#cressida cowper i will always be on your side

[creloisebrainrot]

no one talk to me i'm off to find cressida cowper and give her the life she deserves because CLEARLY not even eloise will

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Eight - Sparkling diamond

♡♡♡

Benedict joined his sister, Eloise, out in the garden again long after the other had gone to bed. She was smoking on the swing like last time.

As Benedict takes a seat on the opposite swing, she passes him the cigarette. He takes it.

"I found bits of your sketchbook in the fireplace," Eloise says.

"Are you spying on me now?"

"You'd actually have to be interesting for me to bother spying on you," she chuckles.

"The drawings in that sketchbook were abominable," he says firmly. "I could not stand to look at them."

"I believe that is why they call it a sketchbook." Eloise looks at them. "I write in my diary, which is not the same as wiring in my novel."

Benedict chuckles.

"It must be very difficult to want something and not be able to get it."

"Eloise..."

"If you enjoy drawing but need practise, then practise," she goes on. "Hire a drawing master. Find a young lady to act impressed."

You cross his mind. However, he doesn't want you to act impressed. He wants you to be impressed by his work. Genuinely so.

"If you desire the sun and the moon, all you have to do is go out and shoot at the sky. Some of us cannot.

"Look no further than Lady Whistledown. She possesses a huge talent for writing, and yet she must hide away and publish under a false name."

"Yes, because if anyone knew who Whistledown truly was, she'd be strung up for what she said," Benedict states.

"That is not my point. Whistledown is a woman, therefore she has nothing, and still she writes. You're a man, therefore you have everything. You are able to do whatever you want. So do it. Be bold."

Eloise envies her brothers.

"At least that way I can live vicariously through you." She rises to leave.

"Eloise... are you Lady Whistledown?" Benedict asks.

Eloise laughs.

"You're an accomplished writer, always scribbling in that diary of yours. You certainly know everyone else's business. You have more opinions than anyone else I know in London. You would have my full support and admiration either way, sister."

Elosie laughs again.

"So... is it you?"

"No." She looks at him. "Though if it were... do you honestly think that I'd admit it?"

Elosie heads back inside.

Benedict is left with his thoughts.

♡♡♡

The ballroom was elegantly designed. Soft shades to light up the room. You find yourself without a dance partner, however.

Prince Friedrich was in the middle of a dance with Cressida Cowper.

The duke was standing sternly off to the side with Lady Danbury. They appeared to be talking quietly, though judging by the stern faces, it was not a pleasant conversation.

You find yourself gently, and you admire the room. Benedict wasn't here. You couldn't see him at all.

That is not to say you had gone unnoticed. You glance to your left and find a perfectly suitable gentleman looking your way. You smile softly and turn your gaze away.

Tactics of flirtation were not completely out of your power.

Before anyone could make a move, however, the doors at the top of the stairs opened. It wasn't so much the doors that caught everyones attention, more like who had come through them.

You swear you all breath left you when your eyes landed on Daphne coming down the stairs with her mother. She was wearing the most beautiful silver gown you had ever seen, and her hair was beautifully done. She looked like, well, a princess.

In her hand was a feather fan. It went beautifully with her attire. She began to descend the stairs.

All eyes were on her.

Prince Friedrich was at the bottom of the stairs. Not once did he look away. You watch with interest as Daphne gets closer, closer, and closer to him.

The prince leaves Cressida's side to meet Daphne at the bottom stair.

The duke does not move.

Daphne stops.

"Miss Bridgerton, I simply musylt have your first dance." He speaks to her softly.

"It would be an honour, your highness." She curtsies.

A moment passes between them, and then you watch as Daphne drops her fan. Just like that, the prince kneels down to pick it up.

The prince kneeled.

You don't even realise the soft gasp you let out as you watch.

Prince Friedrich offers her the fan, and she takes it. She smiles at him and then gives the fun to her mother as she takes the prince hand.

They dance.

The duke leaves. Though he turns back to look at Daphne before he goes.

In the words of Lady Whistledown, why settle for a duke when one can have a prince?

♡♡♡

The invitation to attend the boxing match came from Anthony Bridgerton. You were rather pleasantly surprised by his invitation.

Anthony apparently needed some help to keep his mother quiet about finding a wife for himself.

You laughed.

You follow the siblings until they reach the prince. He approaches Daphne, but greets you, also. You curtsy.

Anthony then offers you his arm. "Shall we?"

You chuckle and take it, allowing him to lead you over to some seats. As you settle, you turn to the eldest Bridgerton.

"Where are you brothers?" You ask.

"My brothers? Currently talking to one of the fighters." He gestures to the edge of the ring where you spot Colin and Benedict.

You don't even notice you're smiling.

"You and my brother seem to have grown rather close." Anthony points out, looking at you.

"I can assure you there is nothing untoward. Your brother is my friend, as are you all now." You smile at him.

Anthony chuckles.

"Benedict seems to have a lot on his mind at the moment. I am not one to get in the way of someone's business."

"Smart woman," Anthony chuckles.

You nudge his arm lightly and wait for the fight to begin.

As the match is announced to begin, the other brothers find their way to you and Anthony. Benedict looks rather surprised to see you. "I had no idea you were attending."

"Your brother invited me to keep your mother off his back. It seems that is all I'm good for." You chuckle.

"No true, but appreciated none the less," Benedict comments.

You smile, and he takes the empty seat beside you. It does not go unnoticed that you keep your arm looped with Anthony's. He doesn't comment on it.

The fight is intense. You gasp with every hard punch. The men around you cheer on their victor.

You had never witnessed such a match before, and you would be lying if you said you were not somewhat into it.

As the crowd stands, you stand with them and cheer along with the Bridgerton brothers. William Mondrich was their friend, and he was putting up hell of a good fight.

Benedict finds it amusing how excited you seem to be.

Mondrich wins!

You cheer along with the brothers. You laugh at the excitement. It was a thrilling match, indeed.

Anthony helps you down from your seat and speaks close to your ear so you can hear him. "We're off to collect our winnings. I shall see to it you get home right after."

You nod and thank him. As he leaves to fetch his earrings, Benedict turns to you.

"Did you enjoy that?"

You chuckle. "I did. Surprisingly."

"I must say, I did not expect to see you in attendance."

"I am full of surprises."

Benedict looks at you quietly for a moment. "Yes. You are."

You smile and look away. However, his gaze lingers on you for a bit.

Later, the Bridgertons see to it that you get home safely before they head off to the club. A place for the gentlemen only.

Anthony helps you up into the carriage and thanks you for humouring him today. Yo return the gesture and wave as the carriage leaves.

Colin has to nudge Benedict out of his thoughts.

♡♡♡

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[hocuspocusbabyy]

Together: Eloise x Cressida. 🦢🕊️

Warnings: None? Just mad fluff?

Description: Cressida and Eloise share a private moment at home.

Paring: Eloise Bridgerton x Cressida Cowper

"Sweetheart?" Eloise called as she ascended the stairwell. Her shoes removed and in hand, the navy silk of her skirts creased and displaced beneath her loose corset. "Cressida?" The brunette tried again gracing her hand along the bannister at the bottom of the stairs.

Cressida's house was always so quiet compared to her own, there were no siblings, nieces, nephews causing fuss or throwing tantrums, no annoying cheery music musing from within the drawing room nor her sister's bashful interpretation of said music ; just pure unadulterated peace.

Edging further down the familiar hall Eloise entered the master bedroom, classical music faded towards her from the en-suite bathroom; smirking slightly she removed her shirt placing it carelessly on the bed aside a pile of another's previously discarded clothes.

Her bare feet graced the bathroom tile as the sight of the blonde came into view, arms spread to either side of the bathtub, hair tied on top of her head and water just meeting her collar bone. Eloise stared silently for longer than she'd like to admit, longer than 5 years of dating would suggest; but sometimes she found it hard to believe her own luck.

"Are you just going to stand there and watch me all night?" The other woman rasped, eyes still closed as she faced away from the brunette, there was no way for her to have known that Eloise was there other than blind presence.

Smiling Eloise bent beside the tub, stroking Cressida's hair. "How was your day?"

"Tedious, not as remotely interesting as my morning with you" she mused, shifting slightly to press her face against the palm of Eloise's hand.

"I see" the brunette murmured back as Cressida kissed her hand. Following across the lines of her cheek with the backs of her fingers, the bone smooth, sharp and sturdy beneath her touch.

"How's your mother?"

"As boastful as ever, ranting on and on about the impending arrival of Colin and Penelope’s third child.”

“I was sorry to have missed them.” Cressida mused basking in the joy of her lover's nose grazing against her own. A hand reaching round to support the other woman’s head, teasing gently at the hair at the back of her neck.

“They understood, you had work. Mother did however send me away with some of those apple tarts you love.” the brunette replied idly, pacing her hand down Cressida's arm in a soothing manner. Her mouth finds purchase upon her flesh, not moving yet, merely speaking against her. Breathing in the familiar scent of gardenia, which always did wonders to sooth her heart after a long day.

"Ah and you wonder why she is my favourite Bridgerton" Eloise rolled her eyes and pinched the other woman’s arm "Ouch stop that you beast" Cressida moaned withdrawing her arm into the water. Ripples of soap foaming around her, Eloise refusing to allow the space, her lips now pressed a path of kisses from temple to the corner of her mouth.

