Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

April, 1815

He was finally returning to England. After 6 months on the continent, starting in Italy, working his way around the Adriatic Sea, and ending in Cyprus – finally getting to see Daskalopetra, Teacher’s Rock, where Homer told his epic poems – Colin was aboard the ship that would bring him back to his family’s home.

“This way, Mr. Bridgerton.” the steward instructed, leading him through the passageway to the First-Class accommodations.

His room was well appointed, with a comfortable looking bed, a small desk, dresser, armoire, sofa, and a table and chair. The wall dressings were a lively blue and yellow striped pattern, and a large port looked out to the vast sea below. His valet had his own room in Second-Class, although Colin would only be using him to dress for dinner. He’d taken on a new style of dressing, having been away from Society for so long, and found he quite enjoyed keeping a more casual day-to-day look. Tying himself into a cravat each day before breaking his fast was close to the top of the list of things he was most dreading about his return.

Colin checked to see his trunk and suit cases had arrived ahead of him, then turned to dismiss the steward. “Excellent. All looks to be in order. What time should I head to the dining room for dinner?”

“Half past six, Sir.” the steward replied, then bowed and disappeared down the passageway.

Colin bowed his head before realizing no one was there to see it, then closed the door and let out a deep sigh. Fourteen days and he would be back in England. A few hours’ carriage ride beyond that, and he’d be in London, thrust back into Society and the Marriage Mart and desperate mama’s and simpering debutantes. He was looking forward to none of it.

Colin did want to have a family. To settle down and spend his days raising his children and enjoying the company of a wife. What he couldn’t imagine however, was finding the type of woman he could fall in love with amongst the Ton. Colin desired friendly banter and a witty repartee. Someone who could provide him with intelligent and perhaps even philosophical conversation at times. Someone well-read. Perhaps someone a little naughty, who would enjoy bending the rules of society with him. Colin didn’t care two figs about a lady’s embroidery skills or how accomplished she was at watercolors. He desired a partner.

Flopping down on the bed with a soft grunt, Colin decided the best thing he could do for now was to nap until his valet came to dress him for dinner. It had been a long day already, rising early, ensuring all was in order, and then riding several hours to the port town. As he suspected, the bed was exceedingly comfortable, and not long after he closed his travel-weary eyes, he’d fallen into a deep slumber.

His valet came at the appointed time, dressed him for dinner, and left to take his own meal. Colin wandered the deck a bit, finding his way to the dining room and taking a seat with several other young gentlemen who were traveling alone. The group was the lively sort, and Colin found himself engaged in a rousing conversation, ranging from politics to art to women and back again. The group moved together after the final courses had long since been cleared into the gentleman’s lounge, and continued their conversation over cigars and brandy.

“What about you, Bridgerton? With a smile like that, there isn’t a single special lady waiting for you back home?”

Colin laughed heartily, warmed by the hours of good conversation and free-flowing drink. “I’m afraid not, gentlemen. Beyond my sisters, the only lady of the Ton I find myself interested in conversing with is Penelope.”

“A name like ‘Penelope’ and yet you sail away from Greece to seek her? Seems rather backwards, wouldn’t you say?”

Colin laughed again at the joke, eventually replying, “No, no. She is but a friend.” He couldn’t help the smile that warmed his face though when he thought of seeing her again after all this time.

The other gentlemen quieted, waiting for him to explain himself. When he wasn’t more forthcoming, another of them pressed, “A lady worth conversing with you say? Who makes you smile like that? But you do not pursue her. Is her dowry deficient?”

He waived off the question with his hand. “That is of no concern to me. When I take a wife we be well-heeled regardless of her portion.”

“Quite the troll then? Too hard to look at?”

He bristled at the assumption. “No.” he replied firmly. “Pen’s quite beautiful in fact. Red curls, eyes like the sea, fair, and with a smile that lights up her whole face.”

“She’s terribly serious then?”

“Oh! Pen is the wittiest person I know. We trade barbs and puns and quips whenever we have the opportunity to speak freely.”

“Ah, flat as a gang plank?”

The swig of brandy Colin was taking nearly choked him. He shook his head as he stifled his coughing. “No, Pen is quite, ahem endowed… with ample, ahem assets, as it were.”

The gentlemen all stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Colin simply stared back, not understanding what it was that gave them pause.

“So, Bridgerton, just to be sure we understand you. You have a lady back home. The mere mention of whom brings a smile to your face. Who you find to be an interesting conversationalist. Easy on the eyes. Fills out her gowns. Makes you laugh. And her family finances are of no concern. Yet, she is but a friend?”

“She is… Pen.” he nodded, as if his declaration would resolve the matter entirely. When they kept staring, he added, “She is my younger sister’s dearest friend. I have known her since we were young. She is… special to me. But that is all.”

“Say, Bridgerton. Remind me to give you my card before we reach England. You’ll have to arrange to make introductions to this friend of yours.” Several of the other gentlemen agreed.

Colin smiled and nodded to his new friends, then stamped out the end of his cigar and slugged back the last of his brandy. “I must turn in before I can no longer find my own way to my room. I look forward to making your company again.” Colin bowed to his new friends, gracefully stumbling back to his accommodations, removing his formal wear to the sofa, and collapsing into his bed.

***

Sleep came hard and fast. Colin’s dreams were filled with spinning dances and red curls. Nothing about his dreams felt steady. His world was tilting on its axis as sparkling seas of blue smiled up at him. Everything seemed to be rocking. Rocking. Rocking.

Colin jolted upright when his suit case came crashing down onto the floor from the table it had been left on. It was still pitch dark out, but the motion of the ship told him they had sailed into quite the storm. He looked through the port, hoping his eyes were adjusted enough to spot the horizon. He stared for a moment into the blackness, unable to make out any features at all. A sense of free fall overcame him, and he found himself thrown towards the wall. Just as he caught himself with his arms, a hard splash hit the port.

Colin had done his share of sailing over the past three years, yet he’d never seen a storm throw a boat so hard to the side. Unsure what to do, he fought his way to the armoire, dragging out the first pair of breeches he found, then stumbling back to the bed so the could pull them on without falling over. Colin waited for the floor to tilt towards the door, then rushed forward, grabbing the handle and pulling it open just in time for the room to shift under him again.

What he saw outside his room was utter chaos. Men were rushing about, yelling orders and battling the heavy rigging. Waves were crashing up over the sides of the hull in giant, powerful sprays. With a greater perspective, he could see the ship was truly being tossed from side to side like it were nothing more than a children’s toy. He could see panicked faces popping out of several of the other doors nearby his, and could even hear the wail of an infant nearby.

Poor thing. Must be terrified.

Colin knew the safest place for him to be right now was in his room, out of the way. And so he retreated, closing the door firmly behind him. For a moment, the room seemed a peaceful safe haven compared to what he’d just witnessed. Then, through the relative quiet, the shriek of a frightened baby pierced his ears.

Colin furrowed his brow. He should not be able to hear the child’s screams so clearly now that his door was shut. He should not be able to hear it at all over the chaos that was unfolding just outside. Unless…

Colin launched into action, following the sound until he found himself on his hands and knees, patting blindly under the bed, and pulling a basket out from under his bed. Had the room been still, he may have had time to stare at the tiny face looking up at him in fury. But when the room tilted yet again, he grabbed the child on instinct, clutching it to his chest as he leaned back against the bed.

He didn’t dare light a lamp for fear it would knock over and catch fire, but by the smell, the child had been left to its own devices for at least a day. Colin wondered how he’d missed a baby in his room, but come to think of it, he hadn’t been there much at all save for sleep. Still. “You could have piped up earlier so I didn’t find you in such a state!” he cooed as he crawled along the shifting floor to where his water basin was kept.

Colin made quick work of removing the soiled gown and tidying the child with his dampened handkerchief. He ripped a strip of cloth from his long nightshirt, fashioning it into a makeshift nappy that he tied at the sides for lack of pins. “There we go, Miss. Much better, wouldn’t you say?”

The baby giggled her reply and clung to Colin’s shoulder where he kept her perched. In the dark, he estimated her to be between six and nine months, perhaps a bit older if she hadn’t been fed properly. That thought concerned him more than any yet. If she’d truly been in his room since before they’d left port, she hadn’t eaten in nearly a day – at best.

Feeling along the floor for his trunk, Colin was able to locate a tin of biscuits he kept as emergency snack rations. He’d been laughed at before by various members of his family for the habit, but now it seemed rather prudent of him indeed. No sooner had he handed the biscuit to the young miss had she connected it to her mouth, hungrily gumming away at the offering.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can offer you for now, Miss. You picked quite the moment to announce yourself. We’ll have to make do until this storm passes I’m afraid. Then we can set about finding your mum.”

The two made their way back to the bed. Colin found himself exhausted between the short sleep and all the events of the hour since he’d been startled awake. He could deal with this mess in the daylight. For now, he cuddled the child between his broad chest and the wall, rested his head on the pillow, and before long, both had succumbed to the rocking waves of the sea.

Chapter Text

Colin awoke to the feeling of a tiny hand squeezing his nose. “Hey! That’s mine.” he grumbled, gently prying the small fist away from his face and rubbing at the sore cartilage. He opened his eyes to shrieking giggles, and was awestruck by the cap of downy red hair, soft, alabaster cheeks, and clear blue eyes he found staring back at him. “Good morning, pretty Miss. It appears you weren’t a dream after all!”

Shaking his head at the odd situation he found himself in, Colin sat up, immediately noticing that the intense rocking of the boat still had not let up from the night before. Looking out the port, he could see an angry, churning sea and dark, rolling storm clouds. He’d seen storms like this before, and he knew passengers such as himself would be restricted to their rooms. “It seems we’re in for it.”

Colin made his way to the sofa, the babe securely tucked against his hip, and dug his pocket watch out of the heap he’d left his clothes in. It was early still, and he hoped servants would be around soon with some form of morning meal and fresh water. He decided to take the risk and use what water he did have left to clean what he could of the child’s belongings. Colin set about his task, scrubbing the tattered gown, wiping clean the basket, and tossing the thin excuse for a blanket that had borne the brunt of the child’s mess into the passageway to be disposed of.

Colin searched the room with his eyes for a good nappy proxy, when suddenly a brilliant idea dawned on him. “You know, Miss. One of the best parts about getting stuck in this cabin, is I won’t have need for my formal wear.” Colin opened the armoire, and pulled out one of the many cravats his valet had neatly stacked there. “These should do quite nicely.”

It took him no more than a few minutes to clean and change the baby. Colin considered himself quite the veteran despite his young age. He’d always considered himself the eldest of the six younger siblings. Anthony and Benedict had both left for Eton not long before Gregory was born, and Colin spent many years in the Nursery feeling rather in charge. Their nanny indulged Colin’s curiosity, and allowed him and Daphne to help with the care of the youngest siblings. The result being, he’d changed more than a few nappies in his day.

“Pretty as a picture!” Colin finished up tending to the child just as a knock came on the door. He cradled her close and stumbled his way to the door, answering it when the sway of the ship favored the door opening rather than slamming shut.

“Morning, Sir. I’ve fresh water and the morning meal for you.” Colin allowed the servant entry, allowing him to stumble forward with the bucket and cloth wrapped parcel. The young man worked quickly to lay out the meal and replace water in the basin. Colin watched as he moved about, careful to keep out of his way.

“Say, have you heard word of anyone looking for a missing babe?” Colin asked, assuming that this young man would have ears that traveled to all corners of the ship.

He paused his work, grabbing onto the seat back to steady himself against the listing of the ship. “No, Sir. Not a word. Is that not… not yours then?”

“Found her in here last night. Poor thing looked to have gone all day under my bed before I heard her.”

The servant looked worried. “It happens from time to time, folks come aship while we’re in port and leave orphaned babes or children they cannot care for behind, hoping to give them a better chance. I can take her, sir. Crew will care for her and leave her with the nuns when we reach the next port.” He stepped towards Colin, reaching out as if turning over the child were a foregone conclusion.

Colin recoiled, turning the baby protectively away from the reaching arms. “You will do no such thing!” Colin hissed. “Should someone step forward to claim her, or notify the crew that they are missing their child, I will of course return her to her parents. But if she was put on this ship in hopes of finding a better life, than an orphanage surely is not the answer! She will remain with me. And if we reach England and she is still in my care, she shall become my ward. I will hear nothing further on the subject.”

Colin bid the servant good day, but not before inquiring after additional rations. A moment later, he was left alone again with the child. Just as a wave of anxiety as massive as the swells on the other side of the hull was about to crash over him, he looked down into the sunshine smiling back at him from his hip, and all was calm again. A small feeling of pride welled within him. “We’ll do just fine, won’t we Miss?”

Not quite as taken by the sentimentality of the moment Colin was enjoying, she grabbed at the finger he was waving near her nose, pulling it to her mouth to try and chew on. Colin laughed, noticing for the first time that his little girl had at least one thing in common with him. “I’m starved too. Let us see what they have brought us to break our fast.”

Colin brought the meal down to the floor, judging it would be easier and a bit safer to eat there while simultaneously feeding and balancing the baby, considering the storm continued to rage and toss the ship around. He spread out their picnic, narrating his actions in soft, excited tones.

“Well, Miss. It looks like we’ve got ourselves some plum cake. A personal favorite. A couple nice eggs here. Soft boiled do you think? And a nice bit of cheese. I think that I’ll keep for myself.”

The tiny red head made quick work of each bite of cake Colin shared with her, happily humming and squealing as each successive mouthful made its way to her lips. Colin grinned at her glee, reveling in the way she enjoyed herself out loud. “You might be the first person I’ve met to enjoy breaking their fast almost as much as me!”

By the time they’d finished, Colin was quite glad he’d asked after extra portions for future meals. The child had eaten nearly half his cake and an entire egg herself. It made his heart hurt to think that this may have been the biggest meal thus far of her life, but he swore to himself that if he had any say in it, she would never want for anything again.

As the day dragged on and the storm showed no signs of breaking, Colin realized just how grateful he was to have his new travel companion there with him. He spent his day entertaining her the best he could, reading and singing, playing nursery games like peek-a-boo, and otherwise tending to her. By the time the evening meal came – a rustic stew with plenty of potatoes and squash he could feed her – he couldn’t imagine having to weather this storm alone. And by the time the first week of the journey had passed them by, he considered himself well and truly lucky for her company.

He found having her to care for gave his days purpose. For the first few days, each time the young servant came by with his meals and fresh water, he inquired whether anyone had asked after her. With each tight-lipped shake of the boy’s head, Colin grew more sure that she had been left under his bed purposefully. Eventually, he’d stopped asking altogether.

Colin learned that the captain had tried to steer the ship further south in an attempt to escape the worst of the storm, but found that whatever had passed over them stretched far beyond any storm the crew had experienced before. The detour would cost them several extra days at sea, meaning there was a decent chance he would miss Francesca’s presentation, but also that he would have to wait that much longer before he would finally get the opportunity to see Penelope.

Ah, Penelope. There was good reason he was so happy to have this baby to keep him company on the final leg of his journey. For the first time in all his travels, he’d begun to feel homesick. Last year, when he’d traveled to Greece, Turkey, Albania and Italy, he’d had Penelope’s letters to keep him company. They’d kept him from ever feeling alone. Allowed him to see himself in a new light. Made him strive to be a better person.

His travels kept him on the move far more frequently this year, allowing only minimal correspondence due to his unpredictable schedule. All told, though he’d sent many letters home, he’d only been able to provide a forwarding address for three brief windows of time in six months. Of course, Penelope had written to him each time, but her letters were briefer than they’d been before, almost seeming distracted. He’d asked after her and her family, but she was excellent at sidestepping any question he posed and turning such inquiries back on him. At any rate, they never quite fell back into the same easy rhythm of that first year.

Colin’s travels felt hollow without his constant companion. He continued to write to her throughout his journey despite being unable to receive her replies. He wouldn’t deprive her of his missives the same way he was forced to go on without hers. Regardless of his efforts to keep her informed, the effect the lack of returned correspondence had on him was palpable. He’d missed her.

Colin missed Penelope and knew that now more than ever, he needed her. As the understanding grew within him that no one would be stepping forth to claim this child, Colin was becoming more and more determined that this baby would be his. He imagined a future in which she spoke her first words – perhaps a giggly “Papa!” – and took her first shaky steps into his waiting arms. But he knew getting to that future would not be easy. He could not do this alone, and the only person he trusted to help him was Penelope.

First, he would have to secure his own lodgings. He certainly could not return home from his tour with a new ward and expect to raise it in his brother’s house. Colin worried, for good reason, that neither Anthony nor his mother would agree to allow him to keep the child, citing concerns about his marriage prospects or whispers within the Ton and how it might reflect on his siblings. But truth be told, he did not care what Society had to say, he was going to keep and care for this baby.

He knew, however, that he would need at least a few days to get all in order, and he very well could not make inquiries at White’s nor meet with the family solicitor with a baby on his hip. He needed someone he could trust. Trust with the most important thing that had ever happened to him. Someone who would listen to him when he said that this child was his and no one would take her from him. And he knew, no matter what distance had grown between them since last season, that person was Penelope.

Ten days into the voyage, the storm finally seemed to pass on. Colin sent word down to his valet that he would not be needing his services until they were to make landfall, not wanting to shock the poor man at the state of things, and quite happy to forgo the formal wear and continue to take trays in his cabin. Colin was happy to take his meals at the table once again however, able to enjoy fresh tea without fear of scalding himself nor toppling the pot. Meals were of a better quality as well, now that he was sure the cooks could move about the kitchen without fear of being impaled or burned.

Colin did take the child out on deck several times a day to stroll and get fresh air now that it was safe. He tried out several cover stories for his situation, finding it easiest to tell strangers that he was a young widower. That would keep the follow-up questions to a minimum. More than once, he’d passed by one of the young bachelors he’d dined with that first night. He saw their dumbfounded looks and inclined heads, and simply nodded and kept walking. He was sure that once society learned of his situation, or Lady Whistledown got wind of it for that matter, there wouldn’t be a household in London that wouldn’t learn every detail of his new life with his new ward. His family’s notoriety was convenient at times, loathsome at others. He was happy to keep the true details of his circumstance private for now.

Chapter Text

The remaining ten days of Colin’s journey – it had been extended when the captain attempted to sail out of the storm – passed pleasantly without further event. As the ship approached the port, Colin worked to finish situating his travel valise and donned his travel coat and gloves. He had procured a sizeable picnic basket from a member of the crew, and was able to line it nicely with the soft linens he’d stolen from his bed. It would do nicely as a makeshift bassinet for travel, the lids serving to conceal the babe from would-be prying eyes until he would have the opportunity to see Penelope.

Colin’s plan was to call on her immediately upon his return to London. There would still be a nearly two hour carriage ride from the port until he reached Mayfair in which he could get his thoughts in order. Typically he would ride the last leg of the journey himself, always antsy move about freely after long terms at sea, but this time he had the young Miss to look after, and she could not very well bounce along in the saddle with him, risking the danger of fall or other injury. No, he would take a hired hack into Mayfair, giving him the privacy to bounce the little girl on his knee and sing to her as they crossed through London.

He’d made an opportunity to speak with his valet, then still miraculously in the dark about the whole situation, about the possibility of following him to bachelor lodgings shortly after their return. Dunwoody jumped at the opportunity, especially when Colin explained that he would in fact be promoted to butler at the new assignment. It was only after Dunwoody had accepted the new post, at nearly double the salary he was currently collecting, had Colin shared the story of the abandoned child and his plan to keep her on as his ward. By then, Dunwoody, who’d been with him since he’d returned from Eton, traveled the continent as his valet, and was now set to run his own esteemed household, was willing to swear to Colin that all would be held in the strictest of confidence and handled with the greatest of sensitivity. Colin liked that he’d earned the man’s loyalty, and felt his trust in him was well placed.

Dunwoody would handle the packing and porting of his belongings, leaving Colin to focus on rather monumental feat he needed to pull off. One thing at a time, he thought to himself. He just needed to get through the next few hours. The next day. And then the next few days after that. And then things would certainly all fall into place beyond that.

The familiar burn of coal, ammonia, and fish stung at his nostrils and reminded him that London was home. It was quite early morning as the ship docked, the sun not yet breaking over the horizon. But Colin was up, having hardly slept at all that last night, buzzing with the knowledge that it was England’s coast just off the port side of the ship. Shouldering his valise and carefully toting the precious cargo held in the large picnic basket, he headed for the gangway, anxious to be among the first to disembark.

Colin found himself in a coach headed for Mayfair faster than he’d imagined. It seemed most of the other passengers were still in bed by the time the ramp was placed, and he was able to walk straight off the ship. With little competition, he had his pick of the line of hackneys for hire, and was on his way in under a quarter of an hour.

The rocking of the carriage brought back fond memories of his first days with his little Miss, currently bouncing along on his knee. He sang his favorite children’s catches to her, spent a good bit of time pretending to feast on her chubby legs, and then shared with her once again the tale of Princess Penelope. That last one he’d been working on ever since he decided that he would ask for Pen’s help those first few days back. He knew the child had been through quite some difficulty, even if she rarely fussed. He feared her reaction were she abandoned to yet another stranger.

The story was some nonsense he’d made up about a young maiden’s quest to make a prince fall in love with her, but it’s main purpose was to allow him to repeatedly describe Penelope to the child and teach her his good friend’s name. He didn’t know how much of it the child would actually absorb, but she was always giggly as he described the copper curls that cascaded down either side of Princess Penelope’s face, framing the kind smile and warm blue eyes of the heroine. And he could swear her eyes sparkled every time he used her name, the mere mention of “Princess Penelope” seemed enough to bring a smile to the little Miss’s face. It would be difficult going three days without seeing that smile.

The two hour ride to Mayfair seemed both to take ages and pass by in a flash. As the coach rolled closer to its destination, Colin began to fret that it was far to early still to call on Penelope. And what would he do if her mother were home. Or, gods forbid, asked him what was in his picnic basket! He realized he had spent precisely none of the last leg of this journey anticipating the logistics of his plan, nor his words to Penelope once he finally made her acquaintance. And now it was far too late.

The hackney coach came to a stop along the perimeter of Grosvenor’s Square, just across from Featherington House. Colin made to get out, thinking of perhaps going for a walk until the hour became decent. Or perhaps throwing pebbles at her window until she agreed to meet him outside. When just as he made to pay the driver, he spotted a flash of copper across the way.

It was unmistakably, undeniably Penelope. He knew her form anywhere, even at a hundred paces. She donned a heavy cloak, clearly intended as a disguise, but nothing could hide her from Colin’s well-trained eye. He watched in shock as she seemed to give instructions to the driver of waiting hackney, nodded sharply, tossed a quick glance over her shoulder, then climbed into the coach unaided.

Colin quickly handed over the coin he’d already been holding out to his driver, then instructed him to follow Penelope’s hack and climbed back in.

He was exhausted. Sleep hadn’t come overnight, and he’d already been on the road for more than two hours. But giving chase to the third Miss Featherington, not knowing where she could possibly be headed at this hour nor what business she could have once she arrived there, had his blood racing in his veins. The infant fussed, he assumed sensing his anxiety at the sudden turn of events. He did his best to comfort and quiet her, eventually giving in to the demand he was most familiar with and giving her one of his dwindling supply of biscuits. She cooed her thanks immediately and went to work gnawing at it.

As their coaches rolled further and further from Mayfair, back in the direction that Colin had just come from, he began to worry more and more about the destination. Was Penelope meeting with the same radicals Eloise had associated with last season? Unlikely. She seemed to discourage El’s political activities just as strongly as he had. Could she have a secret lover? No. He quickly pushed that thought out of his head. Not his Pen. Perhaps she got word that his ship would arrive this morning and was on her way to greet him? Colin grinned at the thought for only a moment. She was a gently bred young lady, and under no circumstances should be traveling alone, especially into the less reputable areas of the city. It was simply dangerous for her to behave this way, even if it were in furtherance of a plan to seek him out.

His Pen? When did he start thinking that? Before he could analyze the thought any further, he noticed a stately townhouse for let as they passed by Bedford Square. He would be certain to make inquiries there later this afternoon; it appeared on passing glance to be just the sort of address he was looking to establish. The neighborhood was occupied largely by middle class men, barristers and clerks and surgeons. Men who used their minds and walked about with purpose. Colin felt drawn to this energy, and while it might not be de rigueur for a member of the Gentry such as himself to live there, he thought just a bit of distance from the heart of Society might be exactly what he needed.

Colin allowed his mind to wander a moment more, thinking of how he could sneak up behind Penelope in surprise once they reached the docks, allowing him the opportunity to embrace her, far away from the judgment of either of their families. He considered the wide smile and eyes of sunshine she would turn upon him when she recognized his face after so many months of absence. The extra time traveling would be worth it for the chance to catch up on their return trip, and allowing him ample time to explain the situation with his new ward.

Colin’s imaginings ceased abruptly when he realized they’d turned away from the river and were no longer traveling towards the port. They were headed into Bloomsbury – the business district from what he could tell – and certainly nowhere a lady ought to have any business.

The hack came to a halt and Colin peeked his head out of the window. “Why’ve we stopped?”

The driver looked back at him plainly, informing him that the coach they were following stopped as well. Colin scrambled out to the street, having to steady himself on the solid ground after so much time spent at sea. The driver seemed to take pity on him, pointing to the church across the street and letting him know that the “maid in blue” had entered there.

Colin thanked the man, paying him for this second leg of his journey, and advising he’d pay double for the return trip if the driver would wait. The driver readily agreed. Colin suspected he was already being charged an inflated rate due to his original destination, but couldn’t be bothered by such details at the moment. He had far more pressing matters to attend to right now. Like Penelope. And his child.

Careful not to disturb the precious cargo, he tucked the open basket securely over his arm and stalked towards the strangely steepled church. The moment he entered the bright nave, he could see Penelope, who had not yet noticed him, tucking something into the hymnal pocket at the end of one of the side aisles. Colin gently placed the basket down on one of the seats, then began walking to her.

“Pen?” he called out, concern and a bit of frustration lacing his tone. “What’s going on?”

He could see the panic wash over her as she straightened. “C… Col… Colin?” she stammered out, visibly shaken by his presence. It was clear to him between her disguise, use of a hired carriage, and the terrified look she had in her eyes at present that she had some form of secret. But he had one too.

“What are you doing here? When did you get back from the continent?” she deflected.

“I got off the boat at dawn. Something. Came up. I needed to speak with you. I. Need your help. I came straight away to see you, but then I. I saw you dressed like. This.” He gestured generally at the maid’s costume she wore. “And you were alone, getting into that hired coach. I followed. What’s in the envelope, Pen?” Colin explained himself calmly enough, but his voice took on a quality of insistence by the end, conveying to Penelope that her discovery was now inevitable.

Her eyes darted around the nave, looking for something to focus on, or perhaps an exit, when she landed on the large picnic basket he’d left near the entrance. Just as she spotted it, an excited gurgling sound emanated from it, breaking through the silence of the moment.

He saw the moment her fear changed to intrigue, and then again to confusion. "What's in the basket, Colin?" she asked with slow, measured words.

Colin stared back at her, silence settling once again through the dizzyingly grandiose space. They looked at one another, each seemingly challenging the other to lay their hand down first. It was Colin who blinked. “I’ll show you, if you show me.”

They nodded, then passed one another, each bracing themselves for the judgment of the other whilst being driven forward by curiosity. Colin reached the envelope first, carefully turning it over and pulling the papers from it just as Penelope reached the seat where he’d left the basket.

His eyes flitted across the words, written in what he recognized as undeniably his friend’s hand. Dearest Gentle Readers, it began, going on to recount some insignificant tales of who was seen with whom at the last evening’s ball, who wore what fashions, and what fashions wore who. The details were unimportant. The only thing relevant to Colin was the growing realization as to the identity of the author.

Penelope reached the basket just as he was dragging out her draft. Her eyes took in the scene before them. A sweet, red haired infant, swaddled quite neatly in an open picnic basket, sucking on the remnants of what appeared to have once been a biscuit. The child’s eyes grew wide staring up at her, a charming giggle falling from her lips.

Colin was still staring at the words, reading it now, hearing the voice of the infamous gossip columnist written in his friend’s hand. A soft, “Colin? Whose baby is this?” rang through his ears.

“Mine.” he replied mindlessly, starting at the signature of Lady Whistledown in Penelope’s clear script. He barely registered the defeated sounding, “Oh.” that passed her lips.

“You? You’re Lady Whistledown?” he breathed, afraid to say the words too loud.

His eyes finally meet hers, and he could see it. Hurt, pain, disbelief, and fear reflecting back at him.

“Not here.” Penelope begged in an urgent whisper.

"My carriage." Colin directed, sliding the parchment back in its envelope and returning it to the pew back. He took several long, decisive strides, collecting the makeshift bassinet from in front of a rather frozen Penelope and turned toward the exit.

"Come." He said softly, taking and then tugging her hand gently with his own.

Colin helped Penelope into the carriage, passing the picnic basket to her, then climbed in himself. He instructed the driver to head back to Featherington House, taking "the long way 'round," then shut the door and turned his focus to Penelope.

"I need your help."

Chapter Text

As soon as the hack was moving, Colin launched into a full explanation of why he simply could not bring the babe back to his mother's house. Too many staff, siblings, prying eyes. Too many questions. When he expressed his greatest fear – that his mother would make him "get rid of" the child – Penelope looked up, truly horrified.

"So. This is why you made a second trip to Italy then?" Penelope’s voice betrayed her emotions, hurt and spite wrapped up in the words. But Colin had too much he needed to discuss with her to dwell on her meaning.

He shrugged off her question. "Hmm? No. This just... kind of happened."

Colin continued to explain all the reasons he simply could not take the child home tonight. He felt he’d done well at making his case, wrapping with an impassioned plea. "...so you see? I need your help, Pen. Just for a few days. So that I may secure my own lodgings and a few staff."

Penelope’s blank expression bored into him. "Who is she?"

"The baby? She seems a little young yet to have determined such things of herself." Colin grinned cheekily, only to be met with harsh eyes and a deep scowl.

"The mother."
"Oh. I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? How did you meet? Was a she a bar maid? A hotelier? A lady of the evening?”

"What? No! I mean, I don't know, Pen. I never met her."

"I may not know much about how children are brought into this world, but I do know that you must at least meet the woman, Colin!" Penelope was furious, spitting venom with each word. Colin's face dropped. Did Penelope truly think so lowly of him? That he would... dally whilst on his travels?

"No! Pen – you misunderstand!"
"Oh, I understand perfectly well, Mr. Bridgerton."
"Pen. She's not mine. Not like that anyway. I... I found her. On the ship."
"Colin! You STOLE a baby?!"
"No. I found a baby. It's very different."
"SHE'S NOT A PUPPY!!"

Before Colin could reply, the baby let out a wail that caught both of their attention. Before he could reach for her himself, Penelope lifted her from the basket and brought her to her shoulder.

"There, there Miss. Whatever could the matter be?" Penelope cooed, rubbing gentle circles on her back and speaking in a soft, lilting baby talk. The child's cries turned to soft coos and giggles in response to Penelope's voice, settling into her arms.

Colin's eyes went wide and his lips involuntarily parted. "She not a puppy," he whispered. "She's my baby."

Colin spent the next several minutes explaining the best he could to his friend how someone had left her under the bed in his cabin. The storm. How he'd made inquiries with all the ship's staff. And how no one seemed to know anything about the pretty red head. He'd left his address with the ship's captain, asking him to pass it on to anyone who came looking for her when the ship returned to its port of origin. And how the captain explained to him that these things happen from time to time – babies are stowed away on ships in hopes of giving them a better life. That no one was looking for this child.

"So, how exactly do I fit into all this?" Penelope asked, now rocking the child against her bosom.

"Please, Pen. I can't bring her to my mum's house. They'd... they'd never let me keep her. And I can't... I..." Colin suddenly became quite choked up, needing a moment to swallow down the lump in his throat and steady his breath. "She's mine now. I won't lose her. I just need a couple days to get everything in order. Three at the most. I won't be able to see to everything whilst carrying a baby in tow. Please, Pen. You're my only hope."

"How am I supposed to conceal a baby at my mother's house?"

"Please! There's hardly anyone there. You have your own set of rooms. And... if you were able to conceal Lady Whistledown, I'm sure you can manage this." Colin quirked a brow with his last statement, gently reminding her that he did have some leverage over her in this discussion.

Penelope tensed, remembering that he had discovered her secret. It seemed strange to her that he had barely reacted to the news. But Colin just kept smiling, watching her carefully, and seeming to wait for something.

“Will you, Pen? Please?”

Penelope let out a deep sigh, then nodded her agreement. Colin surged forward, embracing her with one arm and coming to support the baby with the other. He leaned back somewhat, but did not remove his arm from Penelope’s side. Stroking the child’s soft red hair, he leaned in a pressed a kiss to its cherubic cheek. Colin smiled just inches from her tiny face, tracing over her nose with his index finger.

“Papa has to find us somewhere to live, so you’re going to stay with Princess Penelope for now. But I’m coming back for you, I promise. And then it’ll be nothing but pretty dresses and ribbons for you, Miss.”

Penelope gasped at both the intimacy and the way the child seemed to light up in recognition of the moniker. “P – Princess Penelope?” she stuttered out.

“Ah.” Colin smiled warmly, taking and kissing the child’s hand. Still directing his speech to the baby, he explained, “Just a little fairy tale I told to get her used to your name. It seems to have done the trick.”

Colin looked up at Penelope. He could see that they were back in Mayfair and knew he had only a few minutes left before they would arrive at her mother’s home. “If anything at all goes wrong. If you are discovered. Simply send word for me and I will take care of everything. Do not try to protect me at your – or her – risk. Is that clear?”

“Of course.”
“And send word if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“Of course.”
“And Pen?”
“Yes, Colin?”
“Thank you.”

Colin righted himself, then leaned in for yet another embrace, his cheek pressing tightly against hers. She blushed furiously at the contact, never having had anyone hold her or touch her so freely and intimately before. After releasing her, he hovered just in front of her face a moment longer, brushing back a lock of her hair, seeming to study her.

They were shaken from the moment when their carriage came to a sudden halt. Colin quickly kissed the little girl one last time, then scooped her from Penelope’s arms, tucking her safely back into the picnic basket. Colin allowed the driver to assist Penelope down, and as it was still quite early in the morning, she slipped into the residence unnoticed.

***

Penelope rounded the side of her mother’s house, deftly passing through the servant’s door she used when sneaking about on Whistledown business. Even after running into Colin and the extra long ride home, it was still rather early, and none but the scullery maid and cook would be about. She crept up the stairs, along the back passageway, slipping into her bedroom without encountering another soul.

She quickly set about doffing her blue maid’s uniform, folding it neatly and tucking it away in the bottom drawer of her armoire, the one that caught and could only be opened if one knew its trick. Penelope decided her best course of action would be to feign illness until Colin sent word that he was prepared to take back the child, knowing that none would visit her set of rooms but the scullery and a footman with her trays in the interim. Penelope pulled on her house coat, mussed her hair, and practiced her sick face in the mirror.

What had she gotten herself into?

Knowing she had little time left before the new lady’s maid would be up to ‘wake’ her, she peeked in on Colin’s baby, finding her sleeping quite soundly in the basket. Assured that the maid would not get much past the door, Penelope left the basket in her dressing room, opening the lid to ensure the child could breathe easy. She splashed some water along her hairline to mimic a soaking night sweat, then returned to her bed to await the arrival of the maid.

All told, the most difficult part of her ruse was convincing the maid that she still required breakfast; apparently her feigned fever was believable enough that the woman initially only dared send up tea and broth. In the end, Penelope was able to talk her way into a regular tray of porridge, stewed peaches, and two soft boiled eggs, along with tea and milk to start her day. The maid agreed to advise her mother of her poorly condition and suggested she might be by again tomorrow morning to see if she would dress for the day then.

Free of distraction until late afternoon when her next tray would arrive, Penelope locked the door and found her way back to the sleeping child. “Good morning little one.” she cooed as she lifted her free of the basket. “Are you ready to spend the day with Princess Penelope?”

She was shocked by how well the child ate. Fully half the tray, if not more, was devoured by the giggly girl. Penelope found herself relegated to one egg and no more than a couple mouths full of porridge and peaches. She only took the barest splash of milk in her tea, spooning the rest to the baby as well. Penelope was glad most of the staff were new hires this Season, realizing her biggest risk of being caught at this point, save for a screaming tantrum, was someone noticing her sudden increase in appetite.

After leaving her empty tray in the hall and locking the door once more behind her, she returned to her bed, happily pulling the child into her lap. “Do you like stories, little Miss?” A tiny giggle was enough of a reply. Penelope lifted out her well worn copy of Sense and Sensibility from under her pillow, and turning back to the start, began reading aloud.

Between each chapter, she stopped to pace the room, sing a song, check the child’s silk nappy – using a cravat for the purpose seemed utterly insane, but she had no better alternative at her disposal – and otherwise play with the darling girl. It must have been the fates intervening or simply dumb luck that the child seemed to be in possession of the calmest and sweetest temperament in all of the British Empire.

This task of covertly caring for Colin’s new ward was the last thing she could have imagined agreeing to when she set out to deliver her column that morning. She considered earnestly for a time the possibility that Colin had truly lost his mind. But the longer she spent tending the little Miss, the better she understood his conviction to her. And besides, Penelope had always known that she’d do anything he asked of her, apparently including concealing and caring for a baby in her mother’s home.

Still, Penelope’s heart was full. She could think of no better day spent since she was a girl. Her afternoon and evening trays were split much the same as the breakfast one. When nightfall came, she left the door locked, happiest to sleep with the child snuggled tight to her chest.

***

By the time the sun was setting on the day, Colin had already been back to Bloomsbury, toured and rented the smart little town home he’d seen earlier in the day on Bedford Square. He’d been by White’s and made inquiries for a housekeeper, cook, and nanny – quickly securing leads for each that he’d spent the rest of the day following up on. He managed to find passable staff that would each be able to begin working for him by the end of the week. And most importantly, he’d been to see his mother, letting her celebrate his return before informing her that he’d be taking up bachelor lodgings in just a few days time.

Colin spoke with Dunwoody, giving him the address to send his belongings and see to setting up the household. All would be ready for him to move in the day after next, allowing Colin to relieve Penelope a day earlier than he’d promised.

The next day split his time between a visit with the family solicitor and doing some much needed shopping. Colin discussed the steps necessary to make the child his legally recognized ward. The solicitor agreed to begin the process of drafting the needed documents. In the meantime, Colin dictated and executed a Will. With no reservation, he named Penelope as his primary beneficiary and next of kin for the child, with a dedicated portion left in trust for her care, to be converted to an inheritance upon her eighteenth birthday. There was no doubt in his mind when he signed the document; he could think of no one he trusted more, and it gave him great comfort to think of leaving his two best girls well taken care of.

Leaving the solicitor’s office with lifted spirits, Colin headed to the modiste, where he ordered a complete wardrobe for the child. He had great fun selecting the prettiest fabrics and ribbon details, imagining how each would make his daughter’s eyes shine brighter than the last. If his mood was light when he left the solicitor’s, he was truly walking on air by the time he finished at the modiste.

Colin visited a furniture maker, ordering the crib and set of drawers Dunwoody advised him would be necessary for setting up the child’s room, plus some basics to properly kit out the guest rooms. Most of the residence was otherwise already furnished, and would be ready for his occupancy tomorrow after Dunwoody finished uncovering the furniture and preparing the rooms. Colin thought how grateful he was to have a good man like Dunwoody at the helm of this new adventure, and was glad he’d agreed to stay on under such tumult.

A pang of sadness gripped his chest as he walked home, realizing he hadn’t held his daughter for more than a day, and it wouldn’t be until the next morning before he could finally bring her home. Colin wanted more than anything to call on Penelope to check in, but he knew that nothing about walking in her front door would be easy on her right now.

He settled instead for sending a note, delivered by the hand of a trusted footman, asking her to meet him – if she was able – in her back courtyard at midnight.

Chapter Text

It was already ten past midnight, Colin pacing furiously in the shadows, wondering if he’d have to sleep another night without kissing his daughter goodnight, when Penelope appeared at the servant’s door.

“Pen!” he whisper-yelled, rushing to her. He noted immediately that she was holding the weighted picnic basket, but found himself caught taking in the way her loose curls shone in the moonlight. For a split second, he felt compelled to take her into his arms, but he thought better of himself, turning his focus to the bundled cheer she held on her arm.

“And how has our little Miss behaved? Well I trust?” he asked, plucking the child from the basket and bringing her to his chest. He was too wrapped up with studying her features to notice the way Penelope gaped at the word ‘our’. She’d recovered by the time he turned his eyes back to her. “Has all been well then? She hasn’t given you too much trouble?”

“Not at all, actually. I’ve faked an illness, so I’ve been left to my own devices. I must say though, she eats more than I do – keeping her satiated has been more a struggle than secreted away!”

Colin laughed, beaming with just a little pride at the little girl he now bounced on his hip. “Yes, I do believe she takes after me in that respect.” He continued, shifting his attention back to Penelope. “Fear not, I shall come by tomorrow morning to collect her. I have let a townhouse in Bloomsbury and promoted my valet to butler. I won’t have the rest of my staff for a week yet, but Dunwoody and I have gotten by just fine with far less at our disposal.”

“Oh.” Penelope replied, just a bit startled at his pronouncement. “I thought we had another day together.” Colin recognized the forlorn notes in her voice. His heart raced a little at the thought of his best friend already caring so much for his daughter. Her acceptance meant the world to him and to know that she’d already grown attached felt… right. He smiled at the thought.

“I do not wish to impose on you anymore than I already have. Should half eight do? I believe we are less likely to be seen if I come early.”

Penelope nodded her agreement, reaching out to gently pat the child’s soft cheek. The baby lit up at Penelope’s touch, giggling and wiggling in Colin’s arms while reaching out towards her. “I see. Two days with Princess Penelope and you’ve forgotten all about your Papa?” Colin could hear the dejection bleeding into his voice, even as he tried to sound flippant.

Penelope, sensing his anxiety, rushed to reassure him. “She did seem to warm to me rather quickly, but I’m sure you two will be thick as thieves again in no time.”

Colin allowed himself to agree, giving the child one final kiss on the forehead before tucking her back in her basket and bidding her sweet dreams. He stepped forward, taking one of Penelope’s hands in his, gently brushing her hair back behind her shoulder with the other. “I cannot thank you enough, Pen. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Penelope blushed furiously at the intimacy. She didn’t think a man had ever touched her hair before, and she would swear that she could feel electricity running up each strand he’d contacted. Before she could react however, Colin bid her a good night as well, promising to return to meet her in the morning as agreed.

Colin left, feeling buoyed after getting to hold his little girl in his arms, even if only for a few brief moments. Tomorrow he would finally be able to bring her home and all would be right in his world.

Sleep came fast once he was ensconced in the familiar yellow sheets of his childhood bedroom. When he rose with the sun the next morning, he looked around the newly bare space. Dunwoody had seen to it that most of his belongings had already been moved and set up at his new residence, save of course for a few spare suits he’d leave behind for emergencies and the furniture that belonged to the estate. It was strange to see the place he’d thought of as home – as his - for so many years reduced to nothing but a guest room. He supposed home would be in Bloomsbury from now on, the place where he’d make a life for himself and his daughter.

He dressed quickly and visited the kitchens personally to break his fast – charming the old cook into letting him cut into the morning’s cake long before the rest of his family would rise. He silently bid farewell to Bridgerton House, knowing from now on he would be a guest there, never again a resident, and set off across the square to meet Penelope.

She was quite punctual this time, slipping out the side door just as his pocket watch ticked past the half hour. He watched as she shot a look over he shoulder before stepping out into the sun, seeming to glow in her sage green day dress. A strange knot formed in his chest at the sight, causing him to forget himself until she spoke.

“Colin? Colin!”

He shook his head in an attempt to restart his thoughts. “Hmm?”

“The baby?” She held the basket out to him.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” He unburdened her arms, tucking the basket onto his.

Penelope continued on, something about sleeping through the night, porridge for breakfast, extra cravats folded and tucked away in the basket, a special affinity for Little Jack Horner. He paid attention to precisely none of it, too distracted by the sparkle her eyes took on when she spoke of caring for his daughter. He stepped to her – closer than he should have, but there was no one there to watch – and took her hand. Unable to tell whether or not he was cutting in over her speech, he just started talking.

“Pen. I truly cannot thank you enough. For all of it. You. You’re. You’re special to me, you know that, yes? I.” He was breathless. Why was he breathless? He shook his head again. “I do not know how to repay you. But trust I will.” He brought her hand up, then stooped down to kiss the back of it, never looking away from those wide blue eyes.

When he righted himself, he stood smiling at her for several moments more, until Penelope finally broke him free of the moment, suggesting she must return inside and reminding him that he too must be on his way.

The ride to Bloomsbury was uneventful, the quarter hour passing by rather quickly. He opened the lid of the basket the moment he was alone in the family carriage, but she was busy drooling on a biscuit Penelope had left her with, so he left her be until they arrived at their destination.

Colin was quite pleased with the work Dunwoody had done to prepare for his arrival. The furnishings that came with the townhouse were more modest than the ones he’d grown up with, but they were perfectly respectable and quite comfortable. The house was clean and tidy, and was already decorated with his belongings that had arrived from his old room. He visited the master bedroom, kitted out with a large, comfortable looking bed, and found his clothing had arrived and was already well in order in the dressing room.

He pulled off his cravat and discarded his jacket, glad he would be at liberty to return to the more casual form of dress to which he had become accustomed on the continent. Finally feeling comfortable, he pulled his little girl from her basket, hoping it was the last time he’d need to use it before trading it in for a pram, and sat her up on his hip.

“Welcome home little Miss!” he gushed, smiling broadly at the sweet red head. “Would you like to go see your room?”

The child studied Colin’s face for approximately three seconds, then began to wail. Colin checked that she didn’t need her cloth changed, but found she was quite dry still. She kept crying. He offered her a biscuit, which she promptly threw to the floor. She kept crying. He walked with her, showing her the room that would be hers once the crib was made, using the excitable voice she seemed to love during their twenty days at sea together. Still she cried. He bounced her on his hip, moved her to his shoulder, and rocked her in his arms. Still she cried. He sang to her, kissed her, and even tried to tell the Princess Penelope story. She paused her screams for a few seconds, looking hopefully around when he spoke the name, but broke down once again when he continued on with the story.

“What is it little Miss?” he asked, near desperate. Colin breathed deeply against the piercing cries. “Do you… Do you miss Penelope?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and studying the child’s reaction. Her eyes looked wounded and her lip protruded at mention of the name. It was the only thing that seemed to give the child a moment’s respite before returning to those heart wrenching sobs.

“Oh, my poor dear.” he lamented, bringing her to his chest, and gently shushing and rocking her as she continued to cry. “Me too, darling. Me too.”

The baby cried all day. And all night. Colin checked her over head to toe at least three times to ensure she wasn’t injured. He read to her. He sang. He danced with her. He told her nursery rhymes. He tried his best to feed her. He tried rubbing bourbon on her gums, thinking she might be teething. He tried to lay her down to sleep. But the child would not settle.

By the time the sun came up the next morning, he felt there was no other choice. He needed Penelope. At least to figure out what he must be neglecting. Unless… perhaps they could devise a scheme to deceive her mother and allow her to stay on with him until the nanny arrived at the end of the week. Maybe she could claim to be visiting with a cousin out of town? Or Eloise? Or… well, he would ask Penelope. She would know best. She always knew best.

Colin scrawled a quick letter to her, asking that she come call on him as early as possible. He assured her that it was urgent but not an emergency, gave his address, and then asked Dunwoody to see to the letter making its way to Miss Penelope Featherington’s hands as discreetly and quickly as possible. Dunwoody gave a sharp nod – Colin’s antics when it came to Miss Penelope Featherington were rather old hat to him after more than four years at his side – and set about having the letter delivered. Colin didn’t know all of his butler’s ways, only that he had them, and he was grateful to have him in his service.

Chapter Text

It was half nine when a scullery maid entered Penelope’s room, under the pretense of clearing the ash from her fireplace. “Miss? A letter for you.” She passed the letter to Penelope, bobbed a curtsy, then went about tending to the fireplace. Penelope broke the seal immediately, scanned the scant two sentences, then folded and tucked the parchment into her bosom.

She checked herself in the mirror, happy with the soft lavender day dress she’d recently donned, and made her way downstairs. “I’m headed to El’s for the day.” she called to her mama as she passed by the drawing room. “I expect I will be invited for dinner. I’ll be home before dark.” No response always meant agreement, and so when she heard nothing, she kept walking. Right out the front door, across the square, and into the Bridgerton carriage that Colin had arranged to have waiting for her.

Another fifteen minutes later, she was in Bloomsbury, being helped out of the carriage by a young footman. She nodded her thanks, checked briefly over her shoulders – she didn’t have a cloak to hide behind this morning – and then knocked at the front door. Colin’s valet, or butler now she supposed, answered the door and ushered her in.

The frenzied wails that filled the house met her ears before she could even ask Dunwoody where she might find Colin. Penelope rushed into the drawing room, concerned that there was something wrong with the baby. She didn’t bother to greet Colin, flying to his side and reaching for the little girl.

But the moment the child laid her eyes on Penelope, the crying stopped. A sweet smile spread across her face, and a tiny giggle popped out. Colin let out a deep sigh of relief. There had been no sleep the night before, and he was starting to worry that holding the screaming child any longer might actually result in permanent hearing damage. “Thank goodness you’re here.” he breathed.

Penelope furrowed her brow, not fully comprehending what had just occurred, but reached for the child anyway, eager to hold her again after spending an entire day apart. Just as Colin was passing her to Penelope, a wholly unexpected face appeared in the doorway. “Miss Featherington! And Mister Bridgerton! And… a baby? You will explain yourselves. Immediately!”

The thumping of Lady Danbury’s cane led her across the drawing room to a high-backed settee where she sat. Colin and Penelope exchanged rather panicked looks. Penelope finished gathering the baby into her arms – they’d frozen in place in the middle of passing her – and moved to join Lady Danbury. Colin joined them after asking Dunwoody to see about bringing up some tea.

Lady Danbury stared impatiently, waiting for either of her hosts to make sense of what she’d walked in on. She carefully assessed first Colin, then Penelope. Then the red haired infant. Pale skin, sky blue eyes, and snub nose. Focused intently on greedily gnawing at the biscuit Penelope supplied. “As I do not recall a wedding last season, am I to assume you have hid this from both your mothers?”

“WHAT?” They hollered in unison.

“The child. She is a spitting image of Miss Featherington. And clearly she has inherited her table manners from you, Mister Bridgerton. Ah, and her charming smile.” Lady Danbury’s tone softened slightly as the child paused her snack to coo at their caller.

“No! She isn’t – Certainly – Lady Danbury – I cannot imagine –” Penelope sputtered the broken start to several impossible thoughts.

Colin meanwhile had turned crimson at the implication. It was one thing to throw accusations his way, but another entirely to impugn Penelope’s reputation as a Lady. Lady Danbury might be the most intimidating and formidable woman in the Ton, save the Queen, but he was not about to sit idly by and listen to this kind of talk about his Penelope. “Lady Danbury, I assure you, you are quite mistaken.”

Ten minutes later, Colin had finished the entire anecdote, from the storm when he found the abandoned babe to the tempest she’d created overnight until the moment Penelope arrived. All three did a double take when the child giggled at mention of her antics.

“Say I were to believe you. What of your mother, or your brother for that matter, Mister Bridgerton? Certainly you cannot go on indefinitely hiding a child from them! What reason do you give that I should not have my driver take me straight to Grosvenor’s Square?”

Colin could feel the bile rising in his throat. Telling them now, before the solicitor finalized the documents that would make her his legal ward meant risking losing her. It was a chance he could not bear to take. “Lady Danbury. I beg of you to give me a week’s leave. I have fallen in love. I will not have her taken from me. I only wish to wait until she is legally mine before informing my family.”

Lady Danbury quirked a brow, straightening her posture and leaning forward against her cane. “And why shouldn’t she be taken from you, Mister Bridgerton? You are a bachelor who has hardly been able to find his way home. What will this do to your prospects? What if your future wife does not take kindly to the child? What would become of her? And should something happen to you, gods forbid it? What should happen then?”

Colin could hear the blood thrumming in his ears; his heart was racing at the intensive questioning. Without forethought, he latched on to the easiest of the questions to answer. “I have already provided for her future. Should I meet my untimely demise, all of my holdings will pass to Miss Penelope, with a dedicated trust and dowry for the child.” Both women gasped.

“C – Colin, what?” Penelope eked out, staring incredulously.

“Mister Bridgerton! There is only one conclusion Society will draw from such a bequest, and it is the one you have just spent the better part of our morning together trying to convince me is not the case! What possible reason could you have for choosing Miss Featherington as your principal beneficiary?”

The tips of Colin’s ears burned and he was sure they were bright pink. “She is my friend.” he muttered, appeasing no one. After a wave of silence passed through the room, Colin gathered his courage, looking to the two pretty red heads sat across from him for his strength. He began again, now with more conviction. “Penelope is my friend, and there is no one I trust more. I had intended to speak on the matter with her – Pen, I apologize for the surprise – but when asked, my heart only held one name.”

Colin continued to speak, not noticing the curious looks sent his way by the two ladies. “As far as my bachelorhood, I have a complete staff that shall arrive in just a few days time. She shall have a nanny to manage her needs. I am not in want of a wife, and do not give two figs for my prospects. I am quite content as I am. But should I decide to take one in the future, her love for my child will be as important as her love for me. I will not compromise on that issue.”

“And Miss Featherington?” Lady Danbury inquired. It had not escaped the widow’s notice that the lady and gentleman before her clearly had an intimate bond. She had noticed the two seemed to share a special kinship, always stifling laughs together in the corners of ballrooms. And present shenanigans aside, they were using Christian names with one another. There was clear affection between the two. It seemed to her that the solution to many of Mister Bridgerton’s woes was not the younger but the elder of the two auburn-haired beauties presently studying him with doe eyes.

Colin missed Lady Danbury’s meaning entirely. “I have asked her here to assist me until the nanny arrives. Our little Miss has grown quite attached to her, and I fear she has already experienced so many wounds to her soul these past weeks. I had hoped Penelope’s presence would bring comfort.” The child cooed then, once again making Colin believe that she was somehow following every beat of their conversation. He grinned back at the child, turning the tone of his voice. “And it seems I was right.” Peals of joyous laughter spilled from the little girl.

Even Lady Danbury had to smile at the sight. “She is quite the charmer. I can see how one might be taken in by her.”

A bright smile spread across Colin’s face as he realized his efforts were paying off. He let the moment linger, watching Penelope as she interacted with his little girl. Bouncing her on her knee. Teasing her with a bright smile and waving finger. Trying to be subtle as she breathed in the baby’s scent. She was so natural with her, causing a warm bubble to rise in Colin’s chest. He would have been content to simply sit and watch the two together like that all afternoon, and may have were it not for the stern sound of Lady Danbury clearing her throat.

“Mister Bridgerton, it would be entirely inappropriate for a lady such as Miss Featherington to spend time with you alone in your home.” Colin sagged at the recitation of the most basic rule of propriety. Of course Pen couldn’t stay. What was he thinking? “However.” Oh! But there was magic in that word. He corrected his posture, hopeful for the first time since Lady Danbury had crashed into his drawing room. “I can see that you are in dire need of assistance. And I agree with you that she does seem to have formed an attachment to Miss Featherington. It would be unfortunate to put the poor dear through more than she already seems to have endured.”

Ever since her debut, Lady Danbury had held a special place in her heart for the youngest Miss Featherington. Unbeknownst to Penelope, the two had much in common. She reminded her of herself when she was first out, longer ago than she cared to remember. From her loud and over bearing mama, to her tendency to lurk in the shadows. The way she’d shaken off the poor fashion choices her mother thrust upon her. And that cutting wit she’d witnessed on occasion. Yes, she saw quite a bit of herself in Miss Featherington, and that was why she had decided that she would extend an offer of her help this season in the Marriage Mart.

She would have been a fool if she didn’t notice the way the girl mooned over the third Bridgerton boy. What she hadn’t realized until this very afternoon was that he returned her feelings. Obviously, he hadn’t recognized it in himself yet. Men were notoriously slow at these sorts of things. An advantageous match indeed! Miss Featherington would blossom at the side of the notoriously charming and well-connected Bridgerton boy. And he… well, she wondered, did he even know of the Featherington heir race? Marrying her meant the possibility of inheriting the entire estate of the abandoned Barony. But he’d been out of country since word of it spread through the Ton. Perhaps if he were given just the slightest push in the right direction, matters would work out exactly as they should.

Lady Danbury turned to eye Penelope, a conspiratorial glint flashing in her eyes. “Should Miss Featherington consent, I am willing to support your scheme.” Penelope nodded eagerly. “I will send for my lady’s maid to chaperone and assist. She is most discreet. My housekeeper can manage my hair and dressing for a few days. And I will send word to Lady Featherington advising her that Miss Featherington is keeping me company on a short trip to the country, and will return at the end of the week.”

The severe woman raised her cane, gesturing towards Colin with it. “I can trust that you will behave as a gentleman?”

Colin furrowed his brow. He didn’t appreciate the accusatory tone, but also, it was… Pen. She was his friend. He didn’t think about such things with her! He thought of jokes and gossip, sharing food and smiles, dancing and those sky blue eyes. Her pretty smile and the way she seemed to glow when she held his daughter in her lap. The way the little girl rested comfortably against her bosom, and how he would like to… “Yes, of course!” he choked out.

“Miss Featherington?
“Yes, thank you Lady Danbury. Your support is most appreciated.”

Chapter Text

By late afternoon, all was settled and Lady Danbury was finally set to depart. After sending word to her lady’s maid, she sent a footman with instructions to inform Lady Featherington that Miss Penelope would be accompanying her on a short trip to the country, and asked to have a trunk packed with enough clothing to last through the end of the week. The footman returned in scarcely more than an hour, indicating that the most difficult part of his ordeal was convincing Lady Featherington that one of her maids should pack the trunk rather than him.

Mrs. Foster’s arrival came within minutes of the footman’s return. The woman was relatively youthful, although likely twice Penelope’s age. She was tall and slender, a bit severe looking with her tightly wound bun, and was neatly pressed and pinned into her uniform. She was everything one would expect from a Lady’s Maid in Lady Danbury’s employ.

Lady Danbury whisked the woman away into the corridor upon her arrival, instructing her in her expectations in her role as chaperone. Neither Colin nor Penelope could hear what word passed between the two during the exchange, only that the tone was sharp and unwavering. Colin paid the conversation little mind however, seizing upon the moment to move next to Penelope and make silly faces at the little girl still in her lap.

“Ah! You see Mrs. Foster? This is precisely what I mean. Mister Bridgerton, assure me again that this scheme of yours is wise!” Lady Danbury marched straight over to the settee where he and Penelope sat. He didn’t realize until his knee was being sharply tapped by her cane that it was pressed to Penelope’s.

Colin quickly corrected his posture, pulling his arm down from the back of the seat where he had stretched it out behind Penelope. He felt his cheeks burn as he realized just how quickly he’d disregarded propriety once again. “Please Lady Danbury. I just wanted to check on our little Miss. I assure you, I will always treat Miss Penelope with the utmost respect. She is my friend. I care for her reputation even more than my own.”

At that, Lady Danbury shot a smug look to Mrs. Foster, who returned the expression with an arched brow and a determined nod that made Colin shift in his seat. “See me out, Mister Bridgerton.” Lady Danbury commanded, holding her arm out for him to take.

Colin rose and took the widow’s arm, steadily leading her to his front door. He opened his mouth to thank her once again for her assistance and her discretion, but she beat him to it, speaking in a tone both chastising and reassuring all at once. “Mister Bridgerton. I expect you to be true to your word in my absence, of course. But you must also take this opportunity to decide what it is that you truly want. If you wish to make a family, half-measures will do no longer. Listen to your heart.”

Before Colin could inquire as to her meaning, Lady Danbury descended his front steps and was being helped into her carriage. Colin stood, dumbfounded, as her carriage pulled away, leaving him standing alone in the doorway. He contemplated her words for several minutes more until a giggled squeal broke him from his reverie. Smiling, he closed the door and made his way back into the drawing room.

***

The last of the afternoon passed quickly, Penelope and Colin doting together over the little girl. She still wore the same thin shift he’d found her in – dresses from Madame Delacroix would arrive tomorrow morning – yet she could still easily be mistaken for the most pampered child in all of London. The two took turns bouncing her on their knee, or in Colin’s case, flying her around the room as if she were an eagle. Penelope told her stories while Colin dramatically gasped and awed along at every turn. Colin sang to her while Penelope clapped and danced with the child in time.

It was easy, just the three of them, sharing smiles and laughter. The three of them and Mrs. Foster of course, who remained in the arm chair across the room and only raised an eyebrow when passing the baby from one to the other brought them closer than strictly necessary. Colin felt it almost a shame when Dunwoody advised that their dinner was ready, asking if they would take it in the dining room.

Colin felt suddenly nervous. He wouldn’t have a proper cook until the end of the week, and he hadn’t considered the types of meals Penelope must be used to when he invited her to stay. “The dining room, if you please Dunwoody.” he answered, swallowing hard to face Penelope.

“Pen?” he began.
“Yes?”

“I… um. I should tell you. Dunwoody is a champ, truly. A good man that I am lucky to have at the helm. But, well. I do not have a cook. Our meals, I am afraid, will be quite pared down while you are here. His cookery skills are rather limited to simple fare. It will not be more than stew and bread.”

Penelope giggled at him. “Colin, I have had many a supper consisting of no more than boiled potatoes. Anything on offer will be just fine with me.”

Colin felt himself deflate at her reassurance. “I was worried you would expect formal meals.” He trailed off, not quite sure why he was belaboring the point.

Penelope adjusted the child on her lap, then discreetly laid her hand over Colin’s, out of view of their chaperone and dropped her voice low. “I assure you, I am not so difficult to please.”

Had she any idea what she was saying? Colin felt as if his mind stuttered at her words. Penelope had always had a cutting wit. Was she… flirting? No, she could not possibly understand the double meaning of the phrase. The idea of pleasing Penelope had never truly rooted in his mind before now. Sure he’d thought her to be perfectly lovely and companionable. She was his best friend after all.

But she was a lady, too, was she not? The heat from her bare hand on his could be felt radiating into every corner of his body, causing him to release a small shiver. She’d turned her focus back to his daughter, smiling close to her cheeks. She was so natural with her, holding her with ease and keeping her entertained and engaged. Everything a mother should be.

For the first time, Colin mourned the things he missed out on with his daughter. The excitement that would occur when he learned his seed had taken root. Sharing that joy of creation with his partner. Watching his wife grow and change, swelling and stretching with the new life they’d made together. The indescribable rush that would come when he felt his child kicking inside her womb. The anticipation and fear that would certainly accompany the delivery. And that overwhelming sense of relief and pride when their child was finally placed in his arms.

He loved this little girl. She was his, and he was hers. But certainly she would require siblings. Penelope pulled her hand from atop his, using it to lift the child to meet her silly kisses. Colin's mind suddenly flooded with images of Penelope round with child, tired but gleeful as she held his hand to her belly to feel tiny kicks. Rubbing her ankles and otherwise waiting on her hand and foot, servants be damned. Her reprimanding him for leering at her swollen bosom.

“Dinner!” he exclaimed, pushing himself upright from the settee. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. Colin tried to force himself to make eye contact with Penelope, but found himself unable to meet her eye for more than a fleeting glance. Instead, he quickly collected the child from her hold and led the way into the dining room, refusing to allow himself to look back lest he lose any remaining shred of honor to which he clung.

Chapter Text

The evening meal was modest as promised. Dunwoody made a serviceable stew, and there was no shortage of bread and butter to accompany. Colin insisted that he would feed the child tonight, spooning her warmed milk, along with mashed carrots, potatoes, and turnips from the stew. He could feel Penelope’s warm but intense stare on them throughout, but felt too embarrassed by his wandering thoughts to return her smile.

“You ought to settle on a name.” Penelope said, breaking the silence as they neared the end of the meal.

Colin heaved a sigh. He knew this to be true, but the idea of naming a person somehow felt too big to be remitted solely to his charge. Caring for the child felt second nature to him. As if he were destined to be this child’s father. But to name her seemed an enormous responsibility he simply could not face alone. “What did you have in mind?” he found himself asking before he could think better of it.

His eyes followed his question and he could see Penelope blushing furiously. She laid her spoon down demurely, then folded her hands in her lap under the table. Colin knew her well enough to know that she was twisting her fingers together, a habit he’d observed when she was most nervous. “I… never thought that… I would have the opportunity to… help name a child… before.” she stammered in a small voice that held a hint of sadness.

Colin furrowed his brow, but assumed that she must be feeling the same weight of the decision that he was. “I haven’t been able to choose. It seems too important to be done myself. And aside from Dunwoody, you’re the only one I can discuss the matter with. What might you like to call her?”

“I see.” Penelope said, an unmistakable chill in her words. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, a pleasant smile washing back across her face. Colin sensed her unease, but once again attributed it to his own indecisiveness over choosing a name. “Perhaps there is a favored aunt or grandparent you would wish to honor?”

Colin thought for a moment, then shook his head. None felt quite right for her bright little spirit. A giddy idea burst into his thoughts. “What is your middle name?” he all but hissed.

“Me?” Penelope squeaked. “Colin Bridgerton you absolutely cannot name your daughter after me! We run the risk of scandal and my utter ruin as it is!”

“Nothing you couldn’t fix.” he winked at her cheekily, causing her eyes to flare wide against her ever deepening flush. “And you still haven’t answered the question. What’s your middle name?”

Penelope huffed. She knew better than to think he would let this go, and relented rather than allow him to continue needling her for it. “Anne.”

Colin smiled widely. “Perfect. That’s Eloise’s middle name too, although I’m sure you knew that already.” Penelope confirmed his suspicions with a nod. He returned his focus to the child in his lap, currently sucking at bits of carrot stuck between her fingers. “It provides perfect cover that I would name her after my sister. Hello Miss A–” Colin stopped mid-sentence. Shaking his head, he sighed. “It’s not right. She’s not an Anne.”

