Penelope was weary and yearned for rest, but the firm arms encircling her prevented her from doing so. Over the past 30 minutes, he had been detailing his elaborate strategy for seducing and pursuing her in front of the eyes of the Ton. They had arranged to meet to discuss the final details of their courtship, but Penelope had hoped he would have forgotten about it.
"Three weeks?" she asked, "Do you truly believe that will be enough time."
They were perched on her bed, their bare skin bathed in the warm glow of the flickering flames in the fireplace. She leaned against his chest, and they shared a single thin sheet that barely covered their entwined bodies.
The day itself was quite pleasant for a late spring day, with occasional rain or cloudy weather. The sun shone that day and warmed up the earth, bringing life to the light spring plants and preparing them for the summer heat. However, as night fell, the moon rose, and the heat dissipated, leaving behind the coolness of the night. Her maid, Annelise, started the fire while preparing for bed. She had planned truly to sleep and rest to prepare her for the upcoming ball the next day.
She was in the middle of reading when he knocked on her door. She had been eager to read one of Lemuel Gulliver's voyages in "Gulliver's Travels" by Jonathan Swift. She tried to ignore him for a few minutes before finally giving up and letting him through the back doorway.
Penelope showed Anthony her not-so-secret doorway to the back of the Featherington household, which she had often used to sneak away to deliver Whistledown manuscripts. Anthony's expression portrayed a mix of astonishment and horror as he stumbled upon the discovery. The concealed door blended seamlessly into the wall, giving the impression of permanence yet also hinting at the sinister possibility that someone knowledgeable about this entrance could pose a threat to the youngest Featherington daughter at any given moment. She endeavored to reassure him that, when not in use, the door was secured by her writing desk. However, Anthony seemed unconvinced at the time.
"Yes, three weeks for the courtship and then three weeks for the engagement," Anthony stated. "It should be enough time for the Ton to get used to the idea of me and you. By the time anyone has any real objections, we should already be married and on the honeymoon."
His tender lips found the delicate curve of her shoulder, eliciting a shiver of pleasure through her body. As he drew her closer, she couldn't help but smile as she brushed a hand up his neck and into his hair, cherishing the fleeting moment. In that embrace, she yearned for time to stand still, allowing her to bask in the pure joy and freedom she felt.
"Four," she interjected. Anthony shifted back against the headboard, angling his head to see her eye to eye.
His eyes widened in surprise as he furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly. "What?" he questioned.
"Four weeks." She clarified, "We will need four weeks." Penelope knew her mother better than most people. Her mother would undoubtedly want to be a part of the wedding. It was the first wedding where the Featheringtons had the money to pull off the weddings that her mother initially wanted to plan with her other daughters.
"And why pray tell whom we need four weeks to plan a wedding." He responded.
"Not us. My mother," she said, stating it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She will want to invite at least one hundred and fifty people, which means she will need four weeks instead of three." Penelope continued.
"I did not know your family was so large." He responded with a smile.
"My family is not large." She corrected. She paused for a moment, trying to think of the best way to say this. Saying that her mother was adventitious was one thing. Saying that her mother was an opportunist was another. "But this will be the first wedding in which the Featheringtons have enough money to invite family business associates."
"Business associates?" he questioned.
She nodded and said, "As you know, my father was a gambler, which is part of the reason we lost the majority of our fortune in England. It's the same with his business ventures - he would take risks, but they've been quite successful over the years. Otherwise, we would've fallen into debt much sooner." She hesitated.
Penelope was a smart girl. She possessed the ability to navigate life with confidence and insight. On the other hand, Anthony, while undoubtedly intelligent, appeared to be somewhat unaware of the intricate nuances of life beyond the scope of his immediate family.
Penelope was aware that in other cultures, it was customary to invite business associates to weddings, birthday parties, and funerals to strengthen political and business ties, a practice she had learned over time. However, England had its own set of rules.
In England, the social etiquette around invitations to personal events was quite different. Penelope knew that it was not common to invite business associates to such personal occasions, as they were typically reserved for close friends and family. Instead, business relationships were often kept separate from personal life, and it was considered more appropriate to maintain a professional distance in social settings.
Despite this, Penelope recognized the importance of building strong relationships, as she had been taught. She knew that her mother would use this opportunity to make connections to her father's business associates.
She was not sure how the Ton would respond to such an event.
Penelope understood that navigating different cultural differences required sensitivity and tact. Her family and, by extension, made an effort to learn about the traditions and expectations of others from different cultural backgrounds, and they adapted their approach accordingly.