"Enough of that ''Eloise ordered resting on her heels and drawing Cressida to turn towards her, "I seem to recall you telling me I was your favourite Bridgerton" pouting slightly as Cressida sat sideways within the bath to face her lover.

"You're my favourite person, there's a difference" Eloise smiled slightly as Cressida's wet hand touched her cheek, "now are you getting in or are you going to just sit there sulking?"

Eloise scoffed, rising from the floor to remove her clothing, familiar wet hands raising to idly untie her corset, "I don't sulk" she argued before climbing into the bath beside Cressida. Resting against the blondes chest as they hummed along to the music that for a time had been forgotten, Eloise became at ease. Cressida's finger tangled within her hair and the heat of the water consumed her body.

"You know I don't have to be a Bridgerton" The brunette whispered, sinking further into the water in fear of her own words, wanting nothing more than to forget them the moment they left her mouth. However the blonde wouldn't allow it as the grip on her waist tightened and raised Eloise from the water and onto her chest.

"But I want to be," the blonde whispered, pressing her face against the other woman’s neck "so that is what we will be together, do you understand?"

"Bridgertons?" Eloise quizzed slightly as Cressida's lips feathered against the shell of her ear.

"I think Mrs Cressida Bridgerton, has quite a ring to it; don't you?"

Eloise turned to face Cressida and smiled brightly "I think it sounds perfect" kissing Cressida gently, their tongues seeking refuge together. The most precious movement and expression of their affection for one another. Eloise could no longer count how many times they had done that, nor predict how many times they would. Though neither of them could imagine a moment where they’d stop.

Cressida would never grow tired of having Eloise so close. Each freckle, indentation and expression etched into her face perfectly transparent as Cressida kissed her chin. The small groove of a scar, aged and delicious beneath her lips.

Eloise meticulously worked at mapping the palms of Cressida’s hands as the blonde menstruations continued across her neck.

“I love you.” The brunette whispered gently against the flesh, her tongue sticking out to swipe at the skin between Cressida’s ring and index finger. Her lips finally settled to suck at the place a ring would soon be placed.

They may not be married in the eyes of the church, accepted by the ton nor openly within society. However they’d wear the rings as a commitment to one another, just as any man and woman would. They’d know, their chosen family would know and they’d be together.

Cressida smiled gently, it wasn’t often Eloise uttered such things even in private moments between them. The brunette had voiced on many occasions that she found the sentiment tedious. How could such words ever hold meaning if people insisted on using them as frequently as possible? The blonde however knew, there was no moment of her day, or plaques in memory which Cressida Cowper had ever felt anything less than enamoured, consumed, seen and beloved by Miss Eloise Bridgerton.

“I cannot wait to be your wife.” Cressida grinned, her hold suddenly tightened as if to savour the moment a second longer.

The blondes hand soon reached to guide her future wife from the the increasingly cold bath water, each taking turns drying the other in admiration as their content smiles continued to grow; they failed to find an issue in that moment as they fell asleep in each other's arms with the peaceful reminder that one day they would be Bridgertons together.

[spaceorphan18]

Twenty-Four Moments (Illustrated Version)

A/N: The first fic I wrote for Bridgerton. I was reading through again, and thought it'd be fun with some visuals.

You can find the original fic :: Here on Ao3

*****

I.

The warm light of evening stemmed through her window. Her bedroom remained still and quiet. For a moment, time felt frozen, as if the entire world was on pause, holding its breath in anticipation for that evening.

Penelope glanced up from her desk, taking a long moment to observe herself in the mirror.

Did she even recognize herself anymore?

The new clothes, the style of hair, the make-up on her face, couldn’t cover the fact that in her heart, she remained that Featherington girl. That poor Featherington girl whose dreams, whose ambitions, whose life was always deemed too impractical.

It did not matter anymore. In twenty-four hours, she would be engaged. She would be the next Lady Debling. She would have all that she could realistically ever ask for. She would retain her privacy. She could keep writing at her leisure. She would have house and home and possibly even children.

And yet….

Penelope’s heart sank as she tore her eyes away from the mirror.

Lady Penelope Debling. An esteemed name. An honorable name. She hated the sound of it.

--

II.

Her sisters once again squawked about babies. The subject was always on the tip of the tongue in the Featherington household, and the entire carriage ride to the ball, it was the only topic of conversation. It was as insufferable as it was horrifying contemplating them as mothers.

Penelope stared out the window, her anxiousness overcoming any desire to bite back at their stupidity.

Her mother placed an unusually soft hand over her arm and leaned in towards her ear. “You’re so lucky that Lord Debling is so dashing, Penelope. I fear what your children might look like had he been any lesser.” She let out a satisfied laugh as she patted Penelope’s arm.

The knot in Penelope’s stomach tightened.

--

III.

She could not escape her mother’s clutches. Could not hope for a moment for herself. There was no safety along the wall she so often felt comfortable against.

Still, the haunting performance allowed her a moment to glance over the room.

Violet Bridgerton stood on the balcony; radiating out the warm, motherly quality her own mother lacked.

Benedict Bridgerton was in the far corner, snickering and giggling as he downed a drink with a lady hung on his arm.

Francesca Bridgerton stood composed and calm, leaning slightly on her side towards Lord Kilmartin.

Eloise… Well, she wouldn’t dare think of Eloise; even if she knew Eloise was an arms length behind her, too busy confounding her with her friendship with Cressida Cowper.

She scanned the crowd as she always did -- yet no familiar eyes lit up in her direction…

Of course he wasn’t there. She did not know what kept Colin away that night. But of course he would be absent when she met her inevitable fate.

--

IV.

The thing about Lord Debling was that he was secure in his dance. He held her properly, confidently, and comfortably. He was noble in stature, yet gentle in approach. His smile was pleasing and his eyes kind. A perfect gentleman. A good match.

He guided her around the dance floor with ease; even after she began to stumble. Even after her resolve began to break. Even after she could no longer truly meet in him the eye.

Her life was about to be full. And yet her chest felt hollow.

--

V.

There were a lot of emotions she had felt for Colin Bridgerton over the years.

Anger was new.

How was it that he continued to find new ways to break her heart?

VI.

“I did not ask if it was a possibility, I asked if you’d like it to be.”

Words, sentences, thoughts, ideas, things she was so good expressing once again stalled in her chest. If only she could get out the correct answer. Yet, her body betrayed her. Her ever aching heart betrayed her. The feeling deep in her soul that knew the shackles of that unrequited love would forever weigh her down reflected on her face. She deflated in resignation.

If there was any silver lining to the humiliation - it was the fact that at least she no longer needed to keep up the facade. The only way Lord Debling could have been a reality was if she hardened her heart.

Maybe this was the push her heart needed.

--

VII.

She didn’t make it to the carriage before breaking down.

The ironic thing, she thought as the door closed, fully allowing her to sob privately, was that even though she would be forced to write about her foolishness yet again, at least she still had Lady Whistledown.

At least she still had an escape. At least she could still create her own refuge and retreat back into the shadows where she belonged.

--

VIII.

She had, perhaps, looked into Colin’s eyes a thousand times before. She had seen his kindness, his humility, his empathy. She had seen laughter, she had seen sympathy, she had even dared to see fondness. She had seen sadness and boredom and distraction and irritation. She had seen his protectiveness and, on occasion, even his passion. And on one particular afternoon long ago an amusing sort of humiliation.

Colin’s eyes were comforting and familiar, in the way one grows fond of looking into the depths of the ocean after a storm has passed and feels safe and calm.

But in his eyes tonight? There were things she had never seen before.

Hunger, desire, longing, lust… love?

It was as if she saw herself reflected in his eyes, and it shook her to her core.

Her own eyes fluttered shut. She was done looking. She wanted more.

--

IX.

Her body felt aflame.

She felt him everywhere; his breath hot on her skin, his mouth hungry at her breast, his hand stroking fervently in places she never dreamed would feel so good. They were connected in the most intimate of ways and yet even that didn’t feel enough. She wanted to melt into him, like snow on spring grass.

It was all overwhelming, all too much, and yet her body ached for more.

She pulled him closer, nudging his cheek so that their lips could meet once again. A groan escaped into his mouth as their tongues met.

She wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever.

--

X.

The carriage may have stopped, but her world continued to spin.

There was a burst of laughter between the two of them and even with the tangle of emotions, she felt grounded again. He was still her Colin. She would always be his Pen. He was still her dearest friend.

And yet now, as he tenderly put her back together again, something more.

With a soft, mischievous look, he was out of the carriage, his hand held high - waiting for her. She didn’t know what it meant, but she would follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked. But what came out of his mouth next was something in a thousand years she would have never expected.

“For god’s sake Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me or not?”

--

XI.

Walking into Bridgerton house felt like a hazy dream. She felt as though she were floating, as if at any moment, she would wake up, and be in her own bed.

Colin’s hand felt solid and firm in her own, the only tether to reality.

She walked into the drawing room, terrified. This house was once the home she wished had been her own. And now she would officially be a part of it. It did not feel real.