Penelope giggled so hard in response she had to put the back of her hand to her lips to calm herself. “What is she then?” she asked when she finally caught her breath well enough to speak.

“I don’t know!” Colin whined, feeling defeated by this seemingly simple task. “She’s not an Anne, I know that. I believe she needs a name that will match the size of her personality. A name that tells everyone she is fierce and not to be trifled with. A name that commands respect and admiration.”

Penelope gasped, causing Colin to break off and focus his attention back on her. In a low, soft voice, as if reverently speaking the words of a sacred text, she whispered, “Agatha.”

“Agatha?” Colin queried, inclining his head and causing a tiny giggle to bubble up from the child in his lap.

“Agatha.” Penelope responded, more decisively this time. “As in, Lady Agatha Danbury, to whom you owe a great deal for somehow agreeing to this harebrained scheme of yours!”

Colin let the insult roll off his back, too excited to have had Penelope’s help in selecting the perfect name for his daughter. “Agatha Anne Bridgerton.” he pronounced proudly. He could hear the beginning of his name on her lips in protest, but the squeals of delight that erupted ended any remaining debate.

Colin didn’t notice the grimace on Penelope’s face as he smacked kisses on little Agatha’s cheeks, making her giggle as he nuzzled her with his nose, excitedly repeating her name over and over. By the time he glanced up, beaming from ear to ear, a wistful smile had replaced any hint of upset. “Thank you. Penelope.” He felt suddenly serious and swallowed down against a swell of emotion sticking in his throat. “I can’t… I… I’ll never forget this, you know?”

Penelope nodded her head, smiling tightly towards her lap. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t overcome with joy at this moment, and wanted nothing more than to ask her about it, but before he had the chance, she rose abruptly. “I should like to retire. It has been quite the eventful day.”

Colin stood as well, shifting Agatha to his hip. “I will show you to your room.” he raced to interject. He noticed Mrs. Foster’s raised eyebrows and quickly added, “So that I can give Mrs. Foster the key, of course.”

Mrs. Foster gave a satisfied nod, then followed as Colin led Penelope up the stairs. After a short walk down the hall, Colin opened a door to a large room, fully furnished with a large, four-post bed, end tables, chairs, bureau, chests of drawers, and desk. The room looked better suited as a master suite than a guest room, and it made her wonder what his room must look like.

“Now Agatha, Princess Penelope needs her beauty rest. So we must say goodnight to her now. I promise we can play again in the morning. But you’re going to come sleep with Papa.” Colin dutifully explained to little Agatha.

Agatha seemed to understand him perfectly, because before Penelope could reach out to pat her cheek, her quivering lip gave way to full-throated wails. Colin’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion after having not slept at all the night before. Penelope must have felt pity for him, because after heaving a small sigh of her own, she outstretched her arms to him. “I will take her for the night. You’ll both be miserable if you miss another night’s sleep. Come here.”

The moment Colin shifted Agatha’s weight into Penelope’s arms the crying ceased. Colin shook his head at the pair, leaning in to place a goodnight kiss on Agatha’s cheek. He must have lingered just a moment too long, considering a goodnight gesture for Penelope as well, because he was startled back by the loud clearing of Mrs. Foster’s throat. He bid Pen a goodnight, then gave the key to Mrs. Foster for the night, and left Dunwoody to show her to the staff quarters.

Colin slumped against the wall, cursing for a moment that he was unable to speak further with Penelope about whatever it was that seemed to be bothering her. Until he remembered the extremely precarious position he was about to put himself in, and let his cursing give way to a low chuckle.

Colin had not expected guests so soon at his new home. And so when the landlord advised him that the townhouse was mostly furnished, except for the guest bedrooms, he didn’t foresee an issue, especially considering one of the rooms would need to be converted to a nursery anyway. Dunwoody was well aware of the situation at hand but was so fiercely loyal to Colin that he knew he would keep up any charade he asked of him.

Slipping into the adjoining bedroom, designed as quarters for the lady of the house, Colin locked the door behind him and made his way into the dressing room that disguised the connecting door. Not wanting to appear a complete brute, Colin rapped lightly on the door, softly calling for Pen to come to the door. “Pen? Pen it’s me. May I enter?”

The corners of his mouth curled involuntarily when he heard soft footsteps padding into the other half of the dressing room. “Colin? Where are you..? Oh!” He realized she must have just located the connecting door. Colin wondered if it were possible to hear someone blush.

Colin tried the handle, having had no reason to open the door in the two days he’d lived at the new address, and was surprised to find it unlocked. He carefully cracked the door, peaking his head through to meet Penelope’s eyes. He shushed her audible gasp. “Pen, it’s just me. Can I come in?”

Her eyes seemed fly wide in the dark, but he saw her nod and then step away from the door. Colin followed her into the dressing room, barely able to make out her and Agatha in the low light that seeped in from his bedchamber. “What are you doing in here Colin?” she hissed. “If we were to be caught – there is no explaining this to Mrs. Foster!” He could feel his heart racing as she chastised him.

“Did you latch the door from the inside?” Penelope nodded.

“Good. I locked the door behind me as well… How is Agatha?” he asked, stalling. How would he explain this? Surely she would march straight home after he told her what he’d done.

“She’s fine.” Penelope answered abruptly. “Now what is this all about?”

Better to show her. Yes, that would work. “I need to show you something.” he said gently, taking her hand in his.

Penelope hesitated, staying rooted firmly in place as he tugged her towards the adjoining door. “I can’t go in your room Colin!” she huffed.

He smirked, even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see. “You already have.”

The air was so still between them that he swore he could hear her swallow as understanding began to break over her. “Come.” he asked of her, and this time she let herself be guided by his hand.

They crossed the doorway into the lady’s half of the dressing room, then emerged into the bed chamber. Moonlight filtered in through the large windows, bare of any drapes, and giving way to the large, stark, wholly empty room. He could feel Penelope frozen at his side. “There’s – no – furniture.” she stuttered.

“Ah, yes. And now you see my dilemma.” Colin let his most charming smile break across his face before turning to look down at his friend. But when his eyes landed on her, it was he that was now frozen.

He hadn’t been able to see well in the dressing rooms, and had not noticed that Penelope had already changed for bed when she’d answered the door. In fact, she was wearing naught but a white nightgown, fitted well and exposing the vast expanse of her decolletage. To make matters worse, Agatha, still seated on her hip, was grabbing and slapping at fistfuls of the bare flesh, causing obscene movement and drawing Colin’s eye like a compass needle to north.

“Colin, where will you sleep?” her concerned voice barely registered, ringing through his mind that had otherwise stopped processing thought.

“Uh-” Broken half-sounds formed in the back of his throat and fell from his mouth. It was only Penelope’s loud huff that finally caught his attention, only in part due to the exaggerated movement it caused in her chest.

“You’ve no other rooms fitted out but your own?”

Colin broke off his stare and shook his head ‘no’.

“I suppose I understand now why you knocked.” Penelope adjusted the now dozing Agatha on her hip and shook her head at the child, almost as if having a silent conversation with her over the demerits of the plan taking shape in her mind. “You will rise with the sun and leave no trace for Mrs. Foster to find. Colin. If she were to find out… If word were to get back to Lady Danbury… We would… I couldn’t… I’d be ruined.”

Colin nodded along as she spoke, until she reached the last part. “No.” he cut in vehemently. “I would never let that happen.” Penelope rolled her eyes at him, clearly interpreting his meaning as bravado towards not allowing them to be caught. But that was not what he’d intended. He would never leave Penelope to be ruined. Should even a whisper of impropriety find its way to the Ton, Colin would offer for her in a heartbeat. It would be no burden upon him at all.

In fact, if he were looking for a wife, he surely could do a lot worse than Penelope. He trusted her with his life. Hell, he trusted her with his daughter’s life. They had been friends since as far back as his memories stretched, and their easy rapport and witty banter was exactly the sort of thing he wished to one day fill his home. He knew Penelope didn’t wish to marry or have children so young, but he could imagine her in all the places he’d seen her today – on the settee, in the dining room, retiring to his bedroom – his blushing bride. She was beautiful indeed, and was beautiful in his imaginings, glowing and round with his child.

He was staring at her breasts again, imagining them swollen even larger, spilling from her nightgown, her body preparing itself to feed his hungry offspring. Colin gulped at the air, realizing he’d followed Penelope back into his bedroom and was standing quite uselessly at the foot of the bed as she crawled under the covers. He searched the room and found she’d put Agatha down for the night in a pulled out drawer made up with an extra blanket. “The crib should be done next week,” he simpered, “along with much of the guest furniture I’ve ordered.”

Penelope nodded, then continued to watch him as he stood there, trying to make sense of his own mind. “Are you intending to sleep in your waistcoat and boots?” she asked, a giggle on her lips.

Colin felt quite silly under her scrutiny, babbled a response, then retreated once more to the dressing rooms, swapping his fine dress shirt for a looser nightshirt and removing the more restrictive parts of his kit, but deciding it best to keep his trousers in place.

Returning to the bed chamber, Colin kissed Agatha’s forehead, then made to slip under the covers next to Penelope. “Absolutely not.” she nearly yelled, slamming her palm down flat over the bedclothes, snapping the corner out of the loose hold of his hand. He looked at her, befuddled, until she continued. “You will sleep on top. Here.” She shoved a spare blanket at his chest.

“Of course.” he murmured, feeling rather foolish for assuming otherwise. He laid atop the covers, spreading the blanket she’d given him over his legs. Colin extinguished the flame of the alcohol lamp and laid back against the pillows, trying to settle himself for sleep. Unfortunately, the driving beat of his heart and racing thoughts would not let sleep come.

“Pen?” he whispered into the night as he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. The sharp breath she took let him know she was still awake. “Pen? I’m not tired. Could we… chat a bit?”

Penelope huffed loudly and shifted under the covers. “What is it, Colin?” she replied, her voice colder than he’d expected.

“Nothing.” he rushed out. “I thought maybe you could… tell me about your winter? I missed y– your letters.”

Penelope didn’t make a sound for a moment. Then, causing Colin’s chest to flutter, she rolled to her side as well, her eyes meeting his in the moonlight. “There is not much to tell.”

Colin knew that could not be true. Last year she’d written him nearly twice a month, filling pages with tales of her sisters’ antics, recountings of her mother’s strangest advice for young ladies, and tidbits of gossip she’d picked up from callers or staff. This year she’d failed to share anything personal, and he felt colder for it. “Not even of Prudence’s latest attempt at the Jupiter Symphony?”

The reference to her sister’s notoriously lacking musical talent had Penelope guffawing despite herself. Colin smiled, a big, toothy grin, gently tracing small circles into the bedding in front of him, wishing it was her hand under his instead.

Penelope indulged him in some of the comings and goings of the Featherington household during his absence. What happened in the wake of Cousin Jack’s departure. Prudence’s tantrum after she found out he’d jilted her. The lucky inheritance her mother came into. The new lady’s maid that was actually familiar with hairstyles of the 19th century. Several Shakespeare plays she’d read. How her mother had agreed to let her choose her own dresses this year while she focused on marrying off Prudence. Colin felt warm in her presence, even as the thin blanket covering him did little to keep off the cool night air.

“And what of Lady Whistledown?” he asked softly. He was impressed by what she’d done and wanted to know more. “I have so many questions. Largely, how?”

She stirred at his question. Tensing perhaps. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her. Let her know he wasn’t angry with her over what she may have written in the past. Truly, he was curious about this part of her life that had been hidden from him. “You wish to know… how?”

“Yes. Did you have a team? One of your servants perhaps? Or the delivery boys themselves?”

Penelope chuckled lightly in response. “For a long time, it was just me. I wrote the column. I snuck out at night, disguised as a maid. I arranged for a hired hackney coach to take me to Bloomsbury to deliver my drafts for publishing. It went on that way for all of the first season and part of my second.”

Colin was both fascinated and horrified. “Pen, that’s… incredible. And so dangerous. You could have… you could have been hurt. I never knew you to be so… brave!”

“There is much you do not know about me Mr. Bridgerton.” she teased.

I want to know, he thought. “What changed? Last season?”

“It was the Queen. She was increasing her efforts to uncover me. And it was becoming more difficult for me to slip away unnoticed. I needed help. I turned to someone I am acquainted with, outside of the Ton. I now use a system of delivery boys that better separates me from it all.”

“Then, why were you in Bloomsbury? In that church?”

“A late draft. I haven’t had to make a delivery like that since the end of last season. It’s a drop point. My publisher is just around the corner.”

Colin stopped to consider all of the logistics surrounding publication and running a business. He shivered to think that he was in bed with perhaps the most formidable lady in all the Ton. “Tell me something I wouldn’t think to ask.”

“The delivery boys. I leaned on the publisher until he increased their wages. That’s why they’re so loyal to me.” Silence hung as Colin took in all that she’d shared. “Col? Don’t you want to know why? Aren’t you upset with me for what I’ve written?”

“I know you, Pen. I do not need you to explain yourself to me.”
“Col?”
“Yeah, Pen?”
“Will you tell me the Princess Penelope story?”

Colin smiled at the sleepy voice he hadn’t registered until now. It had been well over an hour, perhaps even two since she’d stood from the table and announced her intention to go to sleep. He inched his head forward slightly, wanting to be closer to her, then began softly retelling the tale he’d invented of a beautiful copper haired princess, kept away from society by her overzealous mama, and how she’d fallen in love with a dashing prince who failed to notice her. It wasn’t long before he could hear Penelope’s light snoring and he abandoned the tale, finally ready to be overcome by sleep himself.

Chapter Text

The world was bright. All aquamarine and gold and copper. Bliss. Warmth and softness and home. He felt pleasure everywhere, as if coursing through his very veins. Suddenly, Colin could see two heaving mounds of pinked flesh, spilling out over top white lace. His hands were on her stomach now. Her stomach. And it was full. Life that he’d created bubbled and kicked from within. Then, he was there. Creating. Between her thighs and sinking himself in. Surrounded. Home.

The moment Colin realized he was awake, it was too late. His senses were overwhelmed and every single sensation was Penelope. His nose was pressed into her silky curls; his vision nothing but bright sun and auburn waves. His arms were wrapped around her soft form. The one trapped underneath her clutched to her breast. The other, laid over her, was on her stomach, holding her tight to his front. Before conscious thought could start, he thrust up against the yielding flesh of her ample derriere, the friction of the grind causing him to explode within his breeches.

The instant his body ceased convulsing, the reality of what he’d done struck him. Horrified with his behavior, he released his hold and snatched his arms back, scrambling his body into a ball against the headboard, as far from her as he could get. His over-sensitive member scraped against the restrictive fabric of his breeches, wet and sticky with his release.

Penelope began to stir as he pulled away from her. She moved as if she could feel the void where he’d been, turning and reaching in her own twilight. He watched her touch the undoubtedly warmed sheets where he’d lain, her brow furrowing before her eyelids lifted.

Confusion was apparent on her face as she looked at the empty space, giving way to something pained when her eyes flicked up and met his. He could only watch as she shrank into herself, paralyzed by the hot shame of his actions.

“I’m sorry.” Colin blurted out, knowing the words weren’t enough to make up for the violation of her trust. “I… I’ll go.” He fled to the cover of the dressing room, gathering fresh clothing as quickly as he could before retreating to the other side of the dividing wall.

***

It was more than an hour later by the time Colin finally descended the stairs to the drawing room. He’d spent quite some time sank down on the floor, just the other side of the door, feeling disgusted with himself for having so thoroughly disgraced his honor. Eventually, he’d stood, using his nightshirt to clean himself the best he could and half dressed before ringing for Dunwoody. He couldn’t look his man in the eye, certain his actions that morning could be read straight from his face as if pages of a book.

Colin asked Dunwoody boil water for the tea service to bring it to the drawing room along with one of the cakes his mother’s cook had sent over, then steeled himself to face Penelope. He wasn’t sure quite how much she knew of what he’d done – she was still an innocent after all – but the look on her face that morning told him she knew enough that he’d need to beg her forgiveness.

When he entered the room, he felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he took in the sight of Penelope, hunched over on the settee, weeping silently as she clutched Agatha to her bosom, rocking with her and softly stroking the back of her head.

“Oh. Oh, Pen.” He rushed to her side, throwing his arm around the back of the settee and turning his body to hers, sitting as close as he dared, his knee brushing her thigh. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he pleaded.

Penelope sniffed back her tears, straightening her spine and lowering Agatha to her lap. She kept her eyes on the child’s face, deep lines of worry and sorrow showing on her own. “It is I who should be sorry, Mister Bridgerton. I did not mean to make you so. Uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? Pen, whatever could you mean?” Colin was incredulous, not understanding her response in any part.

Penelope breathed deeply, looking longingly at the child in her arms. “Your shock at waking up next to me.” she explained. “It must have been quite the fright, opening your eyes to. Me.” She swallowed hard at the lump that had formed in her throat.

Colin shook his head in protest, but didn’t know where to begin. He reached out, layering his hand over the one on Baby Agatha’s head. She finally met his eyes, shocking him with just how radiant blue they were against their bloodshot backdrop.

She shook her head sharply, sniffing again against the tears that were still quietly falling. “I’m sorry. This is just… it’s hard because I know I’ll never have it. I desire children so. And… this.” She gestured widely into the room. “Mornings together. Freedom from my mama. A home. A husband that would allow me to realize those dreams.”

“What do you mean you’ll never have it?” Concern dripped from his every word, unable to produce a single reason that could stand in the way of her happiness. Unless… “Is it. Because of Whistledown?” he whispered.

“No.” she replied simply, offering nothing further.

But Colin would not be deterred. “Then what, Pen? Why wouldn’t you be able to find a husband when you are ready?”

“Ready?” she scoffed. “I have been out for two years. This is my third season, Colin. And you are still the only gentleman who has even asked me to dance! And this morning only confirmed my fears. My appearance is so shocking that even you, one of my dearest friends, scrambled away in fear upon waking to the sight of me. I am a lost cause.”

Colin’s heart was beating furiously in his chest. She hadn’t been aware of his indiscretion after all. She wasn’t angry at him for taking liberties! She thought he’d – no. Oh, no. Oh, Pen. He had to fix this. She couldn’t go on thinking… What kind of brute did she think he was? “Pen. You are mistaken.”

“I know what I am, Colin!” she bit back. “At least I have Whistledown. If I can make it through one more season, and can find someone to help me invest my profits, I will be able to support myself. I may not have a family but at least I will have peace.”

“Pen!” Colin practically shouted, cutting her off and shocking her to attention. “I did not scramble away in fear.”

“What then? I watched you run from the bed. How else do you explain the way you withdrew from me?”

Colin opened his mouth to snap back. To match her tone. But he knew it was all wrong for the confession he was about to make. He snapped his mouth shut, taking a deep breath through his nose. He looked back up through his eyelashes, bringing his arm from the back of the settee down to lay across her back. He gently squeezed her far shoulder, perhaps as a reassuring gesture for her, but taking support from it himself. “Pen. When I awoke this morning, you were in my arms. Not as a gentleman might assist a lady, but. As a husband would hold a wife. I – Pen, I blush to admit this. But, I was – quite. Overcome.”

His words hung between them long enough that he began to feel uncomfortable again, wanting her to say something. Anything, really to break this tension.

“Overcome?” she finally chirped back, clearly not allowing his meaning to sink in.

“Indeed. Penelope,” he began, straightening his posture and taking her free hand in his. “I embarrassed myself this morning. But I can assure you, my actions should in no way reflect negatively on the esteem you hold for yourself. I was. Overwhelmed. By your presence.”

“Oh.”
“Indeed.”

Penelope’s expression changed to something he’d never seen before and could not place. They sat together a moment longer, him still holding her hand, her still holding Agatha, until Mrs. Foster entered the room carrying the tea service and cake. They each pulled back quickly upon hearing hear approaching footsteps and were able to deftly avoid any telltale eyebrow raises.

“Good morning, Sir, Ma’am.” Mrs. Foster curtsied after placing the tray. “If I may have a word?”

While nothing short of impeccable manners and professionalism was to be expected from one of Lady Danbury’s staff, the formality and respect surprised Penelope nonetheless. She wasn’t accustomed to being treated that way behind closed doors. Not when there wasn’t some outsider to put on a show for. As de facto Lady of the house, she supposed it was her responsibility to address the woman. “Yes, Mrs. Foster?”

“Ma’am. I was speaking with Mr. Dunwoody, and it seems the foodstuffs are really quite low. I would be happy to do the shopping, as I am understood that you cannot make this engagement public yet. If you would draw up a list after you break your fast, I will go out this morning.” Mrs. Foster curtsied when she was done speaking, waiting for Penelope’s instruction.

Penelope found herself quite speechless at the request. What did Lady Danbury tell her? Surely she did not… she couldn’t have! Her eyes blew wide as she realized that in all likelihood, Lady Danbury had explained away the situation by telling Mrs. Foster they were betrothed, but waiting to make their situation public. It explained the distance she was willing to give them within the home, offering scant interruptions and little more than raised eyebrows when they flouted propriety. Penelope opened her mouth to correct the assumption, but was interrupted by Colin’s hand landing on her own.

“If you don’t mind, darling? I’m sure she can help you determine what we need.”

WHAT? Penelope felt as if her thoughts were a runaway carriage, careening off the road towards dangerous territory. But something in the look Colin gave her, and the tiny squeeze of her hand, told her it was best for now to lean in and enjoy the thrill of the ride. She inclined her head politely at Mrs. Foster, indicating her acquiescence. She did not trust herself to speak just yet, but the gesture did the trick, earning her a bobbed curtsy and effectively dismissing the maid, who retreated to her chaperone’s corner on the far side of the large room.

Penelope passed Agatha to Colin and leaned in to the tea tray, measuring and adding the leaves to the pot. She inclined her head towards Colin, whispering so that her voice would not carry behind her to Mrs. Foster’s post. “Have you lost your mind?”

Colin leaned in himself, separating the small plates and cutting into the apple cake. “Not quite.” he whispered back, cheer and charm displayed on his face, most likely for Mrs. Foster’s benefit she believed. “If she is to go on thinking we are betrothed, we will continue to be free to spend our days together with minimal frustrations.” Colin sat back, handing Penelope the plate he’d fixed for her.

She stared at him as he poured cream from the tea service over the corner of his cake, mashing it with his fork, and then bringing the first bite to Agatha’s giggly lips. His focus was on the child, trading bites of the cake and eating with exaggerated manners such that she cooed and copied him. Penelope watched them for a time, then stared down at the monstrous helping of cake Colin had served her. She was battling against tears once again when Colin cut into her thoughts, his words careful and tender this time. “Do you want a husband, Pen? And children?”

She looked up to see him studying her carefully with a furrowed brow. She did her best not to snap at him, but her tone was still colder than she’d meant. “Of course I do.”

“I mean, now. Soon. I… always thought that… like Eloise, you –”

“No one ever asked me.” she cut in, her words precise and filled with meaning. She leaned forward, her spine pin straight, pouring two cups of the brewed tea. She fixed his first, milky, with one sugar, exactly as he took it, then her own, a splash of cream and nothing more. When she continued, she spoke clearly and unequivocally. “Eloise and I disagree on a great number of things. And yes, I do wish for children. Although I am quite resigned that my path is not meant for them. I’m sure you can see then that while days with Agatha have been most fulfilling, I am afraid they are also quite the painful reminder of what will never be.”

Colin said little in response, appearing to study her with pity and a heavy heart. Tiny babbling noises from Agatha reminded them both of their position in the drawing room. “You should eat.” he murmured.

They sat quietly for several minutes. Colin finished sharing his cake with Agatha. Penelope sipped her tea, never touching the plate. When her cup was empty, she placed it and the saucer down on the tray, stood and crossed to the door. “Mrs. Foster? I will assist you with your list now.” The maid followed her as she swept out of the room.

Even with Agatha still wiggling in his arms, Colin had never felt more alone.

Chapter Text

It took nearly an hour for Penelope to complete her work with Mrs. Foster. Neither were well suited to the task, and the fact that there was very little to speak of meant that they had to think of nearly everything on their own. All told, Penelope sent her off with instructions to purchase bread, tinned biscuits, jam and butter, sausages and cheese, apples and pears, and meat and veg enough for several stews. Neither Mrs. Foster nor Dunwoody had the cookery skills to roast meat or bake, so they would all have to make do with simple fare until Colin’s cook arrived. She was sure to advise Mrs. Foster of Colin’s appetite, advising her not to skimp on the quantities lest she be right back out shopping the next day.

After waving off Mrs. Foster, Penelope took some time to gather herself. The morning had been a tumult of emotions, each event of the day twisting the knife deeper in her bosom than the last. Even now, the maid had thanked her as “Missus” rather than “Miss”. Certainly it was a slip, she was acting in the role of Lady of the house. But this time spent walking around in what once was her wildest dream, now felt a waking nightmare; nothing more than a constant reminder of what she couldn’t have.

When she finally climbed the stairs and re-entered the drawing room, she was rather shocked at the state she found Agatha and Colin in. Colin was laid out on the floor on his stomach, Agatha in the same position in front of him, giggling wildly up at him as he sang some children’s tune and clapped and danced her arms along with the words. That wasn’t what was strange, however. It was the two dozen boxes from the modiste, stacked haphazardly on the table, settee, chairs and floor.

“Colin! What is all this?” Penelope nearly shrieked.

Colin looked up, startled. “Oh, hey Pen!” he smiled, happy to see her back upstairs. He pushed himself up to his knees, then sat back onto the floor. He pulled Aggie around to his lap, waving her tiny arm at Penelope. “Say, ‘Hi,’ –” Colin stuttered, unable to complete the sentence. ‘Hi, Mama!’ his mind had completed. He should fight this urge… shouldn’t he? Nothing but instinct was telling him that was the right course of action anymore. Not his gut, not his head, not his heart, and certainly not his… body. Luckily for him, there was no time to dwell on such things any longer, because Penelope had ignored his incomplete response and had moved to the stacks of boxes from the modiste that littered the area around him.

“She is but one child, Colin! And she will grow. Quickly!” Penelope huffed in exasperation before transferring the boxes from the settee to the floor. She sat with a profound lack of grace, rolled her eyes, and began opening the closest box to her.

Colin looked on in excited anticipation as Penelope lifted the first tiny gown from its box. It was beautiful – perfect for his little Agatha Anne. The gown was a bright sunshine yellow, trimmed with white eyelet fabric and adorned with tiny pink silk rosettes. He pointed happily at the dress, bouncing Agatha on his knee. “Look Aggie! Your Papa got that just for you!” Colin’s smile beamed with pride.

Penelope opened another box, this time pulling from it a gown of pale yellow chiffon; flouncy layers with puffed sleeves and wide roses sewn onto the high waist. Colin kissed Agatha’s cheek from behind as he oohed and ahhed the reveal. He took note of the furrow in Penelope’s brow, but said nothing of it.

The next dress was fancier, a deep, royal yellow with bright pink ruffles trimming the collar and bows of the same color adorning the puffed sleeves, back, and skirt. His eyes danced as he imagined bringing Agatha along to a Sunday meal at Bridgerton House, or perhaps to Hastings House even, to play with her cousin Auggie.

The next three dresses were equally lovely. Another in sunshine yellow with white embroidered daisies. One with a lemon yellow gingham pattern and light pink bows. And one in light pink with bright yellow butterflies and flowers embroidered along the skirt and trimmed with yards of yellow ribbons and bows.

Colin was hoping Penelope would come across the box with all the tiny chemises soon so he could go about getting little Miss Agatha kitted out in proper attire. He hated seeing her day after day in that thin, dingy excuse for a gown. He was contemplating which of her new dresses she should wear first when Penelope let out simply the strangest noise he’d ever heard her produce.

He took notice of her expression for the first time in several minutes, surprised to be met with something between annoyance, exasperation, and exhaustion. “What… Colin?” she murmured, confusion filling her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Pen?”

“They’re all… yellow.”

He grinned. “I know.”

“Colin.” she persisted. “It looks like my wardrobe from my first two years out!” she hissed. “In fact, I am sure that at least three of these gowns are made from the same fabrics!”

Colin’s face fell. He’d never picked out fabric for dresses at the modiste before. When he went, he’d simply chosen the ones that put a smile on his face. Madame Delacroix had been helpful and discreet, but never once made comment about his choices. “I… didn’t realize.” he choked out. “I just thought they would look pretty.”

Penelope scoffed. “Pretty? My mama bought me dresses for years that looked just like these, and not once did anyone tell me they were ‘pretty’.”

“I always thought so.” Colin rushed out before he could think better of it. He swallowed hard at the admission, unsure how it would be received.

“Of course.” Penelope replied graciously, although he was sure she didn’t mean it. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and busied herself unpacking the remaining boxes.

Colin stood, joining her. He wasn’t much help, limited to one hand as the other held Agatha on his hip, but he refused to sit by and let her do this alone. He piled the new gowns on one of the chairs, and moved about, carrying the empty boxes to the front hall and stacking them for Dunwoody to dispose of later. They worked in silence until the task was complete.

Pulling a fresh chemise and the lemon yellow gingham dress from the stack, Colin kneeled on the floor to finally change Agatha out of that sad, flimsy rag and into a proper dress. She was wiggly and the tiny buttons and ties were fiddly. Colin was growing increasingly frustrated, doing his best not to take it out on Agatha, but ever more aware that he was making no progress in his task.

Suddenly, Penelope was at his side, kneeling next to him, gently brushing his fingers out of the way of her tiny, nimble ones. As if by magic, no more than a few seconds later the fastenings were done and Agatha was in her arms, a shining star in her new gown. Colin couldn’t help the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Thanks, Pen.” he whispered softly, smoothing back Aggie’s hair and leaning in to kiss her forehead. Colin hovered in the intimate space, chancing a look at Penelope. She was beautiful. Kneeling with him on the floor of his drawing room, holding his daughter, acting every bit the partner he’d always dreamed of one day marrying. He remembered the moment from his dream this morning; the image of her swollen with his child. Suddenly he couldn’t imagine anyone but Penelope carrying his children. He didn’t want some stranger prattling on about watercolors or how well she took to French. He wanted his best friend. His Pen.

He considered confessing everything right then, but before he could order his thoughts, Penelope asked him the last thing he expected to hear fall from her innocent lips. “Colin? How, exactly, are children made?”

Colin felt all the air leave his lungs, as if the question itself had landed a firm blow to the center of his chest. Before he could recover, Penelope had stood, pacing the room once before taking up a seat once again on the settee. Again, before he could think of the right words to say, she was speaking. “I know that I am not meant to know, because I am a lady. But if I am never to have a child, I would at least like to know what I am missing. I do not enjoy being kept in the dark. You said that you would owe me for helping you to conceal Agatha this week. This is what I want in return. Just… knowledge.”

Colin’s eyes danced as they took in her wild spark of indignant fury. He rarely got to see that side of her, but found it magnetic when he did. He rose from he knees, settling in next to her on the settee, so close he could feel the heat radiating from her body. “I’ll explain.” he began simply, his voice low and rumbling.

Colin’s heart was racing in his chest at the thought of teaching Penelope how to become pregnant. He wanted to show her. To practice until they got it right. But with Mrs. Foster due back shortly and Dunwoody just down the hall, his words would have to do. He looked deep into her wide, blue eyes and started talking.

“It begins with attraction.” Colin licked his lips, his gaze darting to Penelope’s for a brief glance. He twisted his body into hers so he could see her better, not shying away when the sides of their legs connected. “Propriety demands marriage, but physiology does not.” Penelope’s eyes were fixed on his, taking in every word he spoke. Her intensity made it difficult for him to concentrate, yet added to his resolve to press on.

“The man takes the woman to bed. They, um… remove one another’s clothing.” Colin couldn’t imagine having this conversation with anyone else. Eloise had asked once, years ago, leading to jokes about visiting farms and sword play. But never a serious conversation. Not like this. Not this intimate. Colin gulped down his embarrassment. “There is kissing, and… touching. It is all meant to prepare one another for what is next.”

Penelope nodded at him, clearly hanging on his every word and encouraging him to go on. He felt his hands go clammy and reached up to loosen a cravat that he wasn’t wearing. “Between her legs, a woman has a… crevasse. A man is. Opposite. He has a. Protrusion. And when sufficiently aroused, they may be… connected.”

Colin’s eyes felt lidded and heavy. He may have been speaking in the abstract, but in his mind he was picturing anything but. “A woman’s womb – where your child grows – is like a garden.” Colin shifted to adjust the uncomfortable firmness concealed in his lap. His breaths were coming faster with each sentence he spoke closer to the truth. “A man, he bears seed. He will thrust inside over and over – if done right, bringing great pleasure to both parties – until he reaches his release.” Colin found himself staring at Penelope’s belly, imagining himself buried deep inside, aching to fill her over and over. “And as I release, I will spill forth my seed into you. And if we are lucky, it will take root, and you grow my child.”

Breathless, Colin reached forward, his hand drawn to the soft curve of Penelope’s stomach. But before he could touch the sacred space, they both heard Mrs. Foster shuffling up the staircase.

The next several minutes were a blur to Colin. His instincts were screaming at him to flee, but the straining in his pants kept him frozen in place. He wanted to answer Mrs. Foster, to spin some sort of charming story to let Penelope off the hook. But his thoughts were stuck in his bedchamber, in the embrace of her warm thighs, pouring his life force into her fertile ground.

He watched Penelope rally and handle Mrs. Foster with aplomb. He could tell she’d made out his words for what they were. It was impossible to miss the stunned look in her eyes. But with one shake of her head and a false smile, she was able to push aside all the new information he’d imparted upon her and converse with the maid as if it had not happened at all.

Penelope showed off Agatha’s new dress, smiling sweetly as Mrs. Foster allowed herself to fuss over “the young Miss.” She asked after the shopping trip, assuring that she was successful in obtaining jars of strawberry jam and tins of butter biscuits, both Cheddar and Wiltshire cheeses, and plenty of crisp apples for eating. Even in his stupor, it didn’t escape his notice that Penelope had remembered all of his favorites and sent Mrs. Foster after them accordingly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He wondered how he’d never seen it before. Her beauty. Her grace. The way she loved him through her every action. He was certain, of course, that she did love him – as a dear friend – the only true question left in his mind was whether she could consider him romantically as well.

Having regained control over all his extremities, Colin stood and approached the chatting Misses. It occurred to him that Mrs. Foster believed them to be betrothed, allowing him to press the boundaries of propriety in a way he’d never dared before. He walked up behind Penelope, reaching over her shoulder and across her front to cup Agatha’s cheek. She was truly darling in her new gown, and seeing her giggle and squirm in Penelope’s arms brought joy and light to his heart.

“I have some matters to attend to in my study, dearest. Might you and Mrs. Foster be alright with Miss Agatha for a spell? I will have Dunwoody bring her new wardrobe to the nursery.”

He observed the effect his endearment had on her, stiffening and whipping her head towards his. But there was vulnerability in her eyes, not spite. Maybe. Just maybe. She nodded her agreement, her eyes lingering on his. Clasping his hands behind his back to ensure he did not take liberties he did not intend, he leaned down and left a sweet kiss on the top of her cheekbone.

Colin retreated quickly, before her dizzying combination of orange blossom and cinnamon could overtake him. The glance over his shoulder he allowed himself before crossing the threshold revealed to him her pinked cheeks and flustered appearance along with a minimally stern eyebrow from Mrs. Foster chasing him out the door.

Dunwoody met him in the hall, having already managed the pile of boxes, and graciously agreed to manage transferring the pile of tiny gowns to the nursery wardrobe. Colin dismissed him, asking not to be disturbed in his study until he emerged.

The moment Colin clicked the lock behind him, his mind went wild with thought. Penelope. It was all Penelope. She was so natural with Agatha. She would of course be the same with their future children. He pictured a hundred scenarios all at once – Penelope clutching their newborn to her bare chest, flushed and glistening from the exertion of labor; Penelope chasing their small brood in the grass at Aubrey Hall; Penelope, round with new life, putting Agatha down for bed; Penelope holding their next child to her breast, feeding him with her body – each imagining left him hungrier for her than the last.

Colin wondered if this was simply a physical reaction, caused by their proximity rather than something deeper. There was truly only one way to find out, he needed to give into the release his body was demanding so he could once again think with a clear head. He checked the lock again, adjusted the drapes, and walked to the green velvet sofa across from his desk.

Lounging back against the plush cushions, Colin sighed a deep breath before tugging at the front lacings of his breeches. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, leaving it on his stomach for quick retrieval, then finally released his already painfully erect member from its confines.

He took himself in hand, tracing his length first with delicate fingertips, teasing the sensitive skin. He decided in the moment that he would not confine his thoughts as a gentleman typically might. If he were to know himself, truly understand these urges for what they were, he would have to give into them first.

Thinking of Penelope’s soft, warm body pressed against his that morning sent a shiver down his spine. He could have released again just from the thought, but at two and twenty, he had a bit more control over his body than that – when he was fully conscious at any rate – and instead let the intense wave of pleasure spread through to his extremities. He gripped himself in earnest next, stroking slowly but firmly as his mind began to wander.

Penelope. All Penelope. Her silken skin pressed to his. Kissing her plump lips. Letting his tongue mingle with hers. Her warm heat. Plunging into her depths. Begging for his seed. Her fertile womb thrumming in anticipation, ready to receive him. Ready to create. Ready to grow and carry his child. Penelope, filled and swollen with his offspring. Yes. Yes, yes, YES!

Colin quickly covered himself with the waiting handkerchief, erupting into it with a force he’d never known previously. He moaned Penelope’s name as he emptied himself, still sank between her thighs in his mind’s eye. He shook with intensity, directing his spend to find its home; to plant itself within her, merging and creating new life.

When he came down from his high, he did not feel dirty as he typically did after handling such personal business. He did not feel ashamed of his indecent thoughts. Rather, he felt a new determination. He knew then, with absolute clarity and certainty. He wanted Penelope to be the mother of his children.

Chapter Text

“And as I release, I will spill forth my seed into you. And if we are lucky, it will take root, and you grow my child.”

His words reverberated in her ears. His release. His seed. His child. Into her. And he was reaching for her. He was most certainly reaching for her. When they both heard Mrs. Foster return.

Penelope did what she did best and pushed down any and all thoughts of Colin, focusing all her attention on Agatha and Mrs. Foster. She allowed Mrs. Foster to fuss over the baby’s new dress, then asked after the shopping. Her mind started to wander once again to the child’s new wardrobe and how it was nearly a matched set to hers from last season, when she felt the hum of his presence rising behind her.

He was close – far too close for propriety – when he reached across her body to cup Agatha’s cheek. It was almost as if he were embracing her from behind, the scant inch of air between them warmed from their bodies, though they did not touch. Penelope didn’t dare move, every direction was Colin.

“I have some matters to attend to in my study, dearest. Might you and Mrs. Foster be alright with Miss Agatha for a spell? I will have Dunwoody bring her new wardrobe to the nursery.”

Dearest. Dearest? Penelope went rigid, her head snapping involuntarily towards the sound of the man she’d pined after since girlhood calling her dearest. Could he mean it? He’d called her hideous dresses pretty. And those words. And if we’re lucky, you will grow my child. And now he’d called her ‘dearest’ whilst all but holding her in front of her supposed chaperone. She tried to find the jest in his eyes, but saw nothing but warmth shining down at her.

Penelope realized Colin was waiting for her to answer him, and nodded stiffly in response. Before she could react, he’d leaned in and kissed her cheek. He swept out of the room as quickly as he’d kissed her, not allowing her a chance to meet his eyes again before he’d gone. Her skin flushed with the surprise, and she found herself dumbly reaching up to touch the place where she could still feel his warm lips.

“A happy union yours will be indeed, ma’am.” Mrs. Foster smiled warmly at her. “And the darling little Miss is rather the luckiest to have found Mister Bridgerton and yourself. She won’t want for nothing, most especially love.” Penelope wanted to protest but the look of whimsical reverence perched on her face was too precious to shatter. She knew that the truth of their situation, beyond the obvious scandal, would hurt the older maid’s romantic heart nearly as much as as it hurt her own. It was all a rouse, perpetrated so that Colin didn’t have to bother himself with propriety rules.

The disappointment of her own realization flooded in as quickly as her reason had fled when Colin was near. She felt an overwhelming urge to flee. To finally be alone as she’d wished to be last night. As she’d wished to be this morning. Colin’s teasing – speaking to her of marrying and having children – was more than her heart could manage. Penelope needed to have a good, fulsome cry. To get it out and allow herself to refocus on what was important; surviving this week with her reputation intact so that she could continue attending balls and gathering gossip unnoticed.

Penelope thanked Mrs. Foster, making some sort of small talk for another minute, before making her excuses and heading upstairs under the guise of taking a nap with Agatha. The child was proving to be quite useful for begging off tasks she’d rather miss. Mrs. Foster bobbed another curtsy, following Penelope as far as the staircase, watched to ensure she reached the bedroom safely, then bustled off to attend to her own matters.

Penelope locked the door behind her, certain she did not want to be disturbed, and walked forward into the large room. She caught sight of herself in the large floor mirror – hair tied simply, donning a sage green day dress, and simple makeup that let her natural blush show through – holding Agatha in her arms, and the sight broke her heart all over again. She watched as the welling tears turned her sky blue eyes turquoise. This is what motherhood would look like. A beautiful red headed child that looked like she could have been her own, shining up at her, playfully tapping at her cheek with her tiny hands, loving unconditionally and asking for nothing but love in return. The sweet taste was quickly turning bitter in her mouth. She found herself turning away, unable to look a moment longer.

She considered laying Agatha down to nap, but despite being the cause of much of her heartbreak, Penelope longed for the physical comfort that cuddling the child close would bring. So instead, she carried her to the large bed, laying with her atop the covers, and allowed her resolve to finally break. Penelope sobbed hard. She sobbed for the home she would never have. For the marriage that lived only in her imagination. For the children that would never be. Penelope mourned the inevitable loss of this temporary respite from her true life. And for the coming day in which she would be forced to leave Agatha and Colin behind and return to that lonely existence.

Penelope clung to Agatha as she wept, hoping she wouldn’t scare the sweet soul. Much to her relief, Agatha did not upset nor shy away. Instead, she looked on with great curiosity, furrowing her tiny brow and holding Penelope’s wounded gaze. When Penelope fluttered her eyes closed to take a slow, shaky breath, little fingers clumsily landed on her cheeks, smearing away the tears that pooled there. She giggled, opening her eyes again and pressing her nose against Agatha’s.

“One day, your Papa will find you a new Mama, and you will forget all about your Princess Penelope my love. But I promise you that your Princess Penelope will never forget you.” she choked on the last of her words, nuzzling into the child once again. Little wet kisses landed on her forehead, and she realized Agatha was truly trying to comfort her. “My sweetling, you will always be loved.”

Feeling steadier after finally having the opportunity to release her hurt, Penelope cradled Agatha in her arms, gently stroking her hair and singing an old French lullaby until she fell asleep. Penelope lay, watching her for a spell, then stood, crossing to the desk to search for parchment. Despite the diversions of the week, she still had a business to run, never forgetting the delivery boys who relied on the circulation of her column for their wages.

Penelope had learned enough from her time spent with Mrs. Foster in the larder this morning to cheat her way through tomorrow’s column. She’d written columns this way before, when a family mishap had them falling off the invite list or sudden illness prevented her from attending a ball or other social event. It wouldn’t be the most talked about of the season – that honor would likely go to last week’s column in which Francesca Bridgerton was named the season’s Diamond and danced twice with the Earl of Kilmartin – but a few new bits of gossip from the maid along with some follow-up on the stories she broke earlier in the week, plus the inclusion of what she’d cut out of the last column, and no one would be any the wiser that Lady Whistledown had been wholly absent from society that week. She was even able to include a whisper report that one Mister Colin Bridgerton had arrived back in Town, late for the start of the season but had been rumored to have taken his very own bachelor lodgings, speculating on his intentions this year in the marriage mart.

As she let the pages dry on the writing desk, Penelope wondered if she ought to let Colin approve of what she’d written of him. Not that it was anything monumental. But still, if felt strange drafting the column in his home, in his bed chamber, at his desk, writing about him without at least telling him about it. She’d never shared any aspect of Whistledown before, and the thought of doing so now was both terrifying and exhilarating. He’d been so non-reactive before, would seeing his name in the draft remind him of the times she’d written his name in the past? What if he forbid her from delivering it? But… what if, on the other hand, she was able to gain a partner? A trusted confidant, who was – most importantly of all – a man, able to navigate London in ways she simply could not.

The idea of partnering with Colin had Penelope’s thoughts shifting again to their conversation on the sofa earlier this afternoon. He had explained the marital act to her in rather clear detail, or so it seemed considering this was the first true knowledge she’d been able to acquire of it in her nineteen years. She wondered about the connecting part, what it would be like to join with a man in the way he described. She found herself trying to picture the act. Her on her back, bared, with Colin between her knees, opening her to him. A shiver traveled down her spine, settling in the focal point of her imaginings, twisting and heating into something not quite uncomfortable, but certainly not satisfying either.

She shook her head sharply, trying to bring focus back to her mind as she compiled the now dried parchments and folded them together. So much had happened today that she found it difficult to order her thoughts. He’d ordered an entire wardrobe for little Agatha – one that matched hers from the previous season almost identically – because he thought the fabrics looked pretty? And then. Had he said that he thought her dresses were pretty? Yes, pretty like an infant. A child. That is all he sees you as, Penelope. Of course Colin didn’t think of her as a woman. He’d told her that last season. But then. And if we’re lucky, it will take root, and you grow my child.

Could he? Of course not, Penelope. Don’t be ridiculous. She knew Colin didn’t think of her that way. She knew it. He’d told her as much. But then. Dearest. And he’d kissed her cheek. Her cheek. Not her hand. Her cheek! She’d only witnessed such an intimacy a handful of times in her life, and even then, only between married couples. And certainly not by her own parents! Penelope reached up and touched her cheek again, where she could swear she still felt the gentle press of his lips.

She permitted her mind just a moment to drift to the domestic bliss that would accompany being Mrs. Colin Bridgerton. Living here. Sleeping in this room. Permitted to keep Agatha as her and Colin’s daughter. Sweet kisses in the drawing room. Running the household for her husband, just the way he liked it. Sharing meals together. Growing their family. Having a family. Penelope crawled into the bed once more, snuggling Agatha to her chest. She didn’t weep this time – her tears had long since run dry – instead letting the dream comfort her. The moment may be fleeting, but she would hold tight for as long as she could.

Chapter Text

Colin slipped out of his study and found Dunwoody. The house was uncomfortably quiet, and he found himself speaking in hushed tones for no reason other than it seemed to be called for. Dunwoody informed him that Mrs. Foster had taken it upon herself to prepare the evening meal, insisting her stew was preferable and that she could at least present it properly. Colin chuckled at the gossip. He knew it was not strictly proper for a butler to discuss staff matters in such an informal manner, but Dunwoody would never do so outside of present company, and the sporadic lapses were part of his charm.

He asked after Miss Agatha and Miss Featherington, and was advised that they had retired to the bed chamber not long after he had left to attend to his own matters. Colin thanked Dunwoody, dismissing him to continue his work. Once the butler disappeared to the dining room, Colin carefully crept up the stairs, entering the bare bed chamber adjoining his own without alerting so much as a mouse.

After tapping lightly at the adjoining door several times with no response, Colin cracked it open and slipped through. “Pen?” he called out quietly to no reply. He tiptoed further into his room, finding himself awestruck at the sight that greeted him. Penelope held Agatha tight to her chest as both peacefully napped, their bodies relaxed and vulnerable.

He spent a few minutes just taking in the sight of Penelope in his bed. After what he had done in his study earlier that afternoon, he felt nervous around her, as if just being in her presence was scandalous. And it was, it occurred to him for the first time. Nearly everything he did with Penelope. Nearly everything he felt towards Penelope was scandalous. Or at least it would be if he did not have every intention of making her his wife.

Colin carefully crawled onto the bed, not yet ready to disturb his sleeping beauties. He let Penelope and Agatha’s scent fill his nose, the light perfume of rose and fresh soap comforting and feminine and familiar. They smelled like mother and child. Like family. Like home.

He reached out to brush Penelope’s hair back from her eyes, feeling compelled to touch her in some way. Her curls were silky in his fingers, even more so than he could have imagined. Colin found himself unwilling to pull his hand back, gently stroking her hair as she slept, studying her elegant features, and reveling in the feeling of her closeness.

Penelope’s eyelashes fluttered open, her eyes slowly focusing on his face, followed by a sleepy smile. Colin retracted his hand from her hair, never wavering in his serene smile or smitten gaze. “Hi.” he whispered, feeling hints of nervousness in his gut.

“Hi.” she returned, a bright grin lighting her face.

This. This was what he wanted. It all seemed so right. So close. As if all he had to do was reach out and grasp it.

“Would you…” He trailed off for a moment, still mesmerized by the sight in front of him. A heartbeat later he continued, “would you consider marrying me?”

Penelope startled, the only thing keeping her from bolting upright was fear of waking the sleeping child between them. “What?” she breathed.

Colin straightened his features, knowing that his feelings for Penelope might not be returned. Yet, at least. He was certain she could grow to love him, if only she would consider him. For now though, he thought it best to be practical. Once she saw how well it would all work out, surely she would agree.

“You said yourself, just this morning, that you wished to marry. To have a family and be provided for. Do you not see how perfect it would be? You are so good with Agatha. And you are my best friend. The solution is simple – we should be wed.”

Ice ran through Penelope’s veins. “Of course, as your friend.” Her tone made it clear to Colin that this was no acceptance of his proposal. “And I suppose you wish for someone to mind Agatha for you as well?” The vitriol with which she spoke cut into Colin’s chest as tangibly as if she had slashed him with a blade.

“I… I suppose, but –”

Penelope rose to a sitting position, careful not to disturb the sleeping child. “I should think not, Mister Bridgerton. I am not so desperate that I would agree to a marriage of convenience under such circumstances. You must have forgotten, one more season and I will be able to support myself in comfort. I do not require your charity.”

“Pen, no, I –” Colin was panicked. How had this all gone so sideways, so quickly? He thought certainly the prospect of sharing a life with him and Aggie would warm her heart, not cause her to fall into such clear distress. She seemed… almost angry at him for his proposal. Colin could not make sense of it all, feeling his whole world beginning to crumble around him.

Before either could say anything further, the dinner bell rang, indicating they would be expected in the dining room in five minutes.

Colin carefully collected Agatha in his arms, looking up at Penelope with stony features to hide his pain. “You should go down. I will change her and be down shortly after.”

Penelope replied with only a curt nod, her normally sweet smile held in a thin line as well. After taking only the briefest moment to check her appearance in the bureau mirror, she swept out of the bed chamber without another word.

Agatha woke with the sound of the door shutting behind Penelope. Colin looked down into her gentle, trusting face, leaning in immediately to plant a kiss on her little forehead.

He began speaking to her as he changed her nappy and draped her in a bib to protect the new gown from her evening meal. “I asked Princess Penelope to marry me.” Aggie squealed and wiggled in delight. “But she has turned me down my sweet.” He watched the child’s face fall. She was so clearly tracking and understanding language already. She deserved Penelope as her mother for no other reason besides to have someone as brilliant as she to help guide and teach her in the world. He continued quickly before tears could fall. “I have not lost hope, and neither should you, Miss Agatha. But I will need your help at dinner. We will have to win Princess Penelope’s hand together!” Agatha lit back up, reaching her arms up to her Papa to be lifted and carried down for supper.

***

“Agatha has decided we do not accept your answer.” he announced as he took up his seat at the head of the table, situating the child on his knee. Agatha smacked her tiny hands down on the table, shrieking her agreement and staring with him, straight at Penelope.

“Excuse me?” Penelope drawled, incredulous that Colin had brought the baby into the discussion.

“You heard me. You said just this morning that you wished for a husband and a family. Is this not the solution to all that troubles you?”

“My spinsterhood is not a problem for you to solve!” Penelope seethed.

It was clear that she intended to go on, her mouth opening and her face burning such a hot red that Colin was certain steam would begin rolling out of her ears soon. But just as she prepared to bite into him, Dunwoody and Mrs. Foster appeared, carrying the stew, breads, and attractively arranged cheeses and sliced fruits that would comprise their meal.

Both were silent as Dunwoody served them. He allowed each to ladle their portions from the serving dish, then brought around the cheese plate, clearly Mrs. Foster’s handiwork. After pouring their wine, Colin excused the man to eat his own evening meal, not wishing to subject him to a minute more of the palpable tension that filled the room.

“And how dare you bring the baby into this!” Penelope hissed the moment they were left alone again. Agatha smacked the table again making a frustrated whine that almost had Colin cracking a smile.

Colin did not reply for a time, efficiently going about pulling squash and potatoes from the stew to his bread plate, mashing them with his fork, adding a thick knob of butter, mashing them further, blowing at it, testing it against his wrist, blowing some more, then finally taking up a teaspoon, scooping some of the mixture, and offering it to Agatha.

When Agatha pulled the spoon from Colin’s hand and brought it, albeit clumsily, to her own lips, Colin actually forgot about his botched proposal, beaming with pride at the milestone happening in his lap. “Pen, look!”

Penelope stared hard at the scene, and while Colin thought perhaps the corner of her mouth twitched up slightly, her countenance otherwise did not break. “Your daughter is quite the quick study indeed.” she said with a flat affect.

Colin looked up across the table with his eyes only. “I want her to be your daughter too.”

“No.” Penelope was quick to respond, but Colin could see the sadness behind her eyes. If she truly did not want what he was offering, he would not have pressed the issue, no matter how it hurt him. But he knew Penelope, and he knew that there was something more he did not understand. Something causing her to close herself off from even entertaining the idea of a life with him. And he could not stand for that.

Colin patiently took a mouthful of his stew, helping Aggie to dip her own spoon back into the squash. After thoughtfully chewing and swallowing, he looked across the table at Penelope, still staring back at him. “Is the thought of marrying me truly so off putting?” he inquired, doing his best to sound sincere, although he was sure a hint of smugness may have bled through. After all, he had spent the past two seasons being complimented in nearly every issue by the notorious Lady Whistledown.

Penelope swallowed hard, her eyes darting about the room, suddenly unable to look at him. “It is not that.” she finally murmured.

Colin slammed his spoon to the table, a bit more forcefully than he intended. “What then?” he hissed. “You have told me you want nothing more than to be married and have a family. You fear spinsterhood. You seem to adore our little Aggie here. And you have called me your friend for more years than I have memory. I may not have a title but I have a good family and I have means to provide for us. Why is it that you reject my proposal?”

In a flash, he could see Penelope turn furious. “I will not marry you just to mind Agatha. You can hire a nurse for that. And as for me, I do not wish for your pity. I could not stand to be left home while you travel from port to port, fulfilling your needs as you go.”

“I would never!” Colin shouted, half-rising from his chair before remembering the child in his lap and sinking back down. He continued in a steadier albeit still firm voice, “Pen, I have never lain with a woman during my travels, nor ever. And I would not deign to begin after having you in my bed.”

“Is that what this is?” Penelope retorted. “Some misguided attempt at gentlemanly behavior after sharing your bed with me? I will not marry you just to ease your conscience. Besides, no one saw me there.”

“I saw you there.” he fairly growled. A marriage of convenience. Penelope’s words from earlier in the evening came to mind, finally making sense of her behavior. She thought he was asking her from obligation. Or out of pity. Or to run his household while he continued to gallivant around Europe. Nothing could be further from the truth. “Pen. I am asking you to marry me because I saw you in my bed, and that is something I can never unsee.” His words were choked with the passion he was feeling for her, despite his best efforts to restrain himself.

“What?” she gasped. The fight seemed to dissipate within her, convincing him to press on.

“Pen, I want you. Of course, it is important to me that you care for our Aggie. But… all I can think about is making her a little brother or sister. With you. Everything you spoke of this morning. A family, a home. I want that too. And I want it with you.”

Penelope was perplexed, her brow knitting as she tried to make sense of his confession. “Why me?” she squeaked.

His voice thick with emotion, Colin did his best to explain. “Because you are… Pen. You are my favorite person. You are my best friend.”

Penelope stared down into her untouched stew. “But you do not love me.”

“Of course I love you!” Colin growled in response, stunning Penelope into silence, her jaw hanging freely. “Pen, I love you. I want you to carry my children. I want you to be my wife. Marry me.”

“You… want me to carry your children? You would… lay with me?” she asked meekly, only looking to Colin’s face in furtive glances, her face having taken on the shade of a nearly ripe strawberry.

Colin tucked Agatha on his hip, standing and rounding the table to kneel next to Penelope. He took her hand with his free one, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “You have no idea how much I wish to do so. Since you asked me of it this morning, all I have thought of is filling you with my seed. I can focus on nothing else.”

Agatha was squirming in his arm, twisting and reaching out for Penelope. She leaned down, collecting the babe in her arms. This time, she noticed the way Colin’s breath caught as she brought the child’s head to her bosom for comfort. His eyes took too long to lift from her chest, but when they did, the hunger she found in them was undeniable.

“Suppose I agreed to marry you. What then? What kind of life would we have?” Penelope’s voice wavered with uncertainty, her eyes a matching shade of searching vulnerability.

Colin took her hand in his, laying an assured kiss on its back. “Any kind you wish for.” he whispered, his other hand reaching out and warmly pressing at the soft mound of her lower belly, “So long as it means we are building our family, and that we are together.”

Penelope shuddered under his touch. She could think of no time in which another person had laid there hand on her tender middle, and certainly never with such reverence. She wanted this. Wanted what he was offering. Wanted to believe it could be true. Wanted nothing more than to join with him and provide him with the children he spoke so longingly for. She felt empowered to take the leap, his heated touch sending waves of assurance through her being. But questions still plagued her mind. She wanted to trust that he was ready to catch her; that he would not let her fall. “What of your travels? What of when you leave?”

He tightened his grip on her hand. “I have no intention of leaving again. Not unless you are at my side.”

“Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Me?”
“You.”

She stared down at their joined hands, barely aware of Agatha in her lap, excitedly tapping her hands against Penelope’s belly where Colin’s was still pressed firm. When she lifted her eyes to his, she found his steady and assured gaze waiting patiently for her. Swallowing stiffly, she reached for her courage, bravely allowing herself the barest of nods.

It was enough. Colin lurched forward, taking her and Agatha into his strong embrace. In another heartbeat, his lips were on hers, pouring affirmations of gratitude and endearment between his kisses. Penelope found herself paralyzed by the attentions, enjoying it immensely while her mind attempted to catch up with this dramatic turn of events. Colin. Colin Bridgerton. Had just asked her to marry him. And was now attached to her by the mouth. As her mind processed all that was happening she found herself grinning against his lips.

When Colin pulled back, he was beaming with joy. He stood, snatching Agatha up from her lap, and tossing her playfully into the air. “We did it!” he cheered along the baby’s giddy squeals.

Both of their heads turned to the doorway as foot falls on the servants’ stairs grew closer. Colin quickly returned to his seat, raining kisses down on Agatha’s head as he did.

“We should eat.” he said, looking oddly bashful, appearing to fight the corners of his mouth a moment before lifting his spoon and taking a giant mouthful of stewed meat and turnip. Penelope took up her own spoon, tipping onto it a small piece of squash and some broth. Just before the servants’ door opened, she was nearly certain she heard Colin thank Agatha, saying he could not have done it without her.

Chapter Text

Colin had never had such a difficult time finishing a meal in his life. He was abuzz with excitement and nerves. Penelope had said yes! Well, she did not actually say it, but she had agreed. Well, she had nodded anyway. No matter, he had seen the look in her eyes and he knew it meant that she was his. He had to move away from her when he heard Dunwoody and Mrs. Foster returning to the dining room with the pudding and more wine. Their nearly untouched plates had earned them a few raised eyebrows, but a quick fib about Agatha becoming fussy seemed to smooth the waters.

Mrs. Foster stayed through the remainder of the meal, putting a slight damper on his mood. He had tried to discuss wedding dates with Penelope – Mrs. Foster believed them to be betrothed already after all – but the fierce shade of red that quickly overcame every visible inch of her skin told him she was not comfortable discussing the matter openly quite yet. Still, Colin hoped for a quick, though not rushed wedding. He could apply for a common license tomorrow, allowing them to marry in two weeks time. He would simply ask for Lady Featherington’s consent after all was already in order.

Or perhaps he would simply call on Penelope tomorrow. Of course, she would not be at her mother’s house. She would be at home, here in Bloomsbury. But as far as her mother was concerned, she was off in the country with Lady Danbury, and he would have no reason to know such detail. He could arrive with a book of sonnets and an impressive display of roses, explaining that he recognized his true feelings while he was abroad and declare his intent to ask for her hand upon her return. It may not have been the truth, but it was a close relation.

Colin looked down to see that his stew bowl was quite empty, as was his plate of pears and cheese. The pudding was naught but crumbs, and Agatha’s saucer of squash was quite well picked clean. Penelope seemed to have eaten her fill as well, her spoon returned to the table and nearly empty bowl pushed back. Agatha dozed in his lap, head lolling back into his chest.

Nodding to Penelope, Colin untied Agatha’s bib, wiping her face and hands with it before leaving it with the table linens. Colin rose from the table, yawning as he lifted the sleepy child to his shoulder. “I believe I will take our little Miss to bed tonight.” He smirked at Penelope, his face shielded from Mrs. Foster by Agatha’s head and a strategic angle. “I believe I will turn in now. Much to do to get her ready for bed. Miss Featherington, I should bid you goodnight.” Colin dipped a shallow bow, careful not to disturb Agatha.

Penelope stifled a yawn herself, although Colin was nearly certain it was a performance. “I do believe I shall head up myself. Mrs. Foster, would you assist me in my dressing room?” Colin had asked Dunwoody to assist in transferring all of his clothing from his dressing room to the adjoining one this morning, a fact Penelope must have observed herself this afternoon before her nap. Mrs. Foster could now assist Penelope with her dressing and toilette without risk of discovering she was actually in Colin’s bed chamber.

***

After bathing Agatha and changing her into a fresh nappy and one of her new nightgowns, Colin rocked her back to sleep, an easy task after the big day and big meal she’d had. He listened from the adjoining door in the dressing room as Mrs. Foster spoke softly with Penelope, not quite able to make out their conversation, only that they were having one, and wondered what it was they were saying. It was not long before he heard Penelope bid Mrs. Foster goodnight and the door to his bedchamber shut behind her.

He listened closely for the sound of her foot falls in the hall, then in the servants’ stairwell that led to their attic quarters. He raised his fist, meaning to wrap lightly at the door, when it opened away from his hand. He felt his heart stutter in his chest at the sight of his intended, fresh faced with soft brushed hair and another fitted white nightgown that left little of her chest to his imagination.

She was beautiful. He wanted to tell her. Wanted to worship every last inch of her. But first he needed to put Agatha to bed. He gestured with the sleeping baby, pressing a long finger to his lips to soundlessly convey his meaning. Penelope stepped aside, making room for him to enter. He strode smoothly to the drawer they were using as a makeshift bassinet until the new furniture arrived, gently tucking her in for the night. He bent to leave a kiss on her forehead, as he had done every night he put her to bed since the first. This time however, Penelope stood at his side. She took his hand in hers, then bent and placed her own kiss in the same spot, whispering softly, “Sweet dreams my darling girl.”

They stood together for a time, holding hands and watching Agatha rest peacefully. When the moment passed, Colin stepped towards the bed, gently tugging Penelope with him by their still joined hands. Reaching the side of the bed, Colin raised his finger to his lips once more, indicating quiet, then grinned wickedly, pressed a hard kiss to Penelope’s lips, scooped her off her feet and practically threw her onto the bed.

Penelope did her best to stifle the squeal the bubbled up from her chest. Colin crawled in the bed after her, chasing her lips with his own. She thought to feel ashamed for what she was doing – she had been warned off laying with a man before marriage her whole life after all – but nothing about this moment felt wrong. Kissing Colin Bridgerton in his bed was the most right Penelope had ever felt. She relaxed into his kiss, parting her lips and accepting his tongue with her own, her hands landing against his firm, broad chest, grounding her in the moment.

Penelope was compelled forward, wanting to reach out and take everything that was laid before her. But before she could decide on what to touch or kiss next, Colin pulled back, placing a few inches of space between them so she could once again focus on his face.

“Pen, I want to call on you tomorrow.” he said, his thumb gently stroking her jaw.

“What?” Penelope hissed, confused why he was not kissing her any longer, and now why he was talking about making a call when he very well knew she would be here all day tomorrow.

“We need to make a plan. To marry as soon as possible. I will go to your mother’s tomorrow –”

“Why are you talking about my mother right now?” she groaned.

“I will bring flowers and a book of poems. I will tell her that I just came back into town, and that I have come to call on you because I wish to marry you.” Colin took her hand, kissing the place where he wished to place his ring.

Penelope cocked her head in confusion. “But I will not be there.”

“Exactly. But when I call, I will act surprised when I learn of your trip to the country. I can ask for your mother’s permission, and then I can apply for the common license. Then in two weeks we can be wed, and we will be parted for less than that.”

“Two weeks?” she squeaked, not expecting Colin’s enthusiasm.

“I want you back home as soon as possible.” he urged, diving in for another press of his lips.

“Oh. Well, I think Lady Danbury told mama I would be back on Saturday…”

“Not your mother’s!” he hissed in response. “Here. Home. I want you home.”

“Oh!” Penelope chirped, a warm, settled feeling spreading through her chest. She looked around the bed chamber once more, seeing it as if for the first time. This would be her marital bed. Her husband’s bed chamber. Her bed chamber.

Colin laid back onto the pillows, still holding Penelope’s hand, clutching it now to his chest. He tried to calm himself, his heart beating wildly as the reality of taking Penelope as his wife settled around him. He wanted her, wanted nothing more than to strip her bare and sink into her. He had never lain with a woman before, always considering the risk of having a child with a stranger too great a risk to allow himself pleasure. But with Penelope, he wanted nothing more than to fill her with his offspring.

He took deep, measured breaths, trying to keep himself from ending up in an uncomfortable position he would not be able to resolve. But it was proving impossible. His mere proximity to Penelope – her sent filling his senses – was enough to rob him of every last shred of honor he clung to. When her voice rang out like a clear bell in the night, he let go.

“Colin? Tell me again. About making children. About the joining.”

