Chapter Text
[Madrid Airport]
Penelope Featherington and Andrew Davies weaved through the lively chaos of the bustling airport, the air alive with announcements and the hurried energy of travelers. They moved in sync, their playful banter a constant in their friendship. Andrew, dressed sharply in his signature casual-but-charming style, nudged Penelope toward a stylish woman waiting near the check-in counter.
“Go on, Pen. Ask for her number,” he teased, his smirk wide and knowing.
Penelope groaned, shooting him a look. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because you have no choice,” Andrew quipped, leaning closer. “And because you can’t resist a dare.”
Rolling her eyes, Penelope grinned. She wasn’t about to let him win. “Fine.”
She glanced back at Andrew, who gave her an exaggerated thumbs-up and a cheeky grin. She sighed, straightening her shoulders, and walked toward the stylish woman standing near the check-in counter. The woman, tall with blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, looked up from her phone as Penelope approached.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” Penelope began, her polite smile firmly in place. “But, uh, my friend over there…” She subtly gestured toward Andrew, who was leaning casually against a nearby column, looking every bit the picture of confident charm. “He was wondering if he could get your number.”
The woman’s eyes widened immediately, darting to Andrew before snapping back to Penelope. Her expression shifted from neutral to nervous so fast that Penelope almost felt bad for bringing it up. “Oh, um…” the woman stammered, taking a step back. She glanced at Andrew again, then back at Penelope. “I don’t think so. He’s…” She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper as if Andrew might somehow overhear them from across the terminal. “He looks… quite intense. Like, too much.”
Penelope pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “He’s not that bad, I promise,” she said, though her amusement was barely contained. “He’s just a little overconfident sometimes. But he’s actually really nice.”
The woman shook her head quickly, clutching her purse a little tighter. “Sorry. He’s just… not my type.”
Before Penelope could say anything else, the woman turned on her heel and walked briskly away, leaving Penelope standing there with an amused smile playing on her lips.
She made her way back to Andrew, who was watching with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “She said you’re too much,” Penelope teased, unable to keep from laughing as Andrew’s face fell into an exaggerated look of mock offense.
“Too much?” he repeated, clutching his chest as though he’d been mortally wounded. “I’m a delight! Who could possibly think I’m too much?”
“Apparently a stranger could.” Penelope giggled. “Honestly, I think you scared her off just by existing.”
Andrew groaned, dramatically running a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable. Maybe I’ll never find love, Pen.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Penelope rolled her eyes but smiled at him fondly. “You don’t need a random woman at the airport. You’ve got me. That’s more than enough entertainment for one lifetime.”
“True,” Andrew said, his smirk returning. “You do keep things interesting. But I think it’s just proof that I should stay single forever.”
“Join the club. Who needs complications, anyway?”
“You’ve been single for quite a while, Pen. Meanwhile, I’ve managed to stay single my entire life,” Andrew said, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“That’s because you’re the king of casual relationships,” Penelope shot back, nudging him playfully. “Maybe if you stopped juggling all those situationships and actually commit to someone, you might stumble upon true love.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow, his smirk morphing into something more curious. “Is that what you felt for Alfie?”
Penelope blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “You know what,” she said briskly, brushing off the question, “we should really get to security before we miss our flight.”
“Aha!” Andrew grinned triumphantly. “Classic Penelope. Avoidance at its finest.”
“I’m not avoiding,” she huffed, quickening her pace toward the security line.
Penelope rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. Andrew always knew how to push her buttons, but he also knew when to let things go—and for that, she was grateful.
[Heathrow Baggage Claim]
Penelope scanned the rotating belt, her thoughts momentarily drifting to her sisters. Philippa had been over the moon about her recent honeymoon, texting Penelope nonstop about her plans to host a grand reunion dinner once everyone was back in London. Prudence, ever on top of things, had declared in their family group chat that she’d already claimed the largest room in the house.
“Yours is the blue one right?” Andrew said, breaking through her thoughts.
Penelope spotted her luggage and stepped forward, but Andrew beat her to it. With practiced ease, he grabbed her bag and set it down at her feet before she could even reach for the handle.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer now.
“What are best friends for?”
“Definitely not for being this helpful,” Penelope smiled, appreciating his thoughtfulness.
As they made their way toward customs, Andrew glanced at her. “You know, I can’t believe your sisters left us to fend for ourselves. What happened to family loyalty?”
“They offered to wait, but I didn’t want to hold them back. Besides, Philippa was dying to show Albion the estate, and Prudence needed to head back first due to work stuff.”
“Ah, classic Featherington sisters,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “Well, at least we’ll make a grand entrance. Nothing like being fashionably late.”
As they stepped into the arrivals area, Penelope spotted Philippa and Albion waiting by the barricades. They held a bright, oversized poster that read, WELCOME HOME, PENELOPE AND ANDREW! with two smiling stick figures drawn on either side. Philippa waved enthusiastically, and Albion gave them a polite nod, looking amused.