"Some of the business ventures he took gambles on that paid out a lot. And before father could spend the money, mother forced him to place it in accounts that he could not touch without her express approval." She persisted, "Through embracing risks, our family has fostered an extensive network of connections spanning across the continent. Regrettably, we have only recently been able to reestablish ties with these connections due to my Whistledown money situation."
"Mother will want to solidify those connections." She finished as she attempted to curl into herself, waiting for the inevitable onslaught of accusatory tones and disparaging remarks about her family.
But they never came.
"Do you think your mother would mind if I invited some of my business associates to the wedding?" He asked as he brushed his lips near her ear.
Penelope froze. She anticipated yelling, an argument of sorts, or maybe even a complete refusal of the idea, but she did not expect this.
"No, I don't believe so," she said as she felt his fingertips running up and down her sides. "How many were you thinking?" She turned her head to catch a glimpse of his lips.
"6 or 7 people at most." He replied with an odd sort of twinkle in his eye.
"Does that include their families, their wives, and children?" She probed.
"Should it?" he asked, arching his eyebrow ever so slightly as if he was just a tad bit puzzled.
"It should," she answered with a hint of a grin. She was amazed by how open Anthony could be. While she sometimes understood his aloofness, she didn't understand that other people couldn't see it as a coping mechanism and survival tactic rather than a default aspect of his personality.
"I will make sure to let my mama know of your intentions when the time comes."
The sound of his laughter reverberated throughout the room, filling the space with a sense of pure joy. His infectious mirth caused him to shake with laughter, and she couldn't help but join in. After taking a deep breath, Penelope slowly opened her eyes and caught sight of the grandfather clock on the far wall.
"Shit." She gasped, pulling away from him.
"My apologies, my Lady, but who knew you had such a mouth on you?" Anthony says as he throws her a smirk, hand holding her face.
"You need to leave. It is late," she said as panic rose within her.
"Don't you want me to stay in your bed?" Anthony said with a sultry smirk.
"What I wish does not matter." She responds, "Tomorrow is Saturday. It's the day of Lord Fife's ball. My maid has been instructed to wake me up early so that I can start my lessons early and conclude them before the ball commences."
Anthony raised an eyebrow at her response.
"I could stay until morning and then leave before dawn. If that would please, My Lady." Penelope reviews her schedule for the upcoming day in her mind, only to discover that despite having more free time than usual, her day is still densely packed with tasks and activities.
"If you leave by four am, you can stay for the night." She informs him.
"Four?" he exclaimed, "How early do you wake up normally?" She can tell by the sound of his voice alone that he is upset about the prospective waking up so early.
"Five," she answers, "normally."
She is suddenly struck by a thought. Penelope abruptly remembers she forgot to have her tea this afternoon.
"Shit," she repeated. "The tea. Shit," she said, rubbing her temples in irritation.
"What of tea?" Anthony asked curiously.
Penelope's gaze sweeps over the elegant sitting table positioned near the crackling fireplace. As she attempts to free herself from Anthony's embrace, she finds herself firmly ensnared by his strong yet gentle hold.
"Where are you going?" he asked. Anthony used his legs to pull her back closer to him against the headboard by caging in her legs.
"I am not going far, but I need to drink my tea," she answers with a sigh. "It is important that I drink at least a cup a day."
She attempts to leave the bed again, only to be held back by the man behind her.
"Why?" he asks.
She turns her body to look at him once more, "So, I may not become with child." Penelope watches as Anthony puts the pieces together.
"I see," Penelope threw Anthony a smirk of her own. She felt his clutch on her loosen, then pulled the thin sheet from the bed to wrap it around herself.
Despite Anthony seeing her nude and touching her intimately, part of her is a little ashamed of her body. She was larger than others around her and, by default, less appealing. Her mother's constant criticism of her body has left a lasting impact. Despite this, she finds solace in the fact that Anthony sees her for who she truly is beyond her physical attributes and her mother's fashion choices. The deepest desire of her heart is that he sees her as the brilliant partner and companion she is, honoring her contributions and qualities as a future wife.
Penelope walks over to the table to survey the teapot. She brewed the tea earlier she had done the last few years. She realized early on when she was young that learning basic skills, such as boiling a pot of water and learning how to light a stove, may be essential to become less disruptive in the household.
As she fills her cup, she can feel the icy chill of the water, but the sight of the yellow-green liquid is unpleasant, reminiscent of a vibrant split pea soup. Penelope takes a cautious sip and then quickly follows it with another, finding the tea to be both bitter and cold.