Colin’s head snapped to the side, only to find Penelope was watching him intently. She was breathtaking, and he was breathless. “Pen… you do not know what you are asking of me. What you are doing to me.” he gasped.

“You… you do not wish to discuss it with me?” she asked, her wounded tone stabbing at Colin’s heart.

He shook his head vehemently. “It is all I wish to discuss. It is all I can think of. But I am afraid if I speak the words aloud, I will not be able to restrain myself any longer.”

“What if…” Penelope paused, taking her lower lip between her teeth as she considered her next words carefully. “What if I do not wish for restraint.”

Colin gulped at her words. She desired him as he desired her. And she was asking him to show her what that desire meant. He realized then that he would give her anything she asked. He would give in to her every desire; he would breed her and then watch in awe as her body changed and grew to accommodate his offspring.

“Well…” he began, his voice shaky with anticipation. He found himself speaking more quickly and clinically than intended. “As I said before, clothing is removed. Then there is kissing and touching, to prepare the body for the act. And once each is sufficiently aroused…”

Colin was cut off when Penelope’s hand spread across his chest. “Show me.”

It was all the permission Colin needed. He rolled to her, his lips embracing hers at once. He snaked his thick arm around her waist, dragging her body flush with his. Her lush form, sinking and enveloping everywhere he was hard and rigid, was everything feminine. His kisses were hungry, and returned in equal fervor by his partner. Penelope reached up, threading her fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper into her.

Colin broke away from Penelope’s mouth, nipping his way to her ear, down the sensitive column of her neck, and into her decolletage. His hands met the undersides of her breasts, gently lifting them into where his face was buried, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on every inch of exposed skin. “These. Pen these are perfect. If our children take after me at all, they will always be hungry. I know your body will keep them fed.”

Colin growled a little as he bit lightly at her nipple through the fabric of her chemise. Penelope writhed under him, trying to keep quiet but spilling forth tiny gasps and whimpers with his attentions. Her sounds and movement had Colin harder than he had ever been before, near frantic for friction. He straightened himself on his knees, stripping off his nightshirt and leaving him in nothing except for the breeches he had worn for her comfort.

He reached for one of her hands, lifting it from his thigh and dragging it onto his erect member. He leaned into the touch, shuddering with the temporary relief the pressure brought. He allowed Penelope to explore his length, curious eyes studying him as she gently caressed and traced through the sturdy fabric. “That is the male member I spoke of this morning. It is what I will use to join with you.”

“I wish to see it.” Penelope breathed, her fingers moving to the laces of his trousers. Colin leaned back, allowing her to unfasten his breeches. He pinched his eyes shut as her warm hand wrapped around his girth, freeing him to the cool night air. His breath came in short, forceful bursts; his hips rocking back as he fought for control over himself. Her hand felt so different from his own, gentle and silken and foreign in a tantalizing way. The heavy beat of his heart pulsed in her fist, now moving down towards his base, exploring him as if an adventurer in a yet undiscovered land.

Colin let her stroke and study him until he could no longer hold himself steady. “Pen.” he choked. “If you continue to do that, I fear I will lose myself to your hand, and I will have nothing left to give.”

Her brow twitched in confusion, but she moved away nonetheless. Not wishing to be misunderstood, Colin leaned in, kissing her back down to the pillows. “I wish to see you, as well.” he panted against her neck. The hand not wrapped around her back trailed down her side to the hem of her nightgown. Hitching it up just an inch or so, he let his palm glide across the inside of her knee. His eyelids fluttered shut for just a moment as he luxuriated in the feeling of her smooth skin. Every inch of Penelope made him want to dive deeper, to immerse himself in her and never come up for air and drown in all her glory.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked to hers for permission. She understood his question, because she nodded immediately, shifting to help guide the garment up and off her body. When he finally tossed it clear of the bed and returned his focus to her newly bared form, he realized he had been a fool for far too long. She was everything he had ever desired in a woman. Her skin, practically glowing in the blue midnight haze, was clear and pillowy and irresistible. Her thighs, thick and inviting, begged to be spread. The flare of her hips made him bite his lip. There was no question they were more than sufficient for bearing children. His children, he felt something inside him growl.

The shifting motion she made had him look up to catch her eye. She looked uncomfortable, causing his chest to tighten in response. “Pen?” he implored. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.” she assured, although she moved to curl away from him, attempting to hide herself.

Colin leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek before hovering just over her, tilting his head to indicate he was waiting for her to share the truth.

“I… just hope… that I please you. I know that I am not –”
“You are perfect.”
“Wha –”
“You are perfect.”

He understood now. She was feeling self-conscious; ashamed of her nakedness. He would need to put a hard stop to those thoughts. He sat back on his knees, ready to illustrate just what it was she did to him. “Pen, I was simply overwhelmed by your beauty. Taking the time to soak you in. You are. Everything I desire.”

Colin realized he needn’t restrain his obvious desire for her any longer. She needed to see how affected he was. And he would show her. “Your hips, for one. Are enough to drive me mad. The decadent flare of them tells me how ready your body is to bear my offspring.” He reached down, running his hands along each side of her hips, grasping and squeezing at their fullest point, groaning freely, letting her hear the pleasure he took in her body.

“And your soft, yielding middle.” His palms raced over her belly, not wavering even when she sucked away from his touch. Colin pressed his warm hands firmly into the full curve of it. “Our children will most assuredly grow strong here, warm and safe and always in comfort.” He bent to kiss the sacred space, wishing it already full and swelling with life. Soon, he thought to himself.

Next, he slid his hands to her plentiful bosom. Colin moaned as he took each in hand, sinking his fingers into their satin fullness. He wanted to keep narrating his passion for her form, but found himself rendered momentarily speechless, in awe of her perfection. “Gods, Pen.” he finally choked out. “Your breasts. They are magnificent. Ten thousand artists have tried but failed to capture beauty like yours.” He gently lifted and squeezed at the mounds overflowing his hands. “When you have grown large with child, they will become even more impressive, filled with cream for my greedy issue. Who else but you would be able to sustain my young?”

Another groan, more guttural this time, sounded in his throat. His hands wrapped Penelope into him, descending into her chest and latching his mouth onto her pert nipple. She rewarded him with quieted keen, spurring him on as he sucked and flicked feverishly at the nourishing tip. He bit teasingly across her chest, sucking the other rosy bud into his mouth, giving it the same attentions. Penelope ground her hips up into his, begging with her body for more.

Her hands flew to the back of his head. He looked up into her eyes without releasing her nipple from his suctioned lips. “Please, Colin. I want more. I want it all. I want you to join with me. Fill me. Allow me to grow your child.” Her gasps turned to a soft whimper when he released her breast.

“Pen, I… my understanding is that the experience will be. Far more pleasurable for you if I… We must not rush into this. Allow me to explore you first as you have explored me?” Colin felt the tips of his ears burn red as he did his best to explain.

Penelope let out a soft laugh, smiling prettily as she shook her head in question. “Certainly it was different for me. I had never seen an unclothed man until tonight.”

Colin kept his features firm, not wishing to display the hurt her assumption truly caused. “Nor have I experienced the nude form of a woman. Paintings and drawings of course. But never in the flesh.”

Penelope stared back at him, the information slowly permeating her understanding of the man she had just that evening agreed to share her life with.

“Moreover, your lips are the only mine have touched. My first kiss was yours, just this evening.”

A soft “Oh.” fell from Penelope. Her brow furrowed a moment, then relaxed. She dipped her head down and let her lips meet his in a slow, meaningful kiss. Their lips danced, then their tongues. Eventually, each brought their hands back into the mix, Penelope’s traversing the vast expanse of Colin’s back and shoulders whilst his kneaded and squeezed at the lush landscape that was her thighs.

She parted her legs to his meandering hands, her body demanding against all reason to be touched. Colin broke their kiss before moving further, watching for her consent as delicate fingertips traced closer and closer to where she wanted him the most. He whimpered softly as he reached her seam, trailing a finger along the length of it, then using several to comb through her curls.

Penelope bit at his shoulder to keep from crying out as he began to gently pull back her lower lips, his fingers parting her and teasing her open. Colin dipped his fingers into the wetness pooling at her core, then slid forward to find her pleasure peak.

He knew he had found the right place when he had to muffle her keening cry with a deep kiss.

Colin rubbed slow circles into the sensitive nub, releasing Penelope from his kiss only once he was sure she could control her volume. He studied every movement as whispered moans and airy whimpers accompanied near desperate clawing and writhing under his ministrations. “Do you feel that, Pen? That pleasure? That is your womb calling out to me, begging me to fill it.”

“Please, Colin. I want. To be filled. Want you.” she gasped.

Colin sat back slightly, smirking with pride at the way his fingers had reduced the most brilliant and cunning lady in all of London to a quivering mess. “You want me?” he asked, the words dripping with tease. Penelope’s nodding, lolling head and the ghost of a whimper answered him.

Shifting his weight to his knees, Colin trailed his free hand up the inside of her leg, not stopping until his fingers teased the sobbing core at its apex. The tip of his center finger dipped into her opening, pressing ever so slightly at her borders. “Here?” Colin asked, watching Penelope’s breath change in response.

“Please!” she moaned, almost too loud.

Colin gently shushed her, the sound enough to remind her of both Agatha and Mrs. Foster, neither of whom she wished to wake. She bit her lip and nodded her head. That was the moment Colin plunged his finger deep into her center, gasping himself as her wet heat enveloped the curling digit.

“So wet for me.” he groaned over her panted keening. His finger surged forward, testing her walls. “I want you, Pen. I want to bury myself deep inside you and pour into you over and over again until we are certain you are with child.” He kissed at the inside of her knee, slowly pumping and curling his finger within her.

“Pen? I wish to try something I have heard of. It will make it easier for you to accept me. But you have to promise you will fight to stay quiet. Can you do that?” Penelope’s fixed stare and gaping jaw never wavered, but her head nodded, giving him the permission he sought.

Colin returned to kissing the inside of her knee, but this time did not keep to one place. He trailed higher and higher up her soft thigh, never relenting his finger’s steady work. As soon as his kisses reached his busied hand, he dove into her center, hungrily devouring her.

A second finger soon joined the first, each stroke a mission to prepare and make room for him to wholly enter her. He teased at her bud with his tongue until she was writhing against his face. Locking his free arm around her thigh, he sucked at her eagerly and with intensity until she was quaking, her fingers tearing at his hair as the air escaped her throat like a steaming tea kettle. “Yes.” he growled into her, pumping his fingers against her pulsing walls. “Just like that darling.”

He pulled back, letting her ride the last on his hand alone. His nerves were alight, memorizing every shudder and contraction, translating and envisaging how it would feel when a different appendage was buried within her. He could not help himself. He brought his body on top of hers, kissing her even more senseless. She responded to the taste of herself on his tongue, wrapping her own around it and returning every ounce of his passions.

It was Penelope that broke their kiss off; her hands that had reached for his manhood, bringing it perilously close to its home. “Take me, Colin.” she beseeched. “Mate with me. Flood my garden with your seed.” He groaned in response, finally allowing himself to grind down along her slick.

Colin spread her thighs further apart, opening her fully to him. He centered his hips over hers, staring longingly into her eyes. His voice shook with nerves. “I need to know that you are sure about me. Once we do this, there is no going back. You have promise me you will marry me, Pen.”

Penelope pulled him back to her by the back of his head, searing her kiss onto his lips. “Of course I will marry you.”

A shudder ran down Colin’s spine. “Good. Because I cannot wait any longer to fill you with my seed. You are going to be so perfect swollen with my child. Do you want that? Do you want me put my child in you?”

She whimpered in response, rubbing her swollen folds against his hardness, laying teasingly close to her core. “Please. Colin. Put your child in me.”

Colin grasped the base of his cock, pressing the swollen head against her entrance. She moaned at the sensation, but continued to pull on him, urging him forward. Colin began sinking into her, her heat and slick lighting every nerve of his on fire. He was sure if he had not already relieved himself twice that day he would have already erupted by now.

Penelope agonized at the slow pace he was setting, advancing a scant inch at a time. He seemed to be treating her as if she was made of fine porcelain, not flesh that was aching to be stretched and stuffed. When her encouraging nods and patience proved insufficient, Penelope slid her hands to his firm behind, palmed the cheeks, then hauled him into her with all her might.

The delicious burn that accompanied their joining nearly caused her to moan in earnest. Instead, she rolled her head back into the pillows, sighing voicelessly at the feeling of fullness radiating out, warming her whole body.

When she finally opened her eyes, Colin was frozen above her, holding perfectly still except for his chest, heaving with fast breaths. His eyes appeared wild, searching her for something. He gulped several times before finally finding his voice. “Are you okay?” he asked in stilted gasps.

“Mmm.” Penelope grunted before squeezing his backside and rolling her hips against his. Colin seemed to both relax and grow more tense in her arms, resting his forehead against hers while he chased his breath. In the closeness, she noticed almost inaudible whimpering emanating from the back of his throat. “Are you okay, Colin?”

He lifted his head to look at her, nodded, then crashed his cheek against hers. He rallied quickly, dragging their lips together before finally answering in quick, mewling bursts. “You just feel so good. I did not know it would feel this good. I am so glad it is you. I am so glad you are going to be the mother of our children.”

Penelope squirmed under him a bit, reveling in their connection but wanting more, craving friction. “Move, Colin.” she groaned. His panicked, raised eyebrows told her she needed to explain further. “I wish to feel you… thrust in me.”

He took a deep breath though his nose, finally seeming to steady himself. “Of course. Of course, Pen.” Tentatively, he withdrew from her gripping heat. When he could bear to separate from her no further, he plunged himself back in, stifled moans from each harmonizing into one.

Colin finally set a pace, slow and exploring. His hands wandered, gripping her hips and groping at her breasts. He peppered kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and across her chest. It did not escape his notice the way she clenched against his member as his teeth grazed her pebbled tips, and he was diligent in ensuring they received proper attention from then on.

Penelope was growing more and more frenetic, clawing at his back and pressing up into each of his movements. “More, Colin.” she begged, pulling his face to hers and biting his lower lip. “I wish to feel you everywhere. Do not restrain yourself.”

He responded with a low grown and sharper, quicker thrusts. “That is what you wish for, Pen?” he hissed as he snapped his hips against hers. “You do not want me to restrain myself? You wish for me to drive into you? To breed you?”

“Yes! Yes!” Penelope keened as quietly as she could manage. Her whole body was bouncing against his powerful forces. “Sire your children. Fill my womb. Allow me to grow your seed.”

Her words proved to be more than Colin’s frayed nerves could handle. Choking out her name, he exploded into her, spurting his life force into her thirsty core. The sudden rush of warmth, combined with the vulnerability she felt taking Colin’s spend, pushed Penelope over the edge as well. She chased his lips, twining their tongues as she clenched and shook under his weight.

They collapsed into one another, remaining as one, neither prepared to break the bond between them. Colin was pressing slow kisses into Penelope’s temple when the long-case clock in the main hall began to chime.

“DRAT!” hissed Penelope, suddenly pushing Colin off of her and rolling out of bed. Colin sat up on his elbows, trying to make sense of why she was rushing around the room, gathering up her underthings. A wave of sick rushed through him when she began to hurriedly dress.

“Pen?” he began with a trembling voice. “What are you doing?”

“It is already midnight. I have to go!” she insisted, not slowing at all despite Colin’s questioning.

“Go where?”

Penelope paused finally, blinking at the bare Adonis she left behind. “I have to deliver my draft.”

Colin’s brow knit and she could tell that his senses had been blurred by their recent activities. Shrugging her stays up over her chest, she snatched the draft out of the desk drawer she left it in. Waving it towards him for emphasis, she clarified with only one word.

“Whistledown.”

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not.”

Penelope glanced over her shoulder after towing up her dress, wishing she had left more time for this quarrel. “What do you mean? I must deliver it within the hour. The printer’s is actually quite close to here. I will be back in no time at all.”

“It is too dangerous.” he snapped, now joining her on the floor, finding and donning his own clothes.

Penelope breathed a low chuckle, glancing around for her second stocking. “I have made the trek scores of times without incident.”

“That was before.” Colin huffed.

“Before what?”

Colin bent, lifting something from just under the foot of the bed before attempting to hold it coolly behind his back. “Before I knew. Before you were to be my wife. Before we… Penelope! You could be with child!”

Penelope laughed openly – albeit mutely, she still feared the wrath of Mrs. Foster – at his fretting. “Colin, do not be ridiculous. We literally just…” She trailed off, not knowing quite how to make the argument she was sure was correct, but lacked the fundamental knowledge to elaborate on. “A seed takes time to sprout!” she finally sputtered.

“But…” Colin was reaching for something, anything to keep her from leaving, and she knew it. “But I will worry.” he finally sniffled, sweetly taking Penelope’s hand and holding it delicately with his own.

Penelope restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Truly the short mile from their town home to the printers was a far simpler journey than the ones she had undertaken for the better part of two seasons gone. “The draft must be delivered, and we are wasting precious time.” She crossed to the dressing room, opening her trunk to locate her heavy cloak. “Unless you can imagine an alternative –”

“I will go.” Colin cut her off, stepping in close and taking her hand once more. Penelope’s head whipped around; she was speaking facetiously when she had suggested there might be an alternative. Truly she had never imagined there could be an alternative to her making the trip herself. “I will go, and you stay. Just tell me which printers. No one will question my being about.”

“Colin, I –” Penelope did not know how to respond. Perhaps he made some sound points about the ease in which he could move about unquestioned. And it was endearing the way he already worried about her well-being as his intended. But certainly it was far too complicated to be decided in the moment this way. “I cannot simply allow you to take my place. My publisher won’t have expected you. And you are too easily recognized as a Bridgerton. What if you are seen?”

Colin smirked, realizing he was gaining ground in the argument, whether Penelope realized it or not. “Your publisher knows your hand, no? I will simply tell him the maid whom he has come to know to make the regular deliveries has fallen ill, and he may expect me for any late-night hand offs for the time being. As for my being recognized, Lord Whistledown can don a disguise just as well as his Lady!” He snaked his arm around her waist, twisting her away from the trunk and flush into his warm embrace.

A shiver ran down Penelope’s spine when she viewed the heated determination in Colin’s eyes. His Lady. The possessiveness in his words and tone made her insides feel like an ice from Gunter’s left out in the summer sun. When Colin leaned in and kissed her senseless, she knew he had won.

Crossing into the opposite side of the adjoined dressing rooms, Colin began dressing himself in clothing from his travels. He always turned up properly for occasions that called for evening attire, but he spent most of his time doing his best to blend in with the locals. He was likely still easily identified as a polished member of the gentry by his accent and manners, but he did his best to avoid recognition as nothing more than his father’s last name while he was on the Continent. Accordingly, he was able to pull together a drab shirt and waist coat of rough muslin, a long leather duster jacket, and a flat cap, easily pulled low to hide his eyes. All told, he was indistinguishable from any other bloke on the street.

“What do you think?” he asked Penelope, spreading his arms wide and waiting for her approval.

She eyed him carefully, slowly circling and inspecting his disguise. “Your voice.”

“Hmm?”

“Your voice. It is still a dead giveaway. Can you do an accent? Something lowborn? Or foreign?”

The concern furrowed into her brow told him this was no joke. Colin thought for a moment, then cleared his throat, doing his best to copy the speech of the sailors he had gotten to know while crossing the Mediterranean. “Aye then, the maid, she cast up her accounts thrice this morn n’has taken to the bed e’er since. It seem I been volunteered the job and you’ll be seein’ my face from time to time now ‘stead hers.”

“Impressive work, Lord Whistledown.” Penelope was actually shocked at how easily he had stepped into the part. She could see that he was not going to relent, and feeling the minutes slipping away, she handed over the draft and began providing detailed instructions on exactly how he should arrive and behave. “Chancery Lane Printers. You must keep a firm hand, do not allow him to perceive weakness. Remember, the maid he usually deals with is not Whistledown, she is our mistress. Our mistress gets what our mistress wants. He should have payment on the last waiting. It is ten pounds and not a penny less. And if he whinges about the delivery boys’ wages, the answer is no. They are the ones doing the real work and they deserve what little they get.”

Colin nodded, taking in all he was being told. His outward appearance indicated understanding and agreement, but inside, he could not help but be impressed by this side of Penelope he had never truly before seen. She was incredible. Cunning. Strong. A force to be reckoned with. A champion for the less fortunate. He was in awe. “What did you even write about? You have been here since the last. How did you fill a whole column?”

Penelope pinked slightly. “I had meant to mention, that is. I did wish to speak with you about it at dinner only… I did not foresee this evening’s… turn of events.”

Colin wanted to appreciate her comment with the air of smugness it deserved, but could not help reacting to her nervousness regarding the content of the issue. He looked down at it in his hands, unfolding it on impulse.

“I used what I cut from last edition, and what I was able to glean from Mrs. Foster after her shopping trip. I needed something more, so I added a rumor that you were seen back in Town and possibly looking for a wife. Truly, I had intended to ask you before…”

Colin skimmed the lines as she spoke, cutting her off with a guffaw. “This is brilliant, Pen!”

“It is?”

“Of course it is! Lady Whistledown has seen me back, seen that I have taken bachelor lodgings, yet no mention of Aggie or you! It is just the cover we needed!” The long-case clock struck the half past chime, shocking both back to the reality of their time limitations. Colin swooped down to steal a kiss, grinned in satisfaction, then headed for the door to the annex bedchamber. “I shall take a horse. I will be back in no time.”

“But… won’t it take ages to saddle?”

His eyes twinkled. “I can ride without.”

Without another word, Colin stuffed the refolded draft into his jacket pocket and left.

***

Colin was excited. He never imagined he would be sent on a mission like this. Clandestine. In the middle of the night. In disguise. He found his way to the stables and quickly bridled his trusty black Friesian, Arthur. He loved riding bareback as a boy in the country. He always found it freeing and exhilarating, just him and the horse. But it was not proper for a gentleman to ride without a saddle, and as such, he could not be seen out of one anymore.

Tonight however, he was not a proper gentleman. No, he was a stablehand filling in for Lady Whistledown’s regular maid, charged with delivering the final draft of tomorrow’s edition before the printer’s deadline. He used a step to help him reach the back of the tall steed, dragged his body up and his leg over, righted himself, and was on his way.

He had to fight against his training and instinct to post up and down as if he were in a saddle. He could permit himself nothing that pegged him as a member of the gentry, lest he be recognized. It was only a ten minute ride, but he was sure to stay diligent, fighting the urge to let his mind drift to his time in bed with Penelope.

When Colin arrived at the printer’s, he was slightly shocked to think that Penelope considered visiting the locale in the dead of night to be of little concern. There were beggars and urchins, drunkards and otherwise afflicted persons about, ready to approach anyone who had two coins to rub together for their charity. Some looked determined to find funds for their next meal regardless of whether their patron was willing to donate. Hadn’t Penelope said she expected to be paid ten pounds for last week’s edition? Colin made up his mind right then and there that she would not be coming back here unchaperoned ever again.

The business in the printer’s was simple enough. His put-on accent seemed plausible enough, and he kept his hat pulled low and his gaze lower, despite his curiosity’s urge to look around. The print master was convinced of his story as soon as he received the draft, Penelope’s clear swirls and precise slant all the proof he needed. He hadn’t brought up the delivery boys’ wages as she feared, and he turned over the ten pound purse without question. No more than a few minutes later, Colin was back on his horse and heading home to his bride.

***

Penelope paced the floor. What if he was recognized? What if the printer turned him away? What if he unknowingly dropped the draft in the street? What if Mister Harris bullies Colin into cutting the delivery boys’ wages? Or does not turn over her takings? What if tomorrow’s edition was not printed, and everyone tied the missing column to her absence? There were a hundred things that could go wrong and Penelope spent every minute alone imagining them.

Penelope did not dare change out of her dress, lest she need to go out after Colin. Although, she would have to take Agatha with her if she did. And even in her heavy cloak, walking about alone with a child in her arms would be far more difficult than the times she crept through the streets alone. Would a hackney coach even stop for a woman with a baby? And besides, how would she even know if Colin did need help? It would be far too late by the time she would find him.

No, if he did not come back, she would have to rouse Dunwoody, enlisting his help. But then how would she even explain herself? “Master Colin just had to make a quick, midnight trip to the printers for me. Oh, when did I have the opportunity to speak to him? Just after laying with him in his bed you see!” That was when it finally dawned on Penelope. For all the wool they had pulled over Mrs. Foster’s eyes, Dunwoody knew full well that there was no furniture in any room but his Master’s. She truly was a fallen woman.

A fallen woman indeed. What if she really was with child already, as Colin had suggested, and something happened to him? Sure, he had left everything to her already. But she would be unmarried and responsible for not just one, but two babies. She would never be able to show her face in London again, let alone begin to explain to her mother. She could never let Colin’s brother Anthony find out lest he force Benedict to marry her. He might anyway once he learned that Colin left his entire fortune to her rather than having it revert to him as would be expected. No, she would have to leave Town altogether – perhaps even England – and start over somewhere with a lie about her late husband. It would not be too difficult, she would mourn him just the same.

Penelope caught sight of herself in the mirror, then stopped to appraise herself more fully. Her hair was still wild from her tumble with Colin, lips still bee stung, and she could still feel him dripping between her thighs. The thought that he might never come back, that he might be lying on the street right now, helpless and alone, gripped her with fear. Through the looking glass, she saw the tears welling in her eyes, and before she could stop them, they were falling down her cheeks. Penelope shut her eyes tight in a vain attempt to hold back the tears, a long, steadying breath the only thing keeping her from falling to the floor in a heap.

“What does a rapscallion like me have to do to get a kiss from a proper lady like you?”

Penelope opened her eyes to see Colin, still dressed in his working class disguise, had snuck up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and quickly closing the distance between his lips and her ear. She whirled around, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. “Oh, Colin! I was so worried! I was convinced you were never coming back and I would have to move to Bath or America with the children, or worse, marry Benedict!”

Colin wanted to laugh, but the broken shudder in Penelope’s voice told him now was not the time. Instead, he wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair. “I am here darling. I am here.” He kissed the top of her head, and when she finally caught her breath enough to look up at him, he took her still swollen lips in his and kissed her soundly.

“Now you understand.” he pronounced smugly.

“Understand what?” she sniffed, still barely recovered from the waking nightmare she had experienced in his absence.

“Why I cannot have you sneaking about on your own. I would be terrified.”
“I was terrified!”
“But I at least look intimidating. And I can defend myself! I was class champion in boxing at Eton!”
“No one notices me to bother! And besides, I have experience. I have been doing this for years!”
“You shouldn’t’ve been doing it for years! You should have asked me for help from the start!”
“Why should I have? I can do it myself!”
“Of course you can do it yourself! You are the most formidable woman in London!”
“Then… then good!”
“I still do not want you to!”
“Well, I do not want you to either!”
“Then you are going to have to either retire, or find someone else to do your deliveries!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”

The two froze, their eyes still all flame and fire from their tiff. Approximately three heartbeats later, they descended upon one another, lips locking as hands flew about. Colin dipped down and lifted Penelope clear off the ground by her back and knees, never letting his lips stray from hers, and carried her back to their bed.

In the blink of an eye, they each had rid the other of their clothing once more, and Colin was pressing himself between Penelope’s legs. The instant they connected, all of their fears and tension seemed to melt away. Colin groaned as he buried himself inside her, pressing his leaking tip against her fluttering cervix.

Penelope squirmed against the pressure, feeling flayed open and raw and exposed under his weight. “Please Colin.” she begged. “Fill me again. Oh! I wish to feel your mettle spreading within me. I want to feel it take root and grow. I fear I will not be satisfied until I feel your son kicking inside me.”

Another groan was her answer, followed shortly by the staccato rhythm of his hips against hers. Colin’s groans turned to low, primal growls as he nipped at Penelope’s earlobe, palming her bouncing breast.

Colin rutted into her with abandon, holding her close and hissing broken pleas in her ear. “Son… I’m gonna… give you… all my sons… my… my wife… Pen… mmph…” The sounds he made were as desperate as his fevered pounding.

His hand found its home between their bodies, circling her bud in smooth, maddening circles despite never relenting in his own pursuit. Her core tightened against his muscle, forcing his thrusts to become more erratic and powerful until the pressure grew too great for each of them, and they fell together.

Penelope’s womb gulped at the warm flood he spilled. Colin stayed pressed as deep into her core as he could, holding their hips flush as they both shuddered and bucked in pleasure. Even as the waves ebbed, he remained, wishing to plug her, keeping her full as long as possible. He whimpered each time her center spasmed in aftershock, greedily drinking all she could.

When they eventually separated, it was only so that Colin could slump to her side, putting his weight on the mattress but keeping her close to his chest in his arms. They fell asleep that way, fully entangled in one another’s embrace, heedless of the time, nor the state in which they had left the bed chamber.

Chapter Text

“Colin? Colin, you have to wake up!” Colin blinked against the bright rays streaming in through the curtains. Penelope. Penelope was in his arms. Her bright copper hair reflected rainbow and gold, back lit by the morning sunshine. Penelope was in his arms and she was going to be his wife. Who needed the Seven Seas when he would wake up every morning to the most stunning blue conceivable, right there in her eyes.

Penelope was going to be his wife. He felt his cheeks tighten, lifting the corners of his mouth. She was going to be his wife and he would get to wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life. Her pink pout called to him and he leaned forward to capture it with his own, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. But when he did not meet her soft lips, he opened his eyes again, only to find Penelope had craned back and was looking at him with a measure of scorn.

“Colin! The clock has rung eight! Allow me to rise – we must tidy the room! I need to put my nightgown back on and you need to leave before Mrs. Foster comes down!”

That had his attention. Colin withdrew his arms from around her, sitting up and taking in the state they had left the room in their haste to return to the bed last eve. Clothing items were strewn everywhere, including Penelope’s heavy cloak and both sets of his clothing. Of course that was disregarding the state of the bedding, fully uprooted and tousled from their activities.

Freed from his hold and the heavy weight of his shoulder, Penelope stood from the bed, finding first her crumpled nightgown and pulling it over her head. She flitted about, gathering up her dress and underthings. Colin followed suit, pulling on his discarded breeches before starting to pick up his own clothes. Just as each had their arms full, Aggie began to fuss.

Without a free hand between them, the pair exchanged panicked looks. Penelope was first to drop her things, rushing to scoop up Agatha before she stretched her lungs. She successfully quieted the child, but both could tell it was only to be a temporary reprieve. “Go.” Colin instructed. “Sit with her in the bed. I will take care of the room.”

As much as Penelope wished to protest, she knew that laying Aggie back down would prove fatal to their plan to subvert Mrs. Foster’s notice. She did as he asked, snuggling the little girl while Colin removed his clothing first to the adjoining dressing room, then collected and meticulously hung each piece of her clothing.

When all was sorted, he did not disappear through the dressing room door as she expected, but rather returned to their bed, smoothing the linens around her, tucking the corners, and refolding the throw blanket that had been kicked to the floor, returning it to its rightful position at the foot of the bed. Penelope watched him in awe as he industriously corrected every askew detail.

Only when his mission was complete did he return his focus to her and their sweet Miss. Colin sat on the edge of the bed, his body twisted and knee propped up to face Penelope. He gently stroked Aggie’s hair, then leaned in to finally give Penelope a good morning kiss.

“I love you. And I cannot wait until the day when we are able to spend our whole mornings in bed together. But I must make the arrangements today if we are to shorten that dreaded delay to the greatest extent possible.”

Penelope kissed him back, her heart flipping in her chest at the boldness of it, but also with the knowledge that it was welcome.

***

Colin realized he was nervous just before he lifted his knuckles to rap on the door. The grand bouquet of pink roses in full bloom and smartly bound collection of Shakespeare’s finest declarations of the heart suddenly seemed insufficient; unequal to the task of representing the measure of his love for the third Featherington daughter. Just as he was wondering whether he should return to the shops to perhaps add gold jewelry or some more personal additional token to his offering, the door opened, the Featherington’s new butler eyeing him with a measure of suspicion.

“Mister Colin Bridgerton, here to see Lady Featherington and Miss Penelope Featherington.” he instructed.

The butler bowed, leading Colin to the familiar drawing room that looked out upon Grosvenor’s Square and his brother’s stately home. He was announced, then bowed his greetings to Lady Featherington and Penelope’s older sister Prudence, looking around as naturally as he could muster for his absent beloved.

“Ah, Lady Featherington.” he greeted. “Should Miss Penelope be down presently?”

Portia looked baffled, but with a quirk of suspicion lifting her brow. There was no way she could be onto his scheme… could there? “Mister Bridgerton!” she greeted after a beat, rising with her arms wide, welcoming him in. “I had read you were back in town. I cannot say I am entirely surprised by your call.”

Colin’s eye caught a glimpse of the freshly printed and delivered Lady Whistledown column resting on the tea table between them. A small swell of giddiness and pride fluttered in his chest knowing he had some small part in its publication. He nodded to Lady Featherington, waiting expectantly for her answer as to Penelope’s whereabouts.

“Penelope is…” she waived her hand about dismissively. “Gallivanting about the countryside or some such with Lady Danbury. I do believe she shant be absent longer than a fortnight.”

Colin struggled to keep his blood from boiling when he realized the woman could not recall when her own daughter was expected to return from her trip. Saturday. She was meant to be back on Saturday. He plastered his face with his most charming smile, offering the fragrant pink blooms he still held to his future mother-in-law. “Well then, I shall offer these to you in her stead.”

Portia eyed the flowers, allowing one corner of her mouth to twitch upward as she received them. She gestured towards the empty settee across from where she and Prudence were sat. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. Do sit. Perhaps you would like to have a conversation with Prudence instead? Of course, she is just as likely to produce an heir to the estate as her sister.”

Colin sat, as was polite, intending to get down to the business at hand, when Lady Featherington’s words caught him off guard. “Heir?” he repeated, searching for her meaning. “To what estate?”

Portia laughed, disbelieving. “Surely, Mister Bridgerton. You have been on the continent, not under a rock. Why else would you come calling after my daughter carrying roses and…” she eyed the book he had laid on the table between them. “Poetry?”

The tips of Colin’s ears were burning, and he was sure they matched the roses he had brought with him. Dumbfounded, he spoke without thought. “I love her. I have come to ask for her hand.”

Portia tittered at his reply, “Come now, Mister Bridgerton. There is no need to try and convince me of such foolish notions. You will find the one you wish persuade is quite absent. Are you sure you have no interest in speaking with Prudence?”

“No!” Colin hissed, unable to hide his disgust with Portia’s unabashed indifference to Penelope’s well being. His curiosity was getting the better of him though. Whatever could she have meant, ‘heir to the estate’? He softened his tone, turning back on the charm he was so infamous for. “Lady Featherington, please indulge me. I find correspondence was quite slow to reach me during my tour and I am sorely uninformed as to the matters of which you speak. What estate?”

Portia began to roll her eyes, but paused midway, inclining her head to study his countenance instead. Finding his apparent genuine interest in the matter, she relented, speaking measuredly such that she could watch his reaction for its veracity. “It seems that Lord Featherington, sometime after embarking on his fraudulent scheme last season, anticipated his eventual flight from the country. Before he departed, he left the estate in abeyance, to be inherited by the first of my daughters to marry and produce a son.”

Colin’s eyes widened with each word. Why hadn’t Penelope said anything? He wanted nothing more than to rush home that very instant and take her again, perhaps against the wall this time. He felt a momentary stirring below the belt that he was able to quickly vanquish by tuning back into the sound of Portia’s voice.

“If truly you did not know of it, Mister Bridgerton, then, if I may be so forward, why are you here?”

This time it was Colin who had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I have come here today to ask you for Miss Penelope’s hand. As you well know, she has been my friend for quite some time…”

“Friend?” Portia questioned disbelievingly.

Colin paused to blink blankly at the woman. “Of course.” he replied firmly. He did not pay any mind to the way Prudence positively glared at him. “And through our regular correspondence last year…”

“Your what?”
“Our correspondence. Did she not..?”

“I was aware she had written to you once or twice. But not that you had responded to her little missives… Regular correspondence?”

“Indeed. And then when I had difficulty receiving mail as before on my latest tour. I found that I quite… missed her.” Colin surprised himself with how truthful he was being despite not realizing his own mind until only yesterday. The only bit that was to be a falsehood was what came next. “I hinted at my intention to offer for her in one of my more recent letters, and in the latest reply I was able to collect before my return, she indicated her aim to accept me.”

“She would be a fool not to!” Portia huffed. As much as Colin wished to argue the point – to inform Lady Featherington that in fact it was he who had been the fool for far too long – he swallowed back any bitter words in favor of his most singular mission. Once again sharing his most convincing smile, he asked for her response to the only question that truly mattered.

“Then do I have your favor? If she is to be gone a fortnight as you say, I do not wish to wait so long to be married. Might I obtain the marriage license today, such that we are to be married upon her return?” Colin wondered if Portia’s ignorance of her daughter’s whereabouts might play to his favor, allowing him to keep her at his side even longer than he initially planned. He cursed Lady Danbury’s involvement in the scheme making it more likely than not she would be swiftly carted back to her mother’s house at the pre-appointed time in a Danbury carriage.

Portia looked momentarily overwhelmed. He could see the gears turning in the formidable woman’s mind, sizing him up and calculating every angle. “It would be quite the coupe for the Bridgertons, to control not just one but two of the grandest houses on Grosvenor’s Square.”

Colin chuckled. Even now, such things were simply not a part of his consideration. “I am here because I love Penelope. Nothing more. I would be happy to live on little more than a meager income, so long as we were wed. Although that will never be an issue for us, regardless of whether we are blessed with a son or not. I can assure you, Lady Featherington, that your daughter will be well looked after.”

Portia’s face remained one of concern, barely hidden beneath a mask of polite quietude. It dawned on Colin then that Portia had been the casualty of more than one man’s dishonest scheming. She likely had much difficulty allowing herself to trust any gentleman at his word. He understood her then, and knew he must forgive her standoffish nature.

“Lady Featherington,” he leaned in, trying to convey his sincerity to the best of his ability. “If you will recall, it was I who foiled Lord Featherington’s fraudulent scheme last season. I can only imagine what it must have been like for you since your own husband passed, and then to have been taken advantage of as you were. I have promised Miss Penelope that I would look after her. Please know that should we produce the heir to the estate, you will be looked after as well.”

Portia sized him up one last time before huffing her daughter’s name. “Penelope?”

“Indeed.”
“A Bridgerton?”
“If you will allow me.”
“Very well.”

Colin shot up out of his seat, propelled by unbridled joy. “Thank you Lady Featherington!” he nearly shouted. “Please do send word the moment she returns. I shall leave my new address with your butler.”

With that, he bid the two, still somewhat bewildered, Featherington ladies good day, left his calling card with the butler, and marched straight across the square to visit his brother.

***

“I do not understand, you have not even been in town a se’nnight. I heard nothing of you courting the girl. And now you are to wed her?” Anthony was not angry with him, merely confused.

“Court her?” Colin replied. “For what purpose?”

Anthony seemed to stumble. “Well, to get to know her of course. To see if you will suit.”

Colin had to bite back a laugh. “Anthony, she is my best friend. There is nothing more to know.”

“Friend?” his brother derided. “I hardly think dancing at a couple of balls qualifies one as a friend, Colin!”

Colin grit his teeth, both recalling a similar conversation from two seasons past that had gone quite off the rails, and at the fact that no one had seemed to pay any heed to the near scandalous relationship he had developed with the third Featherington daughter over the years. He settled his nerves with a sip of the bourbon his brother had poured before continuing.

“It is much more than simply our shared dances, although I must say she is my favorite partner on the floor.” Colin indulged himself a moment with a wistful smile. “We have carried on a correspondence for two years now while I have been abroad. We speak at every society function for which we are both in attendance, which is nearly all. And it is not of trivial matters. Surely, we share quips and barbs at the expense of others – she has a superior wit, Anthony – but we also share our hopes. Our dreams. She sees me like no other. Makes me want to improve myself, such that I live up to her image of me. And yet she takes me as I am. She believes in me. I love her, Anthony.”

Anthony stared back at him slack jawed, taking in all he had said. “Penelope Featherington?” was the only thing he could muster when he finally spoke.

“Penelope Featherington.” Colin replied, assuredly. Fervently. Loudly.

Apparently satisfied, Anthony unlocked the family jewels, bringing out the rings for his brother to view. At first, Colin was drawn to a ring with a large yellow diamond. But remembering Penelope’s reaction to Aggie’s new dresses, he returned that ring to its place. In its place, he selected a gold band with a small central ruby, surrounded by eight smaller diamonds forming a flower, with an additional ruby and diamond set off to each side. He hoped Penelope would see the rubies as a reminder that his love for her was in fact genuine, and existed long before he ever declared it.

***

After his visits with Lady Featherington and his brother, obtaining the marriage license at the records office was a simple task. A couple signatures, the payment of a few pounds, an official stamp, and he was on his way home to Bloomsbury. Two weeks from the day he would be permitted to marry Penelope, declaring before King and country what he already knew. He would love her always.

The carriage ride back was an anxious affair. Despite only being gone for the late morning and early afternoon, Colin found himself missing both Penelope and Agatha dearly. He opened, read, folded, and then reopened the marriage license so many times he began to grow concerned he would unwittingly smudge the ink or tear the paper. Which only caused him to reopen it again to check.

His name and hers. A sworn statement that no lawful impediments stood in their way. St. George’s church. Two weeks from this date. Intended Marriage. License to solemnize same. Colin’s heart thrummed in his chest from the excitement.

He also would need to speak with Penelope about this inheritance business. Why had she not mentioned it to him before? Did she not think him up to the task of running the estate? Surely he could do a better job of it than either of the last two Lords Featherington! He might need a bit of assistance from his brother, certainly, but there was no shame in that. He already had a small country estate he ran for additional income. This would be larger of course, but he knew what must be done.

Thinking of Penelope carrying his son quickly dispelled all of Colin’s stressors. Not only would she be round with child, but round with the possibility of a much grander life that he could have expected to provide her on his own. Surely he had an income that surpassed many of the Barons. But the wealth tied to such vast land holdings and properties was something he could never hope to acquire on his own within his lifetime. Not unless the unthinkable happened to both of his elder brothers of course. He never once wished for that.

Nor had Colin ever considered marrying an heiress. He had never really considered marrying anyone at all, truth be told. Even when he had briefly been engaged to Lady Crane nee Thompson, he hadn’t truly considered marriage. His interest in her went little beyond a desire to kiss and an idea of propriety. There was a time when he thought that was all there was to love. What need did he have to seek out an heiress at any rate? Better leave such ladies to the young Lords with titles and no wealth.

Colin had not sought out a wife. Rather, he had sought out life. After being so thoroughly embarrassed by scandal two years prior, he had sworn off women. He had turned his focus instead to his travels. After Penelope had encouraged him to do so, of course. In fact. He had sought out Penelope more than truly anything else. For dances. For conversation. Even while he traveled, he looked for her letters first before even those from his own mother. He wondered if perhaps he had no interest in other debutantes because deep down he knew he already belonged to Penelope.

He opened the document in his hands once more. Intended Marriage. License to solemnize same.

He looked out of the window and saw his carriage was still at least another five minutes from his townhouse. He could feel that stirring feeling beginning once more and did his best to will it away. He would still need to make it past Mrs. Foster. Convince her he was in need of a nap while communicating to Penelope that what he wanted in truth had little to do with sleep at all.

In fact, what he wanted did not even involve a bed.

Chapter Text

Colin found he was able to communicate his intentions to Penelope with far greater ease than he had anticipated. After giving his tailcoat and cravat to Dunwoody, he sauntered into the drawing room. Finding Penelope seated by the window, reading aloud to Agatha in her lap, made his heart stutter. He walked straight to the pair, ignoring Mrs. Foster’s throat clearing entirely as he swept his precious Aggie into his arms, showering her in joyful little kisses.

When his sweet little Miss had fully dissolved into precious peals of laughter, he took Penelope’s hand in his, turning it over and dropping what was intended to appear an innocent kiss on her wrist. Except what their chaperone could not see from her position behind him and across the room was the way he lightly sucked at the sensitive skin before letting his lower lip drag seductively across it. He heard the way she fought against an audible gasp.

He pretended to regard Aggie quite carefully before announcing that she appeared tired and overdue for a nap. Penelope offered to take her up without hesitation. He smirked at her devilishly before bidding her goodbye, watching as Mrs. Foster followed her out, ensuring Penelope was well ensconced in her room before begging off to assist Dunwoody with preparing the evening meal. Colin shut the door to his study, then crept up the stairs to the unlocked adjoining bed chamber.

By the time he latched the door and crossed through the dressing rooms, Penelope had already put Agatha down for a nap. Colin dragged Penelope back into the dimly lit dressing room, spinning her around and forcefully pressing her into the wall. He crashed his lips into hers, making up for the hours spent apart while he did nothing but talk and think of her. Pinning her shoulders to the wall with his hands, he pushed back, taking in her dazed expression.

“You did not tell me.” he seethed. “You allowed me leave, to ask your mother for your hand. And you did not tell me!” Penelope looked confused for a moment before recognition dawned. Then panicked horror flashed through her eyes.

“She did not refuse you, did she?” Penelope gasped.

Colin bit his lip. “No. She gave her permission. I have obtained our Marriage License.” He failed to bite back a low growl before licking a stripe from her pulse point to her earlobe, firmly nipping the sensitive skin until Penelope mewled in response. “Why did you not tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Penelope replied innocently, shifting her thighs together as Colin’s aggressiveness sent a shock wave to her core.

“That if I put a son in you, we will inherit your family estate.” he hissed into her neck, following his words with open mouthed kisses and a teasing tongue on the sensitive column.

“Oh!” Penelope squeaked, as much at his words as his actions. “I thought you knew.” She panted, lolling her head to the side as Colin traced her pulse point.

Without separating his lips from her skin, he began hiking her skirts until they were fully raised in the front, spreading her with his fingers and sinking into the pooling wetness. “How was I to have known?” he demanded, hooking his first two digits inside.

Penelope moaned, muting herself the best she could with what little self awareness she still possessed. He thrust his fingers in and out of her, hovering his lips close to hers. A broken, “I do not know.” was the most coherent response she could manage.

Colin dragged his fingers out of her core, sliding up through her folds just enough to awaken the sensitive bud centered there, then removed his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as Penelope watched, whining at her sudden emptiness. “Promise me you will never allow me to visit your mother so uninformed again.” he said darkly, his face stern as it glared at hers.

“I promise.” she replied automatically, but it was clear to Colin that she meant it.

“Good.” he drawled. “Because she will never have the upper hand again. Especially after you birth my son, and we take what is rightfully yours.” He silenced her gasp with another deep kiss, his hands quickly unbuttoning the fall of his trousers and the buttons that lay beneath.

“Give me your knee.” he demanded, and Penelope complied, ready to do whatever he asked of her in that moment. Colin hooked his hand under her leg and lifted it high onto his hip. She was spread wide for him, ready to receive. His cock twitched as it bumped against her welcoming heat. Reaching his hand between their bodies, he lined himself up with her center, then fully sheathed himself in one sharp thrust.

He swallowed her cries of pleasure with his kiss, sealing their lips together and driving his tongue deep into her mouth. Wordlessly, he raised her arms to his shoulders, then snatched up her other knee, wrapping it around his waist and effectively lifting her clear off the ground. He held her full weight. Had total control over her body. She was completely open to him, engulfing him, taking him.

When he began thrusting, he was not gentle. He remembered Penelope’s actions from the night before. How thoroughly she responded to his roughness. Encouraged it herself even. Now, her eager tongue, searching, clutching hands, and fluttering walls instructed him as to her arousal. He palmed her bottom and drove her relentlessly into the wall.

Colin was close to the precipice. Taking his bride hard and fast in such a wanton manner certainly did not lend to a long, drawn out love making session. He broke off their kiss, bringing his lips to the shell of her ear. When he spoke, his words came out smooth and low, driving gooseflesh across her skin. “Are you ready to carry our son?”

Penelope’s womb answered his question, shattering her around pulsing shaft. He silenced her screams, pressing his lips to hers once more as she threw herself into the kiss, grasping desperately at his cheeks to pull him closer as she clenched and squeezed against his unyielding thrusting.

Penelope ripped her lips from his, having regained some control over the sounds she was making. “Fill me.” she demanded. Colin complied, bursting within her. The warm flood of his seed awakened her womb, sending her into the throes of a second orgasm on the heels of the first. Her cervix bucked down, kissing at his sensitive tip, greedily drinking from the fountain of life spilling within her.

Colin laid into the wall, spent, perfectly crushing their bodies together. He leaned into her like that for a time, steadying himself, chasing his breath, reveling in the feeling of their bodies connecting as one. Their cheeks were nuzzled together, contenting themselves in the closeness while Colin remained plugged inside of her, damming his spend from slipping away, permitting her to continue to sip his elixir with each of her slowly dissipating tremors.

When he eventually regained his strength, Colin pushed off the wall, never letting Penelope’s feet touch the ground, and walked her to their bed. He laid her down gently on the mattress, finally slipping free of her and replacing her skirts over her legs. He buttoned himself together, then laid next to her, still unwilling to allow any more distance between them than necessary.

He smoothed his hand along her cheek, then traced down to her soft middle. Breathing in her scent, he stroked her belly while imagining it filling his hand. “I love you, Pen. So much I do not know what to do with it all.”

A sly grin danced across Penelope’s face. She rolled into his arms, indulging in the reality of being the lover of her beloved. “Simply share it with me. For I love you, too.”

They held each other like that, eyes connecting each with the other, lips gently meeting from time to time when they could contain themselves no longer, until they both drifted off to sleep.

***

When Colin woke some time later, Penelope was still tangled in his arms, the soft, rhythmic purrs of her breathing telling him she was still fast asleep. He watched her a moment, wondering how he had spent so many years drawn to her side without recognizing her staggering beauty. He kissed her cheek before stealthily exiting the bed, stopping to watch their daughter, another sleeping angel that, despite all reason, looked exactly like her mother. Colin wondered what he had done to deserve such luck.

He slipped downstairs, unseen by Mrs. Foster or Dunwoody who he assumed must be down in the kitchens, and entered his study. Colin looked at the newly acquired marriage license once more, feeling as if his heart might burst, before filing it away in his desk.

Crossing to the comfortable velvet chair by the window, he took a seat and retrieved the ring he selected that morning for Penelope. His heart felt light and free knowing that she was his and he was hers. They would be able to indulge one another a few days more before she had to return to her mother’s house, but then in two weeks time she would come home and he could finally love her out loud.

***

Dinner was the same fare as the day before, stew, bread, and another attractively arranged plate of cheese and sliced apples. He was anxious to hold Aggie after not having much chance at all yet that day. She ate well, carrots mashed with cream and an oat porridge that Mrs. Foster had made special for the child, plus a bit of apple sauce that Dunwoody brought up with the pudding. He delighted in the task of feeding her, something he had done nearly every day for a month now, pretending his spoon to be a galloping horse, its destination her giggling mouth.

As they ate their pudding, Colin realized he had not spent much time speaking with Penelope that evening, focusing nearly all his attention on their little Miss. He looked up, and catching Penelope wistfully watching them, whispered to Aggie, loud enough for Penelope to hear, “Doesn’t your mama look beautiful tonight?” Aggie shrieked her agreement, smacking her tiny hands on the table for emphasis.

Penelope’s eyes widened at the use of the new title, “Colin?” she whispered sternly, “Is it wise to say such things before… before we… before we…”

“Are married?” Colin finished for her, loudly and with a proud smile settling on his face.

Penelope made to hush him, as if it were a secret not to be told, but Colin swiftly reminded her that in fact Mrs. Foster had already assumed they were betrothed, and such a state would only lend to, not diminish the respectability of her presence in his home.

After dinner, the set retired to the drawing room, Penelope playing the pianoforte while Colin sat at her side, singing to Aggie on his knee. Colin sat closer than he should, touched her more often than he ought, reached over her to add notes that did not belong, improvised silly lyrics to the songs that had her in such stitches she had difficulty continuing to play, and even snuck a kiss on her cheek when Mrs. Foster was distracted.

For the first time, Penelope allowed herself to truly enjoy it.

Later that night, when Dunwoody and Mrs. Foster had finished changing them for bed and retired for the evening, Colin joined Penelope in their bedchamber. Penelope was sitting back against the headboard, reading to Agatha from the copy of Mother Goose’s Sonnets for the Cradle he had acquired.

Joining them on the bed, he slid under the cover and squeezed in close to Penelope’s side. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, kissing her shoulder and stroking Agatha’s fine hair. He felt content like this, a simple, joyful evening with his family. Penelope and Agatha were his family. He slid his hand to Penelope’s belly, warming the space he hoped would soon begin to grow and smiled at the thought that his seed could be taking root under his hand at that very moment.

“I will need your assistance tomorrow in distracting Mrs. Foster.” he said, finally breaking the sweet silence of the evening. “I was hoping you might ask for a tour of the downstairs. The furniture is being delivered and it would not do for her to realize precisely what has been lacking.”

Penelope smiled conspiratorially, considering only a moment before replying. “I shall ask her to assist me with a full inventory of the pantry and the larder. That should keep us occupied for at least two hours.” Penelope smiled wickedly, thinking of all the minute details and petty tasks she would ask the unsuspecting lady’s maid to assist her with, under the guise of preparing for the arrival of the new cook. In truth, she knew that it was always best to let a cook arrive and organize a kitchen to their own liking. But Mrs. Foster could hardly refuse her and she was determined to play the part.

After they laid Agatha down for the evening, taking their turns kissing her forehead, Colin led Penelope back to their bed.

“Colin?” Penelope paused at the edge of the bed, fisting the collar of his nightshirt. “I am not tired.”

There was a challenge in her voice. One that Colin fully intended to rise to meet. “Well then, Mrs. Bridgerton,” he smirked. “It seems I have some work to do.”

Colin ensured that both were fully exhausted by the time they closed their eyes for sleep.

Chapter Text

“Colin?” A hot whisper brushed against the shell of his ear.

Still heavy with sleep, he nuzzled towards the sweet sound, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“Colin!” The voice hissed again, more incessant, more demanding.

Penelope. Penelope in his bed. Penelope who he was going to marry. Penelope could already be carrying his child. He reached blindly for her, still not ready to open his eyes.

Colin intended to pull his wife close. To snuggle into her and greet the sun through the copper filter of her hair, buried deep in her scent. He looked forward to a lifetime of mornings such as these. But his ready arms did not find her at his side.

Penelope, it seemed, had other plans.

Colin’s eyes burst open when two cool hands landed on his upper thighs, immediately set in motion and rubbing small circles, quickly converging upon his erect morning member. “Pen?” he managed to mumble, tongue still thick with sleep.

“Shh.”

Her gentle shushing was the only reply she gave – the only sound she made – before her wet lips surrounded his cock head in a slow, sultry kiss.

Colin sat straight up in the bed, his hands falling into the red curls that covered his lap. “P – Puh, uh!” he choked, unable to form coherent speech as Penelope’s tongue slowly circled his tip. He gathered her hair up in his hands, holding it away from her face and off to the side so that he could watch himself be ruined.

Penelope paused her attentions, looking past his heaving abdomen, straight up into his eyes, her own eyes wide and innocent. “Is this alright? Does it feel nice?”

Colin gently stroked her cheek even as he nodded frantically. “Uh-huh.” he managed to breathe out before falling back to the pillows, willing to submit to whatever this siren had in store for him.

Penelope could not believe the power she held over him, reducing him to a quivering mass with nothing but her lips and tongue. It emboldened her, swirling about the silken tip and delighting in the way his hands clutched the sheets beneath him. She traced her tongue slowly up and then back down the vein that spiraled along his thick shaft, gripping lightly at the base to hold it steady. Colin whimpered when she flattened her tongue and dragged it along the underside.

She continued to tease at him, sucking softly at his tip as if it were a candy sweet, alternating with swirling and tracing the rest of him with her tongue and lips. When it seemed to be becoming all too much for Colin, tensing and writhing beneath her, she released her grip on him, crawling and kissing slowly up his abdomen and chest, taking her time to worship every inch of his sculpted torso along the way.

It was heady, the feeling she got from watching Colin tremble and gasp at her every touch. But her own ache had begun to grow, and she wanted him to spill against her womb, not into her mouth. She did not want to waste a single opportunity to provide Colin with the children he so clearly wanted. The children she had dreamed of one day making with him since she was a young maiden, even if she was completely ignorant of the act required until much more recently.

When she reached the defined caps of his shoulders, nipping at the muscles with her teeth as her hands stroked down his thick arms, she straddled his waist with her knees, pushing her body upright and seeking his firmness with her bare center.

She found Colin’s eyes, dazed with lust and hunger, just as she caught his tip between her legs. She held his gaze as she sank down on him, both sighing with relief at their joining. His arms came up to wrap around her hips, guiding but not controlling her slow, rhythmic rocking.

As if he could not bear any distance between them at all, he sat up, supporting her in his lap with one arm raised to her back, pressing his forehead against hers. He rolled his hips in time with hers, their movements grinding and slow.

Penelope continued to explore Colin’s body, even from this new position. She rolled her torso and hips against his, plunging him deep into her core with every deliberate motion, relishing the way her body opened and squeezed with each stroke. She let her thumbs tease his nipples, excited to learn that he reacted nearly as favorably to the stimulus as she did. She kissed him as he had that first night, sucking lightly on his neck and dragging her teeth along his collar bone. Colin’s rolled back head and breathy moans let Penelope know she had him close to the edge again.

She wanted him to spill in her, felt her own peak climbing steadily closer. She threaded her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, righting his head and bringing their foreheads together once more. She rolled her hips a bit faster, a bit more forcefully until she was sure they were both set to burst. She locked their lips together and bounced just a few more times against his lap until his warm fountain began to fill her insides.

Her body reacted immediately, clenching and sucking every drop of the potent elixir from him. Colin’s arms encircled her, squeezing her just as tightly to his chest. His hips stuttered up into hers, no longer able to sit back and allow her to take her pleasure from him. Penelope trembled in his arms, the slow moving climax washing over her in seemingly unending waves.

They remained locked together, holding one another tightly, until each drifted down from their highs. Penelope kissed delicately along his collar bone, up his neck, across his cheekbone and finally to the bridge of his nose. After leaving a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose, she craned back, a mischievous smile on her face, speaking in a tone to match. “Good morning!”

***

The furniture men came precisely on time, coinciding well with Penelope’s request of Mrs. Foster to inventory the kitchens, pantry, and larder. Penelope brought a notebook and pencil, insisting that she take down every item found there, plus its condition, location, and whether or not it was in need of repair or replacement. She made a separate list of the perishable stocks, fretting aloud over the correct quantities of each item for the household and whether any given item should be procured weekly or monthly.

Mrs. Foster attempted to suggest that the job might be better done with the cook once she arrived in two days time, but Penelope gasped at the notion, insisting it must be done ahead of time lest the new cook think the worst of them. Mrs. Foster could find no way argue with that without seeming impertinent. Nearly three hours later, Penelope was just beginning to invent some new task for the two to undertake in the wine cellar when the sounds of the movers bidding their farewell and exiting the home were heard.

“Actually, I do believe we are quite through for today. Thank you Mrs. Foster. Might we arrange a tray and bring up some tea? I am quite sure Mister Bridgerton will be famished after such an… eventful morning.”

Penelope did her best to assist Mrs. Foster while balancing Aggie on her hip, arranging the tinned biscuits and measuring the tea leaves. The lady’s maid sliced an apple, some cheese, and dried sausages for the tray. Working together, they were done by the time the water boiled. Penelope made her way to the drawing room, Mrs. Foster close behind with the tea service. Colin lit up when they entered the room, although she could not quite tell whether it was more at the sight of her and Aggie, or the food. Either way, she was happy finally have an opportunity to sit down.

Colin immediately reached for Agatha, asking the child how she found her morning and whether she was hungry for tea. Colin responded to each of her babbles just as if he understood every word, passing her a biscuit to gum at while he loaded a small plate for himself with sausage, apples, and cheese.

Mrs. Foster was in her usual spot in the corner of the room, preventing Colin from speaking too freely about all of the furniture deliveries, but he discussed at length the new crib, chest of drawers, child’s table, miniature vanity, half sized wash basin, and rocking horse that were delivered. His eyes danced with delight and pride as he described each of the items, sipping the tea that Penelope had fixed for him and bouncing Agatha on his knee to keep her interest.

When they finished their tea, instead of suggesting a nap or a tour of the nursery as Penelope expected, Colin asked if she would play the pianoforte for them. Feeling buoyed by her tea and the short rest, she happily obliged. It seemed that Colin could sense Miss Agatha had become a bit restless having been held all morning, and placed her on her feet for what he termed a ‘dance lesson’.

Penelope played several cheerful waltzes at his request, while Colin stooped over to hold Aggie’s tiny hands, leading her in time, lifting her for spins, and dipping her back dramatically, all the while calling out directions and corrections, doing a terrible impression of his and Eloise’s dance instructor of their youth. After the third song finished, Colin swept Agatha off the rug, tossing her slightly into the air before bringing her, giggling and squealing, to sit in his lap on the piano bench at Penelope’s side.

“Am I to be replaced so easily, Mister Bridgerton?” Penelope asked, mock indignation evident in her tone.

“Replaced?” Colin asked, matching her faux dramatics.

“It seems,” she faked a near-swoon. “That you have found a new favorite dance partner.”

“Ah,” Colin leaned in conspiratorially. “She may be just as pretty as you, but she is a terrible clod. I fear she spent nearly the entire time we took to the floor stood on my toes!”

Penelope dissolved into a fit of giggles while Agatha pushed up in Colin’s lap, standing on her shaky legs, appearing as if she were preparing to climb his chest.

“I do hope you still have a credit with the modiste – I believe it is about time we put in an order for leading strings!” Penelope gasped once she caught her breath from the laughter.

“Indeed.” he replied, steadying the little girl on his knees before launching her up above his head, letting her kick off as if she were jumping.

***

Nap time was skipped as both could see they had a very energetic Miss Agatha Anne on their hands this day. Both Colin and Penelope ended up on the floor playing with her, as reading just would not seem to cut it. She was crawling speedily from point to point, exploring whatever piqued her interest, pulling herself up to standing the moment she reached a surface that would help support her.

Needless to say, by the time the evening meal was cleared, all three were exhausted. Colin was finally able to show Penelope the newly furnished nursery when they went upstairs to retire for the evening, Mrs. Foster hovering – mostly unobtrusively – in the corridor.

The nursery was not quite lavish, but it was far from austere. The furniture Colin ordered was made from a bright cherry wood, ornately carved and inlaid with intricate designs. The crib was complete with a soft mattress, already made up with fresh linens and a knit blanket. It was Penelope that carried Agatha around, showing her the small dressing room where all her various yellow gowns were hung, the perfectly sized vanity and wash basin, the table where she would certainly enjoy many an imaginary dinner party with the dolls they would inevitably acquire, and finally set her down on the new rocking horse, holding her tiny hands onto the handles and, much to Aggie’s delight, giving it a gentle rock.

Colin retrieved the blankets Agatha had used in her makeshift bassinet from their bedchamber, bringing them in to help make her new crib feel familiar. Once she had lost interest in the rocking horse, Penelope scooped her up again, making happy faces and placing a dozen or more sweet kisses on her cheeks as she stood the child in her new crib. Agatha, as she seemed to be in most situations, was exceedingly agreeable, taking to hew new bed with ease. She crawled around on the mattress a moment, exploring the space while Penelope told her a bedtime story. By the time she was done, Aggie had sat, and then laid in the center of the mattress. Colin tucked her in, singing her a French lullaby as her eyes fell heavy and finally shut. First Colin and then Penelope took turns kissing her forehead, whispering “Sweet dreams my darling girl,” before tiptoeing out to the corridor.

Mrs. Foster did not even clear her throat when her eyes landed on their joined hands. Instead, she walked ahead to what she still believed to be Penelope’s bedchamber, waiting at the door with her back turned to the pair. Colin pumped his eyebrows at her, each understanding that Mrs. Foster had given her implicit permission for a rather scandalous goodnight kiss to pass between them.

Colin would not pass up the opportunity to titillate his bride-to-be, even if this was far from the most risque behavior they had engaged in together. He stepped to Penelope, gripping her waist and the back of her head, dipping her back dramatically in his bracing arms, and capturing her lips in a deep, romantic kiss.

Penelope giggled wildly as he righted her, slapping his chest once she had found her balance again, then bidding him good night. As they had in evenings prior, they dressed for sleep in their separate bed chambers, waited until Dunwoody and Mrs. Foster had retreated to their attic quarters for the night, and then rejoined in the dressing room.

This evening, however, Colin did not follow Penelope into his bed chamber. Instead tugging her through to the newly furnished adjoining suite. The room was lit by candles, appearing much warmer and cozier than the last time she had stood in the then bare space. A large, four-poster bed anchored the center of the room, a tufted fainting couch placed at the foot. Matching night stands, a bureau, wash table, vanity, and writing desk filled the space, along with a small, round table and two arm chairs.

Colin watched her nervously as she took in the new additions. “I know there is not room enough for you to have a private sitting room, but with the sofa and the table and chairs you can always entertain Eloise or… our mothers?” He shifted nervously, still studying her for her reaction. “It will of course be yours to do with as you please. I only hope you have no cause for sleeping in here. I… hope that you will continue to share my bed.”

He would have kept rambling on had Penelope not finally cut him off. “It is perfect.” she whispered reverently, stepping forward to run her hand along the back of the blue velvet couch. Turning back, a wide grin spread across her face. “The furniture is beautiful. I cannot imagine I would have chosen anything differently had I managed the selections myself. Thank you, Colin.”

Colin felt a wave of pride rush through his veins, his chest puffing slightly at the praise. Catching Penelope’s reflection in the dressing mirror that stood to the side of her, a wicked idea entered his mind. “You know, Pen. We would be remiss if we did not seize upon this opportunity to try out the new bed.”

Where he expected a scandalized reaction, Penelope only reflected heat. That was good, because the bed was not the only piece of furniture he intended to break in. He moved to her, clad once again in her sinfully simple chemise, pulling her to him with his greedy fingertips. Spinning her so that her backside pressed to his front, they faced their reflection in the dressing mirror.