She didn’t fully hear Colin’s announcement, nor Francesca’s kind words. She could barely register Hyacinth’s embrace. But it was Lady Violet that did her in. Her acceptance meant more than the world. She was finally home.

--

XII.

It was Eloise who brought her world shattering back to reality. Her words were like cold water thrown into her face, the iciness of which stung her very soul.

She was not fully herself without Lady Whistledown. She was also not fully herself without Eloise.

She didn’t know how to reconcile being torn into so many pieces.

--

XIII.

He offered to walk her home. She didn’t need an escort, not when she lived just across the way. She had been alone in much more frightening places, but his insistence was endearing. And, truth be told, she didn’t want to leave his side.

She held his arm as they slowly made their way. No words passed between them, only giddy looks and shared giggles.

A long moment passed between them as they stood at her door. He gently brushed the hair off her forehead, traced one delicate finger down her cheek.

“I will see you in the morning?” How odd of a question, as if he was unsure of her answer.

She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

He grinned proudly, taking a moment to look around to secure that they were alone before drawing in for a sweet kiss.

It took her breath away. He always took her breath away.

--

XIV.

Even home and settled, her mind remained abuzz. She couldn’t sleep but she could write, and write she did, scribbling away as the evening slipped into early morning.

Her quill scratched across the parchment, writing such delectable words.

She only paused once, staring in somewhat disbelief at the words she had written on the page.

…it may come to a surprise to all that Mr. Bridgerton’s rumored assistance in helping Miss Featherington find a husband has, instead, led to the two of them finding each other…

She bit her lip, not helping the wide grin as she replayed Colin’s proposal in her mind.

She wished she could see the looks on the ton’s faces when they read her column in the morning.

--

XV.

It was the birds that awoke her, their happy songs in the golden sunlight bringing her from sleep. In truth, she could have stayed in bed much longer, but for the first time in forever, she truly wished to be in reality more than the fantasies that often occupied her dreams.

She cuddled into her pillow, thinking about how on this bright new morning, she was indeed about to become a wife. But not just anyone’s wife. Colin’s wife. Colin Bridgerton would be her husband.

An electric shiver ran throughout her body at the thought.

She closed her eyes and once again traveled back to the previous night. She once again could hear all of Colin’s honeyed words, feel his desperate lips on her skin, the sureness of his hand between her legs…

She let out a tiny moan. How ever would she be able to function that day?

--

XVI.

Her sisters were easy enough to avoid -- they were loud as they left, their doting husbands dutifully trailing behind them. Her mother, on the other hand, would be a force she had to meet head on.

Would it be too much to ask for her to be happy with the news? Could she not, for a moment, give out the same warmth, the same kindness, the same joy that Lady Bridgerton bestowed upon her just hours earlier? Could she just for once accept Penelope for who she was? Why was it - even when she was feeling on top of the world - there was always the fear that her own mother would be the one who toppled her over?

She braced herself, taking a deep breath in and holding her head high as she entered the drawing room.

--

XVII.

She once again remained dazed as Colin escorted her into the small home. Was there a limit to how much he could surprise her? Would there be an end to the utter shock she felt? Would she ever stop falling more and more in love?

He defended her against her mother, a moment that would remain seared in her brain forever. And now, he casually brought her into his home. Into their home. Into the house they would live in. Together.

She could have easily dismissed everything she had felt last night as a one-time fantasy. Some dream she conjured up by her imagination only to be dashed away when she retained her sensible mind. But that would not be the case.

Because today, because now in the brightness of the early afternoon, it all felt real. Too real. Too raw. So unbelievable that she could barely process it.

What else more could he possibly give her?

--

XVIII.

“Pen…”

“...yes?...”

“I would like…I…”

“Anything, Colin.”

“I am ready for you to touch me… Here, let me guide your hand.”

“What…why are you laughing?”

“It’s just that, you are so delicate in your touch. You can be rougher if you like.”

“Won’t I hurt you?”

“You could never hurt me.”

“Like this…is this good? I don’t quite know what I’m doing.”

“It’s wonderful, Pen, just keep…yeah….”

--

XIX.

They continued to trade slow kisses, no longer hurried or heated, but calm and anchoring. She relaxed into his embrace, feeling safer and more connected in his arms. She had thought she had known what love was. Thought she had known all its depths and all its intricacies. But this new kind of love was surreal, as if it existed outside her plane of existence.

His hand trailed over her skin sending a spark to her heart with each touch. His fingers danced over her breast, stopping for a moment to be playful with a nipple. She arched into him with a groan, raking one hand through his hair as she hiked one leg over his, lamenting the fact that he no longer was buried deep inside her. His kiss deepened, and it was remarkable that she did not combust with ecstasy yet again…

XX.

“Penelope Featherington, you should not look at me like that.”

She couldn’t help but stare as he rushed to clothe himself. He had never seemed so handsome to her in that odd state of half undress. If only she could be that fabric that clung so needily against his skin.

“Isn’t a wife allowed to look at her husband?”

A charming grin spread across his face. “You are not yet my wife,” he gently teased.

“No, but I long to look at you all the same.”

His smile faltered as he looked at her with bewilderment.

She was his. She had always been his. But it began to dawn on her that maybe he had always been hers as well. They did not need to exchange marriage vows to belong to each other.

--

XXI.

The Queen’s notice was heavy in her hand. Even as Colin snuck a tiny nibble to her neck, she could not stave off the sense of dread growing in her stomach.

--

XXII.

“It has been quite the day, has it not?”

Colin helped her out of the carriage, ever the gentleman as he took her hand. It felt almost too simple a gesture for all that had happened between them, yet she took it willingly. He kissed her hand and yet she couldn’t help but look up at him, wishing they weren’t bound by the rules of society. How much she longed to kiss his lips once again.

“Quite the day, indeed,” she managed to say.

Colin moved in, whispering close into her ear. “I love you, Pen.”

She felt too dumbstruck to say it back. But she felt it. She radiated it. He had to know, right? She was a writer of words, and yet she would never fully be able to express the depth of her love to him.

“We’ll be together again soon.” He dared sneak a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

Somehow, the air around her grew colder as he left.

--

XXIII.

The house she left was not the same house she came back to. Something had shifted in the air. Something had changed. She had changed. But she wasn’t the only one.

Her sisters were one thing, with their pregnancies and their husbands and their uncomfortable commentary about Lady Whistledown. They remained ignorant and occupied and could not sense that she was not the same person she had been just hours earlier.

But her mother was different, too. Her attempt at kindness felt troubling. She did not trust it. What scheme could she possibly be up to? It was doubtful that Portia Featherington could have actually found her heart. But other improbabilities becoming realities had surprised her.

--

XXIV.

The darkness of the evening light dimmed the room. Penelope hardly noticed as she was too lost in thought to consider it. She wrote away in her journal, wanting to document everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. What a whirlwind it had been, and she wasn’t quite sure all of it had happened.

She happened to glance up and catch herself in the mirror. She didn’t look any different. She was still her. Still Penelope. Still Lady Whistledown, though she tried her best to ignore the unsettling feeling brought about by that title. Still the girl who had hopes and dreams even if she now better understood how love can reverberate through your world and change it so fundamentally.

She was still Penelope Featherington. And even if she was still, maybe, unsure of who that was, even if she was learning that a sense of self was no longer a stable thing, she no longer scorned that name.

Besides, soon she would become Penelope Bridgerton. And with that, a sense of hope stayed firm within her, even if she sensed a growing shadow in her world. Yes, she would be Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton. A comforting warmth spread in her heart at the thought.

[musicalnerd4ever]

Bridgerton fanfic - Season 3 speculative fic. An idea for a scene before the one we just got on Valentine’s Day!

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE BRIDGERTON CHARACTERS OR STORYLINES. SHONDALAND, JULIA QUINN AND NETFLIX DO.

Follow Me - Penelope fanfic

———————————————

Cressida ripped the bottom of Penelope‘s new emerald green dress, and her shame exploded, as it always did when she attended a ball. Out of the corner of her tear-filled eyes, she saw Colin laughing and joking with the same gentlemen of the Ton who had mocked her in her family estate. They had not seen what happened. Colin was forever blind to her. There was nothing she could do anymore. Their friendship was over, and she needed to accept it.

As a tear finally fell down her fair face, a solid and steadfast voice whispered in her ear. A serious one. A kind one. She recognized it as Lord Debling’s voice. The two of them had a brief conversation earlier in the evening. Awkward and sincere Lord Debling.

“Follow me. We will escape this dreadful environment together. It is alright, I am here. Do not pay them any mind. These people are not worth your tears.” Penelope felt safer and stronger again, similar to how she felt when Eloise and Colin were in her life. It only took one conversation for her to see the goodness in this man. He was like her. An outcast, and he also recognized a kindred spirit in Penelope. She held back her sobs and looked up at Lord Debling with a soft smile as they walked side-by-side. Her feet picked up as best as they could, even with her hand on his arm. The cruel, malicious laughter faded away.