"That looks unappetizing." Penelope's eyes widened as she heard his voice, causing her to jump slightly. She turned around to find Anthony standing there, completely naked. She had seen him undressed many times, but he tended to drag a blanket with him to cover himself up or at least dress in underwear.
"It is," she agrees, and she made a grimace at the taste.
"It's actually called Queen Anne's Lace," she explains. She can feel Anthony pulling her into a hug from behind. "It's often mistaken for hemlock because they are related."
"Hemlock?" he questions.
"Yes, but rest assured, I should be fine if I don't consume too much of it," she assured him.
"Is it Hemlock poisonous?" he asked, moving closer to the table to examine the tea in the teapot and the remnants in the teacup that she drank from.
"It is," she confirms, "but Phillipa has assured me that as long as I take the antidote in the morning and this in the evening, it should not be toxic."
"Is Queen Anne's Lace poisonous?" he asked. She could tell that he was unhappy about this information. "If so, then you must stop consuming it."
She turns around and faces him. "I cannot." She replied. "I can't stop drinking tea. While the precautions you have taken to prevent pregnancy are commendable, they are not infallible. Several maids I've spoken with suggested it as an additional preventive measure."
Both pause to look at each other for a moment.
"Penelope." He drones.
"Anthony." She utters.
"I wish for you to be safe and healthy. There is no need to poison yourself any longer," Anthony pleads. "Promise me, you will stop."
"Then we must stop falling into bed together," she replies. "And then I promise I will stop." Standing by the fireplace, she sighed softly, finding solace in his embrace for a few minutes.
"Come to bed with me." She motions him to follow her.
Penelope then gently moved away from him, intertwining her fingers with his and guiding him to lie down with her on the bed. As they settled in, she positioned herself with her back toward him, feeling the warmth of his presence against her.
As they lay there together, Penelope felt a sense of peace wash over her. She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh, reveling in the feeling of being so close to him. His steady breathing and the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her back made her feel safe and loved.
She intertwined her fingers with his, feeling the strength and warmth of his hand in hers. The soft touch of his lips on her neck sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but smile. She felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her closer to him, and she melted into his embrace. At that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of them.
"Certainly, we will have a dance together at the upcoming ball," she said. "Our relationship might be considered unconventional." She paused. "I believe... I believe we should stop meeting in secret."
Penelope could feel him stiffen slightly. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer to him. She turned her head to see his face.
"Penelope," he began.
"When you announce your courtship to me, the Ton will be watching. All eyes will be on us," she retorted. "I do not wish to ruin your reputation or that of your family. We Featheringtons what it was like to be underneath the scrutiny of the Ton."
"Penelope, you will not bring me or my family shame. You will be brilliant." He retorts.
"I simply wish to make sure you understand what will happen." She said, "Once the courtship starts, my mother will not let go. She will endeavor to do whatever she needs to ensure this marriage happens."
He nodded with understanding.
"And I will marry you," Anthony vows. "I will make you happy, I promise."
"Thank you." She breathes.
Her slender fingers glide through his soft, tousled hair as she leans in to gently kiss him. At that moment, she could feel the warmth of his smile against her lips. Penelope is keenly aware of the weight of expectations that Anthony carries. While her own responsibilities may differ in scope from those of a Viscount, she recognizes the significance of making a suitable match.
As she pulls away from their embrace, she can't help but notice the playful and soft smile that lights up his face. It's a smile that she wishes he would share more often with his own family.
"I like this face." She stated.
He responded with a gentle smile, "Thank you, My Lady. I always strive to bring you bliss." As he finished speaking, he tenderly placed a sweet kiss on her lips.
She could bask in this warm glow, feeling an overwhelming sense of tranquility and serenity wash over her.
She sighs.
"I truly mean what I say—I adore your smile." Penelope continued, "Have you shown this to your mother yet? Surely, your mother would love to see you smile." Anthony's grip on her body loosened just slightly as the smile fell from his face.
Anthony's gaze drifted aimlessly, fixed on the rumpled sheets that covered them. As he remained silent, Penelope leaned more of her weight against him, her eyes also turning towards the crackling fireplace. She hoped the dancing flames would help bring him back to the present moment, grounding him in the here and now.
She reached out and gently took his hand in hers, feeling the coolness of his skin against her own. He blinked and turned to look at her, his eyes slowly focusing on her face.