Colin wrapped his arms around her front, hands sliding seductively down her torso, squeezing her body into his. He nipped Penelope’s earlobe, biting down until she gasped, then replacing his teeth with his tongue. He leisurely kissed against the ivory column of her neck until she was grinding back against him, taking no notice as he worked her night gown up her body. He broke away to pull the flimsy fabric free of her body, leaving her bare to the night.

“Open your eyes, Pen.” he whispered into her ear as he reached around to cup her breasts in his hands. As large as his hands were, they were still overflowing with her bounty, spilling between his fingers as he pressed them up and together.

Penelope did as she was told, confronting the image in front of them. Before her mind had a moment to begin dissecting her reflection, Colin’s voice took over telling her what he saw. What he believed her to be. “Look at how beautiful you are. How perfectly you fit in my hands.”

She tried to turn her head to look at him rather than their reflection, but his cheek pressed to hers kept her looking straight ahead. He kneaded her breasts, staring hungrily at them through the mirror, teasing and plucking at her nipples until Penelope’s hips began to shift from side to side.

“I must say that I will be reluctant to share these, but the knowledge that they will grow even larger does ease my mind.” He squeezed them together one last time before allowing one to drop, his hand sliding low to where her building ache was calling him.

Colin was slow and deliberate as he parted her. Nudging her ankle to widen her stance. Slowly tracing her slit. Peeling back her lips until she was fully exposed to his touch. The fluid strokes he made between her thighs had her arching back into his broad chest, shuddering and quaking with desire.

Watching Colin’s face as he teased her, it became clear that he was transfixed on the work his fingers were doing. She followed his eye line down to see her womanhood exposed, held in his busy palm, the source of wave after wave of pleasure.

“Oh, Colin, it feels so good.” she panted. “You are so good, so good to me.” Penelope reached up, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging gently so he looked at her through the mirror. “I love you.” His fingers stalled for a moment at the praise, redoubling their efforts once he regained his bearings. He tried to hide his smile by nuzzling against her neck, whispering his love for her into the delicate skin.

Despite the climbing bliss, Penelope needed more. The clothing Colin still wore prevented her from feeling the closeness that they had shared every other time they had been intimate. “Colin, I want you closer. I wish to feel your heat against me.”

At her words, Colin stepped back, shedding his night shirt to the floor. Instead of retaking his place behind her though, he led her back to the velvet sofa at the foot of the bed. He sank down onto the cushions, dragging her down into his bare lap. Colin arranged Penelope such that she was laid back on his chest, her knees spread out over his. They still faced the mirror and, although they were a bit further back from it now, she was spread wide for both of them to see.

“Look how lovely you are.” he purred in her ear as his hands slid down, tracing through her folds once more. Penelope had never seen herself like this before, and gasped at the sight. Colin continued to feed her words of affirmation and praise as he dipped his fingers into her core, pumping into her and steadily breaking her apart. When his second hand, having stalled for a time at her breasts, left her sore nipples and joined the other between her legs, relentlessly circling her sensitive bud, it took little time before Penelope was watching herself hurdle over the edge, shaking in pleasure in her lover’s arms.

Colin simply held her as she came down from her high, soft kisses to her hair and his strong embrace the only reality she was aware of. Eventually, as she regained her focus, she realized that only she had experienced that pinnacle, starting to move so that she could return the pleasure.

Before she should turn over however, Colin had stood, lifting her in the air. He circled the couch, placing her down on the edge of the bed. Penelope began to slide back towards the pillows when Colin reached for her wrist, stopping her. “Hands and knees. And face the mirror.”

Penelope gulped but did as she was told. She would do anything he asked of her she realized, because everything he had asked her thus far had only brought her joy and pleasure. Colin joined her on the bed, walking towards her on his knees. She felt his swollen cock head bounce against the back of her thighs, making her back arch, her bottom rising up to meet the taught skin of his pelvis.

His hands raced against every inch of her bare flesh, smoothing over her soft derriere and thighs. He spread her knees, making room, then grasped the top of her hips and pulled her back onto his waiting cock. They exhaled together, their joining acting to release all the day’s tension from between them. Colin sank deep into her, holding his hips flush to her bottom, opening her to him, until she began to squirm and whine for movement.

Colin leaned his large torso down over her back, his broad shoulders and stacked muscles seeming to engulf her petite frame in their reflection. He spoke next to her ear in a low, gravelly voice, while glaring at her through the mirror across the room. “Tonight, I am going to take you like you are my mare. Breed you like an animal taken to wild. Do you want that, Pen?”

The way she clenched against him inside of her should have been answer enough, but he waited until she nodded her head and moaned a low, “Yes, Colin. Please.”

Colin thrust into her hard after that. Once to test Penelope’s ability to hold her tongue, pausing briefly to allow her the opportunity to object. When he caught her expression of dark desire echoing his in the mirror however, he realized his concern was baseless. She wanted this as much as he did.

He began snapping his hips against her backside, increasing his pace steadily until he was moving as fast as he was able, the slap of their skin echoing through the room. He was unrelenting as he pistoned into her, low moans that were nearly growls escaping her lips. He dug his fingers into her hips, relishing the way her yielding flesh allowed him to grip her tight.

Penelope lost herself to their passions. Unable to keep supporting herself on her arms, she sank into the mattress, laying her face sideways so she could continue to watch the reflection of Colin taking her from behind. Her entire body was limp, his to dominate. And he did, grasping her by the hips and taking her.

All the while, he never took his eyes off their reflection, watching the way her body bent and rippled with each concussive force. He rutted into her with abandon, his efforts too great for either to speak. Her cunt was drooling with need, pulsing against his member in time as he filled her over and over.

When he felt her walls tightening, collapsing down against him, Colin bent, wrapping his body to hers, but never easing his tempo. He laid onto her, sweaty and panting into her ear as she began to clench around him. He offered her his fingers to suck and bite down on, muting her screams of ecstasy. His body crushed into hers, screwing her down into the mattress as his release finally burst free. Colin had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from roaring; wild, rumbling moans escaping his throat instead.

Colin lay atop Penelope in the afterglow, kissing the side of her face until she recovered enough to turn and meet his lips. He stayed inside her as long as he was able, once again reveling in the way her body sucked at his cock, greedily soaking in every last drop of his seed. When he finally shifted to the side, slipping out of her, he dragged her back to his chest, cupping her breasts with one hand, her belly with the other, humming in satisfaction.

“That was… I enjoyed that immensely, Colin.” Penelope blushed, craning her neck so she could look over her shoulder at him. He squeezed her tighter, dropping another kiss down on her swollen lips. “It felt as if you were… taking me. Claiming me as yours.”

A soft groan answered her first. “That is because you are mine. As I am yours.”

They lay together on the thoroughly disheveled new bed as long as they dared before re-dressing in their nightclothes and returning to the master bed chamber. Falling asleep in one another’s arms, the last thing either heard was the other murmuring their love.

***

The next morning, Penelope awoke to an empty bed. It was strange. She had spent the past nineteen years waking up alone. But after just three mornings of waking up next to Colin, waking up without him at her side felt wrong.

She sat up and looked around, seeing that all traces of his presence had neatly been removed. The bed covers next to her had been tucked up and straightened. The adjoining door between dressing rooms was closed. Anxious to greet the day, Penelope unlatched her door and rang for Mrs. Foster, who promptly arrived to dress her for the day.

After being dressed in a simple blue day dress and having her hair tied back in loose waves, Penelope asked after Agatha, who she learned was still asleep in her new crib. She dismissed the lady’s maid, advising she would be down promptly to break her fast, then padded down the hall in her stocking feet to wake the baby.

Aggie was a perfect angel, resting on the mattress in a sea of knit blankets, her gossamer red hair beginning to form tendrils at the ends. She stood and watched her a moment, her heart filling with each soft breath the child took.

Eventually, Penelope crossed to the crib and began softly stroking Aggie’s cheek to wake her. She stirred at the touch, stretching her tiny fists and turning over, blinking slowly up at Penelope with a sleepy smile on her face. Penelope reached into the crib to lift her, kissing her forehead before transferring her to the new changing table to ready her for the day. “Good morning, Miss Agatha Anne. How do you find yourself on this lovely day?”

The child babbled a happy response, carrying on a gibberish conversation as Penelope changed her and buttoned on the frock with the embroidered white daisies. When she was done, she seated the child on her hip, asking if she wanted to play on her new rocking horse. Aggie replied by tugging Penelope’s hair gently and pointing to the door.

“Oh, is that right now? Hungry already? If I did not know better I would say you have taken directly after your dear Papa.”

“Papa!”

“He is just downstairs I am certain, why don’t we –” Penelope stopped speaking, her jaw falling slack as she turned her head to look at the tiny child who had just produced her very first word. She gasped, her building excitement causing her own voice to tremble. “Aggie, did you just say Papa?”

Agatha pointed to the door. “Papa!”

Penelope squealed in delight, unable to contain her joy. “Papa! That is right! Papa is downstairs! Very good! Let us go find him, and you may tell him yourself!”

Penelope practically skipped out of the room, only slowing her gait while she descended the stairs. She heard Colin’s voice in the drawing room, and assuming he must be speaking with Dunwoody or Mrs. Foster, called out to him as she rushed towards the doorway. “Colin! Colin! Make haste! Aggie has said –”

Penelope stopped in her tracks the moment she crossed into the doorway, a frozen Colin staring back at her. A loud gasp rang in her ears as Violet Bridgerton’s tea cup clattered to the carpet. A silence hung in the air as each tried to assess their next move. That is, until Agatha, wiggling in Penelope’s arms and still waiting to wish Colin good morning, interrupted.

“Papa!”

Chapter Text

When Colin woke up, brimming with energy and ready to begin his day, he considered rousing Penelope for the possibility of making love to her once again. But she was out cold. Even when he held himself close to her and peppered kisses along her jaw, she did not stir. And so, with one final peck to the tip of her nose, Colin rose from bed to prepare himself for the day.

He quietly buzzed about, making his half of the bed and ensuring Mrs. Foster would not be able to detect his overnight presence in the room. After ringing for Dunwoody to dress him, Colin checked in on Aggie, who was sleeping just as soundly as her mama. Having plenty to do to prepare to receive his new staff the next day, he left her to her slumber and made his way down to his study.

Not a quarter hour after taking up his place at his desk, Dunwoody knocked then entered, Colin assumed with the breakfast tray he had asked for. “That was quick of you.” he began, cutting himself off when he saw his man’s hands empty.

“The Lady Violet Bridgerton, here to see you, Sir.” Dunwoody gave a small bow.

“Mama?” he choked out, all the blood draining from his face.

“Yes, Sir. I have shown her to the drawing room. Shall I bring the breakfast tray there?”

Colin was panicking inside, doing his best to appear in control in front of his man. “Indeed. Very well.” The butler bowed, beginning to make his retreat when Colin stopped him. “Dunwoody? Uh. Erm. That is to say… I know I have asked a lot from you since we have returned. And, well. Mama is not yet aware of Miss Agatha. Nor Miss Penelope’s… um… assistance. If you might. Once you have delivered the tray, that is… would you. Help? Perhaps notify Miss Penelope that my mother has called?”

Dunwoody indulged Colin with a knowing smile before curtly nodding his head. “Of course Master Bridgerton.”

“We are to marry.” Colin rushed out, eager to protect Penelope’s reputation, which he was well aware he had most thoroughly compromised through his actions. He snatched the marriage license off of his desk and thrust it in the butler’s face. “Twelve days. I only – I do not wish to shock my mother.”

Dunwoody smiled as if he had expected the news all along. “Very well, Sir.” He bowed and left to fetch the breakfast.

Colin took a deep, steadying breath, then made his way to the drawing room. “Mama!” he exclaimed, perhaps louder than he ought, but hoping if Penelope was awake she would hear his voice carry. He rushed in to embrace his mother.

“I have only been trying to get my house in order before extending an invitation. My staff does not arrive until tomorrow, and I am afraid I have been making due with the barest of bones.”

Violet waved him off, insisting that the home looked lovely and she was more than comfortable. “Colin, you must know why I am here. Anthony tells me you called on him the day before last?”

Colin felt his face flush. He had not asked Anthony to keep his ‘intention’ to ask Penelope to marry him in confidence, but he still imagined telling his mother in his own time. “I did indeed.” he replied, feeling rather sheepish as he met his mother’s imploring gaze.

“And…” Violet attempted to prompt, but could wait no longer for her son’s response. “And you intend to ask Miss Penelope Featherington for her hand?”

Colin despised lying to his mother, which was why he had intended to share the news with her once Penelope was returned to Featherington house and he could make their engagement public. “I have not yet given her a my ring, but we have corresponded. She is not at her mother’s home at present, but I have already sought Lady Featherington’s permission and procured the license.”

Dunwoody entered with the breakfast tray, placing it on the low table between the sofas. Colin fixed his mother’s tea along with his own, offering her the tinned biscuits he had available. Colin noticed Dunwoody hovering, as if needing to tell him something. But just as Colin made to inquire, Penelope’s voice cut through the house.

“Colin! Colin! Make haste! Aggie has said –”

And then there she was, beautiful as always in her simple muslin day dress and stocking feet, hair tied back in soft waves, just how he liked. And Agatha, perched on her hip, squirming and reaching for him as she always did upon waking.

His heart was soft and full even as his mother’s gasp rang out and her tea cup fell to the floor, soaking a long, brown stain into the blue and cream floral design of the carpet. Before he could think of what to say – how to begin to explain his current situation to his mother – Aggie made the cause of Penelope’s excitement quite clear.

“Papa!”

Colin knew he should probably keep his concern on his mother. Worry about explaining his situation with Penelope. Do something to try to smooth things over. But his daughter had just said her first word, and he could not contain himself. He popped up from the sofa, crossing the room quickly to sweep Agatha into his arms. “Aggie, my darling girl! You said ‘Papa’! That is simply brilliant my sweet!” He smacked kisses across her cheeks and forehead until he heard the sharp sound of his mother’s throat clearing.

“Colin, your mother is here.” Penelope said, as if he had forgotten the rather obvious.

Heaving a breath, Colin handed Aggie back to Penelope, inviting her to come join them and break her fast. Penelope sat where he had been, across from his mother. When he made to sit down next to her, Penelope shot him a look that reminded him the proper thing to do would be to sit next to his mother. He did so, industriously fixing his mother a new cup of tea and one for Penelope.

When he finally looked at his mother, passing her the fresh tea, he saw the look of shock and panic that had taken up residence there. She was looking back and forth in a frantic sort of pattern between Colin, Penelope, and Agatha, clearly trying to do sums in her head to try and gain an understanding of just what was going on.

“How – Why did you not – When – You ought to have – Oh, Colin. How could you?” she finally choked out.

“Mama, I –”

“No, Colin! I am glad to see you are correcting things now, but this should have been done… nearly two years ago?” Violet’s words were harsh for her third son.

Penelope could not sit by and listen to the man she loved get berated for something he did not do. “She is not his. Not like that anyway.”

Violet’s eyes grew wide. “I see. And the true father? He was unwilling to do the honorable –”

“She is not Penelope’s either!” Colin rushed to defend his betrothed, physically unable to listen to his mother speak ill of her. Violet opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Mama, I…” Colin heaved a sigh before launching into an explanation of how he had found Agatha. “She was abandoned on my return trip, left in my room under the bed. There was a terrible storm just after we left port and we were locked away together for more than a week. After extensive inquiries, it became clear that she was not lost, but in fact left intentionally, in hopes of her finding a better life. I… well, spending all that time with her. Mama, I fell in love. I am to sign the papers to make her my legal ward on Monday.”

Violet’s eyes were fixed and wide as she absorbed all her son had to say. When it became clear he thought he had explained all that need to be shared however, she finally spoke back up. “What, precisely, my darling, are you doing in such a state of undress, with Miss Featherington alone in your home?”

Colin sighed. The lack of cravat and tailcoat while about the house had become so natural, he had hardly noticed until his mother pointed it out. He wondered whether his mother had noticed Penelope’s stocking covered toes peeking out from beneath her skirts. Worrying that it would not be easy to sell his mother on the current state of his and Penelope’s affairs, he shifted in his seat, then did his best to explain.

“The nurse, and the rest of the staff I have hired could not come on until tomorrow. I needed help. A second set of hands with the baby. I… worried that if I came to you when I first got home that you would persuade me to give her up. I could not. And so I asked Pen for her assistance. I only intended for her to visit, but then… Lady Danbury saw her arrive and…”

“Agatha knows about this?” Violet burst out.

“It was much her doing.” Penelope added. “She sent a footman to tell my mama that I was accompanying her on a country visit, then lent her lady’s maid to act as chaperone.”

Colin picked up the story again as Penelope left off. “And it took but a day for me to realize I was in love. Had been in love with her for ages. I asked Pen to marry me the next night over dinner.” He gazed at her from his seat opposite hers, smiling softly when she looked back at him.

They might have held one another’s eyes for longer, but Aggie’s burst of energy from yesterday had not seemed to dissipate overnight. Penelope bent to put the child’s feet on the floor, intending to let her bounce about for a bit.

“Colin, that is all lovely, truly. But what of Penelope’s reputation? Surely, you cannot believe that people will not –”

Violet trailed off when she realized neither her son nor soon to be daughter in law were paying her any mind. Following their line of sight, she looked down just in time to see Agatha take three quick, wobbly steps before crashing directly into her knees. The small child looked up at her with all the mischief her third son used to carry in his eyes before a tiny voice asked her a very important question.

“Papa mama?”

With those three shaky steps and two small words, every last ounce of trepidation and apprehension melted from the Dowager Viscountess’ face. She lifted the copper haired child into her arms, settling her skillfully on her knee. Violet glanced up, finally allowing herself to see the love behind Colin and Penelope’s eyes as they looked on nervously. Turning her smile back to the precocious Miss in her lap, she finally answered her question. “Yes, little one. I am your papa’s mama. You may call me Grandmama Violet.”

From that moment on, Colin and Penelope knew they had won her over.

It took most of the morning and some of the afternoon to finish convincing Violet that they had thought everything through. Which they had not, of course. It would be difficult for the Ton to accept that Aggie was, in fact, an orphan and that Colin had not ruined Penelope sometime two seasons ago. The fact that Colin was rather widely known to have been in Greece when Agatha would have been conceived, combined with the fact that Penelope was out and about in Society last year when she would have been born, were most helpful to their cause.

They could not share the real ace up their sleeve with his mother however, that Lady Whistledown would only ever print their version of the matter.

Violet ended up insisting that she would stay on until Penelope could return home – which she was expected to do the next day – and offering to continue on in residence as long as her son wished, until Penelope was to return as his wife if needed. Colin obliged her with a tour of the town home – thanking his lucky stars that she arrived after the arrival of the furniture – showing her first Aggie’s nursery, then what he told her was his bed chamber, Penelope’s room, and the additional guest room. She nodded approvingly as they moved about the well-appointed if modest town home.

Thankfully, she never asked to see the dressing rooms.

Dunwoody and Mrs. Foster had just finished putting out afternoon tea when the small party returned to the drawing room from their tour of the home. Penelope passed a rather wiggly and restless Agatha to Colin, then set about fixing tea for all three without needing to ask how any of them took it. Violet watched on, impressed by her adept hostess, and how naturally the two seemed to take to their new roles.

“Penelope, dear.” Violet began as Penelope passed her a teacup. “I do hope you will forgive my abruptness with you this morning. It is only that I was… rather surprised by… all of this. In truth, I have hoped my son would come ‘round to you since the two of you were hardly out of leading strings.”

Penelope blushed as she passed Colin his tea, their fingertips grazing. “And I am aware that the situation in which you have found us is rather… unconventional.” She tucked two of the butter biscuits Violet had apparently brought over onto the edge of Colin’s saucer, then passed a third into Aggie’s grabby fingers. Colin immediately leaned down and took a bite from the baby’s treat, mischief lighting his eyes as she giggled and smacked at his cheek.

Penelope fought back a laugh of her own as she sipped her tea, tearing her eyes away from Colin only to notice Violet observing her approvingly. “You are to return to your mother’s tomorrow?” she asked once she realized she had been seen.

“Indeed. Lady Danbury will bring me in her carriage.”

“And then I will be by to propose properly.” Colin chimed in on her heels, grinning from ear to ear.

“You will wait until she has been home long enough that your arrival is not suspect.” his mother instructed.

“Of course, mama.” he murmured in reply.

Their evening passed by like all the rest. Violet was pleased with Penelope’s skill at the pianoforte and amused when Colin demonstrated Aggie’s dance lessons for her. She insisted on holding the child while Penelope read aloud. And watched in awe as Colin and Penelope both played with the child on the floor, encouraging her to test out her legs within the safety of their arms.

By the time they took their evening meal together, Violet had fully embraced their situation, asking after their plans for the wedding.

“I should like to have the ceremony a week from Wednesday.” Colin replied, looking to Penelope for the nodded agreement she offered. “The license is for St. George’s, of course. And Anthony already offered to host the wedding breakfast after. Aggie’s nurse will arrive tomorrow, so her care will already be in order. There is not much more to it than that.”

Penelope was smiling and bobbing her head when Violet let out a loud huff. “I should quite like to host an engagement ball. Perhaps next Friday? And Penelope, we will have to get your trousseau in order. Monday I will bring you to the modiste. A gown for the wedding as well. Oh, and one for the engagement ball! The engagement should be public news by Sunday afternoon, no? You will need to be seen together on the Serpentine at least three times a week between now and the wedding. Colin, you will call on her daily. That is non-negotiable. And you will need to attend the Stowell Ball on Tuesday. You should dance twice, and be sure to waltz. You need to be seen.”

“Mama, that is – of course.” Colin was smiling warmly at Penelope at the other end of the table, as she gazed back at him, no small measure of mirth on her face. “I will be quite pleased to show Miss Penelope off. Pen? Is that agreeable to you?”

“I… um, yes. Of course. Splendid.” Penelope was blushing rather furiously, causing Colin to worry she was not being forthcoming.

“Pen? Does something trouble you?” He knit his brow and waited, giving her the chance to collect her thoughts.

Penelope sipped her wine, attempting to move the lump that had formed in her throat. “It is only that I am not terribly used to being the center of attention. And I do believe that on your arm for the next fortnight, that is precisely where I shall be.”

“It is not only for the next fortnight, dearest.” Violet warned delicately. “You are to be a Bridgerton. The sister of a Duke and a Viscount. And if Francesca’s past week is any indication, an Earl as well. The Ton will be watching long after your vows are complete.”

Penelope nodded into her lap, the weight of being Mrs. Colin Bridgerton coming down heavy on her shoulders. She knew she loved him. Loved Aggie. But would it be enough? Would she be enough?

“Pen?” Just when she thought the whole world was set to settle on her back, Colin’s gentle voice brought her back to the moment, relaxing her completely and offering precisely the support she required. “I shall be with you every step of the journey. I love you.”

Penelope’s worry turned to resolve. She returned the sentiment and indicated her understanding. Neither noticed if Violet had to dab away tears.

“All that to say, mama, that it is not I who may be the greatest draw of attention this Season between the two of us. I presume you are aware of the open Featherington inheritance?”

Violet snapped to attention. “I am afraid not. What do you speak of?”

Colin chuckled to himself. “Lady Featherington led me to believe that the entire Ton was aware of the matter.”

“She more often than not believes Lady Cowper to be the entire Ton.” Penelope added with a good measure of cheek.

Violet tittered at the barb, then looked between the two impatiently, waiting for an explanation.

“It seems that Lord Featherington has no plans to return to England, nor to take a wife. He has left the estate in abeyance, to be inherited by the first of Lady Featherington’s daughters to produce a son.”

Violet gasped far louder than considered polite. “But, that would mean you would…” She trailed off, although her eyes remained wide with understanding.

“It is a throw of the dice, mama, as you well know. We could have a dozen daughters. Or Mrs. Finch could already have a son on the way. And it has nothing to do with why I have asked for Penelope’s hand. But, yes. If we were to have a son, we would, among the rest, take Featherington House, across the square from Anthony.”

Violet sobbed out loud as he finished speaking.

The four finished the evening meal together, idly continuing their conversation about plans for the coming fortnight. When they retired back to the drawing room, Violet held Agatha, the dozing baby snuggling sweetly into her Grandmother. They spent the rest of the evening catching up with one another, listening to Penelope play the pianoforte, and laughing together, the tension of the morning now a distant memory.

Insisting on carrying the child up to the nursery herself, Colin and Penelope trailed up the stairs behind her, hand in hand. Violet bid Aggie sweet dreams and kissed her cheek, laying her down in the crib and stepping back, a pleased sort of smile crinkling her eyes. Agatha, however, was not satisfied, standing at once and putting her arms out to Penelope. “Mama? Papa?”

Colin and Penelope, who had been content to stand aside and allow Violet the opportunity to bond with her granddaughter, jumped into action. It was Violet’s turn to stand idle and watch as her son and his betrothed huddled together, Penelope reciting a nursery rhyme as a bedtime story, Colin singing the same French lullaby she had sung to all of her children when they were small. Each took a turn to kiss her precious forehead, whispering, “Sweet dreams my darling girl.” Memories of many nights past flooded the matron’s mind, the similarities between her son and his late father bringing a tear to her eye.

Once Colin carefully clicked the door to the nursery shut behind him, Penelope bid them both goodnight, letting Violet know she would send Mrs. Foster in to assist just as soon as she was done with her. Colin kissed her hand, then realized his mother had quite obviously turned her back to them, allowing him to quickly capture her lips in a goodnight kiss. He relished the blush that had settled on her cheeks when he straightened, wishing her sweet dreams and bowing to her as he had not done in nearly a year.

He and his mother watched as Penelope retreated down the corridor to her room, Colin sensing his mother had more to say to him.

“You know, I have always hoped you would see just how happy she makes you.” His mother offered once they were alone. He lowered his head, knowing he would never get over the shame he felt for going two entire seasons without once thinking to court his best friend. She ruffled his hair, then patted his cheek, chuckling softly at his reaction. “My darling boy, the two of you are still quite young. I half worried it would take you another decade to sort yourself out. I think we might have Miss Agatha to thank for expediting matters.”

Colin lifted his head, meeting his mother’s eyes with mirth. “She has been quite clear from jump that Pen was here to stay. I am grateful that I agreed, otherwise we may truly have been at odds with one another!”

“Somehow, I still believe she would have won.” The two stifled their laughter so as not to wake the baby.

He walked his mother to her door, inquiring if she had all she needed for the night. “Of course. Your Mr. Dunwoody was trained by Humboldt. He arranged for everything I needed to be brought over. Good choice keeping him on.”

Colin preened at her approval. “Thank you, mama.”

Violet smiled back, taking up his hand. “This business with the Featherington estate. You understand how much it would change your lives? Your children’s lives?” He nodded earnestly in response. She leaned in, dropping her voice to an even, serious timbre. “Good. Do not dawdle.”

The young man’s eyes were wide with shock as Mrs. Foster emerged from Penelope’s bedchamber, headed their way. His mother straightened, her regular countenance returning. Stifling a yawn, she continued on as if she had said nothing out of the ordinary. “You know, I am quite tired and that bed looks rather comfortable. I am sure no manner of racket could possibly wake me tonight.”

With Mrs. Foster walking between them to enter the bedchamber, Colin squeaked a “Good night, mama!” which she returned in kind, then followed Mrs. Foster into the room and closed the door behind her, leaving her rather dumbfounded son alone in the corridor.

Colin shook his mother’s voice out of his head, then crossed to his own door, slipping into the dimly lit room. He had managed to stay in half dress for the evening, despite his mother’s presence, and could retire without need for Dunwoody’s assistance. He leaned his back to the door taking a moment to settle his mind.

“Good evening Mister Bridgerton.”

Penelope’s sultry whisper shocked him to attention. His eyes snapped to the new bed, finding his fiancee on her side, bathed in moonlight, her nightgown raised high to the tops of her crossed, bare thighs.

He was certain this woman would be the death of him.

Colin yanked at the cravat he had donned for his mother’s sake, throwing it to the ground the moment it was free of his neck. He stalked to the bed, his tailcoat meeting the same fate as the cravat en route. Reaching the edge of the of the mattress did not stop him as he crawled on his knees to heed her siren call. His waistcoat was discarded just at he reached her, caging her with his arms and crushing their chests together. He greeted her with his lips before he spoke.

“Good evening, Missus Bridgerton.”

Penelope playfully slapped at his chest, chiding him. “Not quite yet, you know.”

He leveled his stare at her. “You are in every way that matters to me. Mama is thrilled.”

“I am sure she –” Penelope made to argue but he cut her off with another kiss.

“She is thrilled.” He replied with finality. Grimacing slightly, he raised a hand to her chin. “Could we please speak of anything other than my mother.”

Penelope giggled, nodding. “Perhaps we should speak of the son that I wish to bear you.”

Colin bit his lip at her words, stiffening in his trousers just at the mention of her carrying his heir. He raised off of her, turning open mouthed kisses to the inside of her knee.

“I wish to take you slowly tonight. To take our time.” To demonstrate his meaning, he let his hands meticulously knead at her thighs, inching north but not rushing, allowing himself to palm and squeeze and feel every part of her.

One article at a time, their clothing escaped to the floor until bare bodies met, heat joining between them. By the time Colin pushed inside of her, Penelope was sure there was not a single part of her body he had not touched. It was a different feeling than the other times they had coupled. Of course, she felt the same fullness and radiating pleasure as before. But this time there was a stirring in her chest that accompanied each languid stroke of his hips. An intensity matched only by his heated gaze, his forehead resting upon hers. A connection that felt both soft and like lightning striking the earth. It felt like making love.

She felt impaled each time he pushed into her, stretched wide and exposed and vulnerable. Yet safe and protected and complete. Because it was Colin. Her cool hands traced from his waist to the sides of his torso, then under his arms to his back, clinging him close to her chest, always desperate to feel more of him against her.

There was something exquisite about taking their time like this. Now that she already knew the destination, she felt better able to enjoy the journey. Colin too seemed content to delay the pinnacle, taking his pleasure from the act itself, just as she was.

“Colin –” she gasped in the muted whisper the two of them had seemed to perfect over the past few nights together. “I love you. I love you, and I cannot wait to feel your son kicking within me.”

Colin’s forehead dragged down to the crook of her neck, burying his face there, kissing whatever skin his lips fell to. “I love you, too. I want that, Pen. I want it so much.”

The steady drumbeat of his hips never changed tempo, but she could feel the way he twitched at every mention of her becoming with child. “We shall have it. I will give you as many children as you wish. I do not believe I will ever tire of feeling a part of you inside me.”

His moan dragged across her chest until he took up one of her nipples between his lips. He suckled her, bringing his hand to support the base of her breast. “I wish to fill you every night so that you are always wet with my seed.” He switched to her other breast, nipping the stiff peak and dragging it firmly between his lips. His thrusts, while still steady in time, had become noticeably sharper at their words. “Every night. Until you are round with our son.”

Penelope could feel herself clenching against him at his mention of their son. “My womb is calling to you again.” she whimpered, realizing that she was closer to the precipice than she had realized. “Will you fill me soon?”

Colin buried his face in her chest a moment, then lifted his lips to hers, tangling their tongues together. When he pulled back, he was nodding. He made to slip his hand between them, but Penelope caught his wrist, bringing it up to her cheek. “I am ready. I only need you.”

For the first time in their nearly hour-long love making session, Colin began to increase his speed. He was still moving slowly within her – the pace nothing like the frantic mating of their first few experiences – yet the change was enough to inform her body that his was close. Nearly involuntarily, Penelope’s walls began to rhythmically tighten around his member, drawing him in and coaxing him towards his release.

Crashing his forehead against hers, his cock swelling and stuttering within her, he begged against her ear. “Please, Pen. Claim my seed. Allow me to fill your womb.”

The gradually building waves of pleasure finally crested when she heard his desperate words. Penelope was no longer in control of her body, her center gripping him strongly and forcing Colin to leap with her. The heated spend flooded deep within, waking her womb and causing it to quicken, kissing at his fountain head. She gulped down its product, feeling the warmth spread through her pelvis as her body quaked in pleasure.

Worried she would cry out, she laced her fingers into the curls at the back of his head, pulling him down and sealing their lips together, muffling herself on his tongue. A final roar rumbled up from Colin’s chest as he collapsed onto Penelope’s body, perfectly crushing them together. Colin remained in her, clutching her to him, never once breaking their kiss.

“Colin?” Penelope eventually asked, craning back despite his reluctance to release her lips. “I should return to my bed chamber for the evening.” His grip around her tightened, indicating his thoughts on the matter. “It is only that your mother is here and I –”

She was cut off by Colin’s perturbed grumbling. Pulling himself out from between Penelope’s legs, he shifted his hips away, but did not retreat from his position on top of her. “I will return you to our room in the morning. I wish to keep you here through the night.”

“But Colin, surely if –”
“What will they do if they find us together? Hasten our vows? I could think of far worse fates my love.”
“Such as?”
“Such as not being able to spend tonight with you in my arms.”

Penelope sighed, for she knew she had lost this battle. Snuggling deep into his broad chest, she supposed that whomever said ‘to the victor go the spoils’ must never have been in love.

Chapter Text

Penelope woke up feeling like the Earth what spinning around her. She was on dry land and had not imbibed any spirits she was sure, but her sleep addled mind could not wrap itself around how or why she was moving. She opened her eyes to find herself held fast in Colin’s arms, the now familiar paper of their bed chamber walls moving behind him.

His face softened when he saw her peering back at him, the corners of his mouth tugging up briefly before he gently shushed her. He laid her down carefully on the cold linens of their bed, kissing her sweetly before perching on the edge of the bed at her side.

“My apologies, darling. I was attempting to carry you without waking you.”

Noticing that she was wearing her nightgown – something she certainly had not fallen asleep it – she was quite impressed with just how much he had managed without stirring her. “Never apologize for such a thing. I always wish to see your face when I rise.”

Colin blushed, and she wondered when she had gained the ability to make him do so. He touched her cheek, seeming to lose himself in her eyes a moment. Shaking his head gently to break the spell he was slipping under, he turned his focus to the matters of the day.

“I must ring to be dressed in a moment. I have heard the first of the staff arrive already, and will be needed to greet them. Take your time. There is no need for you to rush downstairs. But do remind Mrs. Foster that you are to be leaving for your mama’s this afternoon and ensure that she packs your things. I will endeavor to spend as much of the morning with you as possible, but will likely be busy assisting Dunwoody.”

Penelope nodded along, enjoying the way Colin seemed to have already thought through every detail.

“Lady Danbury is expected between ten and eleven. I will come to call at three. If I have not received the word from your mother she promised, I will simply claim that my brother saw you return and sent a note. And I should like to invite you to promenade along the Serpentine in the evening if that is agreeable.”

Penelope propped herself up on her elbows, feeling awake enough to finally think clearly. “That would be splendid indeed. I should like to wake Aggie and spend the morning with her. I will miss her desperately while I am away.” Colin layered his hand over hers in reassurance. “There is one more thing we should discuss before you dress. My next draft is due tonight.”

Colin stiffened, worried that he did not have the time to have this argument with Penelope again. “Pen, how will I see to your safety if I do not even know whether you have left or arrived? I will not sleep the whole night through!”

A devious smirk he had never witnessed before grew on her lips. “Which is why I will deliver it here.”

“Here?” he echoed, confusion apparent.

“Colin, I simply cannot manage nearly two weeks without your touch. I will sneak out as I have done for the past two years. But I will make my destination your servant’s door rather than my printer’s. You will deliver the draft while I remain here. Once you are home safe, we may celebrate one another. And when we are through, you can see to it that I am safely ensconced in a return coach.”

While he still did not like to think of her catching a hired hack in the middle of the night, he did appreciate the compromise. And she certainly knew how to sweeten the pot. He squeezed her hand and offered a tight bob of his head to show his agreement.

“Also. Would it be alright if I write about us? Our betrothal that is. In tomorrow’s column?” Penelope looked back at him nervously, having fretted over this very topic for several days already.

He regarded her seriously. “On one condition.”

“Yes?”
“You must write kindly of yourself.”
“Colin, Lady Whistledown –”
“No! I will not sit by while you write wretched things of yourself.”
“I only report what others –”
“They say what you want them to say!”

Colin’s eyes softened as he reached down to take both of her hands in his, pulling her further upright until she was properly sitting up and facing him. He gently stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs, returning a fierce stare to meet her eyes. “I love you, Pen. And it hurts me to see someone writing badly of you. Even when the writer is you. I know you did not ask for, and likely do not need, my assistance in this endeavor. But if you wish for it to meet with my approval, you must find a way to see yourself as I do.”

Penelope leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder a moment. Without lifting her eyes, she nodded against him, murmuring, “I shall do my best.”

Satisfied, Colin lifted her chin until her lips were mere inches from his. “Excellent.” He delivered a swift peck to her lips. “Because I cannot wait.” Another fleeting kiss. “For everyone to know.” A third smack of his pursed pout. “That you are mine.”

With the business of the day sorted, a proper good morning kiss was finally exchanged between the lovers.

“Colin? Are you certain we do not have time to couple one last time before you dress?” Penelope asked once he had kissed her back down to the pillows.

A groan escaped his mouth as he looked conspiratorially over his shoulder at the clock on the mantle. “Only if we are fast.”

Penelope was lifting the hem of her nightgown before she finished nodding.

***

Less than fifteen minutes later, Colin was in the front hall, dressed for the day and receiving the new housekeeper. It seemed the cook had arrived at dawn and already made her first run to the market to begin stocking the larder. The nanny was not expected until late morning.

Mrs. Greene was a willowy matron near his mother’s age, with streaks of gray dulling what was likely once lustrous blond hair, kept neat in braids that were twisted and tied into a low bun. Despite her severe jawline and hairstyle, Colin found she had a warm and welcoming smile, and the setting wrinkles radiating out from the corners of her eyes indicated that she used it often. Colin instructed Dunwoody to carry her things up to her quarters while he spoke with her in the hall.

“I am afraid you are joining us at a rather unusual time.” he explained, heaving a deep sigh. “During my passage home from abroad some weeks ago, I found myself with an abandoned infant in my charge. I have taken her as my ward. Just this afternoon, I will become officially betrothed to my best friend, who will be the lady of the house the Wednesday after next. She and my mother have visited as guests, in order for her to have an opportunity to meet and grow accustomed to Miss Agatha, and to assist me with her care, as the nurse I have hired will not arrive until this noon.”

Mrs. Greene watched him with keen interest, her eyes seeming to dance as he spun the yarn. “Now, before we go any further. I must know. Does any of that give you pause? I must know that you will accept both my wife and my child if you are to be in my employ.”

He could read on her face before she spoke that all was well. “No, Sir. It all sounds perfectly wonderful. Quite the fairytale for the young Miss, indeed. And you describe your betrothed as your best friend? If I were not made of sterner stock, I am positive I would have swooned just then.”

Colin smiled at the interpretation. He had never heard of a housekeeper who was a romantic at heart, but he was happy to have one that would have that in common with Penelope just the same. He smiled back “Shall we begin the tour?”

Mrs. Greene hesitated, looking nervous before she spoke. “Sir.” She bobbed a curtsy before continuing with a bit of a shake in her voice. “Is the lady here as you said? Oughtn’t she be the one to bring me ‘round?”

Colin was contemplating his reply when the housekeeper’s gaze moved past him to the top of the open staircase. Her jaw sagged slightly and tears sprung in her eyes at the sight which met her, a soft gasp cut through the silence. Turning to see what had caused such a reaction, his own breath caught. Penelope, dressed in a simple yet lovely lilac day dress, was making her way down the stairs; Agatha in pink and yellow gingham, on her hip.

Drawn to her like gravity, Colin pushed past the new housekeeper without another word, turning his face up to watch her descend, and offering his hand in the railing’s stead as soon as she was close enough to reach. Once he was sure she was safe on level ground, he bent to kiss her hand, then the top of Aggie’s head, before remembering his manners and leading them to make introductions.

“Pen, this is Mrs. Greene, our new housekeeper. And Mrs. Greene, please allow me to introduce Miss Penelope Featherington, soon to be Mrs. Bridgerton. And Miss Agatha Anne, Aggie for short.” He allowed Aggie to grip onto his finger, then used her tiny fist to waive at the housekeeper.

Mrs. Greene curtsied so low Colin worried he might have to intervene in order to help her rise. “An honor, ma’am.” she murmured, clearly awestruck at meeting her new mistress.

Penelope blushed at the attention and the preemptive title. “Thank you.” she replied, uncertain what else to say when the servant was acting as if she were a royal princess.

“Mrs. Greene has asked if you would lead the tour the house.” Colin smirked, enjoying immensely the idea of Penelope trying on her new role as lady of the house.

“Only if it is not a bother, of course ma’am.” the housekeeper rushed to add.

Just as Penelope was offering her agreement, assuring the woman that she would be happy to show her their home, Violet appeared at the top of the stairs, calling out her morning greetings in her typical, cheerful fashion.

“Ah, Mrs. Greene, may I present the Dowager Viscountess, Lady Bridgerton. My Mother.” Colin eyed the housekeeper, expecting a similar, if not further exaggerated response to his mother joining them. She was actually titled after all. But it never came. The woman greeted his mother in a polite and practiced manner, bobbing a curtsy and waiting patiently for further instruction.

Penelope called out, visibly relieved to see the woman. “Violet, won’t you join us? Mrs. Greene has asked for me to lead the tour of the house, and while I am happy to do so, I must say I haven’t the faintest where to begin.”

Violet agreed just as Dunwoody walked through the doorway. “Ah, Dunwoody! Join us. The future Mrs. Bridgerton is going to show Mrs. Greene around. We will all join her so that between the lot of us, we might be able to answer her questions!” Colin’s jovial manner put the whole group at ease, the new butler tipping his head to show his agreement.

Without any further pretense, Colin took Aggie into his arms, freeing Penelope’s attention for the housekeeper. He tucked the child on his hip, and invited his betrothed to “Lead the way.”

They started at the top of the house, working their way down and answering all manner of questions as they went. Penelope’s nerves showed at first, especially since she had never seen the attic servant’s quarters. But Colin’s warm hand resting firmly between her shoulder blades calmed her, and before long she was taking charge and confidently leading the group from room to room.

By the time they had finished in the kitchens and Mrs. Greene was released to unpack her things and begin seeing to her duties, Mrs. Foster had finished packing Penelope’s things for her return trip and was preparing a breakfast tray to be brought up. Mrs. Oliver, the new cook, returned while they were showing Mrs. Greene the laundry, and introductions were made right there by the washing tubs.

After both Penelope and Violet did their best to convince the drab but mischievous looking Yorkshire woman of Colin’s notorious appetite, they left the staff to their work and found their way back to the drawing room.

Colin let Penelope hold Aggie the rest of the morning, noticing her already becoming emotional knowing she would have very little opportunity to do so for the next eleven days, sitting with them on the settee opposite his mother. A plum cake – Colin’s favorite – had been sent over with Violet’s things and was served alongside tea and fresh fruit for the informal morning meal. They shared their plan for Colin to call at three, which pleased Violet greatly, and requested that she join them as chaperone for their promenade.

Penelope had only just finished her first song on the pianoforte – during which Colin danced with Aggie on his toes – when Dunwoody announce that Mrs. Jolie, Aggie’s nurse, had arrived. The dance lesson was abandoned and Colin walked an excitable Aggie, holding her up by her hands, to the door. Violet and Penelope joined them, meeting the plump, pink woman by the doorway.

“Oh! Isn’t she just darling!” the woman exclaimed before ever looking any of the adults in the room in the eye. She sank immediately to her knees, opening her arms to Aggie, who squealed and toddled towards her. The nanny stood with her, studying all of her features before turning to the Bridgertons. Remembering herself, she bobbed a curtsy, making her introduction and apologizing for getting ahead of herself.

“I was under the impression that I was coming on for a bachelor who had taken on a young ward. Are we to have a lady of the house as well?” she asked of curiosity and hope, without a trace of the impertinence or suspicion Penelope had worried about.

Violet chose to answer this time, addressing the woman herself. “My son, Mr. Bridgerton here, intended to ask Miss Penelope to be his bride. But after taking on Miss Agatha here as his ward, needed to be sure that she and the child would get on. Myself and Mrs. Foster have stayed on to assist and as chaperone so they could court in private, considering the circumstances of course. And you will be happy to know, their engagement will be public by this time tomorrow.”

Colin and Penelope exchanged conspiratorial glances, enjoying the way Violet had spun the truth into quite the respectable and mundane story. She had not told a single falsehood. It was only where gaps were left to be filled in by assumption that the truth hid.

When Mrs. Jolie asked to be shown the house, Penelope volunteered to lead the way, while Violet advised she had climbed the stairs enough times for the morning and would remain in the drawing room. The new nanny carried Aggie, which both Colin and Penelope supposed was good. She would need to get used to the woman eventually, and it was best she start right away. Agatha adapted easily to her presence, playing with her ruffled collar and paying little mind to how difficult the day’s transitions were on her parents. To keep themselves from reaching for the child, and in equal measure to lend support to one another, they held onto each other’s hand, finding it all easier to manage together.

This tour was much quicker than the morning’s. Mrs. Greene could be counted on to show Mrs. Jolie around the servant’s areas later. They discussed expectations regarding schedule, training, and discipline – they were happy she did not mind a bit of ‘spoil the child’ – and then left her and Agatha to the nursery.

Penelope had a bit of a difficult time saying goodbye, taking her in her arms and promising that she was alright. That she would be back soon. That it was okay to be happy while she was gone. And asked her not to drive her papa mad with worry. She was smiling through tear-filled eyes, trying her best to keep a brave face for the child, when little Aggie put her tiny hands on each of Penelope’s cheeks. “Mama.” she declared simply, and Penelope felt as if she could have melted, leaning her chin forward to kiss Aggie’s forehead one last time, squeezing her tight and promising to see her again soon.

Penelope pushed past a worried looking Colin, through the door and into the corridor, a silent sob wracking through her as soon as the door shut and they were alone. Colin embraced her, cradling her head to his chest as she broke. He held her up in his strong arms, promising her that they would get through this. That eleven days was no time. And that he and Aggie would love her just the same. While his voice was steady and soothing, his racing heart next to her ear betrayed his parallel emotions. Penelope tipped her chin up to meet his eyes which shone back with understanding.

“I love you.” he assured her. Her throat was too strangled with emotion to reply, so she bit her lip and nodded tightly instead. Colin dipped his head low and kissed her profoundly.

***

Not two minutes after Colin and Penelope rejoined Violet in the drawing room, a knock at the front door caught their attention. Voices carried up the stairs as Dunwoody greeted the caller, the distinctive cadence clearly belonging to none other than the day’s final expected arrival.

“Lady Danbury” the three called out in unison before Dunwoody had an opportunity to announce her to the room. She offered an inquisitive smile, arching a brow while inspecting the held hands of the younger two. It faltered slightly when she turned her face towards a rather stern looking Violet Bridgerton.

“Lady Bridgerton. I suppose I should not be surprised to see you here. Although it may have been unexpected.” She flashed a cheeky, if mildly repentant grin at Violet.

Penelope gestured for her to sit. It did not go unnoticed by her that she was effectively playing the part of hostess to her first house guests – two of the most influential Ladies of the Ton no less – and despite their familiarity, wished to make a good impression. As Lady Danbury took her seat Penelope asked Dunwoody to fetch tea, and if Mrs. Oliver was settled in, something other than tinned biscuits.

When they were settled and alone, silence only held out long enough for Violet to take a breath in before turning her tongue on Lady Danbury. “What. May I ask. In the world. Were you thinking?”

Lady Danbury bristled slightly at the accusatory tone. “I was thinking that by the time I had arrived, I had already seen quite enough to force them down the aisle by all rights. But that towing the poor girl home by her ear would accomplish little but to drag both of your family names through the mud. And in case you did not know, these two are rather clever. I suspected that any attempt to stop them from what they had planned would only encourage dangerous behavior. So I sent my lady’s maid as a chaperone instead, facilitating their plan so that at least some semblance of propriety could be maintained while they sorted themselves out.” She once again eyed where Colin was holding Penelope’s hand on his knee.

Violet did not turn her glare from the Countess’s face. “And you never once thought to inform me of the goings on?” she barked rather brusquely.

“Your son practically begged me not to. The young miss –” Lady Danbury stopped to look over at Colin who nodded his permission to finish her sentence. “He was concerned about knowledge of the child spreading before things were finalized. Perhaps it was a dubious decision. But it is the one I made.”

Violet huffed, knowing that was the closest to an apology she would ever get from the notorious Countess. “I have done my best to control and contain what the new staff know. But what of Mrs. Foster? What does she know of the… circumstances of her arrival?”

Lady Danbury perked up as if she were proud of this particular bit of information. “I only told her that a rather parched horse needed to be led to the water. And that she was to behave as if she already believed them to be betrothed. I assumed the suggestion of it would be enough to finally open the young man’s eyes. It appears I was correct then?”

Violet looked as if so close to boiling over that steam were about to rise out of her ears. Colin and Penelope were not unaffected by the conversation either, each turning a distinct shade of crimson at the admission.

They were saved from the pressure to respond when Dunwoody entered with a tea tray, piled high with fresh baked cinnamon scones and smoked salmon finger sandwiches. Colin’s eyes lit up, reaching for the tray as if he had spent the past year marooned on a desert island, with Penelope holding onto only a shred more restraint than he. They let out tandem moans of appreciation as he bit into the whole sandwich he folded into his mouth, while she sank her teeth into the still warm cinnamon confection.

“Oh, she is definitely staying on.” Colin mumbled through the last of his mouthful. He leaned against Penelope, shifting one of the sandwiches from his plate to hers. “Here, you must try the salmon. It is divine.”

She nodded appreciatively, lifting her scone towards him. “And you the scones. They are still warm, Colin.” He leaned in and took a bite directly from her hand, humming his approval and nodding to her as he chewed. Penelope smiled and was reaching for the sandwich he had given her when Lady Danbury’s cane thumping the ground caught their attention.

They turned to see both Ladies’ jaws hanging rather freely, gaping at their complete lack of decorum. Lady Danbury was shocked at how forward the two were acting in front of mixed company, while Violet’s thoughts had caught on the concept of her third son sharing his food. She had to physically shake her head in order to move past it.

With a deep breath she pressed on. “He is to propose to her properly in front of Portia at three. And promenade on the Serpentine this evening. It should all be common knowledge by the end of calling hours tomorrow morning.” Violet updated Lady Danbury on the plan while staring daggers at her son, who did not seem to find anything wrong with how he sat, flush against Penelope’s side.

“And not a moment too soon it seems.” Lady Danbury chided, clearing her throat at the not yet newlyweds.

Penelope caught on even if Colin did not, angling slightly away from him to lean forward and begin fixing tea for them and their guests. She perfectly recalled each person’s preference without having to ask, and passed Lady Danbury and then Bridgerton their cups with a hint of pride in her smile.

She wanted to charge up the stairs and snatch the baby back from the new nurse and never let her go, hang Society. It was the real reason she was leaning so heavily on Colin despite how scandalous it must have seemed. But she knew that seeing her again before she left for the next week and a half would only shatter her heart further, and so she did her best to be brave. Still, she knew she had to make conversation somehow, and with their little Miss front and center in her mind, it was the only topic she could find reason to speak about. “I am sorry that you will not be able to visit with Aggie this afternoon, Lady Danbury. Her new nanny has only just arrived and –”

Lady Danbury nearly choked on her tea. “Aggie?” she coughed.

“Oh!” Penelope squeaked, realizing that she and Colin had rather buried the lead on that matter. He perked up, and remembering his pride on finally deciding on a name for the girl, she let him break the news.

“Our little Miss is called Agatha, Aggie for short. Pen came up with it, and I knew it was just right after all you did to help bring us together. When I sign the papers Monday with the solicitor, she will officially be Agatha Anne Bridgerton.” Penelope took up his hand again, squeezing it tightly in his lap. The firm circles he rubbed against the back of her hand anchored her, reminding her that all would be well. She thought of Colin’s face when he first determined their child would be called Agatha, how excited and overwhelmed yet somehow still solemn and serious he was. It was everything she loved about him.

Lady Danbury caught a sob with her knuckles.

Or at least, that was what is sounded like. Looked like even, if only for a split second. But just as quickly as it had caught the attention of all in the room, it was schooled into something much calmer, a controlled, level wistfulness that had her thanking them with a satisfied smirk.

The quartet spent the better part of the hour continuing to catch up, having seen little of each other – save for Penelope and Colin – since the end of last Season. When the tea had gone cold and the tray was naught but crumbs, it was Lady Danbury who suggested that they really ought to get Penelope back to her mother.

Dunwoody, who had not been far off, confirmed that Penelope’s things had been loaded onto her carriage and that Mrs. Foster had already packed and returned to Danbury House. Lady Danbury rose, bidding farewell to Violet, who seemed to have forgiven her for withholding the details of her scheme.

“Shall we Miss Featherington?” she drawled, turning towards the doorway, not expecting anything other than Penelope to rise and follow in tow.

“No.” a strangled cry rang out. But it did not belong to Penelope. It was Colin. Colin was clinging to her arm, preventing her from rising.

“Colin?” she prompted sweetly. “Colin, I have to go.” He shook his head sharply in response.

The three ladies stared at the normally charming if somewhat glib young man, none quite knowing what to say as grew more and more choked with emotion. “I do not want you to.” he finally murmured, the words hitched and broken. His jaw clenched and his brow knit as he turned to face her, silently pleading for their circumstance to change.

Tears welled in Colin’s eyes and, despite his best efforts, began falling down his cheeks.

“Oh. Oh, Colin. We will see one another in just a few hours.” Penelope did her best to reassure him, layering her hand atop the one he kept wound tightly about her forearm.

His shoulders slumped and began to shake as the initial tears turned to open weeping. Neither paid attention to Lady Danbury nor his mother, who were both frozen by the doorway, watching the scene unfold on the sofa. “I do not wish for you to stay with your mother.” he rushed out, grasping the hand she had laid on his arm. “Where you are not looked after properly. Where you are maligned. Where I cannot protect you.”

“I have been just fine for nine and ten years, Colin. I can manage eleven more days.” she replied almost sternly, doing her best to remind him despite present company that she was no delicate bloom.

“Why don’t I walk Lady Danbury out? We must have enough left to speak about to fill, say, five minutes?” Violet interjected, earning a grateful yet tight smile and nod from her son. “The door stays open and you are to walk her out after you have said your goodbyes, am I understood?”

“Of course, Violet.” Penelope replied faster than he could. Her genuine nature set the Dowager Viscountess at ease – she always did have a soft spot for the red head – and she left them to it with nothing more than a pleased smirk.

Once they were alone, Colin swiftly wrapped Penelope in his arms, trembling as he continued to cry. Gulping in a breath which did nothing to steady him, he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“I will be alright, darling. I promise.”

Colin wasted no time pressing his lips to hers in a salty, messy kiss. “You must promise me if there is anything wrong at all. Anything. You will cross the square to Anthony’s and have him send for me.”

Penelope looked at him, bewildered. “Colin? She is my mother. What could she possibly –”

“Promise me.” he insisted, leaving no room for argument.

Penelope nodded her head softly, squeezing back the hands that clung to each of hers. “I promise.”

He deflated after that, leaning in for another urgent kiss. “I will miss you. I already miss you and you have not left yet.”

Penelope stifled a giggle at his antics, doing her best to school her sparkling features and provide reassurance. “I will see you every day. You will call. We will promenade. We will share dinners with one another’s families. We will dance at the balls.” She leaned forward, brushing her lips against the shell of his ear in a whisper. “And I will appear in the dead of night to have my wicked way with you.”

Colin finally cracked a grin, though it fell after only a moment. “And still, it is not enough.” he sighed.

This time, Penelope leaned forward to steal his lips. “I suppose that is why you are marrying me?”

Swallowing, he shook his head tightly. “It is merely a consequence. I am marrying you because I am hopelessly in love with you.”

The smile his words formed on her face was bright enough to light the midnight sky. “I love you, too.” she replied, allowing herself to be pulled into his embrace. They kissed as long as they dared until finally, Colin relented and walked her to the front hall.

With one last kiss – little more than a sweet peck as his mother stood sentinel by the door – and a promise to arrive promptly at three to ask for her hand, Colin bid Penelope goodbye. He refused to allow his mother or Dunwoody to shut the door until she was safely ensconced in Lady Danbury’s carriage, waving to her as it rolled away and only stopping himself from chasing after it when his mother’s warning hand fell on his shoulder.

He sighed deeply as the carriage disappeared from his view, feeling as if a large piece of his heart was rolling down the cobblestones with it. His mother looked at him with sympathy, but shook her head with a soft and somehow knowing smile. “You remind me more of your father than you will ever know.” she said, a heartbreaking and wistful sound coloring her words. “Now. You need to pull yourself together, change into something respectable, and make yourself ready to go ask for her hand.”

Chapter Text

The bouquet of pink roses and fragrant lilac blooms was ridiculous in its proportion, even he would admit. Colin was doing his best to juggle the top heavy arrangement, stationery, candies, book of poetry, box of French soaps, and quill set he had brought along, attempting to free a hand to knock, when Briarly opened the door to him.

“Mister Bridgerton.” The butler greeted, and if Colin could see him, he might be able to confirm that a smirk accompanied his slightly warmer than usual greeting.

“Might Miss Penelope Featherington be in?” he inquired, peeking around the pink and purple blooms.

He could hear the low chuckle that rumbled in the man’s chest as he was shown upstairs to the drawing room. He was announced before, thankfully, the butler took the flowers from his hands to place on the table next to him.

“Pen!” he gasped at the sight of her. She was in the same day dress she wore when he last saw her. Her hair tied in the same simple waves Mrs. Foster had set this morning. Her make up was the same. And yet, his heart still ached for her as if he had not seen her in a year. The performance he was set to put on would be no trouble at all.

He stared at her a moment, frozen by her beauty and wondering how he had missed it for so long. The musical notes of her calling his name shook him from his reverie, and he stumbled towards her, ignoring entirely her mother or sister and the years of good training and manners that would have him properly greet all the ladies in the room. Rather, he thrust the objects in his arms out to her, rather dumbly mumbling, “I, uh – I got you these.”

Penelope blushed, dipping her chin in her best effort to stifle a giggle with the back of her hand. The corners of her mouth twisted upward as she peered at him through her lashes, rising to greet him and receive the veritable pile of love tokens.

She took her time to look over each of the gifts, oohing and aahing as she did, most especially at the fine linen stationery and quills. She acted overwhelmed by it all, her eyes bouncing between all of the gifts and him. “Colin! Mama said that you called on me while I was away but –” she paused dramatically to look at her mother, who was quite literally watching them from the edge of her seat. “I assumed she must be mistaken. What is all of this?”

Colin took one of the roses from the bouquet, handing it to her. “When I wrote to you that I had a question to propose; that there were few things I would not attempt to obtain your good opinion; that my determination to remain an absent friend had merely been an attempt to avoid troubling you. Pen, I do hope you understood of what I spoke.”

Colin took her hand, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight. Lord Byron had rather infamously proposed – or written something that approached a proposal at any rate – via letter last season. He and Penelope had read of the exchange and shared barbs about the writer’s rather indirect approach all summer. He was certain she would recognize the paraphrased words, and even more certain that Portia and Prudence would not.

Penelope blushed fiercely, mischief dancing in her eyes as she looked back at him. Colin was nearly sure that she was biting her own cheek as well. “I am and have long been pledged to myself to make your happiness my first object in life. If I can make you happy, I have no other consideration. Convince me – it is all I wish – that my affection may supply what is wanting in my character to form your happiness. This is a moment of joy which I have too much despaired of ever experiencing. I dared not believe it possible.”

“What is happening, mama?” Prudence hissed from the other side of the room.

Portia replied with a biting “Shh!” that turned both Colin and Penelope’s heads. Prudence was slumped to the side, brooding, while Portia offered her most winsome smile, nodding for them to continue.

Meanwhile, Colin was certain he could not be any more in love with Penelope than he was at that very moment. She had flawlessly recited a portion of the then Miss Milbanke’s reply to Lord Byron, picking up on his tease and completing the private joke. He could not imagine a more perfect partner.

He smiled warmly, ready to switch from Byron to Shakespeare. “Pen, through my travels I have come to realize that I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

He intended to continue on, but she replied quicker than he could. “When I saw you, I fell in love. And you smiled, because you knew.”

She was quoting Shakespeare back to him. She had switched to the other foot as quickly as if they were dancing. If he had not already declared himself to her earlier that week. If he was not there to declare himself in front of her mother in that moment. He was certain he would have come to the decision afresh then and there.

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” He smiled, thinking of that moment they met so many years ago. He fell, and that little girl with the red curls had looked at him with both so much fear and then so much reverence when he laughed off the accident. He did know, even then. And it had warmed his soul until he could do nothing but smile back at her.

She swallowed, eyes flitting to the ground before seeming to find her courage once more. She spoke boldly, squeezing tightly the hand that still held hers. “I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

Colin thought to himself that this could not have gone more smoothly had they rehearsed it; the fact that it was in truth spontaneous made him cherish it all the more. “I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, I love you.” He dropped to his knee, reaching into his breast pocket with his free hand and producing the velvet ring box he had spent the last few days stealing glances at. They both ignored the gasps that echoed from the other end of the room.

“I love you, Pen. Let us join our hands with our hearts. Marry me?”

“Yes.” she replied simply, allowing him to slide the diamond and ruby ring onto her fourth finger.

He rose, sweeping her into an embrace that had Prudence whining to her mother again. Portia – who certainly was not dabbing tears from her eyes with a lace handkerchief – did nothing to interfere.

Colin stayed through the hour, telling Portia and Penelope his “hopes” for their wedding date, and engagement ball and other plans. Penelope played her part seamlessly, pretending to learn all the information for the first time and reacting with giddy excitement. Portia was rather easily convinced of it all. He wondered if she might be shrewd enough to know that something was afoot. Ultimately however, so long as it left her daughter married to a Bridgerton in the end, he suspected she rather did not care.

He briefly considered if he had been born into another life, might he have pursued the stage. Arrangements were made for him to return with his mother after dinner to bring Penelope to the Serpentine to promenade. Portia asked Colin to extend an invitation for his mother to join him the next time he called so they might speak, then suggested rather forwardly that Penelope walk him out.

The hovering staff kept Colin from giving her the deep kiss he craved, but did allow him enough space to quietly share that Aggie was doing well and seemed to be taking to Mrs. Jolie with ease. Penelope was relieved to hear the update and promised to tell him of her return to Featherington House on their walk. Colin took her hand, reverently pressing his lips to the spot where his ring rested, then stepped in close for the fleeting kiss he knew he could get away with now that they were officially betrothed.

His hand instinctively fell to the gentle curve of her belly before he forced himself to step away. Spending a moment taking in the grandeur of the home, it truly hit him for the first time that there was a good chance it might all become his. The Grecian theme, prominent on every wall and feature, suited him well, if Portia’s choice of colors might be a bit loud. He imagined what the house might look like after he and Penelope agreed on new paint and paper for the rooms, changed out the sunset pink carpets for something a bit less jarring, and filled the house with children. It was a bright future indeed; one that made him feel as if he might actually belong to this world he had been born into. He looked at Penelope with complete awe, wishing he could understand what she saw in him that made him worthy of all her love.

“I shall see you soon, my love.” He bowed to her, not wanting to seem indecorous in front of the staff. She returned the gesture with a curtsy, bidding him farewell and watching as he bid a reluctant retreat.

***

“You can stay with mama if you will not stay with Kate then.” he insisted, pulling her even tighter into his side as they walked along the placid river.

Penelope just laughed at him. She had just finished retelling her mother’s shock at her returning home this afternoon. The frantic way she had run around the house ordering staff to clean and polish every surface. How she had torn through her wardrobe looking for anything yellow that remained. How she had practically begged Penelope to reconsider her hairstyle, suggesting that, “A little window dressing never hurt anyone.”

Ultimately Penelope had won out, reminding her mother that Colin had said his mind was already made up, and remaining in the day dress and loose waves from that morning which she knew he enjoyed the most. She had given in for the promenade however, donning a soft blue walking dress with pink and yellow blossoms embroidered about the neckline and skirt, and allowing her new lady’s maid to pin up her hair. Much to her delight, the new maid – although she was Mrs. Varley’s daughter – was far better versed in modern hair styles, and had managed an elegant up do with wide curls that made her feel nearly as lovely as Colin seemed to insist she was.

“Do you not like the results?” she asked, a coquettish smile paired with a glance up through her eyelashes.

“No! I mean, yes. I mean, uh –” Exasperated, Colin jerked to a halt on the footpath. “You are lovely no matter what you wear. You look especially lovely this afternoon, although I suspect it has much more to do with the time we have spent apart than anything you are wearing.” He spared a glance for his mother, who remained a distance behind them, carefully inspecting the foliage of a nearby oak tree. “I take issue with the methods deployed in order to achieve such results.” He huffed loudly, visibly uncomfortable with the idea that anyone could treat her with any less than total reverence.

“And I have told you. I am fine. I have learned quite well how to manage my mama over the years.” Her smug look him all he really needed to know.

“As long as you are certain.” Reaching over to squeeze her hand as they walked on, he continued. “And you promise me that if you are ever upset you will retreat to Kate or my mama.” Penelope nodded and he finally relaxed his shoulders. “Very well.”

A group of young ladies were walking in the direction opposite them on the path. Ladies he recalled from the past two Seasons were not always kind to Penelope. Colin adjusted her hand on his arm to ensure the Ruby and Diamond betrothal ring shone prominently in the sun, nodding his head politely to the group as he witnessed them all gawking at the glittering jewels.

“Should you like to wear something from the family collection for the wedding, or ought I commission a parure to match your betrothal ring?” Colin asked a little too loudly, earning a few shocked gasps from their audience.

Keeping her face perfectly contemplative despite the non sequitur, she turned to look into his dancing eyes. She hummed, pretending to consider a moment and silently communicating she understood the game he was playing. “I do believe that something new is in order to mark the occasion, shouldn’t you think?”

“There are not sufficient Diamonds and Rubies in all the Empire worthy of marking my love for you, darling. But I shall endeavor to do so all the same.” Penelope spotted a young debutante she was not acquainted with, nearby on the lawn, swooning.

She playfully swatted his arm. “They have passed, there is no need to continue your ruse.”