With Penelope’s focus on leaving the ballroom as quickly as possible, she failed to notice Colin Bridgerton. He watched her leave, unaware of what Cressinda Cowper had done. All he saw was Penelope, leaving the ballroom with a man he did not recognize. A quick, unfamiliar twinge of pain struck his heart. After saying his goodbyes to the men, he dipped and dove through the crowds toward his dear friend, hoping to speak to her after months of no communication. Hopefully the man would not be there. He needed to know why his letters went without answer.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

ship 3 location 19 👀💖🫶🏻

Thanks very much for the prompt, Anon!! Hoping you find this one 👀 worthy...

3) SHIP: Cressida x Eloise

19) LOCATION: a carriage interior

more Bridgerton-themed fic prompts

Two to Give Chase

Pairing: Eloise x Cressida Rating: E Word Count: 3201

Summary: Colin had chased Penelope, and Eloise had chased Colin, and Cressida, rather miraculously, had chased her. Or; Eloise and Cressida get their own carriage scene.

All was in motion tonight, and Eloise, who had only wanted to sit and unfurl her ideas to Cressida, was caught out. Colin had gone to Penelope, and Cressida had gone to Debling, and who to Eloise? No one.

It was not the evening she had thought she was having, ensconced with her friend. She had briefly imagined their tête-à-tête a stimulating salon… until Cressida had abandoned her the moment Debling stood alone on the dance floor. Eloise had scoffed to be left so in the lurch. She had stared, in puzzled awe, at the dancing pairs. Penelope and her brother had appeared to be arguing, while Cressida had looked rather smug in whatever she was imparting to Debling. Both pairs had annoyed Eloise, and it was more complicated than because she had not been a part of them, a part of the easy swish and turn of society she had always felt so out of step with.

Eloise had not solved the mystery of her feelings by the time the music stopped and the set broke up, and so it was impulsively that, when she saw Penelope disappear from the room after speaking to Debling and saw Colin follow after, she shoved her chair back and gave chase.

She was in time to catch up with neither the retreating roll of Penelope’s carriage nor her brother’s feet as he ran—absurd!—after it. She was left, in fact, panting and clutching her side, squinting after them with consternation. She was left alone in the night.

…Until she felt a gloved hand on her arm and turned to see Cressida skidding to a stop at her side. Eloise did not know how much she had seen, what she knew or even guessed, and she had no chance to ask. Cressida was flagging down assistance, was ordering the Cowper carriage be brought. Eloise, repossessed of her breath yet befuddled, only understood that the cause of this rush was her. Colin had chased Penelope, and Eloise had chased Colin, and Cressida, rather miraculously, had chased her.

After Cressida had all but bodily yanked Eloise into the carriage and ordered “Bridgerton House!”, they sat face to face. Eloise did not know quite what to say, except: “What are you doing?”

“I am assisting you! I admit, the destination was a guess—”

“But…” Words failed Eloise for a moment. “Surely this is your opportunity.”

Cressida blinked.

“To do what?”

“To speak with Debling. To dance with him.” Eloise made a gesture that attempted to communicate all the rituals of courtship, all the things it was so much more difficult to do when the man whose attention you sought was so often divided between young ladies—namely, between Cressida and Penelope, who had just fled.

“Oh.” Cressida appeared thoughtful, as though she had truly not considered this. Then, her countenance cleared. “I suppose I did not want to stay with him. I suppose I wanted to… go with you.”

“I do not even know why I am here!” Eloise’s voice rose in exasperation—at herself? At Cressida for throwing away this long looked-for chance to have Debling to herself? Whatever was any of them doing this evening?

“Well, I…” Cressida began tentatively, sitting very straight with her hands folded on her lap. “I rather hope you are trying to waylay Mr. Bridgerton, though I cannot imagine why. Should your break from Penelope Featherington keep your brother from her as well?”

Eloise stared at the woman across from her. She had misjudged her more than once, and was now especially touched by Cressida’s unexpected generosity; it was clear she felt an empathy with Penelope after all. However much she did not want Penelope competing with her for Debling, she apparently did not mean for Penelope to have no husband. For that was the reason behind all of this, Eloise knew—if she stopped to contemplate it beyond rash decisions and gravel in her shoes: Colin must love Penelope. He would not have run behind her carriage if circumstances were otherwise.

“If you side with Penelope, why are you hoping I am trying to prevent my brother from seeing her?” Eloise asked.

Cressida directed her gaze down to her lap, smoothing her dress.

“Because… if you are not…” Her smile, when she raised her chin once more, was fragile. “If you are instead chasing after Penelope, I have made... a very silly blunder. And I ought to have remained with Lord Debling.”

Eloise had never felt it: this. She held Cressida in her gaze—all her terror, all her practicality, all her pink—and she saw what so many of her mother’s stories had not been enough to say. It seemed so simple, so suddenly simple, that she could have laughed. She did not; she did not ever want Cressida to think she was being laughed at, and Eloise felt too overwhelmed to make sense of her laughter to another person. She doubted she could have made sense of it to herself. She felt like a doll that had fallen from a height, wooden limbs all disjointed, so low to the moving sky. It was disorienting, and it filled her with a mad feeling of immortal joy.

“Debling is a most sensible choice,” Eloise murmured. Her lips felt numb, but that was alright, because she was more interested in Cressida’s, which were flinching into a sad smile as she glanced away.

“That he is,” Cressida agreed with forced confidence.

“He would be a good husband to a woman who wanted her freedom, who wanted to be out from under her parents. A woman who had not had a warm home growing up could undertake the making of one, all to her own taste, if she had such a husband as Debling, who was not uncaring but left her much on her own.”

“She could.”

“Does not the woman I describe remind you of yourself?” Eloise wondered gently, making Cressida look at her. “Unless I am mistaken.”

“She does.”

Again, Cressida went along with what Eloise had said, still wearing that unhappy smile. She did not see—Eloise did not know how to make her—that Eloise attempted the same empathy Cressida had lately shown Penelope; she felt for the other woman, and knew what might make her happy. Or if not happy, easy, which might even be better, if love was out of the question. But whether or not love was out of the question was what Eloise really hoped to determine.

“The two of you together,” Eloise ventured, longing to be contradicted, “would be quite a practical match.”

“Practical,” Cressida repeated.

The ensuing silence stretched long enough for Eloise to begin to think of Penelope and Colin, and wonder what had transpired, what might have been transpiring even then, whether they had proceeded to Bridgerton House as Cressida had supposed or aimed for a different destination. Eloise felt she would need to meddle there; if they intended to marry, she could not keep Penelope’s secret quiet. She would not have it on her conscience, no matter if Penelope had reconciled herself to having it on her own. Colin was Eloise’s brother and deserved the truth. What could be love that was not begun honestly?

Eloise’s thoughts were scattering into abstraction when Cressida spoke again, concentrating her focus.

“Of course,” she said, “the practicality of the thing is what makes it all the more inconvenient…” She swallowed and the eyes she locked on Eloise’s were full of nervousness. “…as I fear your influence has made me an idealist.”

Heart beating with a hopefulness that was almost painful, Eloise pled from her eyes.

“You’re brave,” she said.

“More likely a very great fool,” Cressida admitted.

Eloise pulled Cressida’s trembling hands into her own, stroking the satiny fingers of her gloves.

“You will not marry him?” Eloise fairly breathed the question, afraid to hear herself ask it, afraid of what she wanted the answer to be.

Cressida leaned in and swore, “I will not marry him. How could I go away from you?”

With a strangled sound which might have been ecstasy or agony but was certainly a relief to expel from her chest, Eloise took advantage of the jostling of the carriage to fling herself forward, lips pressing Cressida’s. Cressida gave a little cry against her mouth, and then her head was tilting to kiss her more assuredly, her hands squeezing Eloise’s.

Eloise could hardly believe it. Fortunately, there was no more time for doubt than there was for belief, and as Cressida was kissing her back, Eloise seized the opportunity wholeheartedly. The carriage ride would only be so long. At the end of it would be Bridgerton House, and Colin, and Penelope, and perhaps a proposal. If Eloise had to stand witness to a happiness constructed partially over the uneven ground of deception, then she would witness it with her own honest happiness, even if it must be concealed. One of them was crying desperate, grateful, ecstatic tears; as Eloise cupped Cressida’s cheeks in her palms, the tears soaked her gloves.

As though Cressida too had remembered they did not have long, she kissed Eloise more roughly, eliciting a groan even Eloise had not expected.

“I—” she muttered, eyes still half shut but with some vague sense that she must apologize for the impropriety of the sound. “I did not—”

Cressida would not hear the apology. Her arm slipped around Eloise’s waist as she said insistently, “Come here.”

Eloise all but threw herself onto the opposite seat, and in seconds, Cressida had her crowded into the corner, apparently doing all she could to cause Eloise to repeat the noise. With a sloppy swirl of her tongue into Eloise’s mouth, it was accomplished.

The more they kissed, the more they touched—Cressida’s hand gripping Eloise’s side now, higher than her waist—the more Eloise wanted Cressida’s kisses and touches. She was experiencing an urgent sensation. For all her mother’s stories of love and marriage and children, this was something Eloise knew she had never described. Eloise had believed in passion, of course, but she had assumed it was all of the mind—that desire sprung of a connection between two people on the field of intellect and emotions. That understanding was the pinnacle of what one could hope to discover in another person.

Well.

Eloise had been unutterably wrong.