"My mother…" he started, "My mother can be wonderful. She is loving and polite, but sometimes she is not kind."
Anthony leaned down towards her shoulder. Penelope felt his nose grazing against her ear.
"I will admit… admit that my mother can be loving and thoughtful, but there are times when…. when there is much left to be desired." He mumbled.
"Whenever my mother is displeased or angry, she tends to draw comparisons between me and my father." He shared, "I can detect it in her gaze at times, especially when I arrive late to a family gathering or when she catches me in a less-than-desirable situation."
"But it was never like that before he died. And then… then he is gone, and then I must decide whether to let my mother die or let the baby die." He breathes, and she can feel wetness just behind her ear.
"I miss him." He whispers gently. "I miss when he was here." Anthony's grip tightens once more, almost constricting her ability to breathe. "It's as if she sees my father's traits or mistakes reflected in me, and it always leaves me feeling…inadequate and frustrated."
"I think…I think she despises me."
Despite his grip on her, she could feel his left hand slowly move down her body, starting near her collarbone and gently gliding over the skin between her breasts. She can't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at the touch and her breath hitch.
"I know she means well and wants the best. But I cannot help but think if maybe there was some way to take his place." He pauses while using his fingertips to brush just under her breast. "I sometimes wonder if it would have been better if he was here instead."
Penelope hears the unspoken question: "Would it have been different if I had died?"
"Can you make a promise?" she asked quietly. "Promise me that if these thoughts come, you will tell me."
Anthony's fingers came to a halt. He inhaled deeply against the nape of her neck, savoring the fragrance of jasmine oil that she had applied earlier that evening. She felt his body curl over her, his grip readjusting to the changing movement.
Penelope feels his excitement once more against her back as he holds her tightly. She looks at him and tries to loosen his grip. He turns his face to hers, and then he kisses her. It starts off soft and moist, then another kiss, hot and breathy, as he cradles her head in his hand. Penelope pulls at his short hair, pulling him closer as they kiss. She tastes the mint tea he had in the evening to help calm him. She can smell the oranges and lemons from the cologne on his collar.
She moans as his hand starts moving again, finding its way to her thigh. The heat rises in her cheeks as her tongue touches Anthony's tongue, quick and delicious. His fingers skim her high downwards towards her center.
Penelope feels a rush of desire and anticipation as Anthony's touch ignites a fire within her. She can feel the heat of his body against hers, and the intensity of his kisses sends shivers down her spine. The taste of mint and the scent of citrus mingle with the heady aroma of their passion, overloading her senses that leaves her breathless. As his hand explores her body, she concedes to the pleasure, her moans mingling with his as they lose themselves in the moment.
The electricity between them crackles and sparks.
"Anthony..." she breathes, "Please Anthony…please promise me."
He swallows her next words as he proceeds to kiss her once more firmer, and more determined than the last kiss. A wave of heat rushes through her body as his fingers meet her lower outer lips.
"Anthony," she said as she broke free from his mouth, "Please, Anthony." He sinks one of his fingers into her core.
Her breath hitches, and she moans again when his finger begins to move.
Penelope tugs on the end of his hair to move his face away from hers. Anthony is now staring at her, his eyes glassy and dull. She firmly grasps his hand by the wrist, pulls it away from her body, and removes his finger from her core.
"Anthony, promise me," she insists.
Penelope watches as a single tear rolls down his face.
"Promise me, Anthony." As Penelope stares into Anthony's eyes, she sees a flicker of understanding and determination, a subtle shift, when Anthony Bridgerton decides to give her an answer.
"I promise," he declared, sealing the pledge with a tender kiss.
Penelope lets out a sigh of relief, a small smile forming on her lips. Her heart swelled with emotion as she felt the weight of Anthony's words and the sincerity in his eyes.
"Thank you." She breathes into his hair.
She leans in with her eyes closed and their foreheads touching. They breathe in the scent of each other. The heat within her dissipates, and the body that surrounds her begins to soften again. She takes one deep breath and then gives Anthony's lips a quick caress. Penelope enjoys the feeling of his hands running through her hair, gently caressing each strand.
She longs to have faith in him. She yearns to trust every utterance that escapes his lips, yet a nagging concern lingers within her - the fear that he lacks conviction in his own words. Penelope endeavors to suppress the prevailing doubts and dismiss the persistent sense that something is amiss. Despite her efforts to reassure herself, she finds the doubt enduring, overshadowing their relationship.
She only prays that when they are married, she may bring him comfort