A wide grin stretched across his face. “Who said anything about a ruse?”

She could not decipher whether his tone was teasing or genuine. “Colin.” she admonished. “There truly is no need…”

“Oh, there most certainly is.” he declared. “You are to be a Bridgerton. You should be properly ornamented, most especially at our wedding.” He hummed to himself in satisfaction. “And, you are to be my Bridgerton. I wish to show everyone that I am taking proper care of you. You would not deny me that, would you?”

The wide eyed pout he turned on her was powerful enough for her to agree to assist in high crimes, let alone permit him to lavish her with expensive jewelry. Still, she had grown up watching her father waste away his fortune buying her mother such gifts, and the thought of Colin doing the same made her wary. “Are you certain it is wise, Colin? I…” She dipped her chin, worried that broaching such a topic would anger him as it did her papa, although she had never witnessed anything approaching a real temper from Colin.

Colin stopped, taking up both her hands and turning to face her, shutting out everyone else in Hyde Park except her. “What is it?” he asked with a deeply furrowed brow. “What troubles you?”

She dropped her voice to an insistent whisper, such that only Colin could hear. “There is truly no need to waste money on gifts to please me. Doing so ruined my papa. Nearly ruined my mother and myself. If our marriage is to be a true partnership, as you have suggested, I will not sit idly by while you spend us to destitution!”

A burst of relieved laughter shot out of Colin’s chest before he could control it. Schooling his features, he swept Penelope’s hand up to meet his bowed head, planting an impassioned kiss on the back of her glove, then tucked her arm back onto his and walked on. He led with a deep sigh, choosing his tone carefully so as not to sound patronizing or dismissive. “Pen, there is much that you do not know of your father. We can speak at length another time of what I know, but suffice it to say, his vices were not limited to overspending. I should like to share my books with you when we have the opportunity, such that you have a complete understanding of our finances. I will not keep anything from you, Pen. But again, you woefully underestimate our wealth. Rest assured, I would never spend more than we can comfortably afford. We will establish dowries for our daughters and inheritances for our sons such that they will live in the same comfort in which they are raised. That being said, I will not be denied my right to spoil you as I see fit.” He ended with a wink, then turned to pick a bloom from beside the footbridge, presenting it to her with a flourish.

She accepted the flower, inhaling it deeply and letting that overwhelming, starry eyed smile she saved only for him to blossom on her face once more. “Thank you, Colin. Please do not think I lack trust in you. It is only that. Such things cause me unease.”

“Then I shall make it my goal to unburden you of such concerns.” He could feel his cheeks begin to ache with how frequently and unabashedly he had been smiling at the sight of her on his arm in the sunshine. “Now, I do believe we still quite a few people to show that ring off to.”

Chapter Text

Dearest Gentle Reader,

This author has seen a great number of triumphs in her day, whether it be the Queen’s ability to turn our favor with the mere nod of a head, Lady Annabella Byron nee Milbanke’s storied marriage to Lord Byron, Lady Danbury transforming the Vauxhall Gardens into a wondrous spectacle of fire and light, or even Mister Henry Granville’s recent commission to paint a portrait for the Prince of Wales. But none quite compares to the triumph that has occurred these last few days belonging to none other than Lady Violet Bridgerton. Word has reached this author’s ears that the matriarch has secured not one, but two advantageous love matches for her children since I wrote you last. The Earl Kilmartin, Lord John Stirling proposed to Miss Francesca Bridgerton during a call Saturday morning. It is reported to have been a quietly whispered question with an emphatic nod given in response, the Viscount and Viscountess, already present as chaperone for the visit, readily giving their approval. The Queen’s diamond shines bright; Her Majesty’s latest crown jewel will soon be called The Countess Kilmartin. But Lady Bridgerton’s glad tidings do not stop there! The Dowager Viscountess’s third son, Mister Colin Bridgerton, recently back from his Grand Tour, has pledged his troth to Miss Penelope Featherington, third daughter of the late Baron Archibald Featherington and Lady Portia Featherington. This author understands that the couple engaged in a long, private courtship, having formed a bond at an early age, and were permitted by their mothers most recently to exchange letters while Mister Bridgerton was away. Having returned to Mother England – and likely after hearing of the potential for inheriting the Featherington Estate – Mister Bridgerton decided to waste no further time and declared himself promptly during afternoon calling hours Saturday. By evening, Miss Featherington could be seen promenading proudly on his arm at Hyde Park. That is, if one were able to see past the blinding reflection of light emanating from the rather impressive Diamond and Ruby ring perched prominently on her fourth finger! If you do happen across the Dowager Viscountess in the next week, rather than your felicitations, perhaps offer her a chair and a cup of strong tea – she must be exhausted!

Penelope put down her quill – one of the new ones gifted to her by Colin that afternoon – and sighed. It was far easier to write the rude things she was used to hearing, whether directly from Cressida Cowper’s poison tongue or knocking about within her own mind, than it was to try and remain objective when writing about herself. But she had promised Colin she would endeavor to write kindly of herself, and she believed she had done just that. Neutrally at the very least.

She of course played up certain aspects of their friendship, making it seem as if Lady Whistledown had insider knowledge that no one else would be aware of. And neither hers nor Colin’s families would dare deny knowledge of their private courtship or letters now that Lady Whistledown had written it so. It was close enough to the truth that to deny their consent would be to invite scandal now that they were engaged.

Of course, the Bridgertons would know that they had not been courting privately for years. But the column would give them each pause to think about her and Colin’s comfortable friendship – dances, conversation, letters, and informalities – that had developed between them over the years. When anyone privy to their history stopped to think on it, their engagement would now seem almost inevitable.

Testing the last page to be sure it was completely dried, Penelope folded the draft and tucked it into her bosom for the journey. It was late, and the rest of the house was sleeping and silent. She switched her dressing robe for the maid’s costume in the sticking drawer of the armoire, topping the outfit with a dark, hooded cloak. The disguise was not necessarily needed, as she was headed to Colin’s home not the printer’s. But she knew from experience how much easier it was to move about as a maid rather than as a young lady, and thought the less conspicuous clothing would continue to provide her a degree of cover as she moved about the city at night.

She slipped from the house and found a waiting hack around the corner, just beyond the view of her mother’s house. Fifteen minutes later, she paid her fare and was let out at the corner closest to Colin’s town home. Keeping her head down, she crept unnoticed through the mews, counting houses until she came to the correct one. A stablehand tipped his cap at her as she passed by, doing her best to look as if she knew where she was headed. “Evenin’ ma’am.”

Penelope bobbed her head politely, continuing on towards the servant’s door. She paused when the stablehand behind her began laughing in a low, rumbling chuckle, turning towards the all too familiar sound. “Pen?” the man puffed out, his accent gone and replaced with the sound of her home.

“Colin?” she squeaked, caught entirely off guard at seeing him dressed so differently and in such strange surroundings.

“Shh!” he hissed, catching her wrist and spinning her back against the stable door. Caging her between his arms and leaning down close, he grinned widely, whispering, “Aye, Miss. But y’ought stay quiet, fore ye wake the Master ‘n Mistress o’ the house.”

Penelope glinted back at him, finally gathering her bearings. “And I shant want any trouble. I ‘ear he have an awful temper, yer Master.”

A flicker of offense in Colin’s eyes quickly turned to something much darker. “He been known take a maid over his knee fer less.”

A sucking breath was caught by a sudden and forceful kiss, slamming her back against the stable door. She took his tongue into her mouth, letting herself be overwhelmed for a moment by just how good it felt to hold him, smell him, taste him again.

He seemed to remember the reason for her visit just as she was beginning to forget, nipping at her lip before righting himself. “This way. I have something for you to look at while I am gone.”

He led her through the garden and into the servant’s door by her hand, pausing at each of the thresholds to listen for anyone who might be awake. But the staff of four plus Miss Agatha were all a floor or more away and fast asleep. He brought her to his study where an oil lamp burned on the desk.

“Come. Sit here.” Colin motioned for her to take his chair behind the desk. Penelope had never heard of a man allowing his wife such agency. She could not help but think how proud Eloise would be of her brother in that moment. Taking a seat and beginning to take in the various sheets and tallies laid out in front of her, she turned to Colin with a quizzical look on her face.

“What is all this?”

A smile stretched across his face. “Our finances. Here, look.” Colin spent the next several minutes showing her his books. The properties. The tax histories and assessments. Each of his accounts. His various investments and incomes. Expenditures. And the workings of his ledger – how it was tallied and what the different figures all meant.

“If you would allow me to take my leave, I will deliver the draft while you become better acquainted. I will answer any questions you may have upon my return. And, Pen? You are free to view any of it any time you like.” Penelope looked back at him wide eyed, never having imagined that a man – even Colin – would be so forthright and willing to share something as protected as his personal finances with his wife. “Arthur does not like to remain bridled any longer than he needs to. If you have the draft, I will be off?”

“Oh!” Penelope startled, turning away from the desk to face him fully. “We still have a bit of time I believe.” she started, looking at the mantle clock. “I had hoped you would read it before you left. I can make edits if you wish. I did my best to make it something you would approve of.” She retrieved the draft from inside her bodice, reaching up to press it into his chest as his jaw and arms had begun to hang limp.

Colin cleared his throat, layering his hand atop the parchment while his eyes remained transfixed a moment longer. He eventually tore his eyes away and turned them to the draft, unfolding it and scanning down the page. She watched as he read, tensed and waiting for the expected blow back. Instead, his shoulders rolled forward, his entire chest lurching and heaving as he silently guffawed.

He was wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand by the time he finished, folding the draft and tucking it into his breast pocket with the other. “Pen, it is brilliant. Mama will be in a state – I cannot wait. And how clever of you to characterize our friendship as a private courtship. No one will be able to deny it once it is in print. The letters will seem a bit of a scandal. And the line about being seen and being blinded? I loved it!”

Penelope shined under his praise. “Was it so difficult?” he asked, quirking a brow at her. “To refrain from reflecting negatively upon yourself?”

She flushed at the rather pointed question. “I must admit, I am so accustomed to writing of myself in that manner that the entire endeavor this evening felt rather… foreign. Should you wish to make any changes? We have about fifteen minutes yet before you absolutely must be on your way.”

“No, it will suffice as is. Although I do wish you had included something good about yourself. Perhaps how you captivated my attentions. Or the way you turned one Miss Cowper green with envy.” Penelope giggled at his crude suggestions. “Truly though, I quite enjoyed it. Especially how you made our betrothal seem so… inevitable.”

“You do not think I over reached? You are not worried your family knows better?” She had been second guessing the column ever since she folded it into her bodice earlier that evening.

“Not at all.” He leaned in, plucking at her lips with his own. “They trust Lady Whistledown so much they shall wonder whether their own recollections are correct!” He tossed a teasing smile her way, then straightened his expression when he saw she remained concerned. “They will be relieved that such a sensible explanation to our hurried vows is circulating, and will not deny it. I may get a question or two about our letters. But they will mostly just tease me for courting you without my own knowledge.”

That made Penelope laugh.

“If it meets your approval than I suppose there is nothing left but for you to deliver it to the printer’s. Hurry back. You know I will worry the entire time you are away.”

“I will be back before you know it. Look over the accounts. I want you to make yourself familiar so that you do not have worries like this afternoon. There is foolscap in the drawer on the left and writing supplies to your right should you wish to write down any questions or do any sums. Lock the door when I go and do not open it for anyone. I have the key.” Colin patted the draft in his jacket as she nodded her agreement, then leaned in to steal one last kiss before heading back out to the mews.

Penelope locked the door, listening at it until his footfalls faded to silence. Sauntering slowly back to the desk, she paused for a moment to run her hand across the supple leather of the seat back, then turned and poured herself two fingers of rum from the decanter set on the shelf. She swirled the perfumed liquid in the glass, taking a small, warming sip, then finally retook her seat at the desk.

There was something incredibly intimate about this experience – even more so than inviting Colin between her legs – that left her feeling powerful and significant. Not wishing to dwell any longer on the circumstances, she began to survey the various accounts and ledgers left out for her. It was not long before she indeed had pulled out the foolscap and a pencil, making notes and additions of the various holdings and incomes in Colin’s name. Her eyes widened with each new revelation, the sweet rum helping take the edge off her nerves until she comprehended the full picture. Colin was wealthy beyond her wildest imaginings.

There was an estate in Kent of 4,200 acres. Stocks totaling nearly £50,000. And other investments well over another £150,000. His yearly income was nearly £20,000 between the estate and the investment income, and from what she could tell, he carried no debts. A quick tally of the taxes, staff salaries, and household expenditures, and Penelope could only find approximately £4,000 in yearly costs.

She took a slug from the crystal tumbler gripped in her hand. No wonder Colin was not concerned about some new jewelry! She was checking and re-checking the numbers, arguing in her own mind and perhaps mumbling to herself a bit over what the magnitude of it all truly meant, when she heard the sharp sound of a throat clearing, causing her to jump nearly out of the chair.

“Colin!” she hissed at his guffawing laughter. “You frightened me!”

“I was trying to be quiet.” he chucked, too amused to apologize. He stalked over to her, tasting the rum on her tongue before tossing the blunt in front of her on the desk.

“Any trouble from Mr. Harris?”
“None. Took the draft and handed over the purse. No questions.”
“Good.”

Penelope checked the weight of the purse, not bothering to count it as she had after every exchange before now. Her ten pounds seemed rather insignificant in light of what she had spent the last half hour discerning. “Colin.” she started, motioning towards the spread of paper. “I had no idea.”

He inclined his head. “Did you find something wrong? Whatever is the matter?”

“No, you misunderstand. Colin, I knew you were comfortable. But I could never have imagined this. You are as wealthy as an Earl!”

Colin flushed. His father had left he and his brothers – Anthony not withstanding – a not insignificant inheritance when he died. But it had always paled in comparison to the Viscountcy. Anthony’s land holdings were vast, and his wealth rivaled and sometimes even surpassed that of many of the Dukes. As a third son, he never thought to compare what he had to anyone except his father and eldest brother, and thus had always felt lacking.

But Penelope, he had come to realize, had seen struggle. If rumor was to be believed, her father had failed to maintain the lands of the Barony, and they were currently nothing more than a tax liability. It was common knowledge that he raided every account attached to the estate, drinking and gambling it all away until his wife and daughters were left with nearly nothing. Of course what he had would seem sizable in comparison. Hell, if he stopped to compare his holdings to many of the other gentleman of his age, it was certainly still rather sizable. There was good reason why it was common wisdom that marrying a Bridgerton brother was just as good as marrying a Lord.

“You are convinced then that I may lavish you with jewels?” He decided levity was what the moment called for, not wishing to avoid the topic but still feeling rather awkward nevertheless.

It had the desired effect, morphing her incredulity into a pretty blush. “Within reason. I suppose.” she allowed, fighting to keep a straight face as Colin began to crowd towards her for a kiss. He permitted his lips to barely brush against hers before pulling away, straightening at her side and looming over the desk.

“You must have questions. This account here, for an example. This is new. See how the transfer was just last week? It is a trust for Agatha. It will grow as she does. And then when she marries, it will become her dowry. I will do the same for each of our children.”

“The boys?” Penelope giggled at the thought of a dowry for her sons.

Colin shook his head, looking skyward a moment before explaining. “As trusts. To be given when they come of age. Or… inherited.” The smile fell from his face as he finished the explanation.

Penelope understood immediately, taking up his hand in hers. “It is very good of you to be planning for all possibilities before I am even known to be with child. But let us not dwell on what we can neither foresee nor control.”

Colin looked resigned to agreement, glancing over the accounts once more to be sure there was nothing she had missed. His eyes landed on the blunt Penelope had haphazardly tossed onto the papers. “I can add that to your dowry account, if you like. Invest it however you want. You must have… nearly a thousand pounds by now?”

“Fourteen hundred and fifty.” She leveled a proud stare at him. “And sixty now, I suppose.” She shrugged, gesturing at the purse. She tilted her head, considering for a moment. “Might I leave it here? With you? It is that or hidden under the floorboards at mama’s.”

“Of course.” Colin agreed quickly, looking around until his eyes landed on the locking bottom drawer of his desk. “Here.” He located the key in the shallow center drawer, unlocked the empty drawer and dropped in the purse. He locked it again, offering the key to Penelope.

“Truly, there is no need. I trust you.” she said as she closed her hand over his fist rather than taking the key. Those words, more than any others she had for him, made his heart swell.

He dropped the key on the accounts, splaying his bare palms out on her sides, gripping before jerking her body into his. Penelope gasped even though she was becoming accustomed to his sensual forcefulness. She reached up on her toes to meet him halfway, his kiss overwhelming her senses in seconds.

Unwilling to break away from her lips, Colin wrapped one strong forearm around the small of her back, bracing her tightly and standing straight, her feet leaving the floor and dangling free as he walked them both to the sofa on the other side of the room. Without ever removing his tongue from hers, he laid her out on the green velvet, crawling over her and surrounding her with his form.

When he finally did lift his head, a look of the devil played in his eyes. “Now Miss. What have I told you about wandering about in the gardens after dark?” he drawled, his voice deadly and low.

It only took a moment for Penelope to catch on to his game. She bit her lip and batted her eyes up at him. “Only that, why, anything could happen, Master Bridgerton.”

Colin groaned, grinding down to let her feel what her words had done to him.

“Oh! Master Bridgerton! I am sorry for going out alone!” she whimpered.

“Not good enough.” he hissed, nipping at her earlobe. “I warned you, and you did not listen.”

Penelope squirmed under his hips, enjoying the play but wanting to goad him into more. She fluttered her eyelashes again, making her eyes wide. “I promise to listen next time.”

He groaned, grabbing her wrists and raising them up over her head, pinning her to the sofa. “No.” he breathed, so close she could feel the air puff against her lips. “You did not listen, and now? You must be punished.”

Penelope gasped, part in jest and part in reverence of his dark words. He crossed her wrists, taking them easily with one of his large hands, freeing the other to grope its way down her body. She writhed under his attentions, pulling away from his touch only to spur him into grabbing at her more fiercely.

As he began kneading handfuls of her thighs, pushing her skirts up and spreading her apart, her back arched and her hips bucked up against his firmness. “Please, Master Bridgerton.” she whined.

He grinned like a true rogue. “Please what, Miss? Are you trying to get away, or come closer?”

“I do not know.” she demurred. “I just want you to teach me to be good.”

Colin hummed, leaning his weight on her wrists and bringing his face back to hers, his lips brushing her cheeks with every word, teasing her with each dark syllable. “Would you like to me teach you to listen, Miss? To be a good listener for me?”

Penelope bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud, nodding her response.

“Good. I have but one direction for you. And all you have to do is follow it.” He paused to watch her nod. “Do not come undone until I say so.” He stole her reaction with a sloppy, fierce kiss, his fingers plunging into her core simultaneously and without warning. He could feel the air rushing in through her nose as his tongue choked her, trying to gasp or cry out at the sudden intrusions.

He did not relent, pumping into her hard, smothering her with his kisses. Penelope could feel herself already winding towards the edge, tightening against his relentless fingers and losing control. She tore her lips away, turning her head sharply so he could not chase. “Wait!” she wailed. “I cannot! I cannot!”

Colin slowed without stopping, smoothly curling his fingers in and out of her fluttering core. “It is not meant to be easy, Miss. I am teaching you a lesson.” Feeling that she had regained control over her faculties, he lowered his chin to his hand, releasing her wrists finally so that he could pin her knee back instead.

The ache of her denied climax was all consuming, making her want to either cry out or slam her thighs shut to try and find some relief. But she could do neither with the sleeping staff and Colin’s strong grip holding her open. Instead, Colin was teasing her. Lightly swirling his tongue against her throbbing nerve. Driving her steadily towards insanity. Desperate for more, she brought her hands to the back of his head, threading her fingers into his silken locks and trying to guide him deeper. It did not have the intended effect.

Colin’s hands landed on either side of her head before she even registered them leaving her body. He lifted himself over her, growling lowly as her hands fell out of his hair and back to her sides. His knee kept her spread, and she found she was being denied the climb for a second time in as many minutes. A shuddering whine fell from her involuntarily; her mind unable to formulate any more coherent response.

“Who am I, Miss?” he demanded.
“Master Bridgerton.” she replied without thought.
“Master Bridgerton is right.” He took her lip between his teeth, dragging it out with dangerous pressure. “You would do well not to forget it. Master Bridgerton is in control, here. All you need do is lay back, and listen. Am I understood?”

Penelope whimpered as she lazily nodded her head, fighting against her instinct to pull him down and take what she wanted. She must have truly sounded to be in distress because suddenly, Colin was whispering in her ear, the dark tone gone and replaced with one of true concern. “Are you alright, Pen?”

She turned to face him with a bright nod. “Mmhm.”

He pecked her cheek, flashing a sweet smile, then whispered in her ear again. “If I do something you do not like, simply use my name, ‘Colin’ and I will stop.”

Penelope looked at him adoringly, the corners of her mouth twitching up. Then she threw her head back against the sofa, grinding her hips hard against his. Her voice changed again, and he could tell she had stepped into the role of naughty maid once more. “I think you are going to have to show me again, Master Bridgerton.”

It was all the answer he needed. Colin swiftly threaded his arms under her knees, tipping her off kilter and robbing her of the leverage she was using to move her hips. “Now, Miss. Show me what a good listener you can be. Stay still.”

He held her backside tight to his chest, still lifted from the sofa, when he dove back between her legs. Her thighs wrapped tight to his ears as his tongue parted and flicked through her folds. It was excruciating. Every time she began to vibrate – wound tight and ready for release – he would ease back, turning his head to kiss her soft inner thighs or altering his attentions to squeezing handfuls of her derriere. And every time, just as she would come down from the near high, he would begin again.

Penelope had lost track of how many times he had denied her release and was beginning to grow impatient. He was latched onto her swollen bud, and she was a sobbing wreck, wanting nothing more than to be held down and taken hard. In short, choked gasps, she pleaded. “Please, Master Bridgerton. Haven’t I learned yet? I am trying so desperately to follow your instruction. But, I – I neeeeed you.”

Colin kissed his way towards her knee, a frustrated sound squeaking out through Penelope’s gritted teeth. He rested his cheek against the silken skin at the inside of her thigh, looking upon her darkly. “What is it that you need me for, Miss?”

“A babe.” she replied, almost automatically. She paused for the briefest of seconds to think, then continued. “My husband, Mr. Collins, has not been able to get me with child. Please, I beg of you. Spill your seed in me.”

Colin growled instinctually at the thought, hands already moving to rid himself of his drab trousers. “Is that why you were wandering the gardens alone in the dark? You were hoping to cross me?”

“Can you truly blame me, Master Bridgerton?” was all Penelope offered in response.

Her blatant tease worked. He surged forward, snatching her wrists and pinning them above her head once more. Using nothing but his hips to guide him, he stabbed into her slick center, burying himself hard and fast into her already clenching core. He did not wait for her to adjust this time, immediately adopting a punishing rhythm.

It was everything Penelope had been hoping for.

As if Colin could tell how hard she was fighting against crying out, he took both of her wrists into one hand, using the other to muffle her mouth. She let go completely at that, thankful to be able to let the primal noises free into his salty palm. It was pure ecstasy, wave after unrelenting wave of overwhelming pleasure tearing through her.

Colin held her eyes the entire time, an intense and burning hunger about them. After being teased so precisely and thoroughly, and for so long, walked to and from the edge so many times, it should not have taken her by surprise when she found herself ready to topple over again so soon. She felt herself tightening, trying to will it away as “Master Bridgerton” had not yet given her permission. She started to thrash her head under his hand, unable to escape the building inevitability between her legs.

Just when she was certain she was going to fail him, Colin caught her eye. Something about it, both certain and desperate, gave her pause. Her breath hitched as his eyes bored into hers. Before she could consider the meaning, Colin, still pounding furiously, gave her the only command she was primed to obey.

“Now.” he gasped. “Come for me.”

The moment she was given permission, her body seized; a pulsing, staggering bliss overwhelming her senses. What she thought before to be peaks and cliffs were mere foothills compared to the mountain of pleasure she was now summiting. She struggled under his weight, pulling at her wrists in a feeble attempt to break free of his grasp. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. To rake her nails down his back. Anything to have him closer. She settled for biting at his palm.

The warmth that flooded her insides as Colin joined her served to extend her high. Feeling the now familiar rush of his spreading seed and the potential it brought only added to the physical and emotional joining. She stopped fighting him and submitted to the moment, letting him sink into her. As his hips stuttered to a halt, he replaced his hand with his lips, crashing them into hers and squeezing her tight to his torso.

When he loosened his grip on her wrists, she immediately wrapped them around his back, grateful to hold him in her arms at last. He tickled her cheek with lazy kisses, trailing his nose and lips across her face until he reached her ear. “You are incredible.” he whispered, his praise, in conjunction with his heavy breaths against her neck sending a shiver down her spine.

Penelope turned to chase the sound of his voice, shining brightly at his dazed and lust filled eyes. “That was most exciting, Colin. I quite enjoyed the farce.” His pleased smile encouraged her to continue on. “While I typically do not like being told what to do, I found that in this instance, it heightened the experience.”

For a moment, Colin said nothing, content to simply inhale a draught from her neck. He hummed a satisfied sound, slipping out of her and off to the side, careful not to make a mess of her bunched skirts as he rolled her shoulders with his, never letting her go. “I am the luckiest chap in all the English Empire.” he eventually murmured, laying another kiss on her forehead.

“Is this not… typical?” she asked, concerned her naivete on the topic was showing.

Colin chuckled, finally seeming to come back into himself. “Nothing we have done is typical, Pen. You are… a quick study. And an eager pupil at that.”

Penelope blushed at first, then recalled that Colin had just as much experience as she did. “You are not so bad yourself, Master Bridgerton.” She finished with an airy laugh that had Colin grinning back at her.

“Being married to you will never become dull. Not for one day.” A final press of his lips to hers and a heaved sigh had him lifting himself off the couch and righting his trousers. “Come. We must fix your hair and get you back to your mother’s. We both need a few hours sleep before I come calling.”

Fifteen minutes later, hand in hand, they crept through the mews towards the corner where they were most likely to find a coach for hire. Just before the stepped out of the shadows, Colin spun Penelope back, pressing her to the warm bricks of the building at the end of the block and kissing her soundly.

“I love you, Pen.”
“And I you, Colin.”

He took her hand once more, leading her to the stand of hacks and approaching the one at the front of the line. He gave the driver the destination, paying double the standard fare and admonishing the driver to get “the lady” back safely. The driver tipped his cap at him, paying far more attention to the coinage than the passenger.

Colin helped Penelope into the coach, pecking at her palm and wrist once she was seated. She leaned out towards him, he thought to touch her lips to his one final time for the evening. She turned instead, diverting to his ear and whispering to him once she reached it, quite possibly the filthiest thing he could have ever imagined.

“My center is still slick with your spend. I shall feel you between my legs all night long.”

She dragged her lips from his ear to his mouth, leaving the kiss he originally expected on his now stupefied pout. He stumbled back, unable to do anything but watch as she winked at him, closing the door to the hack and signaling the driver to pull away.

At the end of the familiar coach ride, Penelope snuck in through the same servant’s door she had used for the past two seasons. She ascended the stairs, skipping over the creaky floorboards, slipping out of her cloak and maid’s uniform, and climbing into bed all in practiced form and without drawing notice of anyone in the house. She was asleep within minutes, the pleased smile never fading from her face.

Chapter Text

“Why was I not informed?” Eloise practically hollered across the morning room to where her mother and younger siblings were gathered.

“Informed of what, darling?” an affronted Violet Bridgerton blinked back at her, knowing far better than to raise her energy to match that of her always spirited fifth born.

Eloise stalked to the table, slamming the latest edition of Whistledown onto the table, the silverware jumping with the force. “You let Colin ask Penelope to marry him?!”

Violet let the tension hang a moment before responding, waiting until Eloise had – rather haughtily – dropped herself into a chair and folded her arms across her chest. She knew it was always better to allow some of the steam to escape this particular pot before reaching for it. “Your brother sought Anthony’s permission, not mine. But I have given them my blessing nonetheless. They are a rather smart match, Eloise.”

“A smart match, mama?” Eloise shrieked, fidgeting and opening her mouth several times as if to complete her argument, though nothing but frustrated sounds came out. She stuffed a biscuit in her mouth, chewing as if to help her swallow poison on her tongue. Violet watched her patiently, knowing whatever it was that had caused such a tempest in her daughter’s head would be better expressed once it had been properly gathered. She took the opportunity to wave off the younger children who were quite done with their morning meal and were simply lingering in order to gawk at Eloise’s antics.

“This ‘private courtship’ she has written about,” Eloise waived the Whistledown column in the air once she and her mother were alone. “It is a deception! No such thing took place! Has Colin been cornered into it? Did she trap him?”

Violet let out a hearty laugh; one which caught her daughter rather off guard. “Oh darling, no. She most certainly did not. I can report you in full confidence that your brother is most certainly in love.”

“In… love?” Eloise asked with no small measure of disdain for the concept dripping from her tongue.

“Quite my dear. I have seen it with my own eyes. As to the matter of their courtship, no. It was never official. But it is easy to see how it may have been interpreted in such a manner. They have carried on for many years now with a special affection towards one another. Have you not noticed that your brother always seems to ask after Miss Penelope? Converses with her both here and in public? And since she has been out, saves her a dance without fail?”

Eloise did not answer her, gritting her teeth and pressing her lips into a thin line instead as her mother recounted facts that she never believed would amount to anything of consequence. “What of this exchanging letters? You most certainly could not have been privy to that!”

“I suppose I was, although…” Violet trailed off.

“Although what?” Eloise implored, her manner still a near-panic.

“Colin did not seek out my permission, that much is true.” Violet sighed, wondering why she was explaining herself to her second eldest daughter. She continued on however, recognizing that if she failed to quell whatever it was that had her ready to boil over, she would simply be dealing with the matter again at a later date. At least for now, no one else was around to overhear. “It was always clear whenever Miss Penelope called on you that she seemed to know more about your brother’s whereabouts and activities than even I. Did you not notice last season how she already seemed to know the end of his stories before he had even told them? Yet, I did nothing to intervene. I suppose my approval was implicit. It is certainly to our benefit that Whistledown has assumed their correspondence was done with mine and Lady Featherington’s approval, however. Otherwise we would be facing yet another scandal. These things always have a way of coming out.”

Eloise huffed loudly at each point her mother made, tightening her arms across her chest. “Yes, it is quite convenient for us all that Lady Whistledown supports their match.”

Violet contemplated a moment longer, seeming to realize several things all at once. “In fact, your brother is quite lucky indeed that Lady Whistledown did not learn of the reality of all that passed between them before he realized his own mind.”

The confusion etched on her daughter’s face informed her that her revelation was not as apparent as it seemed. “Why, I have seen your brother pay attentions to Miss Featherington that, should they have become known, indeed would have begot a hasty betrothal. Not only the correspondence. I have personally witnessed him take her hand. Touch her bare arm. In public, Eloise. Not to mention all of the times I have seen them conversing privately. And truly, when is the last time you heard him address her properly? It has been ‘Pen’ for as long as I can recall.”

“So?” Eloise spat out without thinking.

“So? Eloise, if any one of those things were to be printed outside of the context of a private, long courtship, your brother would have been forced down the aisle, lest Penelope be ruined. And the scandal would affect you and your sisters just the same. I am sure Colin would have done the honorable thing faced with it, but I am glad he has been allowed to make the decision of his own mind. Penelope as well. Even if she has held a torch for your brother all this time, I do not believe she would have been happy to have found herself in such a circumstance.”

“Held a torch for my brother?” Eloise cried out in disgust. “You cannot mean Colin? He’s… he’s… Colin!”

Violet stifled her laughter. “Your brother is a fine young gentleman. Handsome as your father. And he is kind. He pays attentions to Miss Penelope that other gentlemen do not. He listens to her, even when her voice is low. And even before speaking with him yesterday, it was clear that he cared for her. Did she truly never discuss such things with you?”

Eloise looked lost in her own thoughts while Violet patiently waited for her to consider. Eventually, another annoyed huff told her she had come to a conclusion. “I never asked. We did not speak of such matters.”

Violet smiled knowingly, allowing her daughter to to think on the meaning of her words.

Eloise shifted uneasily in her chair, taking another biscuit and turning it in her fingers. “You truly believe that Whistledown could have forced them to marry? Even two seasons ago?”

“Do you recall the ball at Vauxhall, when the Ton was abuzz over Daphne dancing with Simon?” Eloise nodded. Even though she was not there – it being the season before she came out – the story of that night had been retold scores of times by her family. “What Lady Whistledown never printed about that night, but I saw with my own eyes, was about how Colin danced with Miss Penelope.”

“What would a dance matter? It is a ball – plenty of gentlemen dance with ladies.”

“Ah, but when the dance is through, the gentleman typically does not continue to hold the young lady’s hand as he escorts her off the floor. There was a fireworks display, and as I recall no other eyes seemed to land on them. He could not seem to let her go for… minutes.”

“But. Was he not then courting Lady Crane? Why would he hold Penelope’s hand if he had already set his cap at another?”

Violet stirred at the memory she had tried hard to put out of mind. “Another thing our family ought to be grateful to Lady Whistledown for. Your brother fell victim to a grave deception. I do believe he was… distracted. And it took his mind some time to catch up to what his heart already knew.”

Eloise sat dumbfounded. Was her mother right? Had Penelope truly been soft for Colin all these years? Moreover, could she really have forced her brother to marry her at any time since the day she debuted, with nothing more than the flick of a quill? She had been so quick to judge her former friend last Season, assuming that all she had done had been for selfish motives. But if that were the case, would she not have acted to secure Colin’s hand as her own?

Still, none of it changed the most important fact of all. Eloise simply could not allow Colin to unwittingly go through with a marriage to the devious gossip huckster herself. She had to find a way to tell him.

***

Colin arrived just after three, a small box of marzipan fruits and a delicate posy of forget-me-nots and pansies in hand. His morning had been filled with mundane tasks about the house and a too-short visit with Agatha, who was taking to her nurse better than he could have hoped. He had filled the last few hours perusing the shops, trying to find the perfect calling gift to accompany his visit. The expression on Penelope’s face when she saw what he had brought her told him that not a moment was wasted.

“Colin! They are lovely!” she cooed, burying her face in the blue and purple bouquet before looking back up with a beaming smile that made his heart beat double time. She passed the flowers to the housekeeper, Mrs. Varley, before gesturing to the empty settee for Colin to have a seat. Prudence was busy with her watercolors at the other end of the room, seeming thoroughly engrossed in a still life arrangement on the table beside her. Portia meanwhile sat in the opposite settee, a look of pleased anticipation at the ready.

“Lady Featherington.” Colin greeted, bowing deeply. “I apologize for not greeting you properly upon my arrival. It is only that I was so caught off guard by Miss Penelope’s smile, I seem to have forgotten all manners.” The cheeky grin he shot Portia instantly flustered the hardened mama. Colin wondered briefly if it had more to do with the conversation he had with her when he spoke with her earlier in the week, or the size of the ring her daughter now wore.

He took his seat, wishing that it was next to rather than across from his betrothed. “My mama asked me to confirm that you would still be accompanying her to the modiste tomorrow morning. I am afraid to say she is rather giddy for it.”

“Of course, Colin. I would not dream of denying your mother the opportunity.” She tittered prettily, much to his delight.

“Excellent. Might I meet you after your appointment for a trip to Gunther’s? Lady Featherington, if that is alright?” He turned patiently to Penelope’s mama.

The matron opened her mouth with a look of practiced venom, but caught herself, stopping short. An almost imperceptible breath preceded the softening of her features and an “Of course, Mister Bridgerton.” He noted the surprise flit through Penelope’s eyes, but refused to let further contemplation of any such dynamic spoil his visit.

“Splendid! I will quite look forward to it.” He let his eyes catch Penelope’s, holding them until they began to shine for him again. “Kate, that is, my sister-in-law, has asked that I extend an invitation to the three of you for dinner at Bridgerton House tomorrow evening in celebration of our impending nuptials. I am afraid the social calendar has left few other evenings free.”

“The Viscountess will host?” Portia sounded impressed. “Of course we will attend. Thank you Mister Bridgerton.”

“She asked me to apologize for not having an invitation done in time. You can expect one tomorrow morning.” Portia waved off his apology, batting her eyelashes and tipping her head to hide a blush. Colin truly did not realize it would be this easy to have the woman eating out of the palm of his hand.

“How have you been, Pen? I have missed you.” he asked, now that Portia seemed to be managed.

Penelope turned rather crimson at the question. “I have only just seen you yesterday evening.” she replied, shaking her head lightly and offering a confused smile.

“And after the long winter with naught but a few scant letters to tide me over, a meager call and promenade hardly seem sufficient. I miss you still. Might I return to take you to the park again this evening?” His words were so earnest neither lady could doubt his true intentions, no matter their penchant for skepticism.

Penelope looked to her mama who nodded after flitting her eyes between the two. That sparkling smile broke across her face again, drawing a matching one out of Colin. “I would quite enjoy that.”

“Splendid. Well, I am sad to say it is time I took my leave. Lady Featherington, might Miss Penelope walk me out?” He rose and bowed as he spoke, hanging his question with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided grin that immediately gained Portia’s acquiescence.

He offered his hand to Penelope, which she happily took, rising from her seat and tucking herself onto his arm. She fit there so perfectly, and Colin could feel the contentment spreading through his bones. They were able to speak a little while longer, lingering in the front hall. He stole a kiss that was not enough for either of them, and was finally forced to bid her farewell.

***

Having less than three hours between the end of his call and his expected return for Promenade, Colin chose to stay in Mayfair. He first called upon his brother and sister-in-law, who readily agreed to chaperone his walk with Penelope that evening. He passed along confirmation that the Featheringtons would attend Kate’s dinner, then made his excuses so he could visit with his mother and younger siblings.

Arriving at his mother’s new residence, Colin quickly made himself at home, waiving off Humboldt and finding his own way up to the drawing room. Gregory and Hyacinth still rushed to embrace him, an indulgence he knew was nearing its end. Both were growing taller and ever closer to the end of their childhood every day. Thinking of Aggie at home, who already reached out her tiny arms to him every time he entered the room, was a balm to his heart. He greeted his mother, helping himself to a small plate of confections and a cup of tea as he caught her up on the details of his call with Penelope.

Francesca played out the last of the composition she was practicing on the pianoforte before rising to greet her brother and join the rest. Only Eloise seemed to be avoiding acknowledgment of his presence. Colin relaxed, allowing Gregory to talk at length about his first year at Eton, Hyacinth to drone on about the new dance instructor’s two left feet, and Francesca to tell him all about her fiancee John.

Only after he had finished telling his favorite tales of Cyprus, did Colin finally address Eloise. Or rather, he addressed his mother regarding Eloise. “I had hoped to visit a bookstore before the afternoon got away from me entirely. Might I take Eloise along?”

“Of course, dear. Will you come by for dinner after your visit to the park?” she asked cheerfully.

Colin was pleased with the permission and the invite, but his smile faded as he considered her request. “Oh, I, um. It is only that I have a new… cook, mama. And I could not possibly stay away any longer than I already have.” He watched as the recognition of his hidden meaning dawned in his mother’s eyes. He had a brand new nurse for Agatha and there was no chance he would miss his afternoon and supper with the child. It was bad enough he would not be home for the evening meal tomorrow. Two nights in a row was simply out of the question. “I am glad to see I am still welcome, however.” He winked at his mother’s eye roll. “And we shall dine together tomorrow.”

“Shall we, El?” Colin offered his hand and a petulant smile to his sister. She reluctantly took his hand, nearly pulling him over with the sudden jerk she used to hoist herself to standing, then strode out of the room ahead of him. He nearly had to jog to catch up to her before she walked out on to the street.

They made it to the end of the block before Colin began to negotiate. “I shall buy you any three books of your choosing – so long as they are not lewd – if you will tell me plainly what has you so upset and allow me to try and fix it.”

He saw Eloise’s jaw tighten, her stride slowing as she contemplated the rather fair offer. “She is not who you think she is.” she blurted out, stopping on the path to check behind them for potential eavesdroppers and then face her brother head on. “Why did you not speak to me before asking for her hand?” Eloise hissed.

Colin began to laugh, quickly schooling his features when he saw the deadly serious stare on his sister’s face. He cleared his throat, shrinking under her scrutiny. “I – that is to say – it, well – it happened rather quickly.” He gave a half hearted shrug, striding again in the direction of the bookstore. “I am sorry to have left you out.” he added after she caught back up to him. “It was not my intention.”

“That is not all.” Eloise snapped. “She – she is – Colin, you must find your way out of this before it is too late. She is a liar. An imposter. A slanderer. A fraud. Colin. I should not be the one to have to tell you this – but she is Lady Whi –” Colin grabbed his sister by the elbow and abruptly yanked her into the narrow alley they were passing, out of sight of the rest of Society.

He dragged her deep enough into the alley that he was sure no one would be able to hear them from around the corner, putting his sister’s back to the brick wall and caging her in with his arms so she would be forced to look at him. “Who else have you told?” he barked, pleased that she looked rattled by his reaction.

“No one!” Eloise cried, visibly shocked by her brother’s behavior. “I found out at the end of last season. I confronted her of course, but I have not spoken of it to anyone since.”

Colin stared her down for seconds that felt like hours. “Good.” he finally stated, simply and with no discernible affect.

Eloise shifted between his arms. “Wait. You mean to tell me… you already knew?” There was disgust in her tone and Colin did not like it one bit.

“Of course I know, El. We are engaged.” He tried his best to soften his voice, hoping he might be able to salvage the conversation yet.

Eloise crossed her arms across her chest, knitting her brow and looking at him as if utterly perplexed. “Why in the world would you want to marry her? After the way she interfered with your last engagement? Of all the low, selfish things –”

“Be careful how you speak of my wife.” Colin drawled, the warning in his tone clear.

“She is not your wife yet. Lady Crane was meant to be your wife!”
“Lady Crane was never truly anything to me!”
“You were engaged to her just as you are now to Pen! What is the difference?”
“She loves me, El.”

Colin’s voice cracked and he could feel tears threatening to well in his eyes. He took a deep, steadying breath before continuing on.

“Lady Crane never cared for me at all. I was naive. And blind. And Penelope saved me from it. Take a moment to think on what it would have meant to me, to have lived my life leg shackled to a woman who did not love me. Not to mention the effect on our family’s reputation when she produced twins not five months later.” He could see his sister softening, although any one other than he might be hard pressed to believe she wanted anything less that to pop him in the nose.

“Still.” she spat from between gritted teeth. “She should have gone to you. Not published it for all of Society to read.”

Colin hung his head. Out of all of it. This was the piece that still gave him the most shame. “She did.”

“WHAT!”

He pursed his lips and met her eyes again, nodding resolutely. “When mama, Anthony, and I attended the Featherington’s for dinner. She found a moment alone with me in the corridor. And she tried to warn me. Told me that Marina’s heart belonged to another.” Colin was too ashamed to keep his eyes from falling to the ground. “And I ignored her. I did not take her seriously.”

“But, how were you to have known?” Eloise shook her head slowly, as if trying to puzzle together the answer herself.

Colin let out a deep sigh, one of his arms finally dropping from his sister’s side. “Because it was Pen. Because she is my best friend. Because I should have trusted her.”

Eloise scoffed, sharply signaling her disagreement with the shake of her head. “How can you trust her when she spreads gossip and rumor as trade!”

“She did everything she could to keep from publishing that column. And at the end of the day, she put me first.” He huffed a laugh when his sister recoiled from his words. “It seems to me that even more concerted efforts were made to prevent your embarrassment, were you to stop and think on it. Pen has told me of the Queen’s threats to ostracize our family. She and I both warned you against frequenting that side of town. Repeatedly.”

Eloise scowled at him the moment the focus was returned to her own shortcomings. “Yes, well I am perfectly capable of making my own mistakes.”

Colin finally took his remaining hand off the bricks, letting it land softly on his sister’s shoulder. “I know.” His voice was understanding, a sheepish smile accompanying his words. “Why do you believe neither mother nor Anthony knew of your activities?”

“I, uh –” she sputtered.

“Or the printer’s apprentice for that matter.” He tipped his head and raised an eyebrow at his now panicked sister.

“How did you… You wouldn’t.” she choked.

“I would not. I tipped the footman well. To keep an ear to the door and only interrupt if your virtue was threatened. And to keep me informed. I… know what it is like to feel like you do not belong. And to wish to seek out new thoughts and ideas.” Eloise offered a tight smile. She did not like the idea of being managed, he knew, but he hoped she could see that he was merely looking out for her safety while giving as much slack to the line as he could.

“All that to say, what Penelope revealed of your political involvements was a mere scratch to the surface. We both know the truth to that.” Eloise made no reaction, staring off toward the street now that Colin’s bicep was no longer blocking her view. He knew she was still listening however, and continued on to make his point. “Her plot was effective. The damage done to your reputation was not lasting. And the Queen seems to have turned her search elsewhere. Besides, I thought you were proud of your politics. I should think you would want any potential suitors on notice of your advanced mind.”

They smirked at one another. He had finally found his sister underneath all the layers of hurt and anger.

He watched as the pain reached out and pulled her back from him once more. “Even so. She lied to me for two years. I do not know how to go back to being her friend.”

“There is no need of that.” he replied airily, delighting in the confusion that etched into her face. “You are to be sisters instead.”

He watched as several conflicting emotions swirled through her eyes. It would not be immediate. They would not see one another tomorrow evening and rush to embrace. And when they did finally reach out, it would certainly take time to rebuild their friendship and trust. But there was one thing Colin was certain of now. That they would.

He waited until her mind seemed to quiet itself, correcting his posture and offering his elbow. “Come. I owe you some books.”

***

“Candide.”
“Emma.”
“All’s Well That Ends Well.”
“Les Liasons Dangereuses.”

“Wait…” Colin interrupted their game. “Does that end with an S or an X?”
“It is an S. I am not so cruel as to leave you with an X to work out!”
“Ah, but darling, when you are a Bridgerton, you must play all sport for blood. Competition is in our nature.”
“Well, then I am lucky I still have ten days to prepare myself!”
“Sense and Sensibility.”
“Umm… Uh… Uh… Yeoman’s Guide?”

Colin stopped on the path, turning to smirk at Penelope. “You just made that up.”
“I did.” she sighed dramatically. “You are terrible. Y is nearly as bad as X!”
“All is fair in love and war.” he quipped before walking on, tugging her along at his side.

Penelope checked over her shoulder, confirming that Kate and Anthony were still trailing quite far behind, well beyond earshot so long as she kept her voice low. “How is she? Is she getting on alright?”

Colin felt his chest tighten at the question. As difficult as it was for him to be separated from Penelope, he could not imagine the strife she faced not being able to see Aggie during this time. “I can tell she misses you. She looks for you. But I keep telling her stories about you. Letting her know that we will marry soon and that you are coming back to be her mama. Somehow she seems to understand.”

He heard Penelope sniffle, but when he looked down, her face betrayed nothing, her eyes fixed on the trees across the river. “And Mrs. Jolie? Does she like her well enough?”

Colin worried his lip, concerned that if he was too positive, Penelope would fear being replaced, yet if he was not positive enough, she would be concerned for Aggie’s welfare. “She is kind and responsible and good with Aggie. She keeps Aggie busy so she does not have time to fret, and sleeps when it is time. Aggie is content. But like I said. I can see that she misses you.”

He felt Penelope sag against him, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her for support. “I can try to sneak her downstairs Tuesday night, so that you may see her when you come by.”

She looked at him a moment, then returned her gaze to the horizon. “No. It would likely just upset her. I will manage. I have you.” She squeezed his arm to her side, careful not to let anyone see.

“I spoke with Eloise today.” A change in topic was most certainly called for. He worried about his choice however as Penelope stiffened further at his elbow. “It went… well, I believe.”

“Oh?” a pitchy note of hope trolled through the single word.

“We fought like dogs. It was brutal, really.” Colin grinned at the memory.

She looked at him with no small measure of incredulity. “Wh – what? How do you see that as good?”

He stopped a moment to battle the overwhelming urge to pull her into a kiss right then and there. “It is good because she is finally speaking of it. She thought she was going to be the first to warn me about your… writing.”

Penelope could not blame her for wishing to protect her brother. Even if it was from her. She sighed sadly.

“No, Pen. It was good, I am telling you. Sure, she blew off plenty of steam. But I helped her to correct her understanding of what happened surrounding Lady Crane. And drew analogy to her own scandal. I do believe she is beginning to view it all in a very different light.”

Her eye flitted over to his, disbelieving and humoring. “I thank you for your efforts, Colin.”

“It means she still cares.” he blurted out, his tone insistent. “I know my sister. She would not give it her time. Would not continue to be afflicted so if she did not care.”

Penelope nodded into her chest, seeming to acknowledge if not outright agree with his assessment. “She helped me pick out the book I brought you when I arrived this evening.”

That got her attention. “She did?”

“Indeed. I had to coax some admissions out of her with the promise of a few new books. But once we got to the book store and I informed her of my intention to pick something out for you as a courting gift, she practically shoved me out of the way to start dissecting the available options.” Penelope laughed and it made his heart sing.

Penelope looked over her shoulder to find the Viscount and Viscountess several yards back, seemingly absorbed in some form of heated debate she could not quite make out. She lowered her voice and leaned in to whisper to Colin. “We must tell her of Aggie.”

Chapter Text

“When Penelope arrives, I want you to invite her up to your room. Tell her you want to show her something. Perhaps one of your new books. It does not have to be specific.”

“What? No!” Eloise nearly shouted back at him, drawing the attention of their younger siblings.

Colin threw on a false smile. “That is fine, El. I did not know you considered anise so off putting. More for me!” He sat next to her, more forward in the seat and turned towards her such that his back blocked her face from view of the rest of the room. When he spoke next, his voice was low and serious, not quite menacing but reminiscent of their conversation from the day prior nevertheless. “She is expecting it. We have something to tell you, and it cannot be done in company.”

His sister shifted uncomfortably under his stern glare. “Why should I invite her to my room? I do not wish to grant her a private audience. Helping you to choose one book does not signify –”

Colin cut her off by rolling his eyes and grumbling her name. “Why must you always make things so difficult?”

“I am not –”

“I have a secret I wish to share with you.” He noticed the immediate shift in her demeanor at the mention of a secret. “Actually. I have a secret that Pen has impressed upon me we must share with you. I would be perfectly happy keeping it from you for just as long as any other member of our family.”

He chanced a glace over his shoulder. Finding no one paying them any mind, he was emboldened to continue. His teasing smile fell to something more serious. “You begrudge her for keeping secrets from you. So now she insists that we must tell you everything. Please, this must be handled delicately.”

Eloise seemed to swallow back her instinct to resist, nodding her head twice before snatching the last smoked salmon sandwich from his plate. Smiling, he did not even move to fight her for it, allowing her to savor the victory. For he knew the one he had just won was far sweeter.

When Penelope arrived a short while later, she begged Violet’s forgiveness for coming more than half an hour early for their appointment with the modiste. Colin leapt up to greet her, unable to hold himself back after spending the entire night and morning outside of her presence. He swept her hand up to his lips, bending so that he did not lift her from the floor by her wrist in the process, and deposited a flurry of kisses across her knuckles.

“Penelope, might I show you something in my room? I have… a new book I believe you would enjoy. Before I am taken ill by watching you with my brother that is.” Colin scowled at her even as Penelope stifled a nervous laugh.

“Of course, Eloise. If it is alright with you, Lady Bri –”
“Vi –”
“Violet.”

Colin smirked through the entire exchange, thoroughly enjoying watching Penelope relax amongst his family in a way she never did in her own mother’s drawing room.

“Of course it is Penelope. Come down when you are through and we will head out then.” Violet went back to sipping her tea and fussing with her fancywork, paying no further mind to the young women.

Fighting his instinct to follow them upstairs immediately, he moved to the tea table, replacing his lost smoked salmon sandwich with three more. He thought to make his excuses, but found that just a few moments after his fiancee and sister had left the room, no one was left paying him any mind. He slipped out unnoticed, padding up the staircase and down the hall to Eloise’s bed chamber.

“Ladies.” He gave a rather performative bow before turning to shut and lock Eloise’s door behind him.

“She has refused to tell me anything until you were present. I do not understand what could possibly warrant such dramatic –”

“Sit.” Colin commanded and, for some reason unbeknownst to him, she obeyed. He huffed a breath, trying to recall where he had decided to begin. “This cannot get back to Anthony yet. I will tell him soon, but not quite yet. Mama knows, but only by happenstance. And, well. It is important that Penelope’s mama does not find out until after we are wed. She could withdraw her consent to our union.”

Eloise’s brow knit at Colin’s warning, as if she could not fathom something that would require such a preamble. She watched as Colin looked to Penelope, who nodded, encouraging him on. He heaved one last breath before blurting out as much as he could, as quickly as any of the three believed possible.

“I am to adopt a child. That is, I have taken on a ward. She was abandoned in my stateroom on my return journey. I begged Pen her assistance when I returned home. And, oh El, I cannot wait for you to meet her – she is just the most darling – but of course we will have to wait until after the wedding. It is a rather delicate matter for I have come to realize the child does look like Penelope’s spitten image, and, of course, I do plan to tell the family soon but it is only that I do not sign the paperwork making her officially mine until later this afternoon and I simply could not bear it if Anthony were to try and put a stop to it, you know how he is, but I do not care what he has to say, she is my daughter. Oh, and I snuck Pen over after I moved to Bloomsbury last week but Lady Danbury caught us so she knows, and Pen stayed with me for most of last week after Lady Danbury sent her lady’s maid to chaperone and I actually proposed to her the second night she was there and the proposal yesterday was actually a farce put on for Lady Featherington, Mama caught us together when she came to call on me Friday morning and that is the only reason she learned of it, but you are the only other person that knows now and, oh please, El, please do not tell of it, you may ask whatever favor you like of me but please do not tell of it.”

Colin was wide-eyed and panting by the end of his harried speech, immediately restless for Eloise’s reply. Eloise meanwhile, stared at him frozen, blinking slowly. “WHAT?”

Colin sucked in a breath, opening his mouth as if to repeat all he had just shared, when Penelope delicately rested her hand on his arm to stop him. He released the breath all at once, relieved to defer the task to her. Even as things were between his sister and his betrothed, he knew Penelope was better at delivering news to Eloise, and would be able to explain far better than he ever could.

When Penelope said nothing however, he looked to her in confusion. She stared back with eyes that seemed to silently convey that they should wait, but he was unsure how he understood it. He turned back to face Eloise, truly watching her for perhaps the first time in his life as her face seemed tell a story of reactions and emotions, almost as if she were having and entire conversation – or better yet argument – inside her mind. Finally, something seemed to register behind his sister’s eyes, and she looked up as if newly surprised. “What is her name?”

Both Colin and Penelope broke out into wide smiles. “Agatha Anne, Aggie for short.” Penelope supplied.

“You named her after Lady Danbury?”
“It is fitting.”
“And I suppose the Anne is after you?”

Penelope glanced at Colin, who returned her knowing smirk. “It depends on who you ask.”

Questions and answers between Eloise and Penelope passed swiftly after that.

“Did Colin take advantage of you?”
“He was a gentleman.”
“Are you only marrying because of the child?”
“No. He loves me.”
“Is Colin’s home sufficient? Will you be comfortable enough?”
“Very. It is perfectly lovely. You must visit.”
“Is he treating you well?”
“Of course, El.”
“How is he with… Aggie?”
“Wonderful. Truly, it melts my heart.”
“And you? Do you get on with her?”
“I do. I had no idea it would, but motherhood seems to suit me.”
“What did mama do?”
“There were misunderstandings at first. But then she was pleased. She has accepted Aggie as her granddaughter.”
“How old is the child?”
“We estimate about a year. She was a tiny, skinny thing at first, and we believed younger. But she has your brother’s appetite and is growing like the weeds.”
“Does she talk?”
“Just said her first two words on Friday. First steps too. Put on quite the show for your mama.”
“Are you happy?”
“Beyond measure.”

Eloise paused her interrogation, a satisfied smile settling across her face. It was in that moment that both Colin and Penelope finally felt that everything was going to be okay.

***

“She will need a gown for the engagement ball on Friday, one for the wedding next Wednesday of course, oh and one for tomorrow’s ball as well!” Violet immediately began browsing the fabrics. “Dearest, I know you are particularly fond of yellow, but have you consid –”

“I despise yellow.” Penelope interjected, catching both Violet and Madame Delacroix quite off guard. “It is my mother’s color. I should be quite happy indeed if I never own another gown in yellow.

Violet positively tittered at the remark. “You know, Colin is quite fond of it. He insisted a few years ago when we redecorated the family wing on yellow curtains and linens for his bed chamber. You may not be able to dispense with it entirely!”

Penelope sighed. It was just her luck that the man she was maddeningly in love with would have an affinity for the color. “I shant like any in my trousseau at any rate. We will cross that bridge together in the future should it become necessary.” She walked to the bolts of blue silks, lifting a cornflower shade of silk with a silver embroidered flowers towards her decolletage. “Would this not look lovely trimmed with lace?”

Violet and Penelope spent the rest of the morning in the shop, choosing fabrics and designs with the modiste. Penelope tried to explain to her soon to be mother-in-law that she had just two weeks ago ordered a brand new wardrobe for the season, her own mother having finally allowed her agency over both color and fit, and did not need a complete trousseau. But the Dowager Viscountess, having four daughters who tolerated the modiste on their best days, was far too excited to cut corners.

All told, in addition to the ball gowns, Violet commissioned six more evening dresses, twelve promenade dresses, six walking dresses, twelve afternoon dresses, twelve morning dresses, twelve fine and six plain chemises, six coordinating spencers and pelisses each, four carriage dresses – two each for warm and cold weather, twelve pairs of stockings in silk, cotton, and wool, garters for each, and one riding habit.

Penelope felt as if her head were spinning with all the finery. Violet approved of the new styles Madame Delacroix showed her, all specially selected and designed with Penelope in mind. They chose all shades of blue, from ice to navy, several flattering greens, some rose and lilac shades, and even a few in indigo and scarlet. Each would have delicate embellishments or embroidery; nothing like the busy patterns and overwrought bows of her past seasons. She was certain the trousseau would be the most beautiful in Town this Season. Penelope was truly glad to have someone in her corner rather than opposition to fight as they went about the business. Violet meanwhile was practically giddy to have someone with an actual opinion on different grades of lace.

Penelope had just finished modeling the last two drapes of fabric, choosing forest over olive green for the riding habit she was sure she would never deign to wear, when Colin walked in. The gleam in his eyes and the wide, unabashed smile told her instantly that all had gone well with the solicitor. “Pen!” he exhaled as soon as his eyes landed on her face.

“Colin! We have just finished. Although I fear you may need to purchase the house next door just to fit all of the clothing your mama has ordered for me!” Penelope giggled at her own jest, but Colin fixed his features into a hard stare.

“Whatever she has asked for, double it!” Colin declared, never lifting his eyes from his fiancee’s.

She smirked triumphantly. “That suits me just fine. For I have not asked for a thing!”

“Blast!” he teased. “Bested again!”

They were gravitating towards one another as they spoke, nearly forgetting they were in public a moment until Violet delicately cleared her throat.

“Mama.” Colin gave his mother a sweet bow, greeting her properly. “I have completed my business. I was hoping that you might be done here and allow me to steal Pen away to Gunther’s.”

“Of course, Colin. I trust everything went… smoothly?” his mother inquired.

His grin somehow grew impossibly wider. “Indeed. It is done.”

***

“Honestly, Pen. There was no more to it than that. I strode in, caught up with the man a moment, he filled in her name and the birthday we chose, and then I signed three copies in two places each. He added his seal and we were through.” Colin took another mouthful of his orange and rum ice.

Penelope stirred at her iced cream, flavored with lemon zest and pistachios. “And after we marry?”

Colin perked up. He knew it would bother her, and had told the solicitor the same, insisting even when he was told it was of no consequence. “It is already handled. He is to draw up a second set of documents to supersede the originals. I can sign anytime after the marriage license is filed.” Colin checked over his shoulder to ensure no one was close enough to be listening on. “You will be listed as well. If anything happens to me, she will be yours. She already is from the will I had drawn up before. But it was important to me, since I knew it would be important to you, so I insisted.”

Penelope blushed, looking appreciative even if she was unable to hold his eyes for long. “How do you feel?” she asked eventually.

Colin thought about it a moment, taking another spoonful of his dwindling frozen treat onto his tongue, letting the citrus and spice melt and fill his palate with their exotic aromas. Each bite transported him to the port in the south of Spain where his ship home from Greece last year had moored for two days to resupply. “Relieved I suppose. Glad it is done. It is different than with you. If things were to go sideways with your mama, worst case scenario, I throw you over my shoulder and we make a run for Guernsey Island. Nothing can truly stand in our way.”

“Guernsey?” Penelope raised her eyebrows. “Not Gretna Green?”

Colin shook his head. “Certainly not. Gretna Green is expected. That is where everyone would go chasing after us. Guernsey would be a far surer thing.” He winked at her, stealthily stealing a spoonful of her ice cream while she was distracted giggling.

When she gasped and pointed towards nothing, causing him to turn and look, she thieved her own bite of his orange and rum. As he turned back, watching the last of his ice disappear between her lips, he only smiled. He was happy to have been bested.

***

“Lady Featherington. Miss Featherington. Miss Penelope Featherington.” Humboldt announced, a hush falling across the room of gathered Bridgertons. Kate stepped forward greeting her guests and welcoming them to her home, Anthony, Violet, and Colin crowding in behind her to do the same.

“Lady Bridgerton! Lord Bridgerton! Lady Bridgerton! Mister Bridgerton! I must say a year ago I could not have imagined we would be doing this again. But our families do seem destined to intertwine, do they not?” Portia greeted the family with a loud air of confidence that she did not seem to realize betrayed her anxiety over the evening.

Greetings were all exchanged, with Colin forgetting himself and blurting out and excitable “Pen!” the moment a clear path was formed between the two. Now that they were engaged however, doing so was finally permissible, if not entirely de rigueur for a formal dinner.

Anthony offered his arm to Lady Featherington, leading her through to the dining room as Kate invited the rest to follow. Benedict led both Prudence and Violet through, one on each elbow. Colin insisted that Penelope take his arm. Gregory meanwhile, who had begun the season nearly a foot taller than he had ended the last, sheepishly asked Kate if he could escort her through, which she graciously accepted.

The meal was long and leisurely, with Portia seated at Anthony’s right. Penelope and Colin sat to Kate’s right. Lady Featherington dominated much of the conversation through the soup and fish courses, speaking of the family’s good fortunes since Lord Featherington had returned to the Americas. She spoke crassly of financial matters, making Colin believe it sounded almost as if she were attempting to explain away an untruth. He rested his hand protectively on Penelope’s knee under the table, feeling at ease with the knowledge that soon her stability and well being would have little left to do with the likes of Portia Featherington.

When the roast venison joints were brought out to be carved, Kate and Violet finally took back the conversation, steering it towards more relevant matters. Colin stuttered when it was asked of him whether he and Penelope planned a honeymoon. “No, mama. Colin has only just returned from his winter travels. If we are to travel, we will wait until the end of the Season.”

“Well,” huffed Portia. “You may wish to consider carefully. If you two are at all interested in making a run for the estate, you may not be in any condition to travel by then.”

Colin spoke up next, uncomfortable with the way Portia was discussing his and Penelope’s private affairs so boldly. “Come now, Bloomsbury is new to both of us, and can feel quite exotic when one has lived in either Mayfair or the country one’s entire life. I am quite happy to honeymoon at our home. We will have no shortage of opportunities to travel in the future. No need to hurry a trip along now.”

Portia merely hummed noncommittally in response. Benedict attempted to engage Prudence in conversation about her watercolors, but quickly found that she was unable to differentiate between a landscape and a portrait, and abandoned the effort in favor of the peas in butter sauce. Kate, ever the bright hostess, felt the lull in conversation and attempted to set things back on track.

“Lady Featherington, I feel compelled to ask. We have all read yesterday’s Whistledown. But I must say, we are rather confounded by mention of the Featherington estate and some potential for Colin to inherit? And you have just referenced it again yourself. I am afraid that we Bridgerton’s must have skipped town when news of it was circulating. Might you be so kind as to explain these circumstances to us all?” Kate smiled genuinely, ignoring her husband and mother in law’s warning looks as she spoke.

“You see,” Portia began, a clearly put-on tone of dramatic indignation overwhelming her speech. “It seems that Lord Featherington was… a…” She put her wrist to her mouth as if stifling a sob. “A swindler.” She finally gasped. Colin shifted in his chair, catching Penelope’s hand on the table and Portia’s attention. “It was actually Mister Bridgerton here,” She nodded to differentiate Colin from his brothers. “Who uncovered his scheme.”

Colin’s features tightened as his family’s attention turned to him. “Indeed, although. Even I sorely misestimated him. I did not believe him so dishonorable that he would flee the country without returning the funds he took under false pretenses.”

Anthony eyed him sternly, making him clutch Penelope’s hand tighter. She seemed to sense his discomfort, gently soothing against the side of his forefinger with her thumb.

Portia waved away his concern. “No one could have, Mister Bridgerton. His plans to trick us all were far more detailed than any could have guessed. It seems he must have planned for this eventuality well in advance, as the only thing he left behind when he returned to the Americas was the estate. It is in abeyance until one of my daughters produces a son, at which point she and her husband will inherit.”

Several utensils were dropped.

Kate, of course, was the first to recover. “Pardon, Lady Featherington. But do you mean to say that if Colin and Penelope have a son – before Mr. and Mrs. Finch or Miss Prudence that is – that the whole of the Featherington estate will pass to… Colin?”

“Indeed.” Portia looked impudently between the heads of the family. “And what a triumph it would be for the Bridgertons to conquer the second seat of Grosvenor’s Square!”

“That is not why I am marrying her.” Colin seethed.

“Yes, yes. We know, Mister Bridgerton. You are a besotted fool.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Mama!” Penelope rebuked.

“Lady Featherington,” Anthony interjected before the conversation fully devolved. “I can assure you that my brother was unaware of any such scheme when he determined his intent to marry Miss Penelope.”