She had also read books, but any book in their home that made any allusion to physicality did so in a glossing, indistinct way. What she felt at the juncture of her thighs, at that very moment, was nothing if not distinct!

Eloise quickly became as desperate to touch Cressida as she was to be touched herself. And not through these blasted gloves! Pulling out of the kiss, Eloise bit the finger of one offending article between her teeth, but the damned things were so snug! She would scream if she were not able to feel all the textures of Cressida beneath her bare fingertips!

“Let me,” Cressida muttered.

With a frustrated gasp, Eloise extended her arm. To her tremendous surprise, Cressida bowed over her arm and used her own teeth to take hold of the fabric and draw it down Eloise’s skin. Oh, it rubbed deliciously as it went, making all the fine hairs on her arm stand on end. Cressida whisked away one glove and then the other. Eloise watched and saw the barest hint of an impulsively made decision in Cressida’s expression before she licked between Eloise’s fingers. Eloise moaned.

And then they were upon one another, Cressida wrenching the dress from Eloise’s shoulders. The straps of Eloise’s stays digging into her upper arms, and she did not care! Her movements were slightly restricted, and what of it! There had been days—many days, most days—when a restrictive garment would have provoked her into endless complaints. Groaning! Whining! Refusals to be dragged from the house! Now, it hardly mattered, because her mouth could still kiss Cressida’s, her thudding chest could still press Cressida’s, her legs could twine with Cressida’s still as they reclined across the seat.

Cressida’s leg rubbed between Eloise’s quite by accident, and Eloise heard another sound of her own creation that was totally unfamiliar to her own ears. Cressida became as a statue. They panted against one another. And then, slowly, Cressida rubbed her leg against Eloise once more. Eloise’s head fell back as she cried out.

They carried on in a flurry, and likely would have carried on longer—longer than the journey would take, longer than the whole of human history had yet spanned, surely—had Eloise not been gripped by the need to show Cressida the same sort of pleasure. She had to. The thought possessed her as she grasped Cressida’s hips and handled her roughly, moving her aside so she, Eloise, could sink to the carriage floor. Cressida sat up, looking much dishevelled.

“What are you doing?”

“I have no idea,” Eloise confessed, the words seeming to crackle as they left her mouth, which was no longer for speaking, only for kissing, for kissing only Cressida.

Kneeling, she took the hem of Cressida’s dress in her hands and began gathering it up towards her knees. She could not explain. All Eloise understood was that the feeling was there for her, and so it must be there for Cressida, and perhaps, if she could see, she could comprehend: how to coax the sensation from her body, how to prolong it, how to prove Cressida had chosen rightly by picking her over Lord Debling.

Her head dropped onto Cressida’s bare knee and she sighed her thanks to God.

“I do.”

Dazed, Eloise looked up at Cressida with a frown.

“Hmm?”

“I know what you must do,” Cressida clarified. Her cheeks were the soft-edged pink of the inside of a cherry, though as she continued to stare at Eloise, they darkened towards a shade more like the ripe skin of that fruit.

“How on earth do you know?” Eloise demanded. She could not fault Cressida for smiling as though she would laugh at her; Eloise’s voice had come out rather indignant. But this meant some young ladies were actually learning about—

“Just because I do not read books on the subject of the great auk does not mean I do not read.”

Cressida’s smile was now very sly, and she held her chin up haughtily as she slid her dress higher than Eloise had yet dared. Eloise’s face grew hot at the sight of Cressida’s naked thighs. Was this the sight men traveled halfway across Europe to enjoy? Was this what men snickered about in their clubs, away from delicate, feminine ears? If it was, Eloise was immediately certain they were unworthy of it. They could not possibly have been appreciating such a view as much as she was, crouched before Cressida Cowper in the moving carriage.

“Could you possibly lend me some of your books?” Eloise murmured.

“Of course. For now, I shall tell you all you need to know.”

This exchange seemed more than generous, an abundantly fair trade for swiftly imparted information on a flightless bird. The knowledge would serve both parties; they would both be the better for it—Eloise was convinced of this, even after Cressida’s hurried account of the mechanics of the maneuver gave way to an explanation without words. With dizzying suddenness, Eloise’s face was nestled between Cressida’s warm thighs and Cressida was tugging her gloves off—left on in their haste—to plunge her fingers into Eloise’s styled hair, likely rendering it irreparable.

Knowing they drew ever nearer to Bridgerton House, Eloise did not hesitate. Lick, Cressida had said, so Eloise did. She did it without being sure, which was a little terrifying, but eventually, she found she had done something correctly; she knew by the way one of Cressida’s hands gripped her head and by the slam she pulled back enough to see had been Cressida’s other hand striking the ceiling of the carriage. Eloise made a noise of satisfaction and continued, only to have her audible satisfaction overtaken by Cressida’s.

She said all sorts of things Eloise had never heard her say, filling Eloise with delight as well as absolute, unadorned lust. Eloise clutched Cressida’s thighs and licked harder, blending saliva with the fascinating wetness that accompanied Cressida’s passion. She lapped at the flushed, budlike apex until Cressida began a mindless roll of her hips, a steady moan. Eloise was a curious woman, and had been a curious child before that; she knew what her own body looked like, but she had not known, had never guessed at, all its miraculous capabilities. She felt the good fortune of Cressida and her books—she felt it from the scalp against which Cressida’s fingernails scratched to the feet she sat on in this position on the floor of the carriage.

Cressida rocked against Eloise’s eager mouth until she panted, “El, El, Eloise,” went silent, and came to a shuddering stop. When she pulled her fingers from Eloise’s hair, Eloise’s head tingled all over like departing fairy magic. She sat back. Cressida’s other hand plummeted from the ceiling. They rearranged her skirt so that it fell down her legs. Eloise tugged her stays and gown back into place around her shoulders. Their gazes pulled at each other, heavy as the sway of the sea. That was what Eloise felt, rolling along, anchored to Cressida. She wondered whether this was what marriage was like; she could not imagine a more profound feeling of connection.

Cressida extended both hands to her and Eloise took them gladly, letting herself be pulled up. She sat next to Cressida, who carefully rested her head on Eloise’s shoulder, mindful of her extravagantly-style hair. Eloise reached up and stroked her soft cheek. She longed for more caresses, more time. She wanted to know what else Cressida knew—wanted to know it with her body.

“I do not know what to say,” Eloise confessed at a whisper.

“Say nothing.” Cressida tucked an arm around Eloise’s waist. “It has all been said.”

Perhaps she was right, Eloise considered. For two people who talked almost ceaselessly when they were together, there was nothing it seemed pressing to say. The obvious thing, Eloise supposed, was to propose. That would save Cressida from ruin. But Eloise was not a man, and could not propose, and had not ruined Cressida by any definition she knew. The weight and warmth of Cressida against her did not communicate ruin. Nothing they had done felt dishonourable to Eloise, and so no dire need for a solution succeeded it. When they arrived at the house, they would have travelled there to here without incident, as far as anyone knew. Someone might observe their stripped gloves, their mussed hair, and see nothing but a pair of tired girls come back from a ball. It was sad, but it was not all sad. It would not be seen, but that did not mean it was not real.

Cressida turned her head and kissed Eloise’s shoulder. Eloise’s heart swelled and shrank and swelled again. They held each other until the carriage slowed.

[sweetbuckybarnes]

You Clever, Clever Boy

Pairings: Anthony + Kate; Benedict + Sophie; Colin + Penelope; Daphne + Simon; Eloise + Phillip; Francesca + Michael; Gregory + Lucy; Hyacinth + Gareth

Extra Characters: Dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton, Edmund Bridgerton II, Miles Bridgerton, Thomas Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton II, Agatha Bridgerton, Belinda Basset, George Bridgerton, Amanda Crane, Georgiana Crane

Summary: The annual Bridgerton Pall Mall has been somewhat interrupted by the first words of one young Bridgerton. or: How I imagine the final ever scene of Bridgerton taking place.

It was time for the annual Bridgerton Pall Mall game. This year, playing for the Mallet of Death, was Anthony and Kate, Benedict, Colin, Daphne and Simon, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory and Hyacinth.

Violet was sitting in the shade, looking out at her fully grown children, squabbling over pall mall sticks. She sighed and shook her head. They were like this as children, Edmund had always encouraged their competitive nature - and this is what it has spiralled into.

She pulls her attention away from her children, looks over to the other side of the Aubrey Hall gardens, and smiles at her grandchildren. She could see Anthony's boys (Edmund and Miles) chasing Colin's son Thomas. Three little girls were using one of the new skipping ropes - Benedict's daughter (Violet), Colin's daughter (Agatha - lovingly nicknamed, Aggie) and Eloise's daughter (Penelope). One of Daphne's daughters - Belinda - was sitting in front of her grandmother, working on her mathematics.

Two pairs of shoes brought the Dowager Viscountess away from her musings, and a pair of little hands wrapped themselves around her legs. Looking down, there was little George Bridgerton - Colin and Penelope's youngest child. "Hello, Georgie," she ran her fingers through his brunette locks - he looked so much like Colin did at his age. The only difference? Georgie Bridgerton has yet to speak a single word. "Where is your mama?"