Andrew squinted at the sign. “Is that supposed to be me? Why do I look like a lopsided marshmallow?”
Penelope pulled back from Philippa’s hug and turned to examine the poster, her face painted in an exaggerated caricature on one side. “Did you have to make it this big? And sparkly, Philippa?”
“You haven’t been home in years, Pen! A little sparkle never hurt anyone. Plus, it's Andrew's first time. Welcome to London!”
Albion stepped forward, clapping Andrew on the shoulders with the enthusiastic charm of a man eager to bond. “Tried our best, mate.”
Philippa looped her arm through Penelope’s, tugging her toward the exit with an excited bounce in her step. “Let’s get you home, sis. I’ve got a whole list of things to fill you in on.”
Penelope raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with playful disbelief. “You’ve only been here for a couple of weeks. There’s that much to catch up on?”
Andrew, unable to resist, chimed in with a smirk. “Is this what London’s like? Constantly drama-filled?”
“You’re officially part of the chaos now. Forget Madrid for a while…” Albion said heartily, giving Andrew a friendly pat on the back.
Andrew shot a playful glance at Albion. “Just so you know, I’ve been anticipating my induction into Mayfair drama.”
“Wait 'til dinnertime.” Penelope added with a mischievous grin, feeling a familiar warmth from being with her family again, even in the midst of their antics. “That’s usually when the real fun begins.”
[Featherington Estate]
The family gathered around the grand dining table in their newly acquired estate, the soft clink of cutlery and the hum of conversation filling the air. The evening had settled in with a comfortable ease. Penelope took in the lavish spread before her—a far cry from the simplicity of the meals during their travels.
Philippa, already well into the evening’s gossip, took a sip of her wine and glanced toward Penelope, her eyes twinkling. “So, you’re not going to believe this estate. It’s massive. Around fifteen bedrooms worth. I’m pretty sure it has more rooms than we have furniture for.” She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, though there was a hint of pride in her voice.
"Fifteen?!" Penelope shook her head.
“Sounds like you’re all getting comfortable,” Andrew teased, twirling his fork through his pasta.
“Comfortable is an understatement,” Prudence continued. “The new investments have us all running around like mad, but thankfully, we will manage since you're both in London now.” She shrugged, taking another bite of her dinner.
"Right." Andrew swallowed his food slowly.
"Are the business chats done?" Portia, their mother and the matriarch of the family, set down her wine glass with a soft clink and cleared her throat. “Because I actually received a letter today,” she announced, her voice carrying the weight of something important. “An invitation from Violet Bridgerton. Apparently, she’d like to have tea. A welcome to Mayfair, of sorts.”
The mention of Violet Bridgerton sent a ripple of quiet through the table. Penelope felt a lump form in her throat, her fork pausing mid-air. Bridgerton. That name. It brought back a flood of memories. But that was years ago. She hadn’t thought of them in such a long time, not with all the distance of the last twelve years.
Philippa noticed the slight change in Penelope’s demeanor, a subtle shift that didn’t escape her sharp eye. “Are you alright, Pen?” she asked gently, noticing her sister’s sudden silence. “You look a little... distracted.”
Penelope gave a small, forced smile, brushing the moment off. “I’m fine, just thinking about you know, we used to see the Bridgertons all the time when we were kids. It’s... strange to hear about them again.”
Philippa nodded knowingly, her voice softening. “Well, I’m sure Lady Violet will be lovely. Tea sounds like the perfect way to start things off.”
Portia smiled, her eyes twinkling with the prospect of future socializing. “Actually, I’m looking forward to it. I do hope we can build some good relationships again in Mayfair. The connections, after all, are everything.”
The conversation shifted again, this time to the latest gossip. Philippa leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Speaking of the Bridgertons, have you heard the rumors about the wedding next month? Apparently, it’s called the wedding of the year.” She waggled her eyebrows, clearly relishing the scandalous details. “Everyone’s talking how there's a whole other reason why this wedding's been fast tracked. Some say a bun in the oven is the main reason.”
"Who's getting married from the Bridgertons, though?" Penelope asked softly.
Prudence, who had been quietly sipping her wine, raised an eyebrow. “Nevermind that. Have we got invitations? We just got back. I doubt if we’re even on their radar.”
Andrew, who had been quietly observing the conversation, shifted in his seat. “The Bridgertons are a big deal, right? I mean, I’ve heard of them, of course, but how does that work? Does one just show up to their lavish parties or—?” He trailed off, clearly fascinated by the dynamics of London’s elite social circles.
“Well, maybe after Violet and I reconnect soon, we’ll know for sure,” Portia said with a smile, eager to bring some clarity to the situation.
Andrew’s interest was evident as he looked from Portia to Penelope, his eyes widening with curiosity. “This is starting to sound like something out of a novel. A big shotgun wedding, all this history... I can’t wait to hear more.”
Penelope smiled, grateful for the distraction, but part of her wondered just how much she was truly ready to revisit her past.