“Of course, Lord Bridgerton.” Portia tried her best to sound resigned and vulnerable. With wide eyes, she continued, “It is simply… I can only hope that my son in law, whichever is to become the successor, is benevolent. I fear that I… Oh, my! How terribly crass of me to speak of such business at dinner. Please, do excuse me. It is only that…” She caught another performed sob with her wrist. “It has been so terribly difficult on my own.”

“Oh, Portia, no.” Violet soothed. Regardless of any ulterior motive she may have, Violet understood what it was like to be left adrift. “We are to be family. My Colin will not allow anything poorly to happen to you. Isn’t that right darling?”

“Of course, mama.” Colin straightened. He did appreciate the faith his mother always seemed to have in him, even if it was not always shared by his brothers. “In fact, I have already assured Lady Featherington of just that. And should I find myself at the helm, Lady Featherington, I truly believe that with just a bit of time, I can make the lands profitable again. Restore it to what it once was.”

Anthony and Benedict let out twin snorts of laughter. “And just what exactly, dear brother, would you know about estate management?” Anthony asked in a tone that only a first born elder brother could accomplish.

Colin opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Penelope; addressing his brother directly and the most fiery he had ever heard her. “Colin has a perfectly respectable estate. He manages it well and is smart with his investments.”

A loud snort from across the table caught her attention. “What would you know of his estate?” Prudence drawled.

Penelope flushed, remembering the night before. How Colin had laid out all of his financials for her to study. Explained it all to her. Not to mention their activities that came… after. She knew all the ins and outs of his holdings, but there was no legitimate way for her to convey that to present company. “I… we have, that is… discussed it.”

Benedict rather indelicately bit off a piece of a roll, pumping his eyebrows at his brother. “I always knew you were quite the romantic Colin. I can imagine it now, waxing poetic about tax ratios and crop rotations.”

Eloise jumped on the back of his tease, “I am sure Penelope near swooned when you told her of Mr. Gainesworth’s decision to plant oats instead of wheat last year.”

“Or about the roof replacement you undertook the year before that!” Benedict added in a dreamy voice, clutching his chest and batting his eyelashes for effect.

Colin’s ears were burning, his jaw clenched to prevent an outburst he knew he would come to regret. He typically did not mind the ribbing of his siblings, but embarrassing him like this in front of his soon to be wife and in laws felt uncalled for. Before he could think of a witty retort that would hopefully put an end to it all, Penelope once again beat him to it.

“Indeed he did, Benedict.” she announced, chin held high. “I found it fascinating. And while, Eloise, you know I have a stronger constitution than to swoon, I found his knowledge of the land production most captivating.” Colin grinned at her side, enjoying thoroughly the way his siblings jaws all began to sag. “In fact, Lord Bridgerton, it must have been your fine tutelage that allowed him to speak so eloquently on the topic. I do believe he pays closer attention to your lessons than you may realize.”

Penelope could see a smug grin form on the Viscountess’s face in her periphery, a satisfied hum of approval sounding in her throat that she was sure only she could hear. The Viscount’s face meanwhile seemed to twist through several conflicting emotions before schooling into something softer but still rather unreadable. “My apologies Miss Penelope, Colin. Lady Featherington, I do beg your pardon, I was merely teasing my brother. I forget sometimes that he is in fact quite the capable gentleman. And I am sure that he is correct in his assessment of his abilities regarding the estate. Not to mention he will always have my support.” Penelope had never seen the Viscount so contrite, and rather enjoyed the fact that she had made him such.

The conversation turned back to more mundane topics as the first course was cleared and the second was served.

“Thank you.” Colin whispered as close to Penelope’s ear as he could get without drawing attention.

“For what?” she replied, her voice low as well.

“For supporting me. Defending me. I am… Not accustomed to it.”

While keeping her eyes fixed firmly on her plate, Penelope allowed her hand to drop first into her lap, then slowly reach out until her fingers were gliding back and forth across the top of his thigh. “I will always support you.”

Colin was fighting to keep his breath steady under her touch, lamenting the fact that he would not be able to have her again until at least tomorrow night. Luckily he was distracted when the footman brought round his favorite roast quail in port sauce, bringing both hands up to serve first Penelope, then himself from the extended dish.

“Since when do you let anyone come between you and food, let alone anything in cook’s port sauce?” Hyacinth gasped.

Most of the Bridgertons were staring, but Colin merely laughed them off. “I am sure I would not –”

“You threatened to bite my hand when I tried to take the last one the last time cook made them!” Gregory added.

Colin began to argue the truth of the statement when Penelope broke out into a near raucous laughter. “I am sorry.” She bit out, fanning herself with her hand and trying to carefully sip her wine to calm herself. “It is only that, I was here for that Colin. Sitting between you and Eloise. You denied it then but I, and certainly Gregory, heard you!”

“You feigned ignorance when Benedict asked if you heard anything!” Eloise screeched, remembering the incident herself now.

Penelope shrugged. “I simply told Benedict that I could not begin to say.”

“Penelope Featherington!” Francesca exclaimed in mock indignation. “Were you and Colin truly courting this entire time like Lady Whistledown said?”

Penelope turned to look at Colin. They had discussed much of how the evening might go over their afternoon ices, but had somehow neglected this possibility. Colin grinned, answering his sister without ever taking his eyes off of Penelope. “I suppose you will never know.”

By the time the table cloth was removed and the dessert course was laid, Kate, Violet, and Portia had made complete plans for the engagement ball that Friday. Portia reluctantly agreed to allow Kate to host, no one willing to deprive the young Viscountess the opportunity to hold her first Society ball. Violet and Portia would help with decorations, flowers, invitations, and other preparations. The three did pause to ask Penelope for her input on a few details – namely for her preferred colors and refreshments – but otherwise charged ahead with the planning as if they were the only ones present in the room.

The ladies were starting to rise to cross over into the drawing room, leaving the men to their brandy, when Colin leaned towards Penelope, whispering low enough that she had to lean in to hear him. “Wait five minutes, then beg off to refresh yourself.” He watched as the pink burned into her cheeks, telling him without need for words or even the sight of her eyes that she understood him perfectly.

“Do not be long dears.” Violet said as she rose from her seat. “I hear Miss Penelope is quite the exhibitionist on the pianoforte, and I would so love for her to play for us all.”

Portia preened. “My Prudence has quite the love for singing. Perhaps they can duet?”

“No!” Colin, Anthony, and Violet all rushed to exclaim at once. Colin was the first to recover. “It is only that we had discussed performing together. I am quite glad to sing.”

Portia opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Violet. “Oh, that sounds lovely dearests! I cannot wait!”

***

Once the brothers were left on their own, Anthony poured a low ball for each of them – three fingers for himself, Benedict, and Colin – and a splash in the bottom of the glass for Gregory, now fourteen.

“So. Penelope Featherington, Colin? Who would have guessed it?” Anthony teased as he passed Colin the digestif.

Before Colin could respond, both Benedict and Gregory snorted, drawing the attention of the other two brothers. “I would. Did. More than a year ago now.” Benedict proudly declared.

“Only a year?” Gregory replied, trying to keep his register low despite a squeak interrupting the ‘y’ in year. His vocal chords were stretching as fast as his bones these days. Gregory pinked slightly as the focus of his three older brothers turned to him. He sipped his drink, letting the liquor soothe his throat. “I knew I did not stand a chance with Miss Penelope since I was at least ten.”

Colin just about choked on his drink, as did Anthony and Benedict. “You? Stand a chance with Pen?”

“Well… yeah. I… have had a crush on her since… well, as long as I can remember. There was a time when I hoped that maybe once I came of age, she would still be unmarried. She is only five years older than me you know. But I gave up years ago when I realized that you were in love with her. I knew I never stood a chance.” Gregory heaved a sigh at the admission. When he hung his head, Anthony reached over to add a second splash to his glass.

Colin meanwhile sat gaping at his little brother, now quite clearly a young man. “You.. realized? In love?” he sputtered.

“You do not have to pretend with me.” Gregory was quick to reply. “I saw the way you looked at her. Always made sure you attended to her. Spoke with her when she came to visit Eloise, or asked after her when Eloise returned from a visit. Volunteered to chaperone when she and Eloise wanted to visit the shops. Shared books with her. Told her stories from Eton. I am certain it did not change when she debuted and you got to dance with her.”

Anthony took a deep drag of his drink, while Benedict merely smirked, fluttering his eyelashes at Colin. “He makes a fair point, brother.”

Colin shook his head slowly, wondering how it was that on this topic he had remained as naive as Anthony. He liked to think himself more aware than that.

“I only realized when you returned home from Greece last Season.” Benedict continued, the silence of the three others present spurred him on. “You walked into the family drawing room, after months abroad, and had to be reminded to embrace your brother and mother. I watched your jaw fall open when your eyes landed on hers and… Colin I have spent enough time trying to capture the look of love in my sketches to know. It was plain on your face.”

Frustrated, Colin threw back the last of his Brandy. “I do not suppose it occurred to you at any point to share such revelations with me?” he grumbled at Benedict, shifting his glare to Gregory as well, who he considered even more culpable. “Hell, you let me court and propose to Lady Crane!”

“In all fairness to them, you were rather sudden in your declaration.” Anthony shrugged his shoulders. “Although…”

“Although what?” Colin cried out, his voice nearly resembling Gregory’s with the way it pitched upward.

Anthony huffed into his drink, seeming to consider his mind a moment. “I suppose it is why we were all so taken aback. You are so much like mama regarding matters of the heart. It did not feel right for you to pledge your troth to a Lady who was not first your friend. I am only surprised I did not realize it sooner.”

“I did!” Gregory proudly interjected.

“Yes, yes. We know.” Benedict replied, gently sticking an elbow into his youngest brother’s ribs.

“And if I recall correctly, Colin, you were not the easiest to speak to on the matter.” Anthony’s raised eyebrow caused Colin to dip his chin.

“You were… right. Anthony.” he mumbled.

Benedict nearly leapt from his seat. “Do not tell him that! He will be insufferable until the end of time!”

Colin winked across the table at Benedict. “I shant make a habit of it.” He raised his glass towards his brothers, “To marrying the right one.” The other three echoed the sentiment, sipping their drinks as Colin attempted to toss the last of his back, spilling some of the amber liquid down the front of his waistcoat. “Ah, blast!” he cursed, brushing at the stain with the back of his hand.

“Never could hold your drink!” Benedict laughed.

Colin gave his best sheepish grin, despite having performed the intended maneuver exactly as intended. “I believe there are still a few of my things hanging in my old room for just this occasion. If you will excuse me.” His brothers raised their glasses to him one last time as he begged off, ostensibly in search of a fresh waistcoat.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way to towards the ladies’ withdrawing room on the second floor. He attempted to look casual – just in case someone had joined Penelope – clearing his throat to hopefully catch her attention. He was slightly disappointed when he did not hear any movement, and was just beginning to consider whether to try the door or cough again, when an airy giggle from behind him had him reeling around. “Pen!” he hissed in excitement, rushing to embrace her.

It was the first time he had properly held her in his arms since the day before last, and he took a moment to simply enjoy the warm, welcoming feeling of her body in his arms. He was shook from his reverie when the sound of Benedict’s hearty laughter from the dining room carried through the hall. Grabbing Penelope’s hand, he strode towards his childhood bedroom, her feet skipping along the floor as she cantered along to keep up.

The moment he latched the door behind them, his hands were on Penelope, gripping her backside and trying his best to meld their flesh. His lips flew to hers, crashing them together and instantly seeking to curl his tongue around hers. His chin bobbed as he all but swallowed her whole, overcome with need and want.

His fingers were already climbing her skirts when he dragged his lips up to whisper hotly in her ear. “We must be fast. We have but five minutes before we will be missed.”

Penelope took his earlobe between her teeth, tugging gently as her hands flew to the fall of his trousers, nimbly slipping each button from its hole as she spoke. “I feel so incomplete without your seed. Please, take me against the wall, as you did before. I wish to be able to feel you even tomorrow still.”

Colin’s jaw sagged at her vulgarism, realizing that he was twitching in her hand only after she began slowly pumping his shaft. He pressed against her, finally letting his digits find the heat between her thighs. They stroked one another a moment, reveling in the physical pleasure. Colin sealed his lips to hers, muting the surprised squeal that otherwise would have sounded when he hooked her knees with his hands and lifted her all at once onto his hips.

Some brief fumbling was all it took before he was inside her, sinking deep by letting her weight fall onto his hips. Their tongues continued to wrap together, both knowing by now it was the best way to prevent either from accidentally crying out.

He took her as she wished, hard against the wall. Each thrust jolted her body, gravity doing the work of bringing them back together. He dug his fingers into the soft skin of her hips, guiding her as he furiously pounded her gripping core.

Heightened by their passion, the relentless drive of their joining had each running headlong at the cliff, hurtling past the edge without reserve. Keening cries passed from Penelope’s throat directly into Colin’s, twisting their tongues as he burst against her pulsating womb. His movements slowed as her walls held him tight, the electricity of their shared climax humming between them.

As they caught their breath and drifted back into the present, their lips began kneading once more, each retracting their tongues now that the risk of an accidental exclamation had passed. After Colin gave her two dozen or so “last” kisses, he finally bent to lower her, allowing her legs to slip from his hips and guiding them down to the floor.

Penelope squeezed her thighs together the moment he pulled free of her, not wishing to sacrifice a single drop of the precious milk. She watched in quiet awe as Colin fussed over her, fixing her gown and hairpins, straightening her necklace, and drying the skin around her lips with his thumb. She leaned against the wall, enjoying the dull ache of satisfaction between her legs as Colin hurried to fix his own kit.

With one last press of their lips, he checked the corridor, leading her back to the top of the stairs where they first encountered one another. “Go ahead to the drawing room, I will wait a moment and then rejoin you all.”

He watched Penelope gracefully descend the staircase, frustrated that he did not have more time to spend nuzzled into the magnificent swells of her form this evening. As if dragged along by the very force of her, he found himself following after just as soon as she disappeared from his sight. He checked the dining room first and, finding his brothers had already crossed over, took up his abandoned rocks glass, gave it a shallow pour, and found his way to the drawing room.

Penelope was already at the pianoforte, leafing through the available sheet music and discussing something intently with Francesca. Colin let the sight of her light his face, allowing himself to be drawn directly to her side. Arriving at his intended destination, he took Penelope’s hand, kissing her knuckles as if she had not just left his arms two minutes prior.

Penelope laid the sheet music in the stand and took her seat on the bench. He looked at the title only to see she had selected one of his favorite songs to sing. Smiling warmly at her, it was clear to him that she had either already known, or asked Francesca for her help selecting something he would like. He realized in that moment that being married to Penelope would mean always being someone’s favorite. It was a heady feeling, knowing that someone as incredible as she was had chosen him; thought that he was special too.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder – he truly enjoyed that it was now permitted for him to touch her openly, even if only in small ways – and she turned to smile up at him. He resisted the urge to kiss her for the hundredth time that hour, nodding his approval over the song selection and his readiness to begin. She played beautifully, Colin boldly singing the ballad of a traveler coming home to find his true love had waited patiently for his return. He had always loved the song, but only in the abstract. To think of it now, it truly always was Penelope he returned for. And she had always waited for him.

The song came to an end and Penelope played another, and a third after that. He was well accustomed to her talent by now, but it rather seemed that he was the only one present who realized she played so prettily. The drawing room, filled with both their families, was enraptured, watching the two of them exhibition together. Penelope played more simply than Francesca, who had daily private lessons at her finishing school the year before, but the melodies were always correct and her timing flawless.

Colin reached over her as the third song ended, selecting a duet and placing it before her. Penelope tried to quietly refuse, but he had heard her sing several times now to Agatha, and knew she had no reason to hide her voice. When Anthony and Violet darted their eyes to Prudence, gripping their glasses tighter than necessary, Colin knew exactly the memory they were drawing on, and could not wait to prove them wrong.

The sweet sonnet performed between the two of them told the story of a young man and a young woman who met as children and grew to love one another as they matured. Sitting at her left, he played a basic Secondo to accompany her melody. Her voice was clear and bright, and while she would not be making her debut at the Royal Opera House any time soon, he found it lovely, and believed it paired perfectly with his.

Colin watched the tense look on his eldest brother’s face fade away, replaced with a sort of awe and intrigue that made a swell of pride rise in his chest. Both his and her mothers were watching on in much the same manner. Truth be told, all but Prudence were watching with sentimental expressions. And he was certain Prudence was simply annoyed not to be the center of attention.

The end of the song brought the end of their evening together, Portia standing and announcing her intention to retire to her home. Colin walked all three Featherington ladies back across the square, stealing one last goodnight kiss from his betrothed before returning to share a nightcap with his brothers.

Entering Anthony’s study, the bemused look in Benedict’s eyes – contrasting greatly with the consternation in their eldest brother’s – told him something must have been amiss.

“Interesting stain on your waistcoat, Colin.” Benedict chuckled, pointing to where he had spilled his brandy earlier that evening. Anthony’s half-hearted glare and skyward roll of his eyes brought his focus to where Benedict had gestured.

Blast! He forgot to change!

Chapter Text

Penelope walked into the Stowell ballroom, noticing immediately the way she was catching the attention of those already in attendance. For a moment, she considered there might be something garish in her appearance that was causing the response. But when she glanced down, the forest green dress, adorned with so many glittering crystals it positively shined, reminded her that the Ton had not seen much of her since her return to Town this Season, nor the product of the new lady’s maid and wardrobe that accompanied it. Then her eye caught on Colin’s betrothal ring. They were looking at her because she was the future Mrs. Bridgerton, and everyone wanted to know how exactly that had come to pass.

She did her best to keep her head held high as she searched for a familiar face from her mother’s side. Just as she began to scan to her right, the most familiar baritone rang out to her left. “Pen! Miss Penelope. Good evening.” She turned in time to watch Colin give her a formal bow, his eyes raking over her as he slowly rose.

“Good evening, Colin.” she replied, finding his formal address wholly unnecessary now that they were to be married. Portia had puffed herself up proudly, and was smirking at every other mama that had turned their attention her way.

Colin took up her wrist, adding his name in three places to her dance card, then offered his elbow for a turn about the room. The ballroom was well-appointed, although smaller than the Featherington or Bridgerton’s, decked out in a rather predictable pink and white motif. But Lady Stowell was infamous for her refreshments table, and it seemed that tonight, she would not disappoint.

“Eclairs!” Colin exclaimed, dropping Penelope’s arm from his elbow and immediately plating two, handing the second off to his fiancee. He bit into his as soon as his hand was freed, groaning into the carnal pleasure the was rich fudge and pastry cream.

While Penelope knew it was typically considered unbecoming for young ladies to eat unwieldy pastries such as an eclair in public, the anticipatory look and nod of encouragement that came from Colin as he chewed was enough for her to hang propriety and take her own considerable bite. It immediately proved to be in error, however, as a not insignificant dollop of the custard filling fell from the confection, landing squarely atop her exposed decolletage.

Colin nearly choked, guttural sounds repeating in his throat, sounding something like “Gah, gah, gah…” In his mind, he had already gripped her firmly by the waist, diving directly into Cupid’s kettledrums tongue first, sucking the sweet cream from her skin. Somewhere else inside his head, a tiny Anthony was rather loudly chastising him, pleading for him to behave himself in public. He would listen. To a degree.

Penelope had flushed at her blunder, beginning to turn away in search of a serviette to clear the mess when Colin caught her wrist, stopping her retreat and spinning her back to face him once more. “Allow me.” was all he said before reaching for her chest, firmly swiping the cream up with his finger. She watched his action in stunned disbelief, reacting with nothing but a soft gasp.

They both eyed the pale yellow glob as he lifted it from her chest. Colin looked away first, barreling his heavy gaze into hers instead. She met his stare, seeing the mischief written on his face as he leaned in close, slowly raising his finger towards her mouth. He parted his lips and let his jaw sag slightly, the daring expression communicating that he wanted her to lean in and suck the cream from the extended digit. Hesitating, her eyes flitted between the offered reward and his darkly encouraging face until she finally worked up the nerve to bend forward. Just as she parted her lips, allowing Colin to see the desire and want in her stare, he suddenly retracted his finger, quickly drawing it out of her reach before plunging it directly into his own mouth.

“Colin!” she whined, forgetting herself entirely and playfully smacking his forearm. It was only then the Penelope noticed the dozens of pairs of eyes watching their every move. She quickly stepped back and cast her gaze to the floor, watching from her periphery as the onlookers turned away, going about their business now that they had been caught gawking. Colin did not seem to notice nor care however, sucking and slowly dragging his finger from between his lips.

“You are incorrigible.” she declared, shaking her head in a playful scold. She would have to include this in tomorrow’s column, but was already thinking of ways to turn the incident to their benefit.

“And you,” he extended his hand, “owe me this dance.”

The first waltz of the evening allowed Penelope the relative privacy she required to broach the topic she had been waiting for all day. They stepped and turned in easy time, dancing together always coming as naturally as their conversations flowed. She dropped her voice to the barest whisper, leaning in to ensure that only he could hear. “Colin, there is something of great importance I wish to discuss.”

He inclined his head only an instant before allowing his perfect posture to return, a false smile hiding the intrigue she saw behind his eyes. “Whatever could it be?”

Penelope gathered her courage through the next turn, a fortifying breath readying her to tell Colin of her discovery. “I have learned something somewhat… disturbing. I am not quite certain. But I believe that it merits further investigation.”

“You are making me nervous, darling. Of what do you speak?” Colin’s brow was furrowing despite his best attempts to keep his face neutral.

Penelope bobbed her head twice before beginning her explanation. “After you taught me how to read your books the other night, I began to become somewhat… curious. And then listening to my mother speak at dinner last night, I found I could no longer suppress my wonderings. After mama and Prudence went to bed, I visited the study.”

Colin twirled her around, replacing his hand tighter against her waist than he should. “You cheeky devil.” he replied.

Penelope did not match his mischievous grin however, swallowing back a lump in her throat. “Something is dreadfully wrong with the numbers, Colin. I… I cannot tell all as we are now, but…”

“But what? Whatever it is, Pen, I assure you I can take it on. Is it debt? I am expecting as much.” Colin was frantically studying her face, trying to understand why she was suddenly so serious when they had already discussed how deeply the potential would outweigh any upfront expenditures.

“It is not that.” Penelope shook her head feebly, looking to the floor in frustration. “Although you were correct to expect it. Taxes have not been paid on the estate in three years. The debt is just more than £19,000. But there is something else.”

She watched Colin’s eyes blaze slightly at confirmation of the hefty sum. In truth, both knew it could have been much worse – neither had known for certain how long her papa had been hiding his debts – and the figure was of a size that Colin’s income would reasonably manage to overcome in just a few years. That is, without considering any potential rental income.

Colin was watching her carefully with a furrowed brow when she lifted her chin again. She waited until the next series of turns was complete before continuing. “It is from the season before last. There are several… it appears to be wagers. Which do not pay out. And then there is one very large one. The week before papa died. It is marked down as paid the night before, as if he won. A sizable percentage of the winnings is listed as paid to a third party. But then…”

Penelope froze, just as the dance was coming to an end. Colin seemed to understand there was something further she wished to say, and suggested they take the air on the balcony. He escorted her outside, taking up a position where they were quite visible but still in relative privacy from would be prying ears. Gesturing for her to continue, Penelope sighed deeply, squeezing a little tighter around his elbow, finally finishing her explanation. “Then the hand writing changes. I believe it is my mother’s. All of the money from the wager appears gone. As if… as if it were taken from him before he died.”

Colin visibly stiffened as the meaning of her words washed over him. The air was still between them as they both thought of the implications. Turning towards her and taking up her free hand with his, Colin squeezed, dropping his voice low and serious. “Have you spoken to anyone else about this, Pen? Anyone at all?”

“No. Only you.”
“Not even your mama?”
“Especially not her.”
“Good. Good.”
“Colin?”
“You must not speak of it with anyone else at all until we know more.”
“Alright.”
“No one at all. Pen?”
“Yes, Colin?”
“This may be dangerous.”

***

Once the ball was over and Penelope had made her way home, she completed work on the next morning’s column as quickly as her quill would fly. The draft was already near done; on late nights such as this she would write each section on separate pieces of stationary, allowing her to splice in the latest gossip and rearrange the stories by prominence without needing to rewrite the entire column.

It took no time at all before she had crafted a cheeky dramatization of one Colin Bridgerton’s love for all things sweet, as well as the Author’s keen observation that three dances together notwithstanding, the gentleman in question seemed rather head over heels for his betrothed. She tucked away the draft, donned her disguise, and headed out to bring the draft to Colin.

This time, Colin was waiting at the end of the mews, just inside the shadows, when she arrived. He wasted no time greeting her with a kiss, then grabbed her by the hand and swiftly escorted her inside to his study. “I will deliver the draft straight away so that we have more time to speak.”

Penelope nodded her agreement, dragging the draft out from between her breasts, and handing it off to her fiancee. Colin only stopped to gawk a few seconds before quickly embracing and kissing her, pocketing the key, reminding her to lock the door behind him, and scurrying out.

The study seemed far more still than it had the last time she was left there alone. She paced the length of the room twice before settling behind Colin’s desk once more. Her mind was far too distracted to read, and she wished to keep her head clear, steering clear of the rum tonight. Always feeling more focused when she wrote, Penelope dragged out a piece of foolscap and the ink and quill set from the drawer.

The only thing on her mind was the books she had pored over the night before, so she began writing down all she could recall. She remembered the tax figures, the interest rate charged against the debt, all the recurring expenses. For clarity, she added in what was wholly absent from her father’s books – income. It had become apparent to Penelope that several years ago, the income from rents had dried up altogether. Vague memories of conversations from when she was a young girl danced in her head; a picture coming together of neglected properties, fed up tenants, and her parents – entirely aloof to the future implications of their failure to act.

An understanding of what had truly happened to her family’s wealth began to crystallize. Her father had failed to maintain the tenancies or the lands. Had refused to pay for a proper steward to do it for him. With mismanaged and unproductive land and crumbling housing, the tenants left, unwilling to pay what little monies they made to a deadbeat landlord. They had investments, surely, but between the yearly tax bill and her mother’s refusal to live anywhere but at the forefront of Society and fashion, each year would have dug a little further at the principal. Her papa did not seem to either recognize nor attempt to remedy the situation until it was far too late, gambling away the last dregs of the fortune.

Except that he did not. He had won that last bet, dramatically refilling the previously depleted coffers. As she wrote what she could recall of the details, dates and percentages – but not those initials that were written next to that large payout – she began to wonder what reason her papa might have had for paying someone that large a sum out of his winnings. Surely a debt that large would have been recorded, as were all the others. If it were too nefarious to note, there would be no reason to log its payment either.

And what of the disappearance of the money? It coincided exactly with her father’s death. Certainly her mother could have nothing to do with it, for when she took over keeping the books not a week later, there was nothing left. The winter they had spent subsisting on nothing but potatoes and cabbage certainly did not indicate her mother had simply held out the money for herself. No, that money had something to do with her father’s death.

Colin was slightly out of breath and wide eyed when he returned, bounding in through the study door. He did not come to a stop until he was behind her, bent and reading over her shoulder while haphazardly depositing the blunt from Mr. Harris to the side of the paper. Colin examined the replicated columns of dates and numbers, tracing down the margin with this thumb. His rapid breathing grew slightly ragged, then halted altogether a moment.

“You did this from memory? How… sure are you of this? Of the numbers? And the dates?”

Penelope scanned her work once over before responding. “Quite. The dates I cannot forget. Of the numbers I am nearly certain. But most especially of the last entries. I committed those to memory because – well – as I said. Something is most dreadfully wrong.”

Colin sunk to his knees at her side then, taking up her hands in his. “Penelope, I see it too. And I must ask you before I say anything further at all. Do you wish to know? Simply say the word, and I will allow none of this to ever concern you again. Or we can discuss it. And if you wish then, it will remain between us alone. It can go no further than these four walls if you like.”

Penelope took her time considering his words. She knew it would never be proper to discuss such matters with a lady. The fact that Colin was giving her the option at all was further evidence of his progressive mind, just one of the many qualities she loved and admired about him. But she had already reached the conclusion she was certain he had, and knew that her mind would never be quieted if they did not address the matter together. She needed to hear him say it. “Please. I already believe that I… but… I need to know.”

Colin stood again, looking at the figures and dates before them both. Pointing at one, he asked in careful tones, “This. This here is the day that your papa…”

Penelope nodded, understanding his meaning even as he trailed off. “Yes.” she muttered.

“I know it because it is the day before I left for my first tour. I had it marked on my calendar, my journal, my tickets… I would recognize that date anywhere.”

“As would I. For… similar reasons.” Penelope’s gaze dropped to her lap, recalling the evening in which she tried to tell Colin of her love for him, only to be cut off and informed that he was leaving for his tour the very next morning. Just when she thought her evening could not get any worse, she had arrived home with her mother and sisters only to learn that her papa had died.

“Come.” Colin rose to his feet, extending his hand to her. She allowed him to assist her up and lead her to the sofa. Once they settled in, Colin took up both of her her hands again, shifting so that they were pressed together, but facing one another. He heaved a breath, clearly upset by the information he had learned. “Pen. It looks like your father placed a rather sizeable wager on something just before…”

Penelope had ascertained as much, and nodded her agreement. “Yes, and it appears he won. What I do not understand is why he would give away such a large portion. There were only initials in the space for the payee, but I could not recall them, I am sorry.”

Colin only squeezed her hands tighter, lifting them to his chest. “No, darling. You have done perfectly. You are brilliant to remember as much as you did. It is… uncanny. But it is something to look out for the next time you have the opportunity. It should be an important lead.”

“Lead?”

“Ah, yes. Pen, your father. While I know that you cared for him as his daughter, and I do not intend to speak ill of the deceased. He was known to have a penchant for… a… rather reckless gambling habit.” Penelope kept her mouth in a thin line, nodding her understanding. She had not known of it prior, but the new information matched her knowledge of her father’s character, and she knew Colin had no reason to invent such facts.

Another heaved breath – it was clear Colin was uncomfortable discussing such things with her – and he continued his explanation. “It looks as if you papa fixed a bet. Paid someone off to ensure an outcome.”

Penelope gasped at this revelation. As a lady, she knew very little of gambling – the formal sort at any rate – and did not know that such a thing was even possible. It had not occurred to her that the reason the funds had disappeared was that they had not been won fairly in the first place. “So he did not earn the money, even though it appeared he won the wager?”

“That is how it appears. And such a wager probably was not made between gentlemen; the note held by a disreputable bookie. In all likelihood, the rouse was discovered, and they attempted to recover their lost funds.”

“But when he did not have it all…” Penelope began to see the bigger picture.

“Pen. There is no easy way to tell you this. But based on the evidence before us. I believe your papa was murdered.”

Penelope gritted her teeth and tried to keep her face placid, but a few hot tears fell anyway. Colin surged forward to catch them with his thumbs, soothing her cheekbones and shaking his head. “I am sorry. I am so sorry, Pen. I knew I should not have…”

“No!” she interjected. “I am upset, but I am glad to know the truth. It is far more upsetting to be held in the dark.” She jutted out her chin, trying her best to make her face brave despite all that she had just learned.

“Oh, Pen.” Colin gentled, opening his arms and pulling her to his chest. “Of course. Of course.” He stroked her hair and held her tight, and Penelope knew that he was not patronizing her. When her breathing steadied and she leaned back to look at his face once more, he was waiting patiently, a question waiting in his features.

“What is it?” she murmured nervously, unsure how much more she could endure.

“Only, I will leave it up to you. It has been some time now, and there is no reason to believe that whoever killed your father is still attempting to recoup the other half of their money. Although…”

“No!” the cry fell from her lips before he even finished the thought himself. “You do not mean to imply?”

Solemnly, he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it where her ring was perched. “If I have to pay them outright to protect myself and our family, I can and I will.” His voice was low and deadly serious as he continued. “If you tell me to leave it lie, and hope that we hear nothing further on the matter, I will do that as well. But my preference, Pen? Is to look into it. I know how to be discreet. I have done it before with your cousin Jack. Finding and bringing the men who killed your father to justice is the only way to truly ensure it is settled.”

Penelope leaned back into the sofa, slumping her posture more than he had seen before. Closing her eyes, she raised the back of her wrist to her forehead, attempting to process all of the information she had just received. “Pen, you do not have to decide now. I will wait until –”

“No. I simply needed a moment to gather myself. You may proceed as you see fit. I only ask that you limit yourself to inquiry for now. Unless you are in immediate danger, I would prefer it if we were to discuss what you learn before you take any action.” The nervous quiver in her voice was the only thing that gave away her anxiety over the entire situation.

“Of course, Pen. I will not take any precarious risks. I have you and Aggie to think of. First, always. I love you.” It was his final words that made the tears fall once more.

Colin pressed in to kiss her, damp and salty and messy though it was. She was pliant under his touch, sinking back into the sofa as he followed atop her. Soon, she was laid down beneath him, kissing him back tenderly, hands clinging to his broad, muscled shoulders. They kissed like that a time until Colin eventually craned his head back to speak. “We do not have to, Pen. Especially not tonight if you do not wish to…”

“I especially wish to tonight, Colin. I feel safe in your arms. It is the only place I wish to be at present.” Her hands fell to the front of his trousers, stroking gently until his manhood came to life. She freed him from his confines as he bared her lower half to him, each using their finger tips to tease the other until they could stand their separation no longer. Colin surrounded her again with his imposing torso, taking her lips between his as he disappeared himself between her thighs.

Delicate kisses trailed across her cheeks, still wet with her tears, as he slowly screwed into her. “Oh, Colin.” she shuddered, her eyes still filled with emotion. “I so dearly wish to carry your child. To have you and keep you inside me. Please.” She clung to him, holding his body tight to hers as their hips worked together.

The intimacy of the position and her words had Colin’s heart pounding in his chest, even as the exertion of their movements remained minimal. That she believed in him, even through all that had happened. Relied on him. Trusted him. Wanted him. Colin had spent most of his life always feeling as if a consolation prize. But never with Penelope. She always chose him first. And he knew he would do anything at all for her favor.

Colin crashed his cheek against hers, softly whimpering into her ear as the feeling of her warmth enveloped him over and over. “I love you, Pen. I love you. We will have so many children together. So many years. I will always fight for another of your smiles. Always protect you.”

Penelope brought her hand to his cheek, turning his lips to hers. Their passion was quiet after that, but only because words were not needed for the other to hear the call of their mate. They held one another through their mutual release, continuing to do so for several minutes after, until sleep was threatening to take them both.

Forcing themselves apart and upright, they began the business of getting Penelope ready to return to her mother’s.

***

The next morning, Colin woke early, his mind already buzzing with thoughts of Penelope’s father and what had transpired the week before he quit London for Greece. He called on Dunwoody to dress him for the day, having a mind to visit Will’s gym for a few rounds in the ring to blow off some of the anxieties he had over seeking out Archibald Featherington’s murderers.

Once he was dressed, he asked Dunwoody to see to it that Mrs. Oliver prepared a light breakfast. Only some plum cake, a few soft boiled eggs, a cut of cheese, and a pot of tea would do. Then he moved down the hall to visit Aggie.

Visiting Aggie was one of his favorite parts of the day. He had learned that Mrs. Jolie liked to rise early in the morning, and believed it imperative to good sleep that the child did as well. Colin did not dare tell Mrs. Jolie that Aggie liked nothing more than sleep, and was never truly at risk of the alternative. He assumed it would be better to leave such determinations to the nurse, so long as it did no harm. The consequence being, when he rapped lightly against the nursery door, he was greeted by a brightly smiling and fully dressed baby girl, ready for her morning visit with papa.

“Papa!” the tiny red head squealed, her word likely unintelligible to anyone who did not spend weeks on end conversing with her excited babble. He grabbed her by the tiny hands she held out to him, pulling her clean off her rocking horse and swinging her in a circle until peals of laughter were bursting from her chest. Mrs. Jolie sat by watching as he seated Aggie on his hip and began interviewing her about last night’s rest, whether she liked today’s dress, had she enjoyed a new story yet this morn, and did she think Mrs. Oliver’s plum cake was as delectable as he did. Aggie of course followed his questions intently, nodding her head and clapping her hands together as if she understood every word, burbling sounds acting as her response.

Colin offered Mrs. Jolie a break, which she declined, happy to pick up her needlework while he sat on the floor, pretending to show great interest in the new dollies. Five nursery rhymes, a song, and a bout of tickles later, Colin covered the child’s face in kisses, returning her to the rocking horse from whence he had first retrieved her.

He bid the child farewell, who at first returned his happy countenance. Colin watched however, as the sparkle in her eyes shifted, dimming into something that looked more like memory and yearning. “Mama?” she asked, looking to the door. Colin’s heart shattered into ten thousand pieces.

Colin immediately dropped to his knees at her side. He looked at her directly, speaking to her as if a fully grown young lady and not an infant of eleven or so months. “Your mama will be back in a week. Just a few more days darling. Papa has to marry her before she is allowed to come home. I miss her too. And she you. But I promise, once she is back, you will never have to miss her again.”

He watched Aggie’s tiny lower lip jut out, quivering slightly before he swept her into his arms once more. “I love you, my sweet. And your mama loves you too. You just try to have fun playing with Mrs. Jolie, and I will be back to take our dinner and pianoforte lessons together.”

She finally giggled at his last words. Ever since Penelope had returned to her mothers, without her to play for their dancing, Colin had taken to allowing Aggie in his lap at the piano bench, his crude songs accompanied by Aggie’s enthusiastic slapping of the keys. It was riotous indeed, but he figured even Francesca had to start somewhere. Evenings such as those were quickly becoming his favorite, although he did not dare tell Penelope of them for fear knowledge of what she was missing would make the time all the more difficult to pass.

Colin smacked his lips to Aggie’s cheeks one last time, the cheer having returned to her disposition, and made his way downstairs to leave for the day.

***

Colin ducked the right hook aimed squarely for his jaw but failed to dodge the body blow that followed from the left in quick succession. The wind knocked clean out of him, he stumbled back slightly, waiving his hands in front of his face to let Will know he needed a moment to recover.

Treading over to the post at the corner of the ring, he let his bare back lean against the prickly ropes. It was eerily quiet in the otherwise empty gym, his softly straining gasps somehow filling the vast space.

“That’s okay Bridgerton. I’m not surprised to see you go soft in your old age. Just like your brothers.”

Colin wheezed a laugh, shaking his head as he struggled to catch his breath. “Although, I must say. You don’t look like you spent much time idle while you were gone. Those training tips paid off then?”

A grin washed over his face. He knew just how much he had filled out his upper body while he was at sea. “One can only spend so much time playing cards with the same dozen gentleman.”

Will laughed freely at the idea of Colin cooped up for weeks on end. The young gentleman he knew was not one to sit back and allow the world to spin around him. Colin was a doer; he needed to see and explore and learn and do for himself in order to fully experience life. Which is why news of his impending nuptials had struck him as rather surprising. “So, tell me this news I hear about you getting leg shackled isn’t truth.”

Puffing with pride, Colin confirmed the news. “I am. A week from today in fact. To Miss Penelope Featherington.”

Will about choked. Not being one to regularly scour the gossip sheets, and having heard the news largely in passing from patrons of his bar, he had thus far only heard that the third Bridgerton brother was engaged. Certainly not the name of the lucky lady. “Colin. Have I not warned you in the past off getting involved with the Featheringtons? You must not entangle –”

“I am afraid it is far too late for that.” Colin announced over top of Will’s words. “I find myself rather inextricably in love with Miss Penelope. And in decent position to become head of the Featherington family mind you.”

Will just shook his head. “You do not know what you involve yourself in.” he drawled, his tone a clear warning.

Colin’s gut was screaming at him to put Will back in his place, whether with his words or, considering the game afoot already, his fists. But he had heeded Will’s warning in the past, learning a great deal by following his advice. Of course, nothing at all would stand in the way of his marrying Penelope. But he wondered if Will might know more about her father’s past. Had he not compared Jack Featherington to his late cousin? There was something about mistakenly condoning unscrupulous actions.

“Then, pray tell me.”

A wave of uncertainty crossed through the imposing man’s eyes. Colin was not used to seeing him so ill at ease. “Your words can do nothing to sway my intention to wed Miss Penelope. She will be my wife. But if there is business I need to know of. Perhaps… business concerning her late father?” He allowed his brow and his voice to raise in question, indicating his suspicions, before continuing on. “Then I implore you to hold back no further. Whether or not we are lucky enough to be blessed with a first son, they will be my family. I need to know how to protect them. And who I am to protect them from.”

Will put his knuckles in the air, inviting Colin to step back into the ring with him. He used the towel that was draped over the corner post to wipe the sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead, then assumed his position.

The two men wasted no time, circling one another and seeking the perfect strike. Colin was patient, having learned that Will’s biggest weakness came when he was forced to engage first. He faked him a few times, watching his face closer than his hands or feet. He saw Will begin to move with eyes first, reading his path and deftly dodging it, landing a succession of body blows before his adversary could pivot to defend himself.

“Excellent, Bridgerton. Not as slow as I thought you would be.” Will grinned at him as they began to circle again.

“You, sir, are the master. I am merely following your lessons.” Colin waited again, frustrating his opponent until he lunged. This time Colin hopped back out of his way, letting Will stumble forward as momentum carried him free of his balance. Will scowled up at him a moment before lunging again, thinking he would catch Colin off guard. But Colin was ready, a forceful hit to the chest and an uppercut knocking Will back hard. This time it was Will who surrendered his hands and retreated to his corner.

“Tell me what you know about Archibald Featherington.” Colin said as nonchalantly as he could muster, leaning back against the ropes.

Will raised his eyes only to stare down his friend. “Colin. These are dangerous waters you are treading.”

Colin stalked over to him, standing close not to be threatening, but to convey his understanding of the gravity of the matter. “I am already all too aware, Will. Pen has seen his books. We believe him to have been killed over a matter of a bad wager. But I have only learned of it yesterday eve. Tell me what you know of Archibald Featherington.”

Will’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish until finally a look of determination crossed his features. “What I am to tell you, only my wife knows. You must not share this with anyone else.” The broad man gulped visibly. “It could get me killed.”

“I must share whatever I learn with Pen. I can promise you that it will go no further.”

Will shook his head slowly. “Are you certain you can trust her? She is a Feathering–”

“She is to be a Bridgerton. My wife, Will. You of anyone should understand what it is to make a life aside from your parents. Pen is all that is good. There is no one in this life that I trust more.”

Colin knew he had landed the final blow to his resistance when Will’s shoulders dropped and he heaved a sigh. “You are right about the wager. He put his house up on a boxing match.”

Will searched Colin’s eyes for understanding, but hearing that Featherington house was the collateral in that final wager had sent a chill up his spine. He could dwell on nothing else a moment, unable to imagine acting so irresponsibly when he had a wife and daughters to support. “How could he risk such a thing?”

Nothing was given away in Will’s face, placid and still and maddeningly calm. “Because there was no risk. He fixed it with one of champs to take a dive. He paid out half his winnings for it.” Colin was stunned into silence, the wheels turning as he tried to understand how Will had learned all this while no such rumor circulated the Ton. “When the bookies realized they’d been had, they came to recoup their loss. To send a message. Lord Featherington turned out a true gentleman in the end. They took everything he had left, but he never gave up the boxer who agreed to help him. And he was most likely killed for it.”

The short, anxious breaths and the single tear that dripped down the side of Will’s cheek told the rest of the story. “You?” he whispered, as if confirmation at any louder a volume would be somehow more damning. Will nodded his response.

Colin stopped to consider the bar that Will had invested in between social seasons. He always silently pondered what possessed his friend to furnish the space with ostentatious displays of gilded feathers atop tall columns. He now understood the décor to be an homage.

“My god, I was at that fight. I remember… Anthony was shagging the opera singer under the stands, but Benedict and I thought you must have got clipped wrong in the head. You just stopped fighting back.”

Will grimaced. “I never was made for the stage.”

Colin let the jest relax him slightly. He turned to lean against the ropes at Will’s side, hoping to convey that he was with him in this. “Do you worry? That they seek repayment still? It has been nearly two years.”

“Two years is hardly any time at all when you consider the sum they were cheated of.” Will replied flatly. It was true, Lord Featherington had paid out more than £25,000 to the man; a fortune large enough to keep any one in the lap of luxury for a lifetime. Colin knew he could pay it out if he were forced to with his life, but it would mean selling off investments and affecting his income. Especially with the outstanding estate tax compounding matters, it would be a hard financial hit. Should the same figure come due on Will however, it would ruin him.

“I should like to find them. Before they find me.”

Will startled. “You? Why would they look for you?”

“Because the moment Penelope has a son, I will become the next head of the Featherington family. If they are still seeking to collect, I would seem a prime target.”

The man at Colin’s side went silent and ashen. “I could not allow that to happen. Dash it, Bridgerton. I warned you about getting involved with the Featheringtons.”

“I have been involved with the Featheringtons far longer than I have known you.” He smiled because he knew he spoke the truth. He had been involved with the Featheringtons since the day he and Penelope met. It may have taken him a rather peculiar set of circumstances to finally admit to himself what that truly meant. But in hindsight, he was sure it was fated from the start that he and Penelope wind up together.

The two men stood silent for a time, considering the peril that faced them. Colin seemed to gather his courage, asking directly what plagued him most. “Do you know then? Who they are? The bookies that is.”

Will gave a tight nod. “I have an idea, although I am uncertain. There were only a few that would take a wager so large. Less who would take a gentleman’s deed as collateral. But. Why would you ask after them? You do not mean to seek them out?”

Colin turned to face Will again, ensuring he could not mistake the determination written in his features. “Indeed I do. They murdered Penelope’s father. They must be brought to justice.”

Chapter Text

Colin loved calling on Penelope. He never thought it could become something he enjoyed so thoroughly. When he briefly courted Lady Crane, there were either too many other gentlemen circling or just a strange dynamic as he found his attention constantly drawn to Penelope. He did not know anything about her in truth, and found himself making quick and thoughtless decisions at the florist. That was never the case with Penelope.

Not only did he care far more deeply about what Pen would like or be interested in, he knew her well enough to choose courting gifts that actually meant something. He had almost made a game of it, working to make her smile even brighter each time than it had been the day before. Today he had brought along an ornately carved writing box. While he would see to it of course that she had a desk of her own in the study, he thought it might be nice for her to have a portable writing slant should she wish to write in the drawing room or nursery while Aggie played nearby. The box was like a self-contained desk, neatly holding stationery, quills and ink, and sealing accouterments, and unfolding to create a writing surface out of any table. He had always wished for one during his travels.

She lit up like the sun at midday when she finally pulled the paper away, outdoing all her past smiles by leagues. “Oh, Colin! It is gorgeous!”

“Nothing at all compared to you, my love.” He enjoyed laying it on a little extra thick in front of her mother and sister. It was a rather delightful to watch the blush rise on her cheeks as she checked and confirmed that they had in fact been listening on, their attempts to appear unaffected failing miserably. As much as Colin wished to discuss all he had learned that morning, he knew he would have to wait until promenade that evening before they would have enough relative privacy to discuss such sensitive matters.

This visit would be purely for courting purposes.

“How was your morning? I trust you slept well after spinning me around Lady Stowell’s ballroom all evening?” Penelope smirked, knowing full well that he had not had the opportunity to sleep until much later that night.

“Of course, my darling Penelope. You positively wore me out.” It was now his turn to smirk, the true meaning of his words not missing her for a moment.

“Lady Whistledown certainly seemed to have her eye on the two of you last evening!” Portia chimed in. The two feigned embarrassment, the article detailing the incident involving errant pastry cream and an impulsive maneuver to assist the lady in distress carried out by one Mister Colin Bridgerton. Penelope had waxed poetic in her writing about the obvious attraction the third Bridgerton seemed to have towards her handsomely vested figure, claiming there was no room left for doubt after that evening that he was well and truly besotted. The article went on to extol their three dances, failure to leave the other’s company the whole of the night, and seemingly never ceasing conversation at the exclusion of all others. She ended the column by declaring them the envy of the Ton, pointing out that she, for one, had grossly underestimated Miss Penelope Featherington whom it seemed was of greater intrigue than anyone had previously credited. She was in fact, something more.

“I do apologize for any… unwanted attention I may have brought.” Colin offered, visibly chewing his cheek to keep from grinning like the cat who – quite literally – got the cream.

Portia made a sound that neither were certain was a huff or a stifled laugh, but regardless, turned her attention back to writing out the last of the wedding announcements. Penelope had helped most of the morning – putting one of the quills he had brought her Sunday to good use – getting through nearly the entire pile with her mother before Colin had arrived. It was rather surreal, putting ink to parchment over and over declaring the date and time she and Colin were to marry. Stranger still was watching her mother’s proud and satisfied smile that only seemed to grow as the work dragged on.

After both were convinced Portia had fully immersed herself back in her task, they turned toward one another, Colin taking up both her hands in his. They spent the rest of the hour as such, discussing plans for Friday’s ball, held in their honor, wedding preparations, and all manner of other topics they could discuss in company. Each could see the longing behind the other’s eyes to toss off the bonds of propriety. But for now, they would try to be content with the chance to spend the afternoon together.

At the end of the hour, Colin made plans to collect Penelope at six for promenade, then asked that she see him out. When they were alone, descending the great staircase in the front hall, Colin was finally able to speak freely. “I have news. I will share more during our walk this evening. I boxed with Will Mondrich this morning, and I now know much more than we did last eve.”

Penelope’s eyes were more fearful than he had seen them before. “What kind of news? Should I have cause for concern?”

“No more than last night.” he answered honestly, squeezing the hand he was holding. “But I have confirmed several details and learned who was involved. I have some leads.”

Penelope nodded, understanding that now was not the proper time for Colin to explain all to her, but finding herself with questions nonetheless. “The initials… I slipped away to check this morning when I excused myself to the retiring room. They are W.M. The same as…”

“Indeed. He confessed as much to me this morning. But he is a good man, Pen. I trust him.”

Penelope chewed her lip, evaluating whether her trust of Colin extended to those he trusted. She determined it did. “Alright.” she said simply, eager to learn everything he had, but resigned to the fact that she would have to wait until later that evening before they could properly speak.

Colin kissed her hand, then remembering he could damned well get away with kissing her properly, threw a glance over his shoulder, then snapped her tight to him by the waist. He dipped his lips to hers, massaging them together. He only intended to kiss her quickly, but the seconds were turning to minutes, his tongue sliding against hers, when he heard the sharp clearing of Portia Featherington’s throat echo down from the top of the stairs.

“Pe-nellllll-opeeeee?” she called as they quickly broke apart. “Do come back up when you are quite finished. I have completed the announcements and would like you to proof them before I have them sent out.”

Penelope turned bright pink when they both spotted Portia at the top of the staircase, thankfully having had the decency to have turned her back to them. Colin could not bite his cheek hard enough to prevent the wicked grin that settled across his features.

He faced his blushing bride-to-be, bowing deeply and formally, just in case Portia had turned back around, and begged his leave. “I shall come to collect you at six for the evening’s Promenade. Good day, Pen.”

When Penelope returned to the drawing room, it was several minutes before she could find it in her to look her mother in the eye. When curiosity won out and she eventually did, her mother was positively beaming at her, and Penelope swore the woman even winked. “Lady Whistledown is never wrong, is she?” her mother cooed. “I will not pretend to know how you did it my dear. But whatever it is that you have done to him, do not ever stop.”

***

“Newton!” Anthony hissed again as the sweet Corgi trotted up between Colin and Penelope’s ankles.

Penelope dropped Colin’s elbow, in actuality quite glad for the momentary break from conversation. She smiled down at the dog, bending to gently pat his head and offer him her praise.

“I am so sorry.” Kate said, exasperated as she approached. “He never seems to mind when Anthony accompanies us!”

“That is because he likes me better!” Colin proudly announced, leaning down and scratching behind Newton’s ears until the dog’s entire backside was shaking back and forth in excitement.

“Do not tell your –”

“Who likes you better?” Anthony asked, finally catching up to the group.

“Newton, of course!” Colin repeated, smiling innocently despite Kate’s fierce glare. Penelope could not help the bursting laughter that rushed from her when Anthony audibly grumbled his reply.

“Oh, I see, Miss Featherington. Is that how it is going to be?” Anthony glowered at her.

Penelope immediately turned pale, falling silent under his eye. “I – I am – I am so sorry, Lord Bridgerton.” she stammered.

“No, Pen –” Colin started.

Kate forcefully smacked the back of her hand across Anthony’s chest. His brow furrowed, eyes darting quickly to those of the Viscountess. They had a rapid fire but silent conversation before the Viscount turned back to his soon to be sister in law. “My apologies, Miss Penelope. I meant no harm – I was speaking only in jest.”

“Oh!” she managed to squeak as Colin took her arm, winding it back onto his elbow and pulling her protectively into his side.

“Do not allow him to intimidate you. He is all bark and no bite.” Colin quipped. Penelope finally caught on to the dynamic, snorting a laugh at his pun. Anthony turned his sharp eyes on Colin who raised his free hand defensively. “The dog, of course!”

Kate commanded Newton to sit, shooing Colin and Penelope down the path to continue on their walk. Colin raised an eyebrow at his brother, clearly implying that he ought to sit as ordered. Kate rolled her eyes at him, then exchanged knowing smiles with Penelope. Anthony softened his features to nod at Penelope, then went right back to scowling as Colin turned and walked the two of them away.

“Is he always like that?” Penelope asked carefully, inclining her head as if working out a rather interesting puzzle.

“Who, Anthony?”
“No, Newton.”
“Oh, well I –”
“Of course, Anthony!”

Colin paused a step to look down at the mischief dancing in his fiancee’s eyes, finding no other option but to smile when he found it there. Continuing down the path, he nodded thoughtfully. “Anthony can be very serious. Genuinely so. So much so that even his idea of humor sometimes appears quite solemn until you understand it. I take great pleasure from prodding at the facade until it cracks.”

“As does the Viscountess it would seem.” Penelope raised her brows to emphasize her point.

“And that is precisely why we all knew that they were meant to be together.” he muttered.

Penelope was visibly shocked by his statement. “You do not mean before? Not when… what about Miss Edwina?”

“She is a lovely young lady, but she is far too diplomatic to be Anthony’s wife. He would have been dreadfully bored. And she… she would have been… disappointed, I believe.”

Penelope walked quietly at his arm a few feet as she tried to process what she had just learned. “And you do not believe that you might become… bored? With me that is?”

Colin scoffed loudly, looking at her as if she had gone quite mad. “Never.” he hissed. “No one has your wit. Your sharpness. Your brilliance. Pen, I only hope that I am able to continue to keep up with you!”

“I quite like you just as you are. But who, alas, can love and then be wise?” Her Byron quote had him looking at her in hunger until they both burst into a fit of laughter, gripping their sides and bending over.

“Did – did you – just call – me foolish?” he choked out between gasps for air.

Penelope shook her head as she rocked backward; the back of her hand attempting to stifle her tittering. “Certainly not! I could not imagine implying such a thing!” she fibbed.

“Bored my eye.” Colin grumbled, tugging her hand back to his elbow and pulling her onward. “We truly should speak of the… other matter.” he reminded her. He had just finished explaining all he had learned that morning from boxing with Will when Newton interrupted their conversation.

“I am unsure what else there is to discuss.” Penelope replied honestly.

“Well, for one thing, it is not only confirmed. I know who to look into now. There are but a few possibilities.”

Penelope swallowed tightly, looking ahead down the path. “Why should you look into it at all? They have not come after Mister Mondrich, nor Cousin Jack or my mama. Why would it be any different with you?”

“It might not be.” he allowed, layering his hand over the one perched on his arm. “But it might. It will remain something hanging over us unless it is managed. Preventing us from true happiness. And it would be better to act now, before I have any actual connection to the estate. It will be easier to make inquiries without raising suspicion.”

“Will you and Mr. Mondrich work together?”
“Perhaps. I have not yet determined.”
“And what will you do? Once they are known to you?”
“I have not yet determined that either. I only just learned of it last night and this morning. It will take me some time to decide on a course of action. But I wished to tell you what I knew. First.”

Penelope sighed, glimpsing at Colin for the first time in several minutes. “I still do not understand why this should concern us at all.”

Colin halted then, turning to take both of her hands in his, bringing them up to his chest and looking deeply into her eyes. To anyone else it likely appeared as if he were confessing his undying devotion. The reality was far more grim. “Pen, those men murdered your father. They left your mother with nothing. You, with nothing! They belong on the end of a rope for what they have done to you.” He was incensed; could feel the wildfire flickering in his eyes as he gripped her hands tighter and tighter.

Penelope’s eyes darted around the park behind him. “Colin, people are watching.”

He only stepped closer. “Your family deserves justice.”

“Colin”

“Our family deserves justice.” He leveled a stare at her that she could not hide from.

He was right of course. What had been done to her father was criminal. Beyond reproach. Those responsible needed to be held accountable. She only wished it was not so dangerous an endeavor. She did not want him to go it alone.

“Colin? Miss Featherington?” Anthony called to them as he and Kate approached. Penelope made to turn but Colin held fast to her hands.

“Pen?” Colin could see nothing but her, waiting patiently for her response despite his brother and sister-in-law now hovering in their shared space.

Penelope set her jaw, squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin until her gaze leveled Colin’s. “I want you to ask your brother for help.”

***

That night, as Penelope lie in bed waiting for sleep, she worried that she may have crossed a line. Colin clearly had not been pleased when she basically invited The Viscount Bridgerton into her and her fiancee’s personal business by telling him to ask for his help not two feet from the Lord’s ears. The Viscount had asked Colin repeatedly what he needed help with; Colin growing redder and redder as his spat replies of, “Not now.” were patently ignored.

Colin had tried to continue their promenade, wordlessly pulling Penelope along at a clip she nearly had to jog to keep up with, leaving Kate and Anthony once again trailing behind them. When Penelope nearly lost her shoe, and definitely did lose her footing – only saved from falling by the tight grip Colin had on her arm – they both agreed to cut their evening in the park short, informing their chaperons of their wish to return home.

When they were but a block from Featherington House, Penelope mumbled a feeble apology, which Colin only acknowledged with a curt nod of his head, barely in her direction at that. Arriving at her doorstep, he had quietly muttered “I love you,” hardly catching her eye before dropping a chaste kiss on the back of her hand and retreating across the square. She hadn’t the opportunity to even return the sentiment.

And that was it.

Sure, it was for the best that Colin tell Anthony what was going on. Colin tended to jump into these sorts of things head first and without stopping to think them through. She loved that about him, of course. But this time, one misstep could get him killed. Penelope knew she was way out of her depth when it came to the tracking down and apprehension of criminals from London’s seedy underbelly. And while she may have regretted her impulse decision to force Colin’s hand at involving his brother, she felt much reassured knowing someone like the Viscount, with his level head, connections, and power, was helping.

Colin would get over his anger soon enough.

Chapter Text

Penelope received a hastily scrawled note the next morning just prior to calling hours.

Please accept my apologies. I will be unable to call on you this afternoon. Mama has asked that you visit for tea. Yours, Colin.

A slow, controlled breath through her nose settled her nerves. He loves you. He will not abandon you. At least he sent a note. He very well could have just let you wait with no word at all. He will get over this eventually. Or. Perhaps he truly is busy. Perhaps he already told Anthony, and that is what is keeping him from calling. He loves you. He loves you.

Penelope informed her mother of Colin’s regrets and her invitation to tea at Number 5, obtaining her permission and retiring to ready herself for the afternoon.

***

Penelope could not help the gasp that she sucked in when she saw who was to be her company for tea with Lady Bridgerton. She had expected some combination of her future in-laws to be present along with Colin’s mother. But the one person she did not expect to join them was the only other person in the room. Eloise.

“Miss Penelope Featherington.” Wickham announced with a stately bow.

Penelope walked in, dipping a curtsy and greeting both with their Christian names, even if it did still feel strange addressing the Dowager Viscountess as simply ‘Violet’. They both stood to extend their welcome, Violet reaching out both hands to lead her towards the settees.

Violet poured Penelope her tea just as she took it, passing it to her with a lavender and lemon biscuit tucked onto the saucer. Penelope thanked her, sipping the tea before turning her eyes to Eloise, who appeared anxious over something. Just as she was trying to find the words to ask, Violet spoke up, finally explaining her presence there this afternoon.

“After we learned that Colin would be out with Anthony on business all day, he suggested that I invite you for tea. I thought it was a splendid idea, and agreed readily of course, but then Eloise here made a suggestion that all three of us thought was a far more diverting plan.”

“We are to take you to tour your new home in Bloomsbury.” Eloise blurted out, startling even herself to a degree.

Penelope found herself caught off guard, confused as the two ladies before her both were well aware that she already had intimate knowledge of the quaint town home. Why would they wish to take her there, unless… Then it dawned on her. It was a rouse. An opportunity for her to visit with Agatha. And for Eloise to meet her as well. The realization overwhelmed her with emotion, both at the prospect of getting to spend time with Aggie and knowing that it was Eloise who had coordinated the effort.

“Oh.” she finally shuttered in reply, looking with understanding between the two ladies.

“I should like to meet –”

“The staff, yes. That is quite enough Eloise.” Violet cut off the conversation before it could continue. She continued in a hushed tone. “We may discuss freely once we have arrived.”

Eloise chewed her lip, nodding uncomfortably. Penelope knew she did not like to hold back when in anticipation, and appreciated her agreement, even if she could not say so aloud.

The three finished their tea and biscuits rather quickly, then made their way to Violet’s waiting carriage. Fifteen minutes later the three were let off in front of the home, Violet leading them inside. Eloise lingered outside a moment longer than necessary, squinting as she looked around, seeming to evaluate the neighborhood and exterior of the home. Apparently satisfied, she nodded once to herself and followed the rest inside.

Penelope was unsure what to expect upon their arrival, but it certainly was not the full line of their staff, welcoming her home as if her wedding day or a return from a journey abroad. Each bowed to her first, addressing her as ‘Missus’ – even if she had not quite earned the title yet – before giving a proper but less fulsome greeting to her guests.

Penelope broke into a wide yet tearful smile as she reached the end of the receiving line when Mrs. Jolie presented a rather excited Miss Agatha Anne to her. “My darling.” she breathed, sweeping the child into her arms and forgetting all else around her. The tiny “Mama!” squealed between her rain of kisses was all it took to remind her that this was her home.

Once Penelope temporarily exhausted herself of kisses, she brought the child around to her hip, thanking and dismissing the staff to their duties. Her eyes met a rather pleased Violet and a curious, if perplexed Eloise. “Look, Aggie. It is Grandmama Violet. And this,” she angled the child by pressing their cheeks together, “is your Auntie Eloise.”

Aggie stared Eloise down a moment before asking, “Papa?”

Penelope smirked, understanding Aggie better than any other could. “Yes, you are right my darling. This is your Papa’s sister, Eloise. Grandmama Violet is their mama.” Aggie shrieked in glee, her wiggly arms smacking up at Penelope’s face and reaching out towards the other two women.

Penelope recalled Eloise’s general feelings towards children, and knew to tread lightly. “Should you like to shake her hand, El?”

Eloise’s brow knit a moment before a look of relief washed over her. “Indeed, now that we have been properly introduced.” Eloise stepped forward, taking the child’s extended hand carefully between her fingers and shook her hand as formally as if greeting an associate in commerce. “Hello, Miss Agatha. I am your Auntie Eloise.”

Peals of laughter fell from Aggie’s lips, in a contagious way that soon had all three women laughing with her. “Should you like to hold her, you are more than welcome.” Penelope added as soon as she caught her breath.

Eloise nodded tightly, but her eyes remained transfixed on the squirmy red head as Penelope led them all up the stairs to give them the promised tour of the home. After briefly peeking into the guest and master bedrooms, Penelope took them to the nursery, which was now filled with many more dolls, books, and toys than when she had last seen it only a few days prior. Shaking her head to herself, she kissed Aggie on the top of the head, remarking upon the obvious way in which her Papa enjoyed spoiling her. She was lost for a moment, catching herself only when her eyes landed upon Violet and Eloise openly staring at her interact with Aggie.

Violet simply smiled at being caught gawking, but Eloise pressed forward. Penelope waited, knowing she had something on her mind she was trying to explain. Eventually Eloise put her thoughts together enough to ask. “Pen. She… she truly is not yours?”

Penelope laughed airily. “Eloise, how old does she appear to you?”

“I am no expert in babies, I should hardly –”
“If you were to venture a guess.”
“A… a year? Give or take a month?”
“And where was I, a year ago May?”
“You were… in Town.”

Penelope smiled as she watched the evidence replace assumptions. “Exactly, El. The entire window in which she could have possibly been born, I was out and about, going to balls and events. I certainly was not laying in and having a child, only to, what? Send it abroad on tour with your brother?”

She watched as Eloise turned the facts over in her mind, knowing she needed to come to the conclusion herself. It was clear when she did, closing the gap between them and reaching out to run one of Agatha’s copper ringlets through her fingers. “It is remarkable.” she muttered, studying the child’s eyes before looking into Penelope’s. “She looks just like you.”

“And she eats like your brother.” Penelope quipped, making Eloise freeze a moment, then grin unabashedly.

Penelope finished showing the two women the rest of the home, asking Dunwoody for a light tea when they returned to the drawing room. “Since we were rushed before.” she explained, turning back to Violet and Eloise.

Penelope offered Violet a turn with the baby, which she hastily accepted, dancing the child on her lap and covering her in enough kisses to make up for a year without. Eloise and Penelope sat on in relative quiet, watching Violet interact with the baby until Dunwoody entered with a tray of smoked salmon sandwiches and black currant scones.

“Oh, these are Master Colin’s favorites! He will be sorry to have missed them.” she remarked to Dunwoody.

The butler fought a smile. “In fact, they have shown to be the young Miss’s favorite as well.” he advised before bowing deeply and retreating to the hall.

The ladies ate and conversed, Violet and Penelope taking turns playing with Agatha, and Eloise peppering Penelope with a hundred different questions. While it was not – would never be – the same as before, there was an ease that seemed to be returning to their shared presence. Something that told Penelope that, in the end, they would be alright.