"Hello, Violet," the voice of Penelope Bridgerton causing Violet to look over at her daughter-in-law with a smile - she had always wished for Colin to marry Penelope (when he found out everyone knew of his feelings before he realised them, he nearly demanded to know why nobody ever told him). Penelope leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mother-in-law's cheek. It was well known Penelope had a better relationship with her in-laws than her own family.

Colin looked away from the game of Pall Mall and spotted his wife talking to his mother, who was currently running her fingers through his son's hair. Penelope looked away from Violet and caught the eye of her husband (much like they always had done in every social situation), a large smile blossomed over Penelope's face as well as Colin's.

She looked away from her husband, a subtle pink blush still rose up her cheeks, even after all these years - he could still make her blush. "Thomas!" Penelope exclaimed, hurrying over to her son who had been accidentally toppled over by Edmund. "Are you alright, darling?" Colin had dropped his pall mall stick and hurried over along with his wife.

Colin was followed by Anthony and Kate to deal with the situation between their sons.

Anthony, Kate and Colin made their way back to the Pall Mall game as Penelope took Thomas up to where Violet was sitting with Belinda and Georgie.

"Are you alright, Thomas?" Violet asked, reaching her fingers out to wipe away one of his tears.

Thomas didn't say anything. Only nodded at his grandmother and manoeuvred himself so he was sitting in the chair with Violet.

Colin kept glancing over at his wife and two of their children. He couldn't imagine just how close he got to losing Penelope to Lord Debling (who went on to marry Cressida Cowper, however, part way into his travels to the North, he and the entire crew perished). If he hadn't admitted his feelings in the carriage, he would have lost her - they wouldn't have their four darling children. Agatha, Thomas, Jane and George.

One of his mother's ladies' maid brought out another chair for Penelope to sit in as she brought Georgie into her lap. 

Daphne looked over at her husband, Simon, with a smile then glanced over at Belinda (who was being supervised by her grandmother with her mathematics). "I believe she may ask for advanced mathematics soon," she tells him.

Simon also looked over at their daughter, a smile growing on his face. "I believe so, she is more Bridgerton than she is Basset," Daphne laughed at his words and stepped up to take her turn.

Simon watched his wife, as she swung her red ball through the third wicket. He was extremely grateful to have been able to marry Daphne, rather than any other debutante that year.

Both Gregory and Benedict were worrying over their wives (Lucy and Sophie, respectively) as they were both nearing their suspected due dates. Eloise kept looking down to the other end of the garden, where her husband Phillip Crane (the former husband to the first Lady Crane - Marina) was planting some new flowers for Violet with his daughters Amanda and Georgiana.

Penelope had been talking to Violet, staring out at the garden (making sure her children were alright) when the gentle "mama," made her stop talking. She knew three of her children's voices. The only one she didn't know was...

She looked over at Violet, to make sure she did hear what she thought she heard. Violet also had a look of surprise.

It was Georgie. Her littlest baby finally said his first words.

"Georgie? Was that you?" She asked gently, looking down at him.

Georgie tipped his head, so he was completely resting against Penelope. "Mama," he says again.

Penelope let out a stuttered gasp, then a loud shriek escaped her. Which caught the attention of Colin and Eloise (the former who dropped his pall mall stick and ran over to his wife as quickly as his legs could take him). "Pen!" He called, which prompted Eloise to run over. "What is it? What happened?"

"Georgie spoke," she cried, holding their son to her.

Colin looked from his wife to his mother (who nodded, with tears in her eyes). Belinda pulled at his sleeve from where he was kneeling in front of his wife. "He spoke, Uncle Colin."

Colin let out a stuttered laugh, reaching over to rest his hand on the side of Georgie's head. "Of course he did, my clever boy!" Georgie smiled at his father. "What did he say?"

"Georgie," Violet said, capturing the little boy's attention. "Who has you? Who is this?" She pointed to Penelope.

Tilting his head back up, his face shone with the amount of love he holds for Penelope, even before he spoke, it was well known that Georgie was Mama's boy (as Agatha was Papa's girl). "Mama."

Colin rested his head on Penelope's knee for all of one second. "You clever, clever boy! Yes, mama has you!" Colin pressed a kiss to the top of Georgie's head.

"P-P-" Georgie started, making Colin look down at his son, with wide tearfilled eyes. However, before Georgie was distracted by a passing butterfly.

Penelope giggled and rested her cheek on top of Georgie's. "Give him time, he will say Papa soon."

Georgie looked away from where the butterfly had flown and then looked up at Colin. "P-papa," of course Georgie had to speak and call for both of his parents within the space of five minutes.

Colin exclaimed with joy, pulling Georgie from Penelope's lap and throwing him up into the air (which was followed by Penelope asking him to please be careful with Georgie), and pressed multiple kisses to his son's face. "You clever boy!"

[swallowedbyfandom]

Her walk in the park is unfortunately not the peaceful endeavor she had imagined it to be. It appears every top, flop, and chit came out this afternoon to stare at her. She serenely ignores them all, let them look. She knows she looks spectacular this fine day.

She is dressed in a one of a kind gauzy number that Gen created just for her. She has almost all her hair open and free except for a deep side part that she has pined back for propriety. After all if she runs into Lord Debling she wants him to see what he is missing.

Once she finds the perfect spot she has Rae set up her little picnic. She plops gracelessly down on her favorite cushion to read. She can feel the tension in the air increase with every person she ignores. She almost forgets where she is until she hears the fast and heavy steps of irate feet charging her way.

She glances up and sees that it is Eloise, well if El wants to be publicly shamed. Who is she to deny her? She is going to treat El like the spoiled unruly child she is. Yes, she decides she is going to make Eloise look like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Let the public see her for the hypocrite she is. What fun it shall be!!

"What did you do to my brother?"

Calmly Penelope replies,

"Miss Bridgerton I am not entertaining callers at the moment. I am currently engaged reading my book. I suggest you to address your questions to the brother in question."

Eloise scoffed, then once again demanded.

"What did you do to my brother? He was so upset he did not eat this morning. You have obviously said or did something."

"Miss Bridgerton, I ask that you refrain from speaking to me. I have no interest in wasting my words on you. You share a home with your brother I imagine with very little effort you can find him. I insist you direct your questions to him. Now I would like to get back to my book, good day."

"This is not over, I promise you." She spat spitefully.

"You will find that I am quite done with you. I tired of your accusations and your hypocrisy. Run along I am sure Miss Cowper is looking for you. Good day."

I contently went back to reading. While El stood there momentarily gaping like a fish before she snared and stomped off. I have to hide my smirk behind the pages of my book. Penelope 1, Eloise 0. She knows her satisfaction in riling Eloise up is extremely petty but she tired of apologizing to people whom do not deserve her grace. Eloise ran off with Cressida without even calling out a warning to her, leaving her behind to damn near die via hot air balloon. Then she had the gall to help that vulture try and steal her suitor. She was willing to help her childhood tormentor steal her future over a grudge? No one knew better than Eloise the degradation she has faced living at Featherington house. That was what it took for her to realize Eloise Bridgerton has never truly been her friend.

Their friendship has always been conditional on Penelope never outshining El's wit. Eloise doesn't feel betrayed about Penelope keeping a secret she feels betrayed she was outwitted. No longer will she play by Eloise's rules. Eloise may have blackmail on her but she also has blackmail on Eloise and her entire family. She is sure they will be having that conversation once Eloise realizes she has no other cards to play. Pen doesn't want to be her friend does not even want to be her acquaintance anymore.

[fitrahgolden]

Something That Digs At Us: 2 - A language that you can't read just yet

Anthony was packing up his bag in his office at University College London when a knock on his open door caught his attention.

"Professor Bridgerton. Big plans for the weekend?" His colleague, Cressida Cowper, leaned against his door, her own bag hanging in the crook of her arm as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Anthony bit back a grimace and replaced it with a smile as he looked up. "Cressida. I thought we agreed given names were perfectly fine outside of the lecture theatre."

She took a couple of steps inside and lazily brushed her hands over some of the potted plants that were against the window. "We did. I just like the sound of 'Professor Bridgerton,’ I must admit."

Anthony stilled for a moment. Right. "Well, please do call me Anthony."

"Alright, Anthony. What about those weekend plans?"

"Let's see, uh…" He swung his bag over his arm and checked his pocket watch. Plenty of time. Just need to get out of here. "I have dinner with a friend tonight. I actually need to leave for that soon. Besides that, my sister got engaged this week, so I imagine a lot of family–"

"Oh, how lovely! I'm sure you will look very smart. Though, I suppose you always do. It’s quite unfair. Anyone in mind for your plus one?"

Christ, things always escalate so quickly with her. Anthony moved towards the door, leading Cressida out with him. "Yes, in fact. Wish me luck."

"Uh– Oh."

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I really must get going. Please have a wonderful weekend." In a flurry of movements, Anthony turned off the lights, closed his office door, and locked it. He gave Cressida a strained smile before taking off down the hall.

—

"Death Blade? Go for Velvet Thunder."

There was silence for a few second before Anthony responded, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Simon cackled on the other end of the phone call. "I gave us badass code names for this mission."

"Si–"

"It's Velvet Thunder, actually."

"No, it's not."

"It is, though."

