himself for it.
He ran a hand tiredly down his face. How he wished that he was still having those wonderful dreams that had been induced by their kiss instead.
Closing his eyes, he let the feelings wash over him as he remembered how her full lips felt against his; warm and soft and willing…
A light knock on the door brought his reverie to an abrupt end and he gritted out a curse.
Could he not have even a few minutes to himself in this household?
"Come in," he called out in an irked tone.
The door opened and their housekeeper, Mrs Wilson, walked in with a tray of tea and treats.
"I am not hungry," he told her as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Her Ladyship asked that I bring this to you, Sir, as you didn't eat anything this morning," she advised him firmly.
"That is very kind of my mother, but I am fine…," he began to object again.
"Oh, it wasn't your mother, Sir. It was the new Viscountess. She was very insistent."
Colin frowned slightly, then finally nodded. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Anthony and rejecting Kate's kind act of thoughtfulness would certainly do that, he was sure.
"Very well," he acquiesced. "Please leave it over there."
He pointed to a small round table in the corner. Mrs Wilson nodded and turned away to do as instructed with a knowing smile. Once she'd placed the tray down, she turned and gave him a small curtsy then left.
Colin got up and poured himself a cup of tea. Looking over the selection of food, he chose a small finger sandwich filled with cheese and took a bite. It was tasteless, just as everything seemed to be ever since the incident. Nonetheless, he swallowed it down and had sip of his drink.
He finished the sandwich in another mouthful and picked up a delicious looking cake from the tray. Then, as was his habit recently, he wandered back to the window and stared out.
For the past few days he'd only left his bed chamber to visit the Featherington house or attend meals. Even then, he merely pushed food around his plate before making his excuses to go back to his room as soon as was polite.
Sometimes even sooner.
He glanced down at the delicate treat in his hand then popped the whole thing into his mouth. Grimacing slightly at the tartness of the lemon flavour, he found himself thinking of the last conversation he'd had with Penelope the day of the balloon flight.
She had gestured at him to follow her into the cake tent and had eventually bought something similar with a sugar frosting on top. He had been utterly captivated as she'd daintily sucked some icing from her fingers, her tongue darting out to run along her perfect lips.
How he'd desperately wanted a taste as well…
It was entirely too vexing, therefore, that while he'd been so entranced with her, all she'd wanted to speak about was Lord Debling.
How he'd shown an interest in her.
How he had strength of character.
How he was not unpleasant to gaze upon…
Colin swallowed down his cake and let out a derisive snort. In truth, he didn't see it himself.
Penelope was everything colour.
Debling was…not.
Finishing his tea, he placed the cup and saucer back down on the tray then resumed his vigil at the window. If he couldn't be with Penelope in person, then he'd be looking over her as close as he could be.
He was lost in thought a short time later when another knock sounded upon his door. He assumed it was Mrs Wilson back for the tray and called out for her to enter.
The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder about to thank her, when he saw Eloise standing awkwardly on the threshold.
"Is all well?" he queried, frowning slightly as he turned to face her.
"I was going to ask you the same," she replied pointedly.
"I am as you see me," he remarked with a shrug.
"Indeed," she commented, looking him up and down and clearly not happy with what she beheld. She sighed suddenly, her uncomfortable stance easing a little before she added quietly, "You know it was not your…"
"Fault?" Colin cut in curtly. There was an edge to his voice that visibly surprised his sister. "So everyone keeps telling me."
"And yet still you blame yourself," she rebuked, her tone faintly accusing. "I was there, Colin. It was an accident."
"Yes," he agreed harshly, anger suddenly beginning to take hold as he sought the answer to a question that had been on his mind ever since the incident happened. "You were there, Eloise. With Cressida. So why did you not help Penelope?"
"I thought she would come with us, but she just stood there," his sister snapped back defensively. "By the time I'd realised she had not moved, Lord Debling had already started back for her, but then she…she…"
Eloise trailed off and crossed her arms, looking down a little guiltily. It was of no matter. Colin knew what she'd been about to say. He turned back to gaze out of the window.
"I thank you for coming to check on me, sister," he muttered tersely. "I shall see you at dinner."
A heavy silence followed his curt dismissal and he could sense her hesitancy in the thick atmosphere surrounding them. He was about to tell her in no uncertain terms that he wanted to be alone when he heard the door click quietly shut.
Relaxing slightly, he let out a long sigh and shook his head in aggravation. He was still so angry that the very people who had been stood talking with Penelope in that moment, had simply run off without a thought to her safety.
Not that he'd really expected anything less from Cressida, but his sister, however…
Eloise's words hadn't really appeased him. He still had no idea what could have caused the rift between her and Penelope, but it wasn't that they'd simply drifted apart, of that he was certain.
And then there was Debling.
Playing the hero when it was too late. Rushing to her side when he shouldn't have run away in the first place.
What had the man been thinking, abandoning her like that?
Perhaps judging him to be merely bland was being too kind in hindsight, Colin decided. Thinking on it, he really was a rather ugly man after all.
The rest of his afternoon was spent staring across the square, looking for any kind of hint that something might have changed within the opposing household. He barely acknowledged Mrs Wilson when she finally did come back for the tray then, as evening approached, there was a brief knock on his door and Benedict breezed in.
"I have come to get you for dinner," he announced a little too brightly.
Colin frowned. "Did Eloise not tell everyone that I would be down this evening?"
"Mother just wanted to be sure," Benedict claimed with a large smile.
Colin resisted the urge to comment and simply nodded. With a last glance out of the window, he grabbed his coat and cravat and gestured for Benedict to proceed him out.
Dinner was a loud affair but one that Colin took barely any part in. Truly, he was beginning to think that he wouldn't be able to function properly again until Penelope had regained consciousness and was on the road to recovery.
A fruity dessert, that he had no intention of eating, had just been placed down in front of him when a footman appeared holding a small silver tray. Upon it was a letter that he offered to Violet with a bow.
The table silenced somewhat as it was unusual to receive news at such a late hour. The family all stared expectantly at the Dowager Viscountess as she hurriedly opened the missive.
"Oh! It is the very best news," she exclaimed happily. She looked up from the note with a brilliant smile and directed her gaze at Colin before adding, "Penelope is awake."
Three simple, little words and Colin's whole world suddenly shifted back onto its rightful axis. The relief that coursed through him almost had him sagging at the table.
She was awake.
The weight had lifted for that at least.
He gave his mother a nod of acknowledgment as his siblings erupted into chatter around him. He would pay a visit to the Featherington house the next day and leave some flowers for her, he decided.
It was what friends did, was it not?
His heart stuttered at that thought and he pushed down the ever-growing feelings that had been bubbling away inside of him ever since their kiss. More so, since he'd thought he might have lost her.
At some point he knew he would have to deal with it. Face the notion that he'd finally realised that the overwhelming affection he harboured for Penelope was no longer merely platonic.
Maybe it had never been…
But not tonight.
Tonight, he was just overjoyed that she had finally awoken.
And for the first time in three days, Colin smiled.
END CHAPTER