Penelope reluctantly laid Aggie down for her afternoon nap, giving her plenty more kisses to last the week, promising her that she would be back as soon as she could before reciting her favorite nursery rhyme, kissing her one last time on the forehead, and whispering “Sweet dreams my darling girl.” She was so grateful for the surprise afternoon spent visiting Aggie, she could not find it in her to cry, especially knowing that she would be back to stay in only six days’ time.

The ride back to Mayfair was quiet, Violet and Penelope both contented from their time with the baby and Eloise seemingly satisfied with her brother’s accommodations and staff. Eloise offered to walk Penelope home when they arrived at Number 5, something that filled Penelope with both hope and fear. It was one thing to be polite in front of her mother, another thing entirely to be left alone with her.

They strolled most of the way together in silence. Not the easy sort she was used to when they were both exhausted from talking the whole day through, but rather a charged, anticipatory silence. “I am pleased to see you will be taken care of.” Eloise suddenly blurted out, as if she truly was worried her brother had arranged nothing more than a one bedroom slum to haul her off to.

“You… would be proud of him, I believe.” Penelope replied after a moment of quiet contemplation. “He allows me to use his study. His desk. When I was worried about over spending, he shared his accounts with me. Pulled out all his books and taught me to read them. I think… I think you have rubbed off on him, El.”

Eloise stopped in her tracks, pivoting to stare Penelope down. Penelope held her breath until a grin cracked across Eloise’s face, letting her know that she had not inadvertently made some grievous error. “Took him long enough.”

***

Colin sat shoulder to shoulder with Anthony at the bar, swirling but not drinking the bourbon he had been poured. Colin was getting nervous. Anthony’s contact was meant to have arrived nearly half an hour ago. He was just about to mention the time when a lithe brunette with almond eyes and too much rouge draped herself over his brother’s shoulders. “Long time, no see handsome.” she mewled into his ear, ghosting her lips and teeth across the shell of it. The sight of it made Colin feel ill.

“I see you brought me a present.” the woman purred, one of her boney fingers extending out to trace Colin’s jawline. He flinched away, finally swigging at the drink his brother ordered him when they first arrived.

“This is my brother, Colin.” Anthony replied with ease, leaning back against the ladybird. “Colin, this is Aurelia. An old friend of mine.” The grin his brother wore made his stomach swoop and lurch, not unlike his first days at sea when he was a novice traveler. How Anthony could find his pleasure in prigging any Miss Laycock willing to accept his coin was far beyond his ken. But he would play along as long as needs be. This was for Penelope after all.

“A pleasure, Miss Aurelia.” Colin nodded her way, making both she and his brother puff in laughter at his expense.

“I ain’t been called a proper Miss in long as I remember. You were right, Anthony. He needs the green shagged clean out of him. Are you sure we shouldn’t just bring him back to the nunnery; let all the girls take a stroke at him?”

“I am afraid we haven’t the time for him to lie in state tonight. If we might find our way to the back?” Anthony turned, casually winding his arms around the tail and dragging his nose up along her neck as he stood, grinning too close to her face and looking as if he were about to have a flyer right there against the bar.

She spun away from him, turning her attentions to Colin. He stood too quickly, trying to avoid being touched by the crack, gesturing for her to lead the way. She took the hand that he had swept out, leading him down the hall by her icy grip and, although he wanted nothing more than to recoil and clean himself, he was thankful it was only his hand that she would touch.

Anthony’s entire affect changed the minute the door was closed and they were alone. “Keep your clothes on and answer my questions and you will still get paid.” he snapped.

Colin folded his arms over his chest, wanting to create as much space between himself and Anthony’s harlot as he could in the dank bedroom.

“I – yes m’lord. What – what is this about?” The frightened mop scrambled to put the bed between herself and the two gentlemen.

“Your abbess, Madame Bonheur, she manages more than one business in that pushing school of hers, does she not?” Colin had seen flares of Anthony’s temper before, but never this controlled flame he was using now. It was deadly and impressive and Colin was grateful it was not turned on him for now.

“She, uh. That is to say, um.” Aurelia mumbled.

Anthony would have none of it. “I already know the answer, do not play dumb with me. I know you better than that.” Colin gritted his teeth at the reminder that this was not Anthony’s first meeting with the fen. But what he said seemed to work, for she straightened up, dropping the scared doe act as quickly as she had donned it.

“So what if she does?” she pushed back instead of answering Anthony straight.

“About two years ago, she let these other customers of hers invite a guest. Archibald Featherington. Only, instead of basketmaking, they helped him slip his wind.”

Colin could see the wheels turning in the moll’s head. “So what if she did.” she finally answered. If they were not still trying to get answers out of her, and if it had been a man that said those words instead, Colin could not promise he would not have planted a facer right then and there for the droll way in which she spoke of the murder of his wife’s father.

Anthony’s eye twitched. “I need their names. The bookies who work out of your brothel. Their names, and you get your coin. And we leave.”

“And suppose I forgot?” she replied, openly defiant in his brother’s face.

Colin was certain he could hear Anthony growl. “Suppose your client list gets circulated in the next Whistledown?”

Colin had to bite down on the inside of his cheek as Aurelia gasped in horror. Anthony was bluffing – he had no idea how to make such a thing happen – but Colin did. The irony of the situation had him struggling to keep a straight face. For a moment at any rate.

“Fine, fine. They’re called Cecil and Nash. Couple of shifty looking gents that give loans to folks the bank don’t want to deal with an’ takes bets no upstanding bookie would take. When their monies come due an’ the folk owing don’t pay, they catch an invitation from Madame Bonheur. Only it’s not one of us waiting to talk to the unlucky sap, if you know what I mean.”

Anthony’s features softened into a smile, striding forward and taking Aurelia’s jaw in his hand. He tossed a handful of coins down on the bed next to them, keeping her head still with the grip on her chin even as her eyes followed the silver. “We were never here. And this conversation never happened, right?” She nodded her head in his hand. “Good. Pleasure doing business with you, as always.” Anthony leaned in as if he were going to kiss the trull, squeezing a handful of her ass instead and grinning a hare’s breath away from her lips before releasing her entirely.

Colin’s guts were still twisting as Anthony walked out of the room, a low chuckle on his lips. He inclined his head – stopping himself short of another misappropriated ‘Miss’ – and followed his brother out of the wretched inn.

Once on the street, Colin found himself walking at his full stride to keep up with his brother. “Where next?”

“I thought we ought to go to White’s. Have a drink and plan our next move.” Anthony replied as if it were already preordained.

“Anthony.” Colin stopped in the street, watching his brother continue ahead several paces before realizing he was alone. Reeling around with all the energy of an eldest sibling and a Lord who is not used to taking other people’s opinions into mind, Anthony lifted his hands out to the side in gesture, silently asking Colin’s meaning. “We ought to go to Will’s.”

***

It had not taken terribly long to convince Anthony of the providence behind conducting their business at Mondrich’s. Although the club did far more business this Season than in its inaugural year, Will always had a private room available for a Bridgerton. That aside, now that they had the names of the bookies that were working out of the King’s Place brothel, Will might be able to share with them more detail or know something of significance.

Anthony of course did not know the extent of Will’s involvement in the crooked scheme. Colin merely suggested that Will might have some connections due to his prior dealings in the ring. He had explained the previous night that it had been clear the late Lord Featherington had been murdered after a wager gone wrong, and that there was reason to believe there was still a substantial portion of the winnings that had not been returned. Much of the rest of the details he shared focused on what he had already learned of where Archibald’s body had been discovered and his concerns for his and Penelope’s well being as potential heirs to the estate. Thankfully, Anthony had not pressed too deeply on how the information was obtained, and the extent of his private visits with Penelope had remained unquestioned.

When they arrived at the bar, Colin – finally in his element once more – took charge, asking Will to show his brother to one of the meeting rooms while he rounded up drinks from Alice. The move was strategic. Colin needed to catch Will’s ear outside of Anthony’s presence so he could warn him of exactly what his brother did and did not know.

Colin made small talk with Will’s wife at the bar a moment until he saw the man emerge from where he had left Anthony. The grim look on Will’s face told him that he had already assumed the worst of him. He begged off his conversation with Alice, deliberately cutting Will off in an empty corner.

“Mister Mondrich.” he greeted with enough gusto that it would catch the man’s attention. He nodded towards the corner with a quick jerk of his head.

Despite his set jaw, Will followed him another step out of the way. “Mister Bri –”

“He does not know.” Colin was quick to cut him off. “He knows that I am investigating the late Lord Featherington’s death. I had not intended to – well that is neither here nor there. When he heard the name of the brothel where Featherington’s body was found, he arranged a meeting with one of his old harlots that does her business out of there. We have the names of the bookies, and I suggested we might ask if you knew of them. From your time in the ring. I have not betrayed your confidence.”

Will nodded tightly at him. “I appreciate your discretion, Mister Bridgerton. But if you are intent to see this through, then my involvement is bound to come out. We may as well tell your brother the truth.”

Colin saw Anthony’s head peek out of the door to the meeting room, his eyes darting around the room before landing on the pair and giving Colin a rather impatient look. Colin acknowledged him, but did not turn away from Will. “Only if you are certain. I do not wish to force your hand.”

“I forced my own hand when I took that money. It is time I face the music.”

Chapter Text

She took his breath away.

Penelope descended the grand staircase to the Bridgerton ballroom dressed in midnight blue, crystal and silver beading sparkling like stars in the night sky. The gown was cut to her figure, with puffed sleeves that highlighted her delicate arms and a neckline that showed off her luxuriant décolletage. The copper waves of her hair were pinned back with a silver comb, allowing the new diamond and ruby earrings and necklace – which he had gifted her that afternoon during calling hours – to shine. But nothing could shine as brightly as she did tonight. She was beautiful.

Tonight, he would make sure everyone knew it. He could wait in the receiving line with his family no longer. Ignoring the way his mother quietly tried to hiss his name, he rushed forward, meeting her before she reached the last step. They were nearly eye to eye – the extra two steps giving her enough height for the top of her head to reach his nose. He wanted to kiss her right there in front of everyone, hang the rules. He settled for an unnecessarily dramatic kiss to the back of her hand.

“Mister Bridgerton.” she greeted him coyly.

“Missus Bridgerton.” he replied in kind.

“Not quite yet, you know!” Her cheeks pinked, and Colin hoped he would never lose the ability to cause such a reaction.

He extended his arm for her to take, which she did. After leading her through the receiving line, where each of his family members took the opportunity to gush over how glad they were she was joining the family – even Eloise managed something pleasant about being glad they made one another happy – they turned to face the ballroom together.

Kate’s first ball as Viscountess was a stunning success. English Ivy hung from every archway, laced with fragrant Canterbury Bells and White Freesia. Handsome arrangements of Eucalyptus, blue French Hydrangeas, and pure white Roses were perched on every surface available around the perimeter. The result was a delicate perfume pervading every corner of the room. The quartet played from the balcony; the celestial music seeming to float down from the heavens. The entire ambiance of the room was transportive, as if they had entered some Elysian realm. It seemed rather appropriate that the theme Kate had chosen for the night was Written in the Stars.

“Which dances should you like to join? There is a country dance coming up shortly and an early waltz, plus the one we will dance after Anthony’s speech. I am happy to dance more if you like.” Penelope laughed at his eagerness, but ultimately agreed to the dances he suggested. He wrote his name in on her dance card, then tucked her arm onto his. “Shall we take a turn about the room?”

He noticed Penelope’s eyes dart nervously around before answering him with a hesitant affirmative. He reached over to squeeze the hand atop his arm. “You haven’t a thing to be nervous for. Every single one of them wishes they could trade places with you. And if they knew you like I did, they would worship the ground you walked upon.” He liked the way the corners of her mouth began to stretch upward, and continued on to see if he could cause a true smile to break. “Whether they know it or not, you are their Queen.”

That finally did it, and he found himself returning the grand smile she finally wore.

Colin did his best to enjoy his time – the ball was held in his and her honor after all – but found himself more and more frustrated as the evening waned on. Introducing her to his friends, listening to his mother retell anecdotes from when they were small, dancing, and laughing together over champagne was lovely of course, as was she. Yet all he wanted to do was drag her off and catch her up on all that had occurred since their promenade two days ago. But all eyes were on them, and so they would have pretend to only have interest in her accomplishments and his travels. He secretly hoped she was as bored by it all as he was.

He was sure that she was as relieved when, nearly two hours later, Anthony finally signaled the quartet and clinked his champagne coupe, indicating he was ready to give his speech. Penelope was more nervous than he expected when all eyes began to turn on them, but seemed to relax into his side when he tugged her in a little too close.

Anthony’s speech was… endearing. He really ought to have run it by Colin as he had offered so many times that past week. Writing clearly was not a skill shared amongst all of his siblings. The crowd suffered through his sweet but droning anecdotes of the “red head from across the square,” teasing Colin for playing house and joining tea parties instead of riding with his brothers, acknowledging that he finally understood why.

He then spoke at length about his own experience with finding love after denying it to himself for so many years. Certainly Kate was misty eyed but the parallels he was attempting to draw between himself and Colin’s relationship with Penelope all seemed to fall a little short of the mark. He had to hold a straight face when Benedict, Eloise, and his mother each rolled their eyes at him in unison, none aware of the others’ actions.

By the time he wrapped the speech, Colin could have sworn that at least two members of his family, along with several in the crowd had nodded off on their feet, each for at least a moment. Through the applause, Penelope looked up at him with a wide smile and pained eyes. “You mean to say I am going to have to suffer through five more just like that?”

Colin took her hand, holding it up in the air as they each raised their champagne coupes. “And that’s just the weddings!” he gritted out through his brightest grin.

“What if I were to tell you I was having second thoughts?” she teased.

“Far too late now, Mrs. Bridgerton!” Penelope did not correct him that time.

As the applause died down, they each finished the last swallows of their champagne. Colin placed the glasses on the tray of a nearby footman, then took her hand and led her to the cleared floor. He met the eye of the cellist, gave him a nod, then made a sweeping bow. The first notes of the waltz were played – Beethoven’s latest – and he took her into his arms to begin their dance.

Penelope’s entire countenance beamed up as him as they danced. It truly seemed as if she floated across the floor. She had always been his favorite dance partner, her quick and sure steps always perfectly in time. But there was more to it than just the steps. They fit together. Always had. She always seemed to know where he intended to lead even before his own mind was sure. He already knew that he was the luckiest gentleman in London. But looking down into her shining eyes, reflecting back as much love for him as he had for her, he was more certain than ever.

Other couples were beginning to join them on the floor, the focus finally fading from them for the evening. Only a few dances remained, and he could see some of the older couples, or those with young children to attend to at home beginning to filter towards the door.

“I believe we ought to be able to slip away after our dance is through.” he intoned, loud enough for only Penelope to hear.

A mischievous look that he was only beginning to learn took up residence upon her face. “Perhaps we might find a room in which to retire a moment? I am rather heated after so much time on the floor, of course.”

“Of course.” was all he replied, though his eyes burned with a desire and passion that he was sure volumes could only begin to describe. The dance concluded, Colin taking the opportunity to leave a rather lavish kiss on her knuckles, several nearby debutantes nearly swooning in the process. It did not take long after that however for the couple to be forgotten, as all were preoccupied with their own fates for the evening.

A raucous Scottish Reel began, and it was soon clear that no one was paying any attention to them at all. Colin took her hand, leading her out to the gardens, then back inside through a hidden servant’s entrance. In no time, they had entered his childhood bedroom, sounds from their ball floating up through the floorboards.

Colin moved to start kissing Penelope, as he had wanted to do all evening. It had been torture not being able to hold her these last few days while he was busy with Anthony, and he did not want to waste a moment more. Which is why he resorted to pouting when Penelope produced several pages and a pencil from her bosom. “Pennnnn!” he whined.

“It will not take me but a few moments to add in these pieces and be done with it. You cannot possibly expect me to think clearly after, can you?” She lit the candles at the desk and began spreading the pages out in front of her. “I am going to write about your brother’s speech. It was too dreadful to ignore. I shall keep it witty of course, nothing damaging. Just a good poke of fun at his expense.”

“I would much rather a different poke of fun…” Colin grumbled.

“Hush, you.” was all she replied before setting to work composing the lead story for the issue. Just a few minutes later, she passed him the draft, asking him to read it over while she filled in some additional lines about Mister Dankworth’s third ball in a row asking Miss Prudence Featherington to dance, Miss Edith Langford’s flat out refusal to dance with Lord Debling, and Mister Anderson being spotted escorting more than one widow into the gardens for some fresh air, only to return looking more heated than when he had left.

“This is perfect, Pen! Kate will tease him for a week over this. How did you write it so quickly?” Colin brought the draft back, passing it to her to put in order with the rest for the printer’s.

“I suppose I begin composing in my mind as soon as something Whistledown worthy happens. By the time I get to sit and write, it is already complete in my head.” She answered him without looking up from her work, organizing the pages until the issue was finalized.

“Are you not planning to write of us? It was our engagement ball after all.” Colin was a bit indignant that she had not written of their rather enchanted evening together.

“Oh, I wrote that ahead of time.” Penelope flipped the first page of the stack over, lifting out the second and passing it to him.

Colin’s jaw sagged further and further as he read of her grand entrance on the staircase, his eagerness to greet her, their three dances – including both waltzes – and how he had never strayed from her side the whole evening. There were more than a few tawdry quips regarding his eyes and what they had not strayed from as well. She even wrote of the swooning debutantes reacting to his attentions.

“Am I truly so predictable?” he huffed, handing back the page. She giggled, shaking her head no as she folded the sheets together, set them aside on the desk, then rose into his arms.

“No more than anyone else, my love.” She tipped up on her toes, meeting him for a sweet kiss that quickly turned passionate. Colin had already removed his boots and jacket, his cravat untied and hanging freely, eager to have her hands on him to whatever extent possible. His hands wound around her waist, pawing at her derriere and starting to walk towards the bed.

“Wait, Colin?” she stopped him, eliciting yet another frustrated grumble.

“Yes, Pen?” he asked with no small measure of impatience.

She simply grinned. “I had rather hoped you might take me against the desk.”

His impatience quickly morphed into hunger, moving the candelabra aside to the mantle and pushing the chair out of their way. Penelope was pliant against his body, bending to his strong touch. He contented himself a moment to hold her tight to his front, dipping to allow their lips to slide together while his hands massaged the curve of her lower back, willing her body to become one with his.

Once he had his fill of her kisses for the moment, he obliged her stated desire, spinning her roughly and bending her forward onto the desk. Her hands came up to catch herself, but in a flash he had captured her wrists, pulling them back behind her so her chest laid flat on the writing surface. In what he considered a stroke of genius, he grabbed at the white silk hanging from his neck, winding the fabric around her wrists and binding them in place. He could see the smirk catch on her face, telling him he was doing no more than her bidding.

Colin lifted her skirts, sliding his hands up the backs of her legs and shuddering at the soft feel of her thighs under his rough palms. He was tempted to smack the alabaster swells, but knew better than to do so where they could so easily be caught should she cry out. Next time he might use his cravat as a gag.

The fingers of his left hand swiped through her weeping slit, dipping into her heat and finding her as ready as she always was to receive him. His right hand worked at the fall of his trousers, while his ankle nudged her legs wider. “Do you wish to be bred, wife?” he bit out, barely able to contain himself a moment longer.

“Yes.” she whimpered, pulling at her binds and shifting her hips from side to side. “I want you to take what is yours. Claim my womb as yours.” She arched back, presenting herself the best she could in her submissive position.

Colin accepted the invitation.

The head of his cock had no more than lined up with her swollen center when he thrust forward, obliging her to take his entirety at once. She gasped at the sudden intrusion, clenching down on him, her walls already beginning to quiver. His thumbs pressed into the small of her back, fingers digging into the velvet of her waist, pinning her to the desk. The same desk where he had spent so many hours of his youth practicing the careful loops and flicks of his penmanship. The desk where Penelope had just finished writing the latest issue of Whistledown.

He recalled how much he enjoyed the secret knowledge that he had assisted in the publication of the column last week, watching his friends and family fawn over the heralded print which only he and Penelope knew to be the product of their midnight rendezvous. A smirk washed over his face. Grabbing the folded document from the corner of the desk, he wedged the pages under her cheek. Confusion flickered through her eyes, cleared when he caused his hips to bounce off of her bottom. She breathed a moan against the pages, just as he had imagined. “I am going to take you hard on top of that draft, and you are going to moan and scream into it. And then when everyone is reading it tomorrow, we will know what efforts truly went into its publication.”

Her wails were obscene.

While Colin had no interest in harming his nor Penelope’s reputation, he no longer feared their discovery in earnest. He was unrestrained like he had not been before, pounding into her with force and fury that made the desk skate against the floorboards. He kept his hands wrapped into her waist, the angle of her arms caused by the restraint on her wrists holding her torso flat to the writing surface. Her toes barely touched the floor, though her bottom was arched high to meet every slap of his pelvis. With nowhere to move, each concussive force sent her backside rippling, like waves on the worlds most seductive of seas.

He knew their prigging would not last long at this pace, and had expected his release to come fast. What he did not expect was the way Penelope would wrench it from him through her own. She tried to warn him – her broken cries turning from an ‘Ah’ to a ‘Cah’ – but the stuttering sound never completed, turning instead to a single, sustained note as her walls fell around him. She gripped and milked his seed from what he was sure was the center of his very soul, his movements grinding to a halt as he sealed his cock into her, pumping and emptying deep into her belly.

Colin collapsed over her, his kisses falling to her exposed neck and cheek as they each chased their breath. Once he could support himself on his own feet again, he carefully unwound her wrists, kissing them once they were freed and rubbing her shoulders to help her find her comfort again.

Reluctantly, he slid free of her at last, fixing her skirts and helping her to right herself after their vigorous activities. She swayed slightly on her feet, and before she could protest, he swept her into his arms and carried her to his childhood bed. She tried to sit up the moment he laid her down, but Colin insisted she take a moment to rest. “I will not have you swooning on me.” he firmly stated.

Colin perched on the edge of the bed, wanting to join her but not willing to risk falling asleep. Instead, he gently stroked the sides of her face, her expression as soft as his heart felt. He bent forward, kissing her forehead, then her nose, then sweetly sliding their lips together. Eventually he sat back up, heaving a sigh, but resting his hand on her lower belly, mindlessly stroking the space as visions of an abundant future played in his mind.

“I need to tell you of Anthony’s plan…”

***

Penelope was never more glad to fall into her bed than she was that night. After Colin had finished telling her all of the terrifying details of his plan with Anthony and Mister Mondrich, he had snuck her back downstairs, plucking up a pair of empty glasses and carrying them in one hand with her on his other arm, as if they had been sipping champagne in the garden the entire time. The props were hardly necessary, as no one seemed to have noticed their well timed absence at all.

Her mother was so busy entertaining questions with the last of the lingering mamas about how her daughter had managed to snare a Bridgerton that she did nothing but wave them off when Colin approached, asking for permission to walk her home. Penelope allowed him to kiss her as long as he dared on the front steps of Featherington House, indulging his lovesick antics for a time before admonishing him to get back to Bloomsbury so he could complete the business of the evening. It was simple enough for her to don a heavy cloak when she traveled to the printer’s straight after a ball, but Colin would need to change his kit entirely, and it was getting late.

Now that he was off and she had been changed out of her ballgown, her hair unpinned and the lavish parure Colin had gifted her that morning put away, she could finally consider all he had told her. The most surprising of the news was that Mister Mondrich had apparently insisted if Colin were to assume the responsibility of his debt, that he would make him equal partner in his business venture. According to Colin, he would not be involved in running the bar, per se. Rather, he would behave as an investor, contributing as to major decisions and lending his name to the cause. But largely, he would simply collect a share of the profits each month. According to Colin, Mister Mondrich had long suffered under the weight of his involvement in her father’s death, and saw the opportunity to give back to one of her father’s daughters as a chance at atonement.

None of that served to quell her concerns over not only what they had planned, but what they had already done. Picturing Colin standing around a darkened barrelhouse while some woman of town crawled all over his brother pushed ice through her veins. Dwelling on the thought that the woman associated with her father’s killers made her tremble with fear. She wanted to trust Lord Bridgerton. Did trust Colin. But when Colin shared their plan to arrange a meeting with the cutthroats, she had never been more frightened in her life.

Chapter Text

Portia and Penelope joined Kate and Violet for tea at Bridgerton House Saturday afternoon in order to go over the last details for the Wednesday wedding. Violet had largely taken over the decoration and floral arrangements for the church, Kate was managing all of the arrangements for the wedding breakfast, while Portia and Penelope had written and posted all of the invitations.

Considering the size of the ball thrown in their honor just the night before, and at the request of both Penelope and Colin, the Ladies had agreed to limit the wedding breakfast to the morning immediately following the wedding, with no extended celebrations or additional ball planned for that evening. They were reviewing the guest list and menu for the breakfast, Penelope ensuring all of Colin’s favorites would be in abundance, when Colin and Anthony appeared through the doorway, having apparently concluded some business of their own in the latter’s office.

“We really ought double the portion of butter biscuits, not to mention the smoked salmon sandwiches. Perhaps both sausages and ham? The soft boiled egg count seems adequate. And I should like to request pots of apricot jam in addition to the strawberry.” Penelope laid the draft menu back down on the tea table in front of Kate, her back to the room’s entrance and oblivious to its new arrivals. Until Kate looked past her that is, locking eyes with someone as her face twisted into knowing laughter.

Penelope turned her head to look over her shoulder, spotting Anthony just a split second before he too began to guffaw, prodding Colin – who appeared to be swollen with pride and admiration – in the ribs. “Ow, Anthony! What was that for?” Colin doubled over, flushing pink as his eyes peeked up to meet Penelope’s.

“Only for taking so long to determine that the two of you were made for one another.” Anthony replied, smirking first at his wife, then at Penelope. Penelope could not help but join the laughter, albeit nervously as she did not wish to appear to be laughing at Colin’s expense.

“It is not as if I was unaware of Penelope’s many admirable qualities. I have known her to be my closest friend for some time. It is only… I simply… was not thinking of… more.” Colin’s eyes were caught on Penelope’s soft gaze and warm smile as he stumbled through his best explanation.

“Well, we can all thank our lucky stars for whatever intervention caused you to wise up before it was too late!” Anthony laughed again at his own barb, missing the slightly panicked look Colin gave to Penelope, then their mother.

“Colin, dear. Come sit and enjoy some tea with us.” Violet quickly deflected, silently reminding her third born that none else present besides Penelope were aware of the true means of such intervention, and that there was no need for dramatics.

Colin never had to be told twice to take tea. Finding the seating already somewhat limited, he happily sat himself on the settee between Penelope and her mother, as close as he dared sit to his bride-to-be without risking side eye from those present. He swiftly filled a plate with cucumber sandwiches and lemon and lavender biscuits – not his first choices but a prime spread nonetheless – before sitting back and happily tucking in. Anthony watched stupefied as Colin went about his business, staring him down until Colin looked up halfway through chewing a sandwich, at which point Anthony finally sprang into motion and took up his own seat beside Kate.

“Portia,” Violet began, smiling as genuinely as she could manage. “Might you attend Hyde Park this evening for the promenade? I wondered if we ought to have our tents pitched together as a show of unity before the wedding?”

Portia lit up at the suggestion, no one present under any false pretense when it came to her desire to be associated as much as possible with the well liked and well connected family. “That sounds splendid indeed!”

Penelope witnessed the silent exchange that passed between Colin and his brother – an implied question and a tacit answer – and wondered what more could have passed between them since she and Colin last spoke. But when she caught his eye, looking for answers, he only seemed to have soft eyes and a warm gaze for her. He picked up her hand, first kissing the back of it then holding it in the small space between them. He still made her heart flutter, even after all they had done together, with the most simple of gestures.

***

Hyde Park was teeming with members of the Ton this particular spring evening. The Bridgerton and Featherington tents were pitched side by side on the riverbank, visually appearing as if the center of all the goings on. Portia and Violet stood shoulder to shoulder in front, greeting friends and acquaintances as if they were the very seat of Society. Anthony and Kate stood to the side of Violet; Colin and Penelope to Portia’s left. Colin felt a particular power to the position. One he had never before enjoyed as simply a subsequent Bridgerton son.

They spent the better part of an hour there, making small talk with well wishers about their engagement and upcoming nuptials. It was only when the Haywoods finally made their retreat, after a rather lengthy discourse on the benefits of delaying their honeymoon until the winter, that Colin noticed Penelope was flagging at his side.

“Lady Featherington? Might I take Miss Penelope on a stroll?” Colin wondered if the smile the woman wore ever turned genuine. He was grateful when Kate spoke up before she could answer.

“Anthony and I would be happy to chaperone. Newton ought to take a walk anyway.” All five looked over to the ray of sunshine where the Corgi was sprawled on his back, tongue hanging freely to the side, all four paws in the air.

“Of course, dears.” Portia replied, the added pressure from the Viscountess enough to silence any commentary she may have otherwise added. The unimpressed tone and face she made while replying betrayed enough, though Colin was still amused when Penelope began to lead him forward by the arm she was wrapped around.

Colin called a “Thank you, Lady Featherington!” over his shoulder, trying his best not to burst out in laughter at his soon to be wife’s antics. With faux consternation, he addressed the pinking ginger on his arm. “That was awfully rude, Miss Featherington, walking off without bidding your mama farewell!”

A tiny, muted shriek hissed in Penelope’s throat. “I simply cannot stand one more minute of her glee and gloating! What has she done to earn it? She has had not a thing to do with it. Why should she receive all of the credit?”

Biting back a smirk, Colin reached over to squeeze her hand. “You are correct of course. Shall I make an announcement, here in the park then? Let everyone know the true circumstances of our engagement and ensure that we both get our due notoriety?” He began loudly clearing his throat as if to begin a speech.

“Colin!” she whined, not finding his antics nearly as amusing as he had expected. He patted her hand, finally freeing his grin and walking on feeling the lightest he had in days. Until he recalled why that was.

“Anthony has suggested that we ought not appear in public again until… after it is done.” he explained, accounting for his sudden shift in demeanor.

Penelope’s face fell as well as she realized what he was referencing. “Then why are we –”

Colin’s face was as firm as his tone. “It was too late by the time my mama suggested it to yours. Anyway, Anthony’s woman of town will not have set up the meeting until tonight. No one will be any the wiser until then. But we should not risk any further opportunities. Not until after…”

“Of course.” Penelope nodded nervously, checking over her shoulder that no one was listening. “And Monday’s draft? How shall we?”

“With your permission. I would like to pay one of Anthony’s footmen – John – to pick it up from your garden and deliver it to me. He will think it nothing more than a letter between lovers. And I will pay him to be discreet. I trust him.”

“The one who used to take Eloise downtown?” Penelope pondered aloud. She eventually nodded, indicating her acceptance of the plan. “Yes. He will do.”

They walked on for a while, discussing the logistics of the Whistledown hand off and Colin’s visits during calling hours for the next few days. After exhausting the topic, they both allowed a comfortable silence to seep in, quietly enjoying the simple presence of each other.

“Colin?” Penelope started after a time. “Might we tell our families of Aggie soon? Perhaps… what if we asked Kate if she might host a private family dinner that night. After the wedding breakfast that is.”

Colin slowed his pace, considering the plan. “I do wish to make her known to family as soon as practical. I do not want her to be hidden any longer. But if we are to make such an announcement, we ought to tell Anthony and Kate first. We may need to spring the news on your mother, but now that she is legally mine, there truly is no reason to hold them in the dark any longer.”

“Splendid!” Penelope beamed back at him, the reality of having her family complete once more and being permitted to live publicly in earnest nearly causing tears of joy to spring forth.

“Then we are agreed?” He grinned at her affirming nod. “Excellent. When we return, I shall have Kate ask your mother for permission to keep your company just a short while more.”

***

Kate stood at Anthony’s side – he was seated behind his desk – while Colin and Penelope took up the two plush, leather armchairs across from him. Penelope noticed right away the way that Colin took on an almost defiant demeanor the moment they were seated, yet betrayed his nervousness with the way his hand would not stop rubbing and picking at the leather on the side of the armrest. She cringed at his tone when he began speaking, reaching over to layer her hand atop his, stilling it and causing Colin to pause for a much needed deep breath.

It was Penelope who filled the silence. “Your brother has done something rather remarkable. Something selfless and brave and loving and kind. It may come as a shock at first, but we do ask that you hold the news private until after we are wed. Your mama is already informed, but we fear that should my mama learn of it, she may withdraw her consent to our union. All that to say, Colin has some news we would like to share with you.”

Colin relaxed visibly, turning his hand over to envelope Penelope’s. Gripping tightly, he finally blurted out the secret he had been holding on to for far too long. “I have adopted a child.”

Anthony, having poured and raised a tumbler of bourbon to his lips, found himself quickly returning the mouthful he had drawn to the glass, lest he choke and spray it across the room. Kate meanwhile stumbled back slightly, then crossed to the last remaining vacant armchair and rather indelicately flopped into it. Anthony set the glass aside, raising his thumb to his temple and fingers to his brow.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” the Viscount eventually asked, his tone half amused, half rankled.

“A girl. Agatha Anne.” Colin said, unable to hide his pride.

Anthony released a deep breath through his nose, his eyes laid shut and fingers now stroking the furrow in his brow. “Good. That makes it easier. And how old?”

Colin raised his chin, explaining matter of factly, “We estimate a year. We have written her birthday as later this month.”

Anthony stopped rubbing his forehead, peeking one eye open. “And Miss Penelope?”

Penelope responded directly. “I was out and about in society the entire time she could have been born. Even if there were to be talk, it should be easily enough quieted.”

“Good God!” Anthony half barked. “I only meant, were you amenable to adopting a child. I had not even considered that!” His hand waved erratically between the two as he sputtered out the last few words.

Penelope’s cheeks burned crimson. She was floundering for an appropriate response when Kate’s burst of near hysterical laughter broke the tension. When she finally regained her composure enough to speak, she stood and poured herself a finger of Anthony’s bourbon. “You will have to excuse my husband.” she bit out through the barely harnessed hysterics. “He is quite the innocent!”

Colin joined Kate’s laughter while Anthony grumbled under his breath. Anthony began opening drawers and rifling through paperwork as the rest of the room caught their breath at his expense. They finally quieted when a thick ledger hit the desk top, Anthony wasting no time cracking the book open, flipping through the pages, and then scratching down notes on a loose piece of parchment. His actions caught Colin’s attention, who cocked his head to the side as he attempted to read his brother’s terrible handwriting upside down.

“What are you doing?” Colin asked carefully, taking note of his brother’s furrowed brow and serious disposition.

“Making notes for the solicitor. I assume you have come to me for additional funds?” The pencil rolled from his hand and clacked down onto the desk when Colin and Penelope merely stared back at him with sagging jaws.

Colin finally spoke up. “No, Anthony. We only wished for your blessing.”

Anthony stared incredulously a moment before regathering his pencil and shaking his head sharply. “What if something were to happen to you?” he snapped, his eyes locating a number and copying the figure down onto the stationery.

“It is no small measure of why we are marrying with such haste.” Colin retorted, beginning to take offense at Anthony’s complete disregard. “In the meantime, I have already amended my will. Everything is to go to Pen. Aside from a trust I have established for Aggie, but Pen is named as her guardian. I assure you, my accounts are well managed and in proper order.”

Anthony once again dropped his pencil to the desk, purposefully this time. He buried his head in his hands a moment, dragging them slowly down his face such that the skin dragged and stretched under them. “Colin, why on Earth would you have us undertake…” he shook his head, then gave Colin a meaningful look, intentionally leaving out details he was not prepared to share with his present audience. “…the other business now? When we could have done the same after you were wed?”

Colin shook his head vehemently. “It had to be before. Surely you can see that. It must be done now before word reaches them and they think to come after us. We maintain the upper hand by catching them off their guard.”

Anthony looked back sternly, staring his younger brother down a moment before releasing a heavy sigh. “I suppose you are correct. I am going to have to have a talk with Benedict before Monday evening. He will need to be prepared for…” He had intended to continue but was cut off by the broken gasp Penelope sucked in.

“Pen!” Colin rushed to comfort his betrothed. “Nothing is going to happen. I promise you, all will be well.”

Penelope looked at the unease in both Kate and Anthony’s eyes before meeting Colin’s reassuring gaze once more. “You cannot promise that. What if something goes wrong?”

Anthony responded with authority. “Should the worse come to pass, god forbid it. Miss Featherington, I can assure you that you will be taken care of. Benedict understands his duty. You shall be a Bridgerton one way or another.”

Colin squeezed her hand tightly as Penelope nodded meekly in understanding. “Nothing is going to go wrong, Pen. And then the matter will be settled. And we will be free.”

When Penelope said nothing further, the perfumed air of Anthony’s study hanging still and heavy around them all, Kate eventually interjected, changing the subject to something a degree lighter. “When are we to meet this Miss Agatha Anne? Surely after the wedding you must make knowledge of her public.”

Both Colin and Penelope’s moods shifted for the better at the mention of their daughter. Penelope addressed Kate’s question. “We had hoped, with your blessing, of course. That we might have her brought over after the wedding breakfast. That evening? Perhaps for a dinner?”

“Oh, splendid!” Kate cheered, “I do not get to host enough dinner parties!”

“This would be private of course. Just our families.” Colin clarified, noting Kate’s enthusiasm. She deflated slightly, but still eagerly assented.

“Certainly. And how should we introduce the young Miss to everyone? Perhaps we could have her sat on one of the platters? Have Wickham carry her out as if the main course?” Kate’s eyes danced with glee until she saw the glare coming from both her husband and brother in law.

Colin spoke up quickly to correct course. “Or, perhaps we ought to just tell everyone? Simply, that is. Then have her nurse carry her in once the news settles.”

Kate huffed, her fleeting vision summarily defeated. Anthony reached out to pat her hand, mirth finally finding its way to his eyes. “I do believe I ought to make the announcement, should you wish Lady Featherington to take the news as well as can be hoped.”

Colin and Kate nodded their agreement, but all eyes landed on Penelope who had turned rather pink and seemed to be holding back some form of reaction to the Viscount’s declaration.

“Is that acceptable to you, Miss Featherington?” Anthony asked her, eyebrows raised in an expression that caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance. She may have cowed from it in the past, but Colin had taught her that this was typical of the Viscount’s humor. And she simply could not suffer through yet another of Anthony’s droning monologues so soon after their engagement ball. It had only been a day since the latest Whistledown had published, unapologetically mocking him for the toast he had given at their engagement ball. According to Colin, the entire Bridgerton family – Kate included – had been relentless through the weekend in their teasing ever since the pamphlet had been circulated. She knew that if she was ever to be seen as truly Colin’s equal within the family – up for the task of bearing the Bridgerton name – she had to swallow her fears and make her voice heard. And so, squeezing her fiancee’s hand tightly, she addressed the rather powerful Lord with pure impertinence. “Perfectly.” she answered with genuine smile. “So long as you do not attempt to make any grand speeches.”

Colin and Kate fell from their chairs in laughter.

Chapter Text

Colin looked across the dimly lit room at his brother. Anthony shifted on his feet, betraying a nervousness that Colin almost never witnessed anymore. The flickering candlelight exaggerated the bags under the Viscount’s eyes, giving him the appearance of one who had slept little in days. Colin wondered briefly if his own face betrayed the same condition.

They had been in position, waiting in the musty study of the brothel, for nearly two hours, having arrived early to ensure all was in place and would proceed according to plan. Colin trusted his brother. It was why he had turned to him. Or rather, it was why Penelope all but forced him to. And he was glad to have him there at any rate, taking the lead.

Still, Colin could not help but worry that they were both in far over their heads. These were ruthless loan sharks. Unscrupulous men who had already proved willing to murder a lord when things did not go their way. And now he and Anthony were the ones seeking them out. It seems a fool’s errand now that the time had come, especially as no one had heard word of the lechers since the late Lord Featherington’s death two seasons ago.

He thought about backing out. Both gentlemen now had young children and wives at home to consider. Or, Penelope would be his wife in two days time. Was his wife in every way that mattered to him. He thought of little Aggie in her pretty yellow dress that morning, smacking his cheeks and babbling “Dadada!” as they danced around the drawing room. He did his best to make do a cappella, but Penelope’s playing and presence was sorely missed. Being left without her in his home for just a few days had felt like a gladiatorial trial. The mere thought of leaving her and Aggie behind stole his breath from his chest.

Colin opened his mouth to speak, intending to tell Anthony they both ought to reconsider and retreat. But just as he did, noise coming from the front hall had his brother silencing him with a single finger lifted to his lips. They were here, and there was nothing to do but move forward with the plan.

They each waited on opposite sides of the wide room in the shadows for what seemed an eternity, watching with intent focus as the two sets of foot falls came nearer, then paused. A loose, jovial laugh rang out. A farewell bid to an acquaintance. And then finally, the slow turning of the brass knob.

Light flooded through the door as it cracked open, the cooler air of the hall swirling into the stale space. Anthony remained silent as the men walked in, sizing up first Colin, then his brother. Anthony stepped forward slightly, resting his hands upon the heavy leather valise that sat on the desk in front of him. Colin straightened, using his imposing size to disguise the disquietude within, then stepped forward, letting the light from the candelabra illuminate his face. He waited until the door clicked shut, swallowing against the lump in his throat when the shorter of the pair slid the bolt into place. “Good evening. I am Mr. Colin Bridgerton. Which of you is Cecil, and which is Nash?”

The pair turned to one another, exchanging a dark glance. The taller of the men turned up one corner of his mouth, but said nothing. “I am Cecil,” the shorter man spake, gesturing to his partner. “And this here is Nash. He doesn’t speak much. Not with his words anyhow.” A strange, half-laugh, half-grunt sounded from the mute partner at the implication. Colin had to put forth considerable effort so as not to allow the cavalier response to launch him into a fury. There was a plan, and he needed to stick to it.

“I would say a pleasure to meet you, but I think we both know that not to be the case under the circumstances.” Colin gave the pair a cheeky grin, letting his features lighten the mood between them all. He gestured to the other end of the room where the Viscount stood glaring. “This is my brother, Anthony. I wish he spoke less.”

Nash guffawed at the joke, earning him an elbow and admonishing look from his partner. He schooled his features as quickly as they had broken, scowling at Cecil when he turned to speak to Colin once more, and almost causing Colin to laugh at the dynamic himself. Almost.

“I understand you have called us here to pay off the Featherington debt?” Cecil snapped out.

“Indeed.” It was Anthony’s turn to speak, the matter of the amount owing more his concern than Colin’s. “But I should like to discuss how you have arrived at the sum you communicated.”

Fire flashed behind Cecil’s eyes as he rushed to cut off Anthony. “It is £32,000, and not a crown less.”

“Twelve percent interest? Five is more than fair.”
“We aren’t one of your upstanding banks. The rate is the cost of doing business with folks that don’t ask questions.”
“What of the matter of the late Lord Featherington?”
“What of him? He was a take-in. Thought he could bamboozle us.”
“Seems like you asked a lot more than questions of him.”
“He got what was coming to him.”
“Surely his life was enough to suspend the interest. £25,000 to recoup your losses, and you leave the Featherington family alone to grieve theirs.”
“Just because we killed him doesn’t mean he owes us any less!”

Cecil was heated, drawn into the argument just as Anthony had planned. He pulled his right hand from the pocket of his tailcoat, the blade of a dagger flashing in the lamp light. Colin watched as Nash followed suit, each clutching the unsheathed weapons low at their sides. His eyes darted to Anthony, who he made to have clocked the situation by the way his body pivoted slightly from the men, but whose face betrayed nothing.

Anthony kept his tone jovial. “A Lord’s life must worth something these days! He paid back half, did he not? And without our seeking you out, your position would be wholly unchanged. Clearly you do not know what was made of the rest. You two seem rather capable at collections. Certainly you would have made yourselves whole by now if you knew.”

“We know now.” Cecil growled, readjusting his grip on the dagger and stepping towards Anthony.

“I’ll make up the difference!” Colin suddenly shouted, drawing the attention of the room. He swallowed hard, chancing a glance at Anthony’s stone face. “We only brought the £25,000 with us today, but give me a week to make the necessary withdrawals and I will pay the other seven out of my own personal accounts. I only…” He shifted on his feet, looking pathetically at the floor before meeting the eyes of his children’s grandfather’s murderers once again. “I only have one condition.”

“You aren’t exactly in a place to be making demands, Mr. Bridgerton.” Cecil seethed, squaring his shoulders to Colin.

Colin nodded his head quickly in agreement. “Of course. Of course. It is just that my wife… my betrothed that is. She was so close to her papa. She has not slept soundly through the night for two years, you see. It is the unknown. Her mind, it wanders. She fears he suffered terribly. I will agree to pay the interest, if only you will tell me how you did it. So that I can determine whether it might ease her mind. How did it all end for Lord Featherington?”

“She is a woman. Can you not lie?” Cecil spat.

“She is incredibly astute. And I, unfortunately, am a terrible liar.”

Cecil looked back to his partner, then shrugged his shoulder with an easy smile that made Colin’s stomach turn. “Laudanum.” he offered plainly. “We offered him a choice in the end. Drink the lethal dose, or give up his partner.” Nash ruffled at this. “There was a third option of course, involving my partner here. But no one ever chooses the third option.” Nash pouted slightly, humming his agreement. “His mind may have suffered, but not his body. It only took a few blows before he downed the poison. He fell asleep, snored like swine, and then he didn’t. Dumped his body for the paper boys to find, and that was the end of it.”

Colin ground his teeth so tight he feared they may shatter, the men’s blades truly the only thing holding him back from lunging forward and rehearsing every lesson he had ever learned about how to throw a punch upon the shorter man’s smug grin. Anthony must have been watching the storm brew behind his eyes, because far before Colin had expected it, his brother was unbuckling the straps of the bag, beginning to withdraw the stacks of bank notes to turn over in exchange for the absolution of his family’s obligation.

He panicked slightly, realizing they still had not confirmed that the payment would, in fact, end the Featherington’s entanglement with this nefarious business. “And if we do not pay? It is not the Featheringtons who have withheld your monies, but rather the silent partner in all this. Why should the estate be indebted to you at all.”

Anthony froze, looking at Colin as if he had gone mad. Cecil kept his eyes on the grands, motioning towards Colin with his head as his fingers twitched against the handle of his blade. Nash seemed to understand the gesture, gripping his own knife tighter and moving in Colin’s direction. “We have waited long enough. Now that we know the Bridgertons have a vested interest in the matter, we expect to collect. It would be such a shame if something were to happen to Lord Bridgerton’s new heir.” A twisted grin spread across Cecil’s face as he slowly raised his eyes to meet Anthony’s, conveying he in fact knew exactly who he was dealing with. “Of course, we wouldn’t want something to happen to that pretty little daughter of yours either, now would we? She does look so lovely in yellow, don’t you think Mr. Bridgerton?”

Red flashed before Colin’s eyes, and he felt his body begin to move on the man before he had even commanded it to do so. He felt so disconnected that it hardly came as a surprise when a strong set of hands gripped his shoulders from behind, ceasing his forward movement.

In a trice, the room was flooded as the twenty-some men waiting in the wings rushed in from behind both Colin and Anthony. The sight of the overwhelming force, clad in blue coats with scarlet waistcoats, clubs drawn, was enough for Cecil and Nash to drop their piddling daggers and surrender to the Bow Street Runners.

Colin remained frozen, held in place by the man behind him as the stupefied pair were taken into custody, “For the murder of The Right Honorable, The Lord Baron Archibald Featherington.” The man holding Colin finally released him after the criminals had been led out in shackles.

“Sir Ford,” Anthony addressed the magistrate behind Colin. “Thank you. Your timing was quite impeccable.”

“Indeed. Your brother here seemed ready to do the rope’s job. We had all we needed by then. It was the sensible moment.” The magistrate patted Colin hard on the back, seemingly waking him back up to the present.

“Erm, yes. Thank you.” Colin mumbled.

Anthony knit his brow at his brother before turning back to the magistrate. “What else will you need from us? Shall we expect subpoenas for a trial?”

Sir Ford chuckled lowly. “It is possible we might ask for your testimony, Lord Bridgerton. But it is unlikely. And certainly not your brother’s. There is simply no need. They just confessed to murdering a Lord in front of the entire Redbreast Patrol. I expect they’ll swing before the season is out.”

Anthony shook the man’s hand, thanking him for assembling and providing their support when he brought the matter to their attention. The magistrate thanked him back, reminding him of the proposal they had discussed previously which would be making its way before the House later that month. Anthony pledged his support, then bid the man farewell, walking him as far as the doorway before turning to collect his brother. “Shall we, brother?”

Colin continued to stare blankly at the place where Cecil had been standing. “Colin? Colin!” Anthony shouted.

The second call of his name snapped his focus to Anthony, whom he looked at hard a moment before a loud sob wracked his body. Anthony rushed to his side in concern, hovering in his space as Colin’s form crumpled. In an instant, his brother transformed from a strong, confident young man into the young boy he had known for far longer. “Colin, what is wrong? Are you wounded?” Anthony implored, looking him over frantically.

Colin shook his head no, choking at the air while tears streamed down his cheeks. “They – threa, threa, threatened Ahg-g-gie.” he struggled to explain. Colin looked up at Anthony, his eyes piercing with hurt and fear and understanding. His eyes held a silent question and a challenge. That was when Anthony finally understood.

“Oh, Colin. They did.” Anthony replied, his own breath beginning to fail him. “They threatened Edmund too.” Anthony caught Colin by his elbows as his knees buckled, supporting both their weight as the true gravity of the evening’s events settled over each of them. It hit Colin harder – he did not stop to think of mortality quite as often as his brother – tears flowing down his cheeks as he allowed his Anthony to embrace him.

“What have we done?” Colin wailed into Anthony’s shoulder. “What if they come after them? What if they come after Pen?”

Anthony pushed Colin back enough to level his gaze at him. “They cannot. You heard Magistrate Ford, no? They will swing before the end of the season. Not only did they confess to murdering a Lord in front of the entire patrol, but they did so while threatening another. They will remain imprisoned for the rest of their unnaturally short lives.”

Colin wiped roughly at his cheeks with a handkerchief, nodding his understanding as he allowed rationality to return. “Thank you, Anthony,” he managed. “I never would have been able to do this without you.”

“Thank your intended. I would not have learned of it, nor been in a position to offer my assistance had she not forced your hand. As furious as you were that day, I hope you see the good sense in her actions now.” Anthony raised his eyebrows, finally releasing Colin to stand on his own again.

“Indeed.” Colin nodded his head, sighing plaintively as he considered his brother’s words. “They truly are our better halves, are they not?”

Anthony chuckled at his brother’s revelation. “You are to be a fine husband, Colin.”

***

Penelope stood and paced in front of the window once more, ignoring her mother’s scolding for ‘disturbing the calm’ that had come not two minutes prior. Her feet could not be still any more than her mind at present; it had been hours and they still were not back. Worst case scenarios bombarded her mind, unrelenting visions of Colin meeting progressively worse fates. She tried to focus on her breath. On her steps. On the fact that Anthony was there with him. That he had promised her he would return to her safe. That Anthony had promised to bring him back safe.

Just as her heartbeat was starting to make itself known in her chest, a carriage turned onto Grosvenor’s Square, sending Penelope aflight to the window. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, watching as the carriage rolled closer. When the Bridgerton crest flashed into view under the flickering flame of the street lamp, she could be patient no longer. Penelope hoisted her skirts in one hand, tearing out of the drawing room and down the stairs.

She was hardly two strides into the hall when the front door burst open, the sweet sound of her given name ringing out from her betrothed’s lips.

“Pen!” Colin cried out, rushing to her and enveloping her in a strong embrace before she was even able to properly return his greeting. Disregarding all else, Colin dipped his lips to hers, pouring his being into a free and fulsome kiss. He did not relent until the third time the rather pointed sound of his eldest brother clearing his throat behind him rang through his ears.

Colin stepped back from his intended, only sorry that she seemed a bit reddened at being so conspicuously caught. He watched as she glanced Anthony’s way, assessing him before turning her focus back to him. “It is done then?” she inquired directly.

“It is done.” Anthony replied, not chancing his brother’s blubbering before they had even ascended the staircase. “Both men confessed to all and were arrested on the spot. Now, Miss Penelope, if we may. Colin and I should like to break the news to your mother.”

“Oh!” Penelope chirped in surprise, never considering it would be necessary to inform her mother of the night’s outcome. “Of course, Lord Bridgerton.” she replied out of nervousness, ignoring the reprimanding look both men gave her for using her future brother’s formal title at home.

Penelope rang for the butler, asking him to walk the small party up and announce the gentlemen to her mother so as not to give her a fright. A few moments later, they were all seated in the drawing room, an awkward silence permeating the space once the doors clicked shut behind Briarly.

“Absolutely not!” Portia began, rising from the settee with the power and poise of the Queen herself. “I do not wish to hear a word of it. Whatever the excuse, it does not make up for the fact that all of Society has seen them together. There is nothing you can say that would un-ruin my daughter!”

The three other faces in the room twisted with confusion, then broke with laughter. “Oh, Mama! No –” Penelope started, only to be cut off.

“You will be at the alter Wednesday morning if I have to drag you there myself.” She squared herself to Colin, fire and brimstone in her eyes.

“Indeed, I will.” Colin said simply, the twinkle in his eye finally communicating to his future mother-in-law that she may have misinterpreted the scene.

Turning to Anthony, she let her brow show her confusion. “If this is not? Then – why are you here?”

Anthony gestured for her to retake her seat, which she did, albeit reluctantly. “It is about the late Lord Featherington. Your husband.” he began, watching as the confusion was replaced with a shrewd sort of panic. He pushed on, not wanting to become privy to what additional schemes the two may have been a part of. “I am unsure how much you know of the circumstances surrounding his untimely passing.” he led, not trying to shock the gentle lady.

Portia’s lips drew into a tight line, her eyes darting to Penelope, sat across from her and holding Colin’s hand. The unspoken question was understood well enough by all, Penelope replying to her mother directly. “I am fully aware of the true circumstances, Mama. There is no reason to hide it from me.”

“I know that he was killed for a gambling debt.” she offered, her skepticism apparent in her every mannerism.

Anthony nodded sharply once. “Colin came to me last week with concerns about the outstanding debt. That the men who murdered Lord Featherington were never investigated. He was rightfully concerned that once his son becomes heir to the Featherington estate, attempts to collect on the debt would be focused on him.”

Anthony turned to Colin, who had been bobbing his head along in agreement. Colin appreciated the opportunity to speak up as he would be expected to do once he was head of the family. “We looked into it, Lady Featherington, a proper investigation. We were able to locate the men who took your husband. I set up a meeting with them at the nunnery they worked out of under the pretense that I wished to settle the debt, while Anthony coordinated with Sir Ford of the Bow Street Runners.”

“When they heard we were looking into the murder of a Lord, the whole patrol insisted on taking part. Of course, after the magistrate made sure we saw eye to eye on a few matters of politics.” Anthony was smug in his interruption, though Portia seemed to glaze over at the added detail.

Colin picked back up, drawing the rapt attention of his soon to be mother-in-law. “Anthony and I waited in a small parlor, while the runners all hid in the wings. Between the both of us, we got the scamps to confess to the whole scheme before the lot of them came out and arrested them. It was quite the scene. And, I hate to be vulgar, but I want you to rest assured. Sir Ford promised us that with the confession they made, there was no doubt they would hang by the end of the season.”

“You are sure?” was all Portia could say, the look of shock apparent on her face.

“We are sure, Lady Featherington.” Anthony replied in a tone far softer than his usual. “Archibald’s debt no longer hangs over the estate, and the men responsible for his death will soon meet their own. It is done.”

The foursome sat in silence a moment, Penelope squeezing tightly to Colin’s hand while Portia stared into the middle distance, her mind busy sorting through all that she had just been told. Which is why it caught the gentlemen off guard entirely when, seemingly unprovoked, Portia bit out a loud sob.

“Mama?” Penelope cajoled, dropping Colin’s hand to move to her mother’s side.

Portia fought herself, trying unsuccessfully to curb her emotional outburst. Her eyes were wild as they darted around the room, taking on the look of prey that knew it had been sighted by its predator. When it became clear she would not be able to control her reaction, she began struggling to explain. With an uncharacteristically shaky voice, she stammered, “I did not love him, you know. But it has just been so - hard since he was taken. He left us adrift. Worse than adrift as you are now aware.” Portia’s gaze fell to her lap, tears streaking her makeup down her face.

Colin stood, crossing the room before falling to his knees in front of Penelope’s mother, ignoring entirely the way Anthony gawped at him. In a rather forward gesture, he took up her hands from her lap, drawing her attention at once and cutting off her weeping. “Lady Featherington,” he implored. “I pledged to you that you would be taken care of. And you will. Whether or not I inherit the Featherington estate, I will look after you. You are my wife’s mother. You will be the grandmother of my children. I know that you have not been acquainted with many gentlemen who keep their promises. But I assure you I will keep mine. You are no longer alone.”

***

Colin bid Anthony a good night, promising he would get back to Bloomsbury safe and sound. Rather, he sent his carriage ahead, stealthily slipping across Grosvenor’s Square and into the back gardens of Featherington House, where Penelope had promised to meet him not 20 minutes prior as he kissed her goodbye. He moved along the back wall, attempting to dissolve into the shadows so as not to be seen. Only when his mind began to wander – considering that Penelope might have been drawn into conversation with her mother, or prisoner to an overly attentive lady’s maid, or otherwise occupied such that she was unable to make their agreed upon rendezvous – did the light touch of warm fingers on the back of his ear cause him to nearly shout, giving up their position entirely.

“Good evening, Mr. Bridgerton.” Penelope whispered, trying to sound seductive despite stifling a giggle at his startled reaction.

“Pen!” Colin gasped as he spun around, his hands moving to grasp her by the hips in an instant. His lips were only a breath behind, dipping down to ground him and remind himself that the evening had gone as planned. His family was safe, and the day after next, Penelope would finally come home. He kissed her with as much need as desire, until all of the torments still plaguing his mind fell away.

Penelope pressed a hand to his chest, separating them just enough to be able to speak. “Are you well?” she asked, sensing the near desperate energy in his embrace.

Colin nodded against her forehead, wishing to reassure her. When he tried to speak however, he found he could not. “They threatened Aggie.” he explained with trembling words. “And they had daggers drawn. You were right to force my hand in asking Anthony for his assistance. I am sorry I ever doubted you. I pledge I shall never repeat that mistake.”

“I am certain you shall,” Penelope smiled, gently stroking his hairline. “Although I appreciate the sentiment.”

Concern etched onto Colin’s face. “Does it not worry you, what I have said about Aggie? About the drawn blades?”

But Penelope could only shake her head, an airy smile spreading across her tipped up face. “I have already imagined the worst, and every possibility in between. You are home now. My fears are gone.”

Colin squeezed her tight to his chest, exhaling into her hair and finally letting go of the disquietude that had plagued him all evening. Penelope was right, of course. As she seemed to be in all things. Rather than defiant as his brother always seemed to get when Kate proved to be the more shrewd of the pair, Colin felt a certain comfort and steadiness in the knowledge. He swore to himself then that regardless of any societal expectations with which they had been brought up, he would consult his wife first in every important decision. When he looked deep into her eyes, all he was able to say was, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” she echoed, pulling him away from the wall by his wrist and towards the gazebo on the other side of the rose garden. Colin resisted slightly, worried that they may be seen once they stepped out of the darkest shadows, but Penelope was fearless, and he found he could do nothing but follow.

Once inside the small, wooden structure, it became clear to Colin her purpose. He helped her climb up onto one of the wide rails, aligning her hips perfectly with his own. Her hands were on the fall of his trousers faster than he could gain his bearings, her craven behavior enough to set him ready for her intended activities. Once his mind caught up to hers, he slipped his hands under her skirts, bunching them in her lap until the part in her thighs became visible to him.

Colin considered bending to worship her with his tongue, but before he had the opportunity, Penelope’s firm grip on his member told him she had other plans. “Please, Colin. Take me. I have felt so empty without you inside me these past days. I cannot wait any longer.”

Colin advanced on her and, feeling she was already wet and ready to receive him, did not hesitate in their joining. He held himself flush inside her, crashing his tongue against hers simultaneously to quiet their moans, feeling more at peace than he had in some time.

He stayed like that, his tip kissing her womb, until she began to flutter and tighten around him, her hips slowly starting to shift and grind against his. He took the signal that she craved his friction, and began rhythmically pumping into her, his hands clenching her bottom to bring them together with each squeezing thrust.

Penelope buried her hands in his hair, kissing him fiercely as their bodies rolled together. Colin broke their kiss, pressing his cheek to hers so he could murmur into her ear. “You are so beautiful. So brilliant. I want to give you everything. Give you the whole world.” Each sentence was punctuated by a slow grind of his hips. He held her tight to his chest, wanting to both protect and be as close to her as possible.

“You already have, Colin.” Penelope whispered back, lips brushing his earlobe. “You are everything to me.”

Colin craned his head back, never ceasing in his efforts, but with a look of confusion on his face. He pressed their foreheads together, shaking his head back and forth. “I am nothing. Not compared to you, Pen.” His breath was thready from exertion. “You deserve it all. When you have my son, I will give it to you.”

Penelope’s hands cradled his face, her features fighting to maintain focus despite the intense pleasure of their coupling. “I cannot wait to be filled with your child. To give you your son.”

Colin surged inside her. “You will be extraordinary, swollen and round.”

His hand moved to the curve of her belly, filling his hand just above the place where he was driving into her. Penelope gasped at the sensation, the warmth of his hand connecting to her core and bringing her awareness to the place where she would grow their baby. Her walls began to flex and grip at his cock, willing his release. “Plant your seed, please Colin.”

His spine straightened, his shoulders stiffening as his release came upon him by surprise, a handful of frantic thrusts all he could do to direct the flow towards its destination. His jaw sagged, a guttural grunt spilling from his lips when his shoulders finally relaxed. Colin did not pull out however, realizing as his senses returned that Penelope had not met her release. Keeping his hips pressed tight to hers, he reached between them, working her bud in fevered circles. It did not take long until her rhythmic pulsing turned to desperate clenching, her thirsty womb refusing to let a drop of his offering go to waste. Penelope threaded her fingers tightly into his hair, locking their lips together so that his tongue could deaden the sound of her ecstasy. He drove deep into her mouth such that she felt the sensation of being penetrated by him from top to bottom as she convulsed around his sensitized member.

When Colin finally let his fingers come to rest, he and Penelope collapsed into one another, fully spent. They held each other tight, no words necessary as their love was implicit. Several minutes passed before either made an effort to move, Colin eventually slipping free of her warmth and buttoning himself away. He helped to arrange her skirts and adjust some loose hairpins, but both agreed the mess he had made of her hair was unlikely to be seen by anyone as she retired to her bedchamber. And so they left it hanging neater, but still rather loose, as Colin walked her to the servant’s door she used for sneaking in.

After countless kisses goodnight, Colin finally bid Penelope adieu, leaving her to her rest. This would be the last time he set eyes on her until the morning after next, when he would be waiting for her at the altar of St. George’s cathedral. While their parting was always difficult, knowing that this would be the last before she would take his name somehow made it easier.

Penelope took a moment to lean back against the door after it shut behind her, the bliss of being the object of Colin Bridgerton’s desire never ceasing to turn her giddy. Once she was able to school her cheeks, she took a steadying breath and began the familiar path along the silent back corridors to her bedchamber. It was not until she carefully latched the door behind her that she realized she was not alone.

“Mama!” she yelped upon spotting Portia, perched on her bed and wearing an uncomfortably self-satisfied expression. “What are you doing here?”

Her mother kept her eyes trained on an invisible snag in her skirt, smoothing over her knees several times in a clear attempt to avoid Penelope’s eyes. “Well,” she began in a haughty tone that Penelope recognized as the one she used when most uncomfortable. “I had come to speak with my daughter about wifely duties and what would be expected of her wedding night.”

The color drained from Penelope’s face as she remembered the mess she must look. She tried to bite back her horror as her mother continued to talk at her, dropping her own gaze when her mother finally looked up. “It appears from the lay of things that you have already quite sorted that for yourself.”

Penelope had no idea how to respond to her mother’s – rather accurate – accusation. And so she did what she knew was expected of any young lady. She denied it. “Mama? I cannot begin to imagine what you could mean!”

“Oh, spare me the theatrics, Penelope!” Portia responded, rising from the bed. “I saw you pulling your Mister Bridgerton through the garden. Not to mention the state of you now.”

She stilled, flushing the color of spring berries as her mother looked her up and down.

“Judging by that smile you wore when you walked in here, I am to assume he did not force you?” Portia asked, a slight waiver in her query betraying motherly worry.

Staring hard at the floor, Penelope managed to choke out a stuttering “No, mama.” And then, “I am sorry, mama.” under the scrutiny.

Much to her confusion, a tinkling laughter broke the tension. “Pish-posh!”

Penelope’s eyes darted up, seeing mirth rather than rage occupying her mother’s expression. “Mama?”

Portia waived her hand dismissively. “It is a done deal now. You have entrapped him. Even if he were to try and back out, we could force the issue. You will be a Bridgerton, one way or another.” Penelope hated the smug grin that spread across her mother’s face, but she remained too mortified to respond.

“I still do not quite understand how you have done it. My youngest, ensnaring a Bridgerton!” A satisfied huff swelled Portia’s chest. “It is quite the feat at any rate. I do hope you know how proud I am of you.” Penelope’s jaw sagged as she took in her mother’s meaning.

Portia swept across the room to where Penelope stood beside the door. She hesitated briefly before laying an unsure hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Heavens help us if Mister Finch were to inherit the estate. Or worse, that Mister Dankworth that keeps sniffing around Prudence. Your Mister Bridgerton truly is our only real hope. The two of you are the only other ones with any real sense in this family. I am glad to know he is not dawdling about when it comes to setting matters into motion. It is in fate’s hands now.”

Portia did not wait for a reply, giving Penelope one last knowing smirk before exiting the bedchamber.

Chapter Text

With Penelope’s hand in his, Colin stepped out of the chapel and into his new life as a married man.

Once fully bathed in the light of morning, the steps to St. George’s Cathedral crowded with well-wishers tossing seed and cheering them on, Colin snaked his arm around Penelope’s waist, tipped her back, and kissed her in the sunshine.