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't have time for this."

"You do if you want this picnic basket."

"Fine."

"Fine…?"

"Where am I meeting you, Velvet Thunder?"

"Thank you. Was that so hard?"

—

Anthony checked himself out in the mirror one last time before crossing the hall to Kate's door. She hasn't cancelled. It's gonna be great. He was about to knock when her door opened.

"Oh. Hi. I didn't know if we were just meeting in the hall, or…" Kate fiddled with the necklace that hung right above her cleavage, which was distracting as hell. "Anthony?"

"Huh? Sorry."

She pointed back into her flat. "I could close the door and we could try this again, if you'd like."

Anthony laughed before schooling his feature in mock seriousness. "Yes, I'd like that very much. Reset!" He yelled to no one in particular as he took a step backwards and Kate disappeared behind her door. After a few seconds, he knocked.

"Be there in a mo!"

Anthony laughed again at her commitment to the scene. When her door opened again, she'd flipped her hair over to one side and feigned breathlessness and Anthony thought maybe this joke was a bad idea if he wanted to think straight.

"Sorry, I completely lost track of time."

"No worries." He reached into his bag and pulled out a block of resin encased dried flowers. "This is for you."

Kate's jaw dropped as she took it and held it up, turning it in the light. "Anthony, this is beautiful. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Let me put this down and we can get going."

Anthony peered into Kate's flat as she found a place for the flowers on her table. He noticed Newton lying on a dog bed in the living room. No vest.

"I'll find a better place for it later. I imagine I'm supposed to put it in front of a window so light can shine through."

"A fine idea, but you can put it where you like. Including in a closet if you are just being polite."

"Oh, thank goodness. I am just being polite."

As she closed her door behind her and locked her two deadbolts, Anthony asked, "Newton isn't joining us?"

Kate looked between him and her door and turned the ring around her finger as she answered. "No. He gets the night off. Oh, are we going on a picnic?"

Anthony blinked a few times before following her gaze down to the basket on the floor. "Ah, yes. Is that OK?"

"Sounds lovely. Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” Anthony picked up the picnic basket and took her hand to lead them down the hall, but Kate didn’t move. He turned to find her spinning her ring again. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a sweet gesture, but can you please tell me where we’re going? I don’t like surprises.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry.” Kate rested her hand on his upper arm.

“We’re going to Kew Gardens. In Richmond. Is that OK?”

She slid her hand into his and exhaled slowly. “Thank you. Yes, that is OK.”

—

“Isn’t this place about to close? I thought you planned all this out, Professor.” Kate looked around as they got out of Anthony’s car. Anthony let her pull her cardigan on before putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Oh, but I did. The gardens will indeed close soon, so we’ll have the Temperate House all to ourselves.”

“Until we are discovered and kicked out, you mean. I’m not dressed to scale walls, Anthony.”

Anthony looked down at Kate’s navy blue slip dress and white ballet flats and again suffered a brief brain malfunction before responding. “Oh, I know you aren’t. But we’re safe.”

“How?”

“I have my ways.” But as soon as he saw her smile drop, he remembered what she said earlier and added, “I’m friends with a few of the managers here through work. We have a pass of sorts. The night crew knows we’re here.”

Her smile returned and they walked up a path until they were confronted by a massive glasshouse. Kate stopped in her tracks once she realised they were headed inside. “This is the Temperate House?” she asked in awe.

Anthony stared at her as she stared at the building before answering. “Yes. I was thinking we could eat inside and then I could give you a tour.”

Kate turned to him, suspicious. “This is quite the smooth move. How many ‘tours’ have you given here?”

Anthony ushered them forward as he answered, “To students during the daylight hours? Dozens. Otherwise, this is my first night showing.”

Kate’s lips formed a silent “oh” as they entered the glasshouse. A small table and two chairs were set up near the entrance. Anthony walked ahead of her, lighting some candles after he set the basket down. Once everything was where he wanted it to be, he reached a hand out to Kate. “Shall we?”

Kate stepped forward, taking off her cardigan, and took his hand as she settled into her seat. Anthony felt emboldened to let his hand brush across her shoulders as he moved to sit on the other side of the table. After Kate took in the spread in front of them, she looked up at Anthony with a knowing smirk. “Simon?”

“Hmm?”

“Seeing as we’ve never shared a meal, I find it hard to believe it’s just a coincidence that so many of my favourite foods are on this table right now. So, I assume you had access to some good intel.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Velvet Thunder himself.”

“What?”

Anthony hung his head. “No, never mind.”

“No, I think I will mind,” Kate said through her laughter.

Anthony explained that not only did Simon tell him what to pack for dinner, he prepared the basket himself at Kate’s mum’s house and handed it off to Anthony earlier in the day. “He insisted on code names.”

“Professor Death Blade,” Kate mused. “You’re a comic book villain.”

“Rude. Maybe ‘Death Blade’ is just what I named my garden shears.”

“That was… uncharacteristically sweet of Si to be so helpful.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“I’ll tell him myself. And your sister.”

Anthony pulled out two glasses and a bottle. Kate widened her eyes. “Oh, I forgot to tell you I don’t drink.”

“Velvet Thunder told me.” He held up the bottle. “Sparkling juice?”

“Yes, please.” Kate looked around some more as Anthony filled their glasses. “Speaking of Simon and Daphne, I imagine they’ll want to take advantage of your connections for a proper English garden wedding.”

“Oh, they’ll have a garden wedding, but it will be back home in Kent at Mum’s. Daphne’s always said she wants to get married there.” Anthony handed Kate her glass.

“Thank you. That’s nice. The wedding being where you grew up, I mean.”

“Mum is certainly beside herself with excitement. And thankfully, Daphne shares in her enthusiasm. I think the two have already forgotten about poor Simon.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing the venue. Simon has told me how beautiful the estate is.”

“I look forward to giving you a tour.”

They shared a smile for a few beats before Kate looked down and said, “Now, may we please tuck in? These really are all of my favourites. Simon did good.”

—

After dinner, Kate insisted on helping Anthony clean up before he began the tour. He was surprised by how engaged Kate was. He happily answered all her questions and just as happily watched her as she looked at all the flora that surrounded them.

“Um, there’s a lot more to see, but it’s getting quite late and perhaps you’d rather call it a night? I’d love to bring you back if you’d like.”

Kate nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m ready to go home. But this was lovely, Anthony. Thank you.”

He held her gaze for a moment before approaching slowly, as if he may spook her. He could hear and see her breath quicken and she squeezed the ring she’d been spinning all night. Before moving any closer, he whispered, “May I kiss you, Kate?”

Her answer was immediate and just as quiet, “Yes.”

His lips met hers carefully. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek. He smiled when he felt her tongue sweep across his lips and he opened his mouth for her. Anthony had no idea how much time passed before Kate moved away to catch her breath. She put her hand to her lips as if in wonder before she spoke.

“Can we go home?” She asked, smiling.

—

Anthony and Kate walked, hand in hand, down the hall. Once they were standing between the doors to their respective flats, Anthony wasn’t sure what to do. Thankfully, Kate said something first.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Please,” he answered simply and Kate’s giggle drove him just a little bit mad.

“Well, actually, I just need to take Newton out. We’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll knock on your door.”

“OK. Or I could come with you?”

Kate shook her head. “Thank you, but I’d rather take him alone.”

“OK. See you in a little bit.”

Once he was inside his flat, Anthony took everything out of the basket and washed the dishes. Then, he was sort of at a loss. Should I change? What should I change into? Certainly not pyjamas. That would be mental. He settled for switching out his shoes for trainers and his button-down for a t-shirt. Then he quickly traded his slacks for shorts and before he could continue to overthink it, there was a soft knock on the door. He opened it to find Kate with her hair up and her cardigan pulled tight around her. “Do you still want to come over?”

“Absolutely.”

And so Anthony found himself sitting on Kate’s couch with a glass of water as she moved the flower block around, giving his opinion on what looked best. They ended up agreeing on placing it on her bookshelf, angled in such a way that it would catch the light in the evening.

“Now that that’s settled… Do you want to go to bed?”

Anthony stilled, the glass of water at his lips. He put it back down on the coffee table and croaked out, “Yes.”

Kate shifted her weight from side to side. “OK.”

Anthony got up and closed the distance between them in a few strides. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. When she kissed him back, he walked her backwards towards the hall and when he felt her hands under his shirt, he pushed her cardigan off her shoulders. Once her back was against a wall, he started to pull up the hem of her dress, bunching up the silky material in his hands. But then he felt her hands cover his and push them back down, so he stopped. He looked down at her and waited. She pulled his face down for a chaste kiss before saying, “Let’s just go to sleep, eh? Are you OK with that?”

Anthony couldn’t hide his breathlessness as he nodded, “Yeah, of course. Whatever you want.”

Kate kissed the tip of his nose and smiled. “Good. Um, just make yourself comfortable in the bedroom and I’m gonna go shower, OK?”

“OK, yeah.”

She gave him one more quick kiss before going into the bathroom. Anthony, of course, knew where her bedroom was, as her flat was just a mirror of his. Convenient. In her room, Anthony looked around and his eyes fell on her drawing set up in the corner. He walked over and took in the drawing that was on the easel. Three women, embracing, laughing. He could almost feel the warmth radiating off the paper. He couldn’t help his hand reaching out to run his fingers over the criss crossing lines.