The preparations of the last 24 hours had dragged on endlessly, but paled in comparison to the seemingly unending drone of the Vicar as he read through the solemn ceremony and logging in the parish register. When he had finally pronounced the two husband and wife, Colin felt as if he could not pull Penelope out of the church fast enough. Now, to the sound of several ladies swooning, he was finally able to show all of England that Penelope was his wife.

When Penelope began tapping his chest and giggling against his lips, he finally righted them both. It was only then that he realized that their entire family had followed them out of the chapel and were gathered around them, watching. He was certain the tips of his ears matched his wife’s cheeks.

“Colin!”
“Gross.”
“Congratulations, dears!”
“Oh!”
“By George!”
“Barmy!”
“Gosh!”
“Brava!” And so on went the unique commentary and exclamations of all, each probably mildly infuriating in their own way, but none significant enough to remove either of the newlyweds from their giddy stupor.

Colin looked around a moment, presuming from the tight squeeze at his hand that his wife was even more uncomfortable under the scrutiny than he. “The carriage?” he asked, his head tilting towards Anthony when he did not immediately sight them.

“It is being brought around now.” Portia responded, drawing a brief look of confusion from her newest son-in-law.

“We arranged for you two to ride back in the Featherington carriage.” Anthony supplied, causing Colin’s heart to thud furiously in his chest. He understood implicitly the message it would communicate to the Ton. Penelope may have taken the Bridgerton name. But Colin had just stepped into the roll of head of the Featheringtons.

“And Portia will ride back with me!” his mother interjected, eyes alight as she exchanged a nod with Penelope’s mama.

Colin looked down, expecting to see a nervous or withdrawing Penelope under the attention of the moment. Instead, the newly minted Mrs. Bridgerton was wearing a pleased and prideful smile; clutching his hand, but stood straight and tall. “Shall we leave for the wedding breakfast? You must be hungry, darling husband.”

She truly was a minx.

The moment Colin spotted the emerald green and gold carriage rolling towards the steps, he took off towards the conveyance, ready for a few moments of relative privacy. Penelope trailed behind him by the wrist, laughing airily at his antics. When she was not fast enough to keep up with his large strides, he pivoted, then swept her into his arms, ignoring all protest and effortlessly carrying her the rest of the way to the waiting carriage.

Colin joined his wife after helping her in, lamenting immediately that this carriage did not have the same curtains his own sported. Still, there was not much that could be accomplished in a two minute ride down the road to his brother’s house, curtains or no. He would have to settle for a quick tour of his wife’s perfect lips.

“How are you feeling?” Penelope asked before he could make his advance, a hint of nerves coloring her tone.

Colin took up her hands, wanting her to feel his reassurance as much as she would hear it. “Pen, I could not be happier. You are my wife.”

“You are not…” Penelope cut herself off when she saw the intense look in her husband’s eyes. It answered every question her restless mind insisted upon asking. A light blush replaced her look of concern, and when she tilted her chin towards Colin’s, he leaned in and sealed the matter with a kiss.

Their lips moved together in the already familiar dance, yet something felt different. Steadier. More certain. Assured. When their tongues tangled, Penelope no longer held the fear that one wrong move would somehow wake Colin up to the reality of just who he was tasting. Now that he had stood before all, swearing his love and pledging his troth, her mind was finally able to accept the promises he made.

Colin’s steady hands gripped her upper back, clutching her to his chest. Penelope was cocooned in his embrace, relaxing into his broad chest as they became one. Colin knew better than to ruin Penelope’s hair during the brief trip, but that did not stop his fingers from tracing her neck and jawline, a tease of what they both knew was to come that evening. They did not break their kiss until well after the carriage came to a stop, their swollen lips and heavy lids a signal to all that this was a marriage of passion as well as friendship.

Colin climbed out of the carriage first, turning to help his wife. When she moved more slowly than his patience had prepared him for, he wrapped his large hands around her torso, lifting her clear of the vehicle and placing her on the ground as if it were the most natural option available.

“Colin!” Penelope squeaked once her feet met terra firma. “I can get in and out of a carriage by myself!”

“I have refrained from touching you as I please for far too long. I beg of you, indulge me.” he replied, a lop-sided grin complimenting the dark look his eyes held.

“For how long?” she replied, folding her arms in front of her chest.

Colin shrugged lazily, his eyes sparkling. “Until death do us part?”

***

The moment Colin led his new wife into his brother’s house, it became quite apparent that not only had the guests not yet begun to arrive, but that the entire family was lagging behind them in returning from the church. He looked around only a moment before a plan had hatched in his mind.

“Come with me.” he declared, grasping her hand tightly in his and hastily leading her towards the servant’s staircase.

“Where are we going?” Penelope whispered through stifled laughter at her husband’s behavior.

“Just trust me.” he replied, ending the conversation as he led them into the bustling basement.

Servants were hurrying about in seemingly every direction. Darting in and out of rooms, carrying all manner of dishes and drink for the feast that was about to take place in their honor. Penelope wondered a moment if Colin were simply trying to find a snack before the festivities begun. But that thought was quickly squashed when he plucked up a key from above a door frame and secreted her away into what was immediately apparent as the Bridgerton wine stores.

Colin locked the door behind him the moment they were safely inside, descending upon Penelope as if he were a starved beast and she a fresh cut of meat.

“Colin –” Penelope pushed back lightly against his lapels, breaking their kiss just enough so that she could speak without impediment. “Will we not be missed? Or discovered?”

His devilish smirk told her that he did not much care either way. “Not if we are swift, and you are quiet.”

His lips devoured hers, hands crawling down her skirts and lifting them as he backed her against the freshly painted brick wall. Colin silently thanked his brother for his insistence upon maintaining the cellars to such a high degree, as Colin was able to pin Penelope to the wall without any fear of ruining her pale vestments. He briefly caught the dark and wanton look in her eyes as he exposed her, her own hands fumbling his buttons apart.

Her knees were wrapped around his elbows and his member sunk inside her before either could take another breath. Their lips crashed together, muting one another’s passions as Colin began to thrust.

Penelope could feel his member swelling more with each successive effort, her walls clamoring to take all of him as quickly as possible. Her cunt ached to be filled every time he was near, and she pondered for a brief moment if that feeling would ever end. Desiring nothing more than to goad him towards his release, Penelope nipped at his ear, speaking darkly against it between gasps. “Fill me, husband. Give me your seed. Breed me!”

Colin’s fingers dug hard into her arse as he came, his every shuddering contraction releasing hot spend deep into her precious vessel. Penelope’s legs clung tight to his waist, pinning their bodies together as her womb gulped down his cock. She had learned how to keep quiet these past weeks and so, despite being ravaged by her own pleasure, did little more than whimper as she went limp in Colin’s arms.

Not a minute later both were straightened and had found their sea legs. Colin tucked Penelope’s arm around his and, snagging a bottle of champagne from the nearest rack, unlocked the door, plastered his widest grin across his face, and stepped them both back into the fray.

The moment they appeared at the top of the servant’s staircase into the now raucous great hall, rather than attempt to avoid notice, Colin popped the cork to the bottle of champagne he had pilfered, and to great fanfare. Penelope tried to keep her eyes from going wide as the entirety of their guest list turned to observe them, certain every single one of them must have known the scandalous way in which they had just consummated their vows.

Yet the only looks turned upon them were those of joy and endearment. Cheers erupted for the newlyweds and glasses appeared in their hands as if conjured. Penelope was glad most of her blood was still occupied heating other parts of her body, certain it kept her face from turning the dramatic shade of maroon it otherwise ought. Colin winked at her as he filled her champagne coupe, somehow fighting an even wider grin, the look of the devil in his eyes as he clinked their glasses in cheers and imbibed the effervescent spirit.

They were pulled every which way after that, their mothers leading them from family to family, ensuring all were thanked for their attendance and had the opportunity to bestow congratulations upon the happy couple. By the time the party crossed over into the large formal dining, both Colin and Penelope were exhausted and ravenous.

Both were glad to take the first cups of Kate’s chai, sipping it down faster than was likely proprietous and pouring a second before anyone else could take the pot from them. Penelope watched as Colin’s eyes twinkled when the meal began to arrive.

The first course boasted five different varieties of sausages, four hams, and baskets upon baskets of soft boiled eggs. Sandwiches of cucumber, ham and mustard, and chicken abounded, but none so plentiful as the platter upon platter of smoked salmon. Absent was any trace of egg and cress, which both guests of honor despised. Trays and trays of cakes and breads were laid; walnuts and cinnamon, apple and cranberry, currant, blueberry, gingerbread, and more. Biscuits abounded as well, more than Colin had ever seen in one place, with veritable piles of butter biscuits stealing the show. Penelope noted with pride that pots of apricot jam could be seen laid in front of every third place setting, alongside those of strawberry.

Colin did not wait for anyone to tell him to begin, taking full advantage of this being his and his wife’s day. His impatience spilled over to Penelope, serving her rather than allowing her the time to serve herself. The effect of this was that Penelope soon had a plate overflowing and piled just as high as her husbands.

“Colin!” she quietly hissed, worried what others might think of the gluttonous portions before her. “You must stop! I simply cannot eat as you do. You have given me far too much!”

Colin paused, slowly turning to take in the overwhelmed expression on Penelope’s face. He leaned in, until his lips ghosted the shell of her ear. Just a day ago, this sort of behavior would never have been allowed, most especially in front of guests. But now, as newlyweds, it seemed all had been deemed permissible. Penelope tried to maintain an unaffected demeanor. “My darling, alluring, seductive wife.” he whispered low into her ear such that only she could hear. “You will need your strength. For once we are home, I do not intend to allow you a moment’s rest.”

Penelope’s jaw sagged slightly as his meaning sunk in. She remained in a state of shock as he pulled back from her ear, leaned in to smack her cheek with a fleeting kiss, then turned back to his plate and tucked in as if nothing had transpired between them.

It was nearly an hour before the first course was removed and the second laid, Penelope finding herself fighting to keep enough for herself to eat as it became clear that Colin took the concept of shared marital property quite seriously. Her plate had become an extension of his own as he helped himself to whatever he pleased. For most of the hour, she tried to keep conversation with the guests around her, restraining her disbelief to side glances and a few peeved shakes of her head. But when he took the last butter biscuit from directly in front of her, Penelope knew she had to fight back.

The look of venom crossed Colin’s features as her delicate hand reached in front of him, pilfering a lemon and lavender biscuit and returning it to her mouth. His murderous eyes softened when the biscuit touched her lips however, giving way to a fleeting glimpse of lust, then a prideful smirk at her daring behavior, finishing with a soft look of wonderment and contentment with his bride.

It was only after watching his full range of emotions that Penelope noticed nearly all the Bridgerton siblings – and Lady Violet herself – were staring at the pair, mouths agape.

Gregory, ever precocious as always, was the first to name the spade. “Colin! Miss Penelope has just pilfered your biscuit! Are you to permit her to steal from your plate?”

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” Colin quickly corrected, “has done no such thing.”

“Has too!” Hyacinth chimed. “I have just watched it with my own eyes!”

“Mama?” Colin turned his attention to his mother, sat next to his youngest siblings. “I wonder if you might make an appointment for Gregory and Hyacinth with the surgeon.”

Violet tilted her head, unable to follow the twisting logic of her third eldest. “Whatever for, my dear?”

Colin fought down a smirk. “To be fitted for an ear trumpet of course! For, despite being sat in the front row of the chapel, they each could not possibly have heard the vows that my wife and I took only a few hours ago.”

“Could too!” Gregory and Hyacinth rebutted in chorus.

Indignant, Gregory elaborated. “I do not recall anything in the vows about sharing food!”

“With all my worldly goods, I thee endow.” Colin stated plainly, unable to keep himself from turning to face Penelope fully as he repeated the last line of their vows, a lovesick grin breaking lopsidedly across his face.

“So?” Hyacinth interjected, breaking his flight of whimsy.

Colin turned back to face her, the seriousness in his eyes enough to make his youngest sister recoil slightly in her chair. “So,” he began, his voice cutting and unequivocal. “All that is mine is hers. There is nothing she can steal from me. For it is already hers.”

“Even food?” Gregory queried, still incredulous over what he had witnessed.

“Even food.” Colin replied tenderly, his eyes large and soft, locked on those of his awestruck wife, and effectively putting an end to Gregory and Hyacinth’s protests. He raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it and paying no mind at all to the sounds of swooning guests from all around the grand table. He might have gone on all afternoon entranced in her eyes, however the moment soon shifted when Wickham entered the dining room, followed by a veritable parade of footmen carrying the second course.

The table was laid with impressive cuts of roast venison, several geese, braised beef steaks, cream-poached cod, smoked trout, ornately decorated raised game pies, strawberry, raspberry, and blueberry tarts, a lemon and pineapple syllabub, an artichoke and spinach pastry, asparagus in butter, and of course, the three-tiered wedding cake.

The cake – which Penelope believed might stand taller than she – was a spiced fruit cake, flavored with orange zest and cinnamon, soaked in rum, and dressed with marzipan fondant. The cake rivaled in size the one Penelope recalled was served at Lord Bridgerton’s failed palace wedding last season, although it was not nearly as ornately decorated nor presented. Still, several pineapples had been procured to crown the elegantly displayed confection, and in that moment, Penelope truly felt the magnitude of the purse that backed the celebrations of her and Colin’s union.

Milk Punch and a Punch Royal were also laid, completing the service. It was all Penelope could do to keep herself from laughing aloud when Colin began reaching for dishes as ravenously as he did the first course. Their plates piled high once more, conversation resumed and the afternoon wore on.

Several times throughout the latter half of the meal, Penelope snuck bites from Colin’s plate, even when she had a more than sufficient portion of the same on her own. Each time, his attention was startled. But his reflexive protectiveness melted away when his eyes met Penelope’s angelic disposition, simply reaching his own fork over to procure a portion for himself twice the size of any she could hope to manage. Not once did a guest scoff at their lack of decorum or table manners, presumably chalking their actions up to the blissfully heedless behavior typical of newlyweds.

By the time the cake was cut and served, it was nearly three o’clock. Portia and Violet, both tipsy after many hours of champagne, wine, and punch, were reduced to giggling schoolroom girls as remark after remark was traded over putting up the top tier of the cake for the christening of the first child. Penelope could do nothing but blush as they speculated aloud what names might best suit a red-headed Bridgerton grandson.

As the dessert was finished and the table cleared, a stifled yawn from Lady Hardy brought Colin’s attention back to his surroundings. The string trio that had played all morning from the corner of the room was clearly flagging, as were most in attendance. Colin took Penelope’s hand under the table, squeezing it to catch her attention.

“Ought we make our grand exit?” he leaned over and whispered in her ear, not wanting to catch her off guard by charging ahead without warning. When Penelope agreed, he turned his attention to his eldest brother at the head of the table, silently communicating that it was time for their farewell toast.

Anthony rose from his chair, clinking his dessert spoon against his half-filled champagne flute. A murmur – mixing sounds of amusement and dread – spread through the hall. Penelope felt slightly guilty when a faint hue of pink washed over the Viscount’s cheeks, but she could not bring herself to feel truly ashamed if it meant none present would have to suffer through another of his laborious grand speeches.

“If everyone would take a moment to raise their glasses,” Anthony began, not allowing the tittering to affect his demeanor. “Rest assured, I have promised my brother and new sister that I would not give Lady Whistledown any further fodder with which to write.” A smile beamed when his delivered line returned more than just polite laughter. Anthony grinned at the newlyweds, only a modicum of a boast in his eyes for having properly landed a joke. After wallowing in his self-satisfaction just a bit too long, the Viscount continued. “The Bridgertons and the Featheringtons have long been at the forefront of Society. And while the Bridgertons have certainly gained a bright, talented, and lovely new member of our family today, I believe it is rather significant to note that the Featheringtons have also gained a son. The union of not only Colin and Penelope, but two great families, is something to be celebrated. May the future be fruitful, and bring with it a great alliance across Grosvenor’s Square. I believe I speak for all present, when I wish you both many happy years. To Mr. and Mrs. Bridgerton!”

A resounding echo and chorus of “Here, here!” swelled in the room, the last dregs of champagne being clinked and swallowed all around. Colin rather scandalously tipped Penelope back into a passionate kiss, then clutching her hand, jogged the two of them out of the large double doors and up the staircase to the drawing room.

It had been decided that there would not be enough time for the two to retire to Bloomsbury before the planned dinner announcement to the family. And so it was arranged that they would be sent off in such a manner as to allow for the traditional toast and in order to mark the end of the festivities. As it was, they would have fifteen or twenty minutes before the rest of the family was able to slip away and join them upstairs for the evening.

Penelope collapsed onto the settee first, Colin following behind her in short order. Neither moved nor spoke for a full two minutes, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with them both. They were sitting nearly on top of one another, slumped together, with Penelope curled into the warm crook of Colin’s arm.

“Are you nervous? About later, with Aggie that is?” Penelope asked, tipping her chin up until she could meet Colin’s drooping eyes. He gently stroked the top of her head, smiling softly back at her.

“I was. But not anymore.” he replied thoughtfully.

Penelope took a lazy, deep breath, blinking slowly. “Not anymore? What has changed?”

Colin closed his eyes, a blissful smile setting his features. “You are my wife.”

A comfortable silence moved in, and between the warmth of each other’s embrace, their filled bellies, and the fact that this was the first moment of true peace either had known since before dawn that day, both soon drifted off into a comfortable slumber, a well-earned nap after a long day’s efforts.

***

Having seen out the last of the guests – Featheringtons excluded of course – Violet and Portia tumbled up the grand staircase, leaving their children to their own devices for the time being. They were teasing one another about who was the better matchmaker. Portia able to claim to all but one of her children had married, and one of them even snagged herself a Bridgerton, while Violet hung her hat that she had married off three, soon to be four of her own brood. One to a Duke, and soon another to an Earl. Portia retorted that not one of Violet’s children would ever be able to marry a Bridgerton, causing both ladies to bend at the waist in laughter just outside the drawing room. When they finally caught their breath, Violet reached for the door knob, twisting it and pulling open the door.

Portia and Violet nearly melted into one another when they viewed their third born children nestled together, fast asleep and snoring lightly on the settee. They watched silently from the doorway for a time, neither acknowledging the light trail of tears trickling from the corners of the other’s eyes, but merely leaning on each other for support. Neither of the mamas could take full credit for this match, and they both knew it. Their skills and patience had been put to the test over the years as they both somehow knew the best thing for each of their spirited third born was to simply stay out of their way. Their discipline had finally paid off, in the most satisfying way possible as their families were now united with the hope of an even greater future on the horizon.

“Shall we wake them?” Portia whispered, not taking her softened eyes from the napping pair.

“Perhaps not.” Violet smiled at the exhausted newlyweds, then stealthily closed the doors. “I believe they have earned their rest.”

Chapter Text

Colin woke with a start, disoriented and confused over the numb feeling pricking at his left arm and fingers. He tried to move it before opening his eyes, growing even more concerned when the limb did not budge. His mind, clouded by sleep and a bit of drink, began to panic until he finally looked at the warden which had imprisoned his deadened arm.

The fog lifted and sunshine returned to his heart. Pen. His wife, Pen. Peaceful and content as an angel, curled into his side and napping soundly, still wrapped in her silk and lace white gown.

Judging by the stiffness of his tongue and the lack of riotous noise coming from the hall beneath them, they had been asleep most of the afternoon. As content as he was to continue watching Penelope slumber – the pins and needles in his arm be damned – he knew she would want to rise as well in order to prepare for dinner and the arrival and introduction of their little Aggie.

“Pen?” he whispered, jostling her slightly. “Pen, it is time to wake up.”

“No, mama! Twenty minutes more!” she protested, her mind as unaware of her present circumstances as his own had been just a moment earlier.

Colin decided to have a bit of fun with his new bride. In his best impression of Lady Featherington, he replied, “You simply must rise now young lady. Or that Mister Bridgerton may not still be waiting at the altar for you by the time we arrive!”

Penelope’s eyes shot wide, her whole body launching from the settee as if fired from a dueling pistol. She looked around in confusion as she took in the sight of her surroundings, the stupor only clearing when a roar of laughter burst forth from Colin’s chest.

She wheeled around on her heel, the look of murder set firmly upon her countenance when she finally landed her gaze upon him. But the mimicked anger only lasted a heartbeat before Colin had pulled her back down atop his lap, her steeled features dissolving into giggles and squeals as he tickled her breathless.

They had only just began to kiss when a loud knock on the drawing room door preceded the entrance of first Benedict, then Eloise. “Gross.” rang out from the fifth Bridgerton as she flopped down across from the newlyweds, who were quickly extricating themselves from one another.

“El, I…” Penelope began before promptly being cut off by her husband.

“There is nothing gross about a husband and wife canoodling about in private. Especially on the day of their wedding.” Colin firmly announced.

Eloise made a face. “There is indeed, when the happy couple are your brother and best friend.”

Benedict followed his sister’s lead and sprawled across the other end of the settee, kicking his heels up on the tea table and stretching his arms wide across the seat back. “I suppose you ought get used to it. It is only bound to get worse now that they are married.”

“Worse?!” Eloise nearly screeched, her face displaying horror at the thought. “How could it get any worse? He has already spent the last two seasons occupying all her time and pawing at her every chance he could make!”

Both Colin and Penelope sat up, ready to argue the point, but were cut off by Benedict’s snort of laughter. “That was how they behaved whilst restricted by the rules of Society and their refusal to admit their true feelings for one another. One only need imagine now that they have been given carte blanche to do as they please. Do you not recall how papa behaved with mama when we were children?”

Eloise paused a moment to think, her eyes growing first soft and nostalgic, then round with knowing and panic. “You do not mean to say…”

“None of us is as much like papa as Colin.” Benedict explained, a swell of emotion coloring his tone. “Nor mama for that matter. I have come to suspect that the doting and affectionate parents of our memories are to be well emulated by these two in the coming months and years.” Benedict gestured gruffly towards the stunned couple across from he and his sister.

Penelope turned to Colin, unsure of what to expect, yet still surprised by the proud tears she found welling in his eyes. He appeared ready to say something, his hand squeezing hers surely, when Eloise pulled both their attention with a loud huff.

“Gross.” she repeated, quieter and with less gusto than the first time, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. Her tone communicated that she had resigned herself, once and for all, to acceptance of the type of relationship her brother and best friend would have as a married couple. Somewhere in the undercurrent, it was clear that she was pleased for them both.

***

None needed to change for the dinner as all were still in formal dress from the wedding. Thus, once Benedict and Eloise finally explained the purpose for their appearance in the drawing room, all that needed to be done was for a maid to quickly assist Penelope in correcting her sleep-flattened hair before all made their way downstairs to the dining room.

They crossed over to the dining room the moment Colin and Penelope rejoined the party. Penelope was given the guest-of-honor seat at the table, directly to the right of Anthony, with Colin next to her. Portia was sat between Kate and Violet, a strategic decision meant to help mitigate any hysterics should they arise. Francesca and then Benedict sat to Anthony’s left, across from Penelope and Colin. Benedict had pled with Kate to be seated as far away from Prudence as her plan would allow, having determined one dinner at her side to be more than enough for a lifetime. Hyacinth and Gregory were between Benedict and his mother, with Eloise, Daphne, Simon, and Prudence filling in the opposite length of the table between Colin and Kate.

Champagne was laid as soon as all had taken their seats, Anthony standing with a coupe in hand before the servants had even come to lay the meal. Colin felt his stomach flop when he realized his brother’s intent, not expecting the moment to have arrived so soon, and reached out to clasp Penelope’s hand under the table. With all eyes turned to the Viscount, the giddy smile his Viscountess was fighting to suppress and her excited squirming, went unseen.

“I am rather delighted to host our first meal together as a united family, brought together by our brother Colin, and his new wife, our new sister, Penelope.” Those not in the know all murmured their well wishes and felicitations for the couple, thinking that the purpose of Anthony’s speech. He continued only a moment later, raising his volume briefly in order to regain the family’s attention. “I have long considered Colin to be the bravest amongst us, going back to the days when he was Benedict and I’s only walking and talking sibling. We would venture out into the misty woods of Aubrey Hall –”

A sharp clearing of Colin’s throat – which he wished could have been a sharp kick to the shin – caught his eldest brother’s attention. The glare he turned upon him caused Anthony to recall his promise to the bride not to try his hand at another of his speeches. With the faintest of blushes coloring his cheeks, Anthony rallied, veering his remarks closer to the task at hand.

“All that to say, Colin was faced with a difficult situation some weeks ago, and indeed made a brave choice. One that I am incredibly proud of him for, and one which I am proud to now share with you all.” Anthony shared an uncharacteristically warm smile with his brother and Penelope, waiting for them to nod in affirmation that they were prepared for him to go on. Receiving their final consent, Anthony started again. “Upon his return voyage from abroad, it seems that Colin was met with more than simply…”

Several things happened at once which interrupted the Viscount’s announcement.

First, a commotion from the servants stairwell, amplified by the swinging open of the hidden door, drew the attention of the table.

Next, before any could register what they were seeing, Kate stood from the opposite end of the table, drawing everyone’s attention by squealing a sound so unladylike and excitable that even some of the Bridgerton’s jaws dropped.

Anthony, whose height from standing offered him a better vantage point of the sudden intrusion from downstairs, did not turn back quite as quickly as the rest to look upon his wife, but rather realized what had all the maids in such a state of discomposure. As those at the table began to follow the Viscountess’s eye line back towards the servant’s door, Anthony bellowed out her Christian name, the crimson flush crawling up his neck, hard, round eyes, and bulging vein cutting across his forehead conveying his disapproval at what he had seen.

Before Colin or Penelope had finished turning back around for a second time, Hyacinth and Francesca let out twin squeals, leaping from their seats and rushing towards the butler and flock of maids and footmen spilling out behind him. They nearly reached their destination by the time Penelope saw the source of her new brother-in-law’s consternation. Against his explicit direction, Aggie had been carried out by Humboldt, perched among greenery, white roses, and daisies, sat atop on a silver platter and presented as if the first course of their meal.

Penelope barely registered Anthony’s grumbled apology to Colin, nor her mother’s confused query from across the table, the whole of her heart and focus captured instead by the gleeful recognition in Agatha’s eyes. “Mama!” the tiny child shrieked, reaching forward and making to stand, coming perilously close to falling from her silver seat.

The chaos continued to unfold as both Penelope and Colin leaped from their chairs, Penelope taking the infant into her arms before even Humboldt or Francesca could react. Colin’s hand braced the child’s back as she flung her arms around Penelope’s neck. Nonetheless, both were broken from their spell when they heard the distinctive thud of Portia Featherington’s body hitting the floor.

“Mama!” Penelope shouted, tucking the child on her hip and flying around the table. By the time she arrived at Portia’s side, Kate and Violet already had her sitting up, fanning her, a glass of water pressed to her hand.

“Penelope! How? When did you– You could not possibly– And with Mister Bridger– Why did you simply not– Last season?” The Baroness struggled to complete a sentence or meet anyone’s eyes for more than a fleeting moment, still visibly overcome by what she had witnessed.

Violet did her best to capture the woman’s attention, soothing gently as she spoke. “Portia, why do you not take up your seat once more. There is indeed an explanation to be shared.”

Suddenly, venom was in her eyes, drilling into those of the Dowager Viscountess. “You knew of this? You let your son corrupt my Penelope and you stood by and did nothing?”

“Colin! How could you?” Daphne gasped in muted horror over Aggie’s ginger head, which she was busy stroking. She had followed Penelope quite closely around the table and was paying far more attention to the blue-eyed beauty than her purported grandmother’s hysterics.

“How could she be Colin and Penelope’s? They have only just married this morning!” Hyacinth queried, loud enough to gather the attention of the eldest two Bridgertons and all four natural mothers.

“Gregory. Hyacinth. We are leaving. Come.” Benedict commanded, all too familiar with taking charge of his youngest siblings when the moment so called.

“No.” Anthony contradicted, loud enough to dull the roaring chatter. “If everyone would please retake their seats.” He glanced over his shoulder at Humboldt and the crowd of seemingly every member of staff in the house. The look was enough for the seasoned butler to silently and swiftly clear the room of all its uninvited guests. “There is a perfectly rational explanation to all of this, if we might all hold our tongues long enough to listen.”

For five stilted seconds, no one spoke, shuffling skirts and sliding chairs the only sounds filling the space. Until, as if an unwatched pot boiling over onto a hot stove, Prudence yowled out, “Why does Penelope get to have a baby? It is not fair, mama! She gets everything!”

In response, many seated at the table were overcome with half-hearted coughs, their silent guffaws hidden politely behind their serviettes. Colin on the other hand could take no more, infuriated as their family disparaged both his and his bride’s honor.

“She is not Penelope’s,” he bellowed, rising to his full height from his place at the table. “Nor is she mine. Not as you assume at any rate.” He looked to his side, noticing Aggie watching him intently. When she reached her little arms towards him, he bent to lift her from Penelope’s lap, kissing her cheek before nestling her tight to his chest.

“Papa!” Aggie exclaimed in response, smacking her hand against his chin as he tried his best to charge forward with his explanation. He paced with the restless child as he thought of where to begin now that all eyes were turned upon him. Colin found his bearings once he rounded the head of the table, realizing all at once that his sisters – save for Eloise of course – had already accepted Aggie as their niece and were consumed not by his explanations, but rather, with fussing over her.

“I found her left in my stateroom on my return voyage. After extensive searching and inquiries, it was determined that she was abandoned. And in the time since my return to London, I have finalized my adoption of her.” Colin waited for a response, but the room had gone uncharacteristically silent.

Francesca, who between herself and Daphne had managed to paw Aggie away from Colin and were now taking turns cooing over the giggly child, shook her head slowly from side to side in astonishment. "But, how? She looks the perfect image of you both!"

Colin glared down at her, softening as he took in the way his sisters were fawning over their niece already. A knowing smile spread across his face. “Her resemblance to my wife is perhaps why I fell so dearly in love.” He returned to his seat, leaving Aggie with her Aunties. Penelope’s hand slipped into his, and with it a suredness returned to his disposition.

Finally sunk back into his chair at his wife’s side, Colin believed the worst of the confusion to be over. It was only when his gaze shifted to his right that he realized Benedict, Simon, Prudence, and Portia were all staring at him with varying degrees of amusement on their faces.

“If she is not Penelope’s, then how did she know to call her ‘Mama’?” Gregory supplied, the innocence of his question the only thing keeping Colin from reaching over the table to ring his neck. Benedict – who lost his seat to Daphne in the chaos, had taken up Eloise’s instead, and was now grinning like a Cheshire cat mere inches from Colin’s right ear – echoed the question, feigning the same intonation as their youngest brother.

Colin turned stiffly towards Benedict, trying to work out exactly how to explain the one loose end of his and his wife’s rather scandalous behavior leading up to their wedding that he had somehow overlooked. He began stumbling through an explanation. “Pen… must… look a good deal like –”

“She stayed with me.” Penelope’s clear voice rang out from his side, the eyes of the entire party shifting to her. Colin squeezed back against her hand, giving her the courage she needed to continue. “When Colin first returned home. Mama, I am sorry for the deception, but my illness those three days was pretended. In truth I was caring for the child while Colin got his affairs in order.”

“Indeed,” Colin furthered the explanation. “A chance encounter my first morning in country had me begging her assistance.” His expression turned soft, taking up his wife’s hand and kissing it without regard for who was watching. “The moment I saw her holding Aggie, I was truly gone for her.”

“Not before?” Francesca asked, looking up from where she was entertaining Agatha with the child’s own feet.

Before he could answer, Hyacinth added on to the inquiry, “Even I have heard the stories last season of how often you took up her hand when you did not believe yourselves to be watched!”

Prudence made a ghastly noise that had the entire table turn, just in time to see her fair skin turn the color of her hair. “No!” she blustered. “It was all in Penelope’s mind! Colin Bridgerton was not her friend! Colin Bridgerton would not waste his time on someone like Penelope!”

Silence hung over the table for only a beat before the entire party erupted into hearty laughter.

“I do suppose my heart has belonged to none but my wife for quite some time, you are correct Hyacinth. Francesca.” Colin nodded to his youngest sisters. “It only took but a small push for my mind to catch on.”

“All this, under my roof?” Portia halfheartedly contended.

Before Colin could charm his way out of the next accusation, his mother spoke in his stead. “Lady Featherington, am I incorrect in my understanding that you are in want of a grandson, post haste?”

Portia opened her mouth as if to argue, but upon turning her eyes to her youngest and her newest son-in-law, hands still intertwined and dressed in their wedding day finery, she found there was nothing left to dispute. Not even the suddenly dubious story of Penelope’s country visit with Lady Agatha Danbury, which she recalled coincided rather suspectly with the end of her daughter’s feigned illness. “Not at all, Lady Bridgerton.” was her only reply, a warm smile and shrewd eyes marking the end of the discussion. And with that, any talk of impropriety between the newlyweds was put to bed, once and for all.

Agatha was shared around the table as the meal was finally laid. The Bridgertons declared her Colin’s in spirit if not blood after she managed to pilfer something from each of their plates. Violet reintroduced herself as “Grandmama Violet,” of which Aggie did her best impression, something akin to “Ma-mama” with an excited squeal at the end. She facilitated an introduction to Lady Featherington at her side, introducing her counterpart as “Grandmama Portia,” which Aggie repeated as “Mama Mama!” She looked between the two women, sizing them up before emitting an excited squeal and launching herself into her other grandmother’s arms. Portia marveled over the child’s bright auburn ringlets, declaring them the exact shade of Penelope’s at the same age. Kate spent quite some time threatening to feast upon Aggie’s tiny fingers, much to Aggie’s delight and Prudence’s chagrin. Prudence merely passed the child along to Simon, who between Prudence and Eloise, was left quite alone to share his scalloped squash and cauliflower in empress sauce with the ever hungry little girl.

She was eventually passed over Eloise to Benedict, who whispered conspiratorially in the child’s ear while pointing around the table, which to his fascination she seemed to follow with alacrity. Colin did not get Aggie back until after the tablecloth was removed and the dessert course was served, although he did not hold her long before she had bodily removed herself to his wife’s lap, where she turned her back on the strawberry and whipped cream torte to snuggle deeply into Penelope’s bosom.

Penelope ignored the hints of a whispered comment from Benedict to her husband – something involving Aggie taking after her father – instead inhaling deeply against the crown of the child’s head, and allowing the contented feeling of completeness to settle deeply within her. The sweet moment did not last long however, before Aggie had turned back around, taking a cream covered strawberry slice in her fist and shoving it fully in her own face. Colin assisted Penelope in wiping Aggie’s hands free of cream and berry juice, mindful of Penelope’s gown, and taking Aggie back onto his knee, distracting her of any protest with a rather impressively sized cut of shortbread.

The awkwardness of the initial introduction truly seemed to have passed; Anthony, Benedict, and Violet taking turns regaling the rest with a story about Colin at a similar age, pilfering and disappearing an entire meat pie before he had even cut his first tooth. Initial impressions aside, Colin warmed at the speed with which his family had accepted Aggie as one of their own. As the dessert course eventually wrapped, Colin asked Humboldt to send for Mrs. Jolie, Aggie now showing signs that she had been kept up long past her bedtime.

Agatha, who had been largely excitable and cheerful since her arrival in the dining room, turned sour the moment Colin passed her to the nurse. Colin rose on instinct, concern etching into his face as Aggie began to wail, reminding him immediately of his first day in Bloomsbury, before he had sent for Penelope. “Darling? Darling. Mrs. Jolie is only taking you home for bed. Whatever is the matter?”

Fire burned in the child’s eyes when they flashed up at Colin. Her tiny body, which had been writhing in the poor nurse’s arms, her small arms reaching towards Penelope and grasping at the air, froze. “Home!” Aggie echoed, so clear and decisive that it would have been impressive had it not felt so desperate and emotionally charged. “Home, mama!” she repeated, her little face defiant.

Mrs. Jolie murmured and apology, making to turn towards the door when Aggie restarted her screaming fit. This time, she was stopped by both Colin and Penelope, who rushed forward to physically comfort their daughter. Penelope took Aggie back from the nurse, holding her on her hip and pressing their foreheads together. “Oh, Aggie, sweetheart,” she began, planting kisses across the weepy little girl’s cheeks. “Mama is coming home tonight. Mama is coming home, and mama is staying for good.”

Aggie seemed to settle in her arms, Colin surrounding them both in his arms and gently rubbing circles into the child’s back. Tentatively, Agatha retracted her quivering lower lip, looking at her parent’s eyes for answers. “Mama… home?” she asked, the hope in her eyes causing each of their hearts to squeeze.

“Yes, my love. Mama is coming home. Tonight. With Papa.” Colin answered, brushing a stray tear from her cheek and replacing it with a kiss. “But now, you must go with Mrs. Jolie, because it is late. Papa and Mama will see you first thing in the morning.”

Aggie listened carefully to his words, seeming to contemplate their meaning. Her expression eventually morphed into one of joy, the familiar cheer returning to her tone when she responded with finality, “Papa, Mama. Home!”

A few additional reassurances, kisses, and embraces later, the newlyweds were able to pass the child back to her nurse with no additional fuss. Mrs. Jolie left for the waiting carriage, and Colin and Penelope were free to retake their seats. They were quite glad to find that brandy and cordials had been laid, for they also found their entire family was gawping quite openly at them.

“I do apologize for the disturbance,” Colin offered nervously, not quite understanding why everyone was staring. “Her disposition is often quite agreeable indeed. But you all know how children can be.”

Benedict, always most helpful in awkward circumstances, elbowed his brother under the table, explaining in a low voice that it was in fact his and Penelope’s most natural performance as parents which had stolen the air from the room. The pair pinked when they understood the implication.

Daphne broke the silence. “She must have formed quite the attachment in those three days. That was… quite the display.”

“Indeed,” Violet replied, eager to help course correct the conversation before it headed back into dangerous waters. “And what a boon that Penelope has taken so easily to motherhood. I for one am more than eager for Miss Agatha to find herself with a little brother to dote upon sooner than later. Would you not agree, Portia?”

Portia allowed the suspicious glint to fade from her eyes at the mention of a grandson, meeting Violet’s with understanding, then loosing a colossal grin upon the newlyweds. “Quite, Violet. I do believe that Featherington House would do well with the energy of a little boy even half as spirited as Miss Agatha.”

“Featherington House?” Prudence nearly wailed.

“It will likely be theirs soon enough.” Portia snapped. “Your Mr. Dankworth has yet to render a proposal and Mrs. Finch? Well, I am still unclear whether she and Mr. Finch fully grasp the mechanics of…” Portia trailed off, remembering her audience.

“Mechanics of what?” Prudence whined, oblivious to the way in which the three eldest Bridgerton brothers and her younger sister were all snickering into their digestifs.

“Never you mind.” Portia cooed back at her eldest, sending her into a huff that all present understood would keep her tongue silent for the rest of the night.

Colin and Penelope fielded a few more questions about their plans for the autumn, but both were growing anxious to quit the dinner party and leave for their wedding night. Once Colin saw that Penelope’s cordial glass was emptied, he drained the last of his own brandy, giving Anthony a nod and standing from his chair.

Another quarter hour passed by the time all had finished embracing and sharing their well wishes with the couple outside the iron gates to Bridgerton House. Most were uneventful, barring the moment Benedict got Colin alone.

“Get yourself home and consummate the damned thing.” Benedict had whispered hotly, a sideways grin and sparkling eyes teasing his younger brother.

Colin pulled his own face, shrugging and stifling a laugh. “What do you think we were doing in the wine cellar?”

Benedict appeared horrified at the notion, the color draining from his face in an instant. “Colin!” He hissed, his eyes darting around to ensure no one else could hear them. “That is no way to bed your wife for the first time! Whatever were you thinking?”

Colin paused a moment, staring neutrally back at his brother. Then, with one corner of his mouth lifted the slightest degree and in a forced monotone he replied, “You are right, Benedict. It would be terrible to bed a lady that way. If it were her first time.”

Benedict’s jaw sagged generously as the meaning behind Colin’s words hit him. It took a heavy clap to the side of his arm to pull him from his shocked state, Colin’s glee forcing Benedict to simply shake his head and chuckle softly to himself as the newlyweds mounted the carriage and were at last being waived off into the night.

Alone in the carriage, they collapsed together on the bench seat, blissful, but also glad the day’s festivities had come to a close.

Colin’s arm came around his wife – his best friend, lover, and the person he most wanted to spend all his days with – and knew that he was already home. Penelope snuggled into warmth, feeling quite the same. Neither spoke as the carriage rolled down the cobbled streets towards Bloomsbury, the gentle rocking motion lulling them each into a well-earned nap.

***

“Psst! Pen! Pen? Pen! We’ve arrived!”

“Hmm?” Penelope replied, still a bit dazed from her nap.

“We truly must stop meeting this way, Mrs. Bridgerton!”

The mirthful use of her new title, taking form in Colin’s voice, burned the last of the sleep fog from Penelope’s mind. She leaned forward through the open carriage door, her eyes wide and turned up to take in the front facade of the Bloomsbury town home. She had seen it before, of course. But something about it this evening – the fact that it was now her home – made her face glow anew with delight.

“Are you coming, or what?”

Colin’s question was bemused rather than impatient, the gentle sarcasm in his tone indicative of his tease. It surprised Penelope nonetheless, her eyes snapping to the man in front of her; her body springing into action simultaneously. She reached for his extended hand, clasping it as she shifted her weight down onto the foot she suddenly realized did not have a carriage step beneath. It was too late however, momentum pulling her down hard from the coach. Penelope gasped and braced for impact.

But the impact never came. Colin deftly swept her into his arms, pressing their chests together and twirling her away from the carriage, causing her skirts to flare out dramatically before carefully placing her back on the road beside him. Then, before she had the opportunity to finally gain her bearings, he tipped her back and kissed her, quite like he had that morning in front of St. George’s.

It was only when Colin finally righted her that she realized, much to her horror, their entire compliment of staff was stood outside, prepared to receive them – and watching the entire performance her husband had just put on for them. She playfully pushed him back with the flats of her palms against his broad chest. Colin stumbled backwards a step, seeming to pay no heed to her embarrassment. He righted himself and tucked her firmly against his side, then brought her forward to be formally introduced to the staff.

Each member of the staff, save for Mrs. Jolie who was expectedly in the nursery, attending to their little Miss Agatha Anne’s slumber, welcomed Penelope with both respect, and a great deal of warmth and pride. It would take Colin and Penelope some years to fully appreciate, but each member of their staff was practically glowing, truly honored to have been chosen to serve not only such an important Society family as the Bridgertons, but also one they knew was created from true love and happiness.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Bridgerton.” Dunwoody boomed, bowing deeply. The rest followed suit, bowing and curtsying accordingly as they passed, Penelope nodding her appreciation and approval to them all.

At the top of the steps, Colin turned back to Dunwoody. “Thank you, of course, for the warm reception. We shall need a tray left on the table outside our room at the top of the hour, and another in the morning, no later than eight. Otherwise, we are not to be disturbed until we ring. My wife and I –” Colin smirked down devilishly at Penelope. “Have plans.”

Before the blush could bloom upon Penelope’s cheeks, Colin had stooped down, tipped her over his shoulder, and was bounding up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She kicked and squealed playfully, demanding as proper that he return her to her feet. But there was no need to be proprietous any longer, and Colin would not stop until they were both toppling down onto their marriage bed.

Penelope hardly realized she had landed on her back before Colin’s imposing form was hovering over hers, darkening her vision to everything but his intense expression. They had lain together many times before – even once already as man and wife – yet there was a gravity to this moment nevertheless.

Penelope’s gown pooled around her waist, Colin grinding his trousered hips against her warm center as he kissed her. They took their time, their tongues never resting nor parting as they slowly removed one another’s clothing. Eventually, their bodies were bared and entangled, rolling about the feather mattress and grasping handfuls of one another in a fevered attempt to bring them closer together.

Colin, having hooked his forearm under his wife’s knee, spreading her wide and permitting his anxious member to slip up through her dewy seam, finally pulled back from their kissing to speak. “I wish to hear you tonight, Mrs. Bridgerton.” he said with a wry grin, clearly reveling in her new title. “I want you to tell me what you like, not with whispers, but with moans and cries. If you find yourself afraid you might be heard, I command you – wife – to be even louder.”

“Yes, Master Bridgerton.” Penelope teased, her smirk making it clear she was busy recalling the night in his study when she took on the role of a misbehaving maid.

But Colin shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight, I only wish to be addressed by one name.”

“Colin?”
“No. Husband.”

Penelope’s neck and chest flushed, a visible shiver rolling through her at his words caused her breath to hitch. He felt her wetness spreading against his shaft. “Are you ready for me, my wife?”

She nodded, ruminated a moment, then smirked up at him. Colin swore he had never heard such a sultry sound as when she moaned out loud, “Yes, husband.”

He could help himself no longer once he had heard the word on her lips, descending into another sloppy, passionate kiss. They moved together, taking pleasure in their connection. Colin thrust himself rhythmically though Penelope’s slick folds, teasing them both with the nearly sufficient pleasure it wrought. On one such movement, his tip caught against her entrance, and with the next tilt of their hips, he was inside her.

“Ohh, yessss!” Penelope cried out, wrenching away from his lips so she could throw her head back.

Colin’s elbows rested on the pillow at either side of her head, his arms encircling the top of her head. He traced her exposed throat with the tip of his nose, sucking gently at the corner of her jaw before finally withdrawing slightly and thrusting himself forward into her gripping core. The noise he let fall out of his mouth was something between a grunt and a sigh of relief, longing and anticipation finally replaced by relief and pleasure.

“I am going to get you pregnant, my wife.” he declared, the words coming out staccato between his steady thrusts. Penelope wailed in ecstasy in response, her walls clenching at his words. “Do you enjoy that, wife?” he asked her, voice now low and all silk. She keened again, reaching forward to grip him tighter. “You want me to put our son inside you?”

“Yes! Yes, husband! I wish to be made with child!” she wailed, so loud it made Colin’s ears ring.

It was enough to do him in. He raised up, gripping one of Penelope’s breasts, and thrust sharply, making her other breast bounce wildly. A few seconds later, they were both calling out their release, Colin’s thunderous cries of, “My wife! My wife!” bleeding together with Penelope’s pleading, “Yes, husband! Yes!”

Colin felt as if he would never stop spurting into her greedy womb, his wife’s body flexing and gulping at all he had to offer. Penelope seemed to be practically running in place on her back, her thighs scrambling for purchase on his sides, heels digging into his backside and pressing him even deeper into her core.

Neither would relent for a matter of minutes, their gaping, wet mouths pressing together over and over, either through – or causing – endless aftershocks of pleasure. Penelope eventually let her feet and knees fall. Not wishing to lose closeness, she dug her palms into the back of her husband’s shoulders, encouraging him to collapse atop her. Thereafter, they continued to lazily kiss, making no move to separate further, until they both drifted off to sleep, sated to remain in the arms of one another.

***

“Did all go according to plan?” Dunwoody, finished with his household oversight duties for the night, had stopped outside the nursery, eager to get a full report from Mrs. Jolie.

The rosy woman glanced over at the sleeping babe, ensuring she was undisturbed before stepping out into the hallway. “Indeed. Once I arrived with Miss Agatha, the Bridgerton’s entire compliment of staff were falling over themselves to meet the child. None were as dubious as I expected, but I told the story as you asked. Once I said, ‘Mr. Dunwoody’ had been at Mr. Bridgerton’s side when the child was found, it was taken as unassailable fact. Your reputation is quite unimpeachable.”

Dunwoody chuffed to hear his name still carried weight amongst his former colleagues. “I am glad that is done. The story shall spread from there. Soon, it will have reached enough ears that Whistledown may print, and all will accept it as truth.”

“You seem to have quite the shrewd sense of Society, Mr. Dunwoody.” Mrs. Jolie gave a respectful nod, placing her hand on the door handle to the nursery, ready to return to her post.

“I have learned more than you might imagine working for Master Bridgerton. Many might be rather surprised indeed to learn just where the seat of power truly lies. All things are more than they initially seem.” With that cryptic reply, Dunwoody gave a knowing wink, then turned to retire to his Butler’s Quarters for the evening.

Chapter Text

It was the warmth he felt first. Surrounding and radiating and quieting and consuming, warmth. His nose filled with orange blossom and cinnamon, and he felt the distinct déjà vu of home. Softness met his touch, and pleasure from the overwhelming sensations was moving in waves through his body. His eyes fluttered open to sunlit copper; silken curtains falling across his face. It was Penelope’s soft moan that finally woke him to the reality of the morning.

He could do little besides cling to her breast as hips guided her hot center along his shaft, already quite buried within her. It took little time at all before he was spilling himself. The action, along with the guttural cry of “Pen!” that tore from his lips, shocked her into a release of her own. She gripped at his tightening hold around her chest, craning her head back towards his as they shook together. No further sensible words were spoken until well after they had come to rest, neither moving to separate, preferring instead to remain entangled, chasing their breath together from the welcome exertion.

Eventually, Colin let out a plaintive sigh, remarking casually as he rolled onto his back, separating from his wife at last, “It is only a shame that your courses are due, now that we are finally free to have one another as we wish.”

“Mmm.” Penelope hummed in reply, following Colin down onto her own back, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the statement. In fact, she had not thought much of her courses of late. She cocked her head to the side, looking up at her husband from across his bare chest as she thought back in the calendar of her mind. “Actually,” she noted, her demeanor entirely matter-of-fact, “they were due a bit over a week ago.”

“What?” Colin breathed, twisting in the sheets, his hands grasping first at hers, then frenetically petting at her face, hair, shoulders, and arms, as if searching her for answers.

Penelope laughed airily at his behavior, gently taking his hands from her person and holding them firm against her chest. “What has gotten into you? What do my courses have to do with anything?”

Colin froze, realizing that while Penelope may be wise, brilliant, and shrewd, there was still so much Society kept from young ladies. He scrambled to his knees, facing her as she sat up against the headboard.

“Pen?” he started, not wishing to patronize the woman he loved more than any. “Are your courses not regular? That is, do they typically come as due?”

“Yes.” Penelope responded plainly, growing annoyed at the unexpected scrutiny.

“Then –” Colin’s voice cracked, his words coming out all gravel and gruff. “You could quite possibly… be… with child.”

“What do my courses have to do with that?” Penelope asked, bewildered by the leap in logic her husband was making.

Colin scoffed in the direction of the windows, internally blaming the whole of Society for failing to teach his wife the most basic principles of her own biology. Carefully, Colin moved one of his hands to cup her lower belly. “Pen, my love. Your courses come each month because no child has taken root within your womb. It is no sure thing until you feel it quicken. And even then, much can still go awry. Yet…” Colin trailed off when he felt Penelope’s hand layer atop his, tears filling his eyes.

“You mean… I could be… that way?” she asked, eyes round as the realization finally dawned upon her.

“Indeed.” He choked out, then rushed forward, joining their lips and winding his other arm around her back, needing to be as close to her as possible in this moment.

The newlyweds luxuriated in one another’s intimate presence for no more than a minute before a piercing screech broke them apart. “PAPA HOME! MAMA NOW!”

Colin’s chest shook with laughter; Penelope a spotted deer as all the realizations of the morning flooded over her.

“I suppose we ought to make ourselves decent.” Colin said as he rose; the sight of his pert, bare arse cheeks giving rise to a deep crimson on a quite different set of cheeks.

“I do hope I shall never become accustomed to such a sight. It is far more energizing than tea or my ablutions ever were.” Penelope’s voice was deadpan, but her eyes mischievous and her smirk telling. She sprang herself from the bed, strutting past a now agape Colin, straight for their shared dressing room. She selected a fresh linen chemise, lifting it over her head and turning at just the last moment so that her husband could watch the fabric fall over her full chest.

His wife’s body concealed from his vision, Colin was finally able to shake himself free from the bewitchment and dress himself. Penelope pulled on a brocade house coat, quickly smoothed her sleep-tousled waves in the looking glass, then waited for Colin to finish buttoning his trousers’ fall.

Appropriately covered enough not to scandalize the servants, the newlyweds stepped into the corridor, hastily moving to the nursery room door, where the diminutive red-head had not stopped her morning tirade. “Miss Agatha Anne!” Penelope chastised in an overly dramatic tone. “That is no way to speak to your staff!” She shot Mrs. Jolie a secret smile and wink, although it was nearly missed with the unbridled squeals of joy that burst forth from the little girl.

“MAMA! MAMA HOME! MAMA HOME NOW!” she cheered, wriggling and reaching so forcefully for Penelope she nearly fell from the nurse’s hands. Colin and Penelope rushed forward together to take her into their arms, but upon reaching their destination, it was patently obvious that the child wanted only one of them.

Aggie clung to Penelope’s neck, burying her face there while softly babbling, “Mama home.” over and over. Colin dismissed Mrs. Jolie for the morning, then guided his girls back to their bedchamber, his wife distracted by the kisses she showered down on their daughter’s crown of delicate auburn ringlets. He rung for breakfast to be brought up, then joined his family back in bed, content to begin their next journey in the best way he could imagine; together.

***

This author has happened upon the most curious of news. Unless you, Gentle Reader, have taken a set of rooms for the season located under a rock, you are already well aware of yesterday’s nuptials between Mister Colin Bridgerton and the now Missus Penelope Bridgerton, nee Featherington. The affair was all one might expect from the joining of two of the Ton’s most prominent households; pomp and circumstance at Saint George’s followed by an unrivaled wedding breakfast at Bridgerton house. Other, less reputable scandal sheets may be making much ado this morning of the rather sensational, public kiss that passed between the couple the moment they stepped out of the cathedral and into the sunlight. But what you likely do not yet know – unless your sources are as informed as mine – is that the newlyweds did not go home yesterevening to an empty house!

Whispers have turned to sightings, and soon enough all will be aware. The newly minted Bridgertons are already with child! Now, before you turn to your neighbor, ready to tarnish Missus Bridgerton’s good name, I must inform you, this news is not what it may appear at first brush. The Bridgertons seem to have taken in a ward; an approximately one-year old, red-headed little girl. I have it upon the most unassailable authority that, despite all appearances to the contrary, Mister Colin Bridgerton found the child in question abandoned on his return journey from abroad, and having learned of her alternative fate as an orphan, felt compelled to take the child in as his own. A bachelor, otherwise unfit to raise a child alone, Mister Bridgerton turned to the young lady he had long courted in private, engaging the former Miss Penelope Featherington to be his partner in the endeavor.

Just last eve, the child was seen being secreted into Bridgerton house during the family’s private dinner, no doubt to introduce her to the couple’s families as the Featheringtons were also in attendance. Well, I say, Mister and Missus Bridgerton, hide no more! Rescuing a child from such a solemn fate is indeed a noble undertaking, and from the rumors circling past this author’s ears, the precocious ginger has formed quite the bond already with both her guardians.

There is one rumor I have not heard, although I shall address it nonetheless, if only to ensure it remains mum. While the child does bear a striking resemblance to her new mother, such is purely coincidental. Beyond confirmation that the acquisition of the child whilst abroad was witnessed by several of unimpeachable character, should one be so inclined to revisit their social calendar from the last two seasons, it would become quite clear that the then Miss Penelope Featherington was quite out and well during all relevant times, while Mister Colin Bridgerton was rather absent the country! While the young miss is entirely theirs in heart, there should be no question that she is not joined to them by blood. This author would give little esteem to any who would spread false information to the contrary.

Penelope set down the freshly printed issue, trading it for her teacup. She tried her best not to pull a face as the last sip crossed her lips – it had long gone cold – but judging by the bemused look on her husband’s face, failed at the task. She quickly asked the question that was on her mind, rather than allowing him the opportunity to tease her lack of comportment. “How do you think the news will be received?”

“Lady Whistledown is the Ton’s authority on gossip.” Colin responded, taking what was likely his eighth or ninth date and cream cheese sandwich of the afternoon. “I cannot imagine anyone will question her pronouncement on the matter.” The sandwich disappeared between his lips. A moment of thoughtful munching later, he continued. “Although there is one way we would know for certain.”

Penelope paled as his eyes darted to the baby carriage sat in the front hall, which had been delivered earlier that day as a belated wedding present from the Earl of Kilmartin. Both suspected the gift had been Francesca’s doing. “Not… so soon?”

Penelope absentmindedly handed an egg sandwich to Aggie, who had spent the entirety of the day either clutching her side or perched upon her knee. Colin looked back at them both, resolute. “Yes. I do not want either of you hiding in the shadows. You are my wife and she is our daughter. We will promenade. This evening.”

“Newlyweds are not expected to be back out so soon.” She retorted automatically, not entirely sure why she was fighting him on this. He was right; the best way to ride the Whistledown buzz was to make themselves public, and appear to all unbothered by the widespread knowledge of their domestic situation. Certainly there would be a few derisive remarks, but soon any question of Aggie’s origins would be long forgotten.

At any rate, the look on Colin’s face was determined, and she had known from the moment she put quill to stationery that this was the plan. Penelope allowed the defeat to wash clearly across her face, her acquiescence alighting excitement in her husband’s eyes. “Miss Agatha Anne, would you care to promenade?”

***

Colin beamed, his wife, quite likely with child, and his daughter, grinning up and babbling at Society from the pram Mrs. Jolie pushed, at his side. There was a feeling he had chased ever since he left Eton which he previously had not been able to put his finger upon. The chase had left him empty; his travels only amplifying the void within. He had come close once, when he believed himself on the cusp of eloping. But that had been nothing more than a mirage, vanishing before ever truly coming into focus. He felt it now, strong and real and more assured than he had ever imagined. Colin could feel pride swelling in his chest every time he looked down at his beautiful family. He was a husband. And a father. He was loved, and needed, and relied upon. He felt both immense joy and yet strangely settled, all because he knew. He had found his purpose.

Colin tucked Penelope in closer to his side, although he sensed she did not need to be protected from onlookers any longer. Having nodded as they passed a few acquaintances, he gestured to both Penelope and Mrs. Jolie that they would stop to visit with the Kilmartins, who were engaged in a rousing debate of sorts, just a few steps from the foot of the arched stone bridge.

The debate stopped when Colin’s future brother-in-law spotted him, an indecorous “Bridgerton!” bellowed loud enough to turn more than a few heads. Colin greeted the cousins before introducing his wife and daughter. The small group enjoyed one another’s company for a time, Penelope doing her best not to blush despite the topics of conversation far more scandalizing than any which would have been permitted for her ears just two days prior. Rude jokes aside, Penelope felt comfortable; even more so than she had with just Colin at her side. She felt included. She felt accepted. She felt like she belonged.

For an extended period that morning, all felt right in the world. Until Cressida Cowper walked by. Penelope felt herself physically flinch at the sight of the woman, who slowed and exaggerated her steps on approach. Several other ladies flanked her, exchanging glances with one another and snickering behind their gloved hands. Colin sensed Penelope’s discomfort first, following her eye line to the treacly blonde. Colin rolled his eyes at Lord and Mister Kilmartin, then draped his arm over Penelope’s shoulder, greeting Cressida with an artificially warm, “Good day, Miss Cowper.”

“Mister Bridgerton.” she fawned. “Such a shame you found yourself…” Cressida paused dramatically, sizing up both Penelope and Agatha – who was napping angelically in the pram – before finishing her thought, “so preoccupied upon your return.”

Colin’s face flushed over crimson in an instant, his clenched jaw snuffing out an animalistic rumble in his throat just as fast. Penelope almost imperceptibly recoiled from him as his ever kind and cheerful demeanor shifted, then brought her hand to his tensed forearm. Penelope felt him relax under her touch, then smiled softly up at him when he turned to meet her eyes. A wide, beaming smile broke over Colin’s face when he looked down upon his blushing bride. Or perhaps more accurately, his glowing bride. The thought sent a shiver up his spine. Without looking back at their caller, Colin replied. “Indeed not, Miss Cowper. There is nothing I would rather occupy my time with than my wife.”

Cressida made a face of disgust before turning her sights to the snoozing toddler. “What a shock of red hair on your little one. And all dressed in yellow! Why, she truly does look just like her mother, does she not Miss Featherington.” There was no question of the implication being made by her overly exaggerated tone, which set her cohort into titters.

“Missus. Bridgerton.” Colin hissed through his teeth, his head finally snapping back to glare at the other woman. He would have said more, but his soon to be brother-in-law cut him off.

“Aye, Miss Cowper, is it? Have ye an issue with my sister then?” John challenged, loud enough that several dozen eyes were suddenly on the set. “Because I am certain ye haven’t a problem with a wee baby.” All at once, Cressida turned bright crimson, the other young ladies slowly and steadily distancing themselves from the spectacle.

“Careful.” Cressida mewled, her tight expression betraying the discomfort she tried to hide. “Lady Whistledown might just be interested in hearing more than one perspective on your…” she paused to look the newlyweds up and down in disgust, “situation.”

Penelope stepped in front of her husband and brother-in-law, feeling emboldened by their presence. “Lady Whistledown would not waste her ink on someone like you.” she seethed in response.

“We will see about that.” Cressida huffed, turning on her heels and stalking off to find the other young ladies who had long since abandoned her side.

Refusing to be flagged by the unwelcome interlude, Colin stumped over the pram, lifting Aggie – who had just begun to stir – high into the air over his head. He made silly faces at his little girl until she was reduced to a squealing fit of giggles, drawing attention of a much different sort to his fledgling family. Penelope thought to chide him, but determined it best that the Ton see this side of him, propriety be damned.

Eventually, they made their way over to the Bridgerton family marquee, where Aggie spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining her several aunts and uncles with her wit and charm. Even the Featherington ladies joined the fray, for as Colin would later explain to Penelope, when Miss Agatha Anne put her mind to something, nothing in this world could stop her.

***

Later that evening, long after they had sang Aggie to sleep, Colin walked up behind his wife, softly kissing the top of her head while simultaneously sliding his hands to cradle her abdomen. She held perfectly still despite his tender touch, busy writing out the final lines of the next day’s Whistledown. Colin rested his chin on her shoulder, watching reverently as she wrote, hesitated, and then finished with a flourish.

“Done.” Penelope announced with a mix of determination and relief. She never did enjoy the issues where she and Colin were central stories, but it could not always be helped. The scene Cressida had caused at the park had forced her hand though, and she did her best to smooth the situation over, while still delivering the salacious details her readership demanded. Leaning back into her husband’s sturdy frame, she allowed the words to fall from her mind, ready to give into her baser instincts.

“Shall I take it to the printer’s?” Colin asked without removing his lips from Penelope’s collar bone.

“Must you?”

Colin paused, tilting his head until their eyes locked. He waited until he was sure she was already aware of his thoughts. “Dunwoody?”

Nevertheless, Penelope’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “Do you think he…” She trailed off mid-sentence.

“I do.” Colin acknowledged, continuing on without pause. “I believe he has suspected since the first time he saw me riding home in the middle of the night, dressed as a working man. His role in introducing Aggie to Anthony’s staff likely confirmed it for him. But do not fret. He has been with me since I was a boy. There is no one more loyal. Our secrets will always be safe in this household, so long as he is running it.”

This frightened Penelope, who had always believed the success of Whistledown was directly owing to its utter secrecy. But her exhaustion and desire to lay with her husband trumped all that night, so she nodded sleepily and passed the now dried parchment to Colin. A few minutes of hushed conversation in the corridor later, and Colin returned to the bedchamber, where he found Penelope already dozing in their bed.

***

Dearest Gentle Reader,

What a thrilling start to the Season we have had indeed. Of course you all know by now that Lady Violet Bridgerton’s third son is officially removed from the Marriage Mart, wedded to Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton nee Featherington. Her third daughter is soon to join their ranks, engaged to be married next month to The Earl of Kilmartin, Lord John Stirling. However, the excitement does not end there! The perpetually effervescent Miss Kenworthy will soon be know to all as Lady Cho. A fine match indeed will the couple make, just as soon as the banns can be read. One Miss Malhotra, celebrated for her amiability, was spotted having a rather lengthy turn about Hyde Park with Lord Stanton, during which the happy couple could be heard discussing plans for a honeymoon tour of Scotland. The bright Miss Hartigan has been rumored to have been called upon by one Lord Debling, in Town and looking to secure an intelligent match capable of managing his affairs whilst he travels extensively abroad. And last but certainly not least, Miss Stowell has been spotted three times this week at Gunther’s with the winsome Lord Remington. While the topic of conversation between the two is unknown, it has been said that Miss Stowell could be seen repeatedly turning the same shade of pink as the strawberry ice she unfailingly orders. Would this author be tempted to place a wager, the sure bet would be on many more betrothals to come from this Season. Love certainly seems to be in the air!

Finally, while I struggle to waste my ink on someone so crude, such a spectacle was made in Hyde Park yestereve that it simply cannot be overlooked. Miss Cressida Cowper, whose beauty withers beneath the sourest of dispositions, approached the newly minted Mister and Missus Colin Bridgerton, loudly casting aspersions upon not only the couple, but upon the young ward known by all to have been discovered abroad by Mister Bridgerton. This author would jump to the newlyweds’ defense, however the same is unnecessary as the Earl of Kilmartin matched Miss Cowper’s crass remarks, loudly dressing her down for calling into question the honor of his betrothed’s family, referring to the set as his brother and sister. Quite the crowd gathered to see what would become of the situation. Words were exchanged between Missus Bridgerton and Miss Cowper, such that the latter eventually stormed off in a most unladylike fashion. While it is unknown exactly what was said, with Miss Cowper in her third season out and facing ever dwindling prospects, this author believes the most likely explanation for the dramatic turn of events to be the most simple of all: jealousy.

***

Several days later, Penelope was in her and Colin’s study, when Dunwoody appeared in the doorway. “Ma’am?” Penelope finished the note she was writing on Colin’s manuscript before stowing her quill and addressing the young butler. “Yes, John?”

“Ma’am, you have a caller in the drawing room. A Miss Cowper.”

All of the blood drained from Penelope’s face. She felt as if an outside force were operating her body as she rose and found her way to the drawing room. Later, she would not remember much of what was said that afternoon, only that Cressida knew of her alter ego and had demanded £25,000 in exchange for her silence. She had tried to deny it, but when Cressida finally stopped waving a previous edition of the pamphlet about and laid it down on the tea table between them, Penelope’s eyes immediately fell to the now glaring error which had given her away. Three careless words, and her whole empire had come crashing down: Waste my ink.