“Hi.”

He turned quickly and saw Kate standing in her doorway, in a nightgown that, honestly, didn’t look very different from the dress she’d gone out in, which Anthony didn’t mind at all. Her hair was braided to the side and she still wore the necklace and ring she’d had on all night.

“Hey.”

She looked at the bed. “Ready?”

He let her settle into bed first before moving to lie beside her. He turned toward her and kissed her shoulder. She sighed as he moved his hand down her arm and held up her hand, touching her ring. He spoke softly. “Can I ask about this?”

She looked at the ring and then looked at him. “Spinning it helps me calm down, especially when I don’t have Newton.”

Anthony’s “ah” and was barely audible as he gave the ring a few spins himself.

“And this?” He reached down and his fingers brushed her chest as he touched the piece of metal hanging from her necklace.

Kate gulped before answering, “It’s a breathing straw.”

When Anthony looked at her questioningly, she continued. “It facilitates mindful breathing. Here.” She grabbed the straw and held it up to his lips. “First, inhale deeply through your nose.” She smiled when Anthony followed her directions without hesitating. “Now hold it.” She placed the straw between his lips. “Breath out. Slowly. All the air needs to go through the straw.” When she could hear how much force he was using, she started giggling. “Slowly, Anthony!”

“I need to work on it.”

"You do."

He rested his head on her shoulder and he could hear how fast her pulse was racing. "I'm always nervous. About everything." That's what she'd said. 

"Kate?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you need Newton right now?"

Kate's brow furrowed. "Maybe. Can we try something first?"

"Yeah."

"Can you just…lay on top of me?"

"I think I'm too heavy."

"I'll let you know if you are."

"OK." Anthony sounded unsure as he moved over Kate. She opened her thighs so she could cradle his torso as he settled his head on her chest. Once he'd settled his weight on her, Kate surprised him with the sweetest content sigh and he felt her fingers in his hair. "Is this good?" He whispered the question across her decolletage.

"Yes. Do you think you could sleep like this?"

"I could absolutely sleep like this."

"Then, good night, Professor Death Blade."

Anthony chuckled as he said, "Good night, Kate."

[nomdepen]

"Him and my mother will get along well, I can feel it." Whether or not such an outcome was beneficial for the newlyweds was yet to be seen, but, if it kept her mother preoccupied, Pen would be grateful. She understood Ben's concerns and she wished there was a way to make his worries melt away. She wished there was a magic word to clear his conscious, but only time would tell how the cards would fall. And, until then, Pen would make sure things went as perfectly as possible.

“Ben,” As her brows pinched together, Pen reached up and rested her hands on his cheeks. "It was your time of need, too. You did what you needed to to survive. He cannot possibly blame you for that." And if he did, she thought to herself, then Nathaniel would be receiving a piece of his daughter-in-law's mind fresh off the boat.

"And I would be sentenced to a similar fate on the wall, condemned to an eternity being tormented by Cressida Cowper." She shuddered at the thought. Benjamin had certainly saved her from more than just loneliness, he'd saved her a lifetime of spinsterhood and being on the receiving end of Cressida's cruelty. But, more than anything, he had saved her from withering away into dust.

“Well, if he does end up seeming too upset, we can always slip away and get on the grandbaby business sooner.” She teased, hoping the joke would be enough to make him smile. There was a possibility she was already with child, but she refused to let that stop her from enjoying all the perks of marriage.

“They're supposed to be going to the modiste to look at fabric samples soon." She shook her head, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Even if we offered our aid, you know Mama would be unlikely to accept it. She thrives on this sort of thing. Planning events is her bread and butter. It’s one of the only good things about having all daughters.” Tilting her head to the side, Pen regarded with him an amused expression. "Why? What's going on in that head of yours?"

“If he’s boarded a ship to come all this way, then surely he isn’t irrevocably upset with you, Ben.”

Penelope's words traveled over to him as he paced, acting as a soothing balm despite his nettled tread. Benjamin halted in his tracks, exhaling as he turned to face her. "That's the hope," he glumly agreed, "but there's always the chance he's merely sailing over here to chastise me. I love my father -- I do -- but he can be very stern."

Growing up, he'd always tried so badly to be everything Nathaniel wished for in a son and more, and yet in the end, it seemed he'd done nothing but fail his father in every possible way.

Penelope rose from the settee and approached, her hands folded in front of her. “You cannot blame yourself for running away," she admonished. "And he cannot blame you for it, either. Everyone grieves in their own way.”

"Yes, but..." Sighing, Benjamin raked a hand through his hair. "It was still wrong of me. I didn't have to run to an entirely different bloody country...I could've at least been there, rather than abandon my father in his time of need." With a sorrowful laugh, he concluded, "After all his preaching throughout the years, evidently I didn't listen well enough."

A purpose... Yes, Penelope was right. Everything happened for a reason, including one's asinine mistakes.

"You truly are an intellect," Benjamin said, beaming as he took her hands. "God only knows where I'd be without you..." Scrunching his nose, he decided, "Probably condemned to an eternity standing alongside the refreshments table, rejecting Mrs. Havenshire's entreaty for a dance. But let's not dwell on such horrors."

Fondly, Penelope looped her arms around his neck, nudging their foreheads together. “Whatever happened, it’s in the past. Whatever happens now, we face together. And, if he’s anything like my Mama, he’ll forget all about his grievances once we place a grandbaby in his arms.”

Benjamin chuckled, humming in agreement. "Well, perhaps you know my father after all," he teased. "In fact, I often joke that the true reason I fled home was to escape all the pleas for grandchildren. Speaking of which..." He squeezed her close. "Are your mother and sisters still in the other room? I suppose we can help them, but the last time I made the mistake of offering my aid, I had to help determine which flowers best matched the sitting room walls."

[delehosies]

eloise noticing she likes fem!reader? being rlly confused ab it at first but reader likes her back and reassures her

eloise had noticed her growing feelings towards you just a few months ago, unsure as to why she was filled with jealousy when male members of the ton seemingly pined after you, your dance card always filled which left less and less time for meaningful conversation with your best friend.

she knew for certain that she wasn't jealous of the male validation that you received on the daily - she didn't want to be forced to dance in front of hundreds of judging eyes, and she wanted to be stuck conversing with a man who wasn't one of her many brothers even less.

so why did she become so jealous each time you spoke of marriage and certain men who had apparently caught your eye.

the two of you sat on the floor of eloise's bedchamber, having snuck away from the bridgerton ball after cressida cowper made a nasty comment about your dress and made you burst into floods of tears.

"i think you look gorgeous in your dress - though obviously you would look beautiful no matter what you wore... i believe that we shouldn't be reduced down to the uncomfortable item of clothing we have been forced to wear." eloise rambled on, you by her side dabbing at your teary eyes with a handkerchief.

you shrug. you had adored your new gown until cressida spoiled it for you. and though you and eloise both shared a passion for feminist literature you didn't always agree on the same things, you still adored attending balls and the glamour that came along with it, eloise never had. "thank you, el. i suppose that you're right."

silence falls between the two of you for a moment, eloise finally gathering the courage to say something regarding her feelings - to at least hint at it. "i do wish our marriage choices weren't so limited."

that certainly caught your attention - you looked up quickly, meeting her blue eyes. "do you mean... in terms of class?"

eloise felt her cheeks flush pink as she shook her head. "no. benedict and sophie overcame class... i mean gender - we would have a much wider choice, more agreeable choices too, i think."

you nodded, the same thoughts crossing your mind at least once a day - you were under the impression that you were the only one, broken in some way and so you decided to throw yourself into the season in the hopes you could fix your thought process. it didn't work.

"i thought that it was just me..." you mumble, reaching over to take eloise's hand in yours. you squeeze gently, wanting to reassure her that she isn't alone in her feelings. "is there somebody in particular who caught your eye? a lady?" you questioned, though you secretly and selfishly hoped that there wasn't someone who wasn't you.

eloise smiled at you, squeezing your hand in return. she moved a little closer to you - her confidence growing. "there is... she has been my friend for years now. i only recently discovered my feelings but i think that i could fall in love with her. she's beautiful, and intelligent and far kinder than i..."

you look away from her, stabs of disappointment rushing coursing through your veins as she described a lady who you believed could never be you.

much to your surprise, eloise brought her hand to your chin - lifting your head up gently to meet her eyes once again. "and i think that i long to kiss her right now." she finished her sentence, your heart beginning to beat faster than you ever thought possible.

"yes please." you reply, your voice barely a whisper as you bring your lips to softly meet hers.

[rubysunnday]

bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Aching Soul- There is a difference between Viscount Bridgerton and Anthony Bridgerton. One is a Rake. The other is a man, broken by his father’s death, who has never really been able to be just Anthony. Y/N knows the feeling all too well

A Long, Long Time - Y/N has waited a long, long time for Anthony Bridgerton to finally decide to get married. But by the time he finally decides to find a wife, Y/N has run out of time and Anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

Free Falling - sometimes the only solution is to swoon into the arms of your childhood best friend

It's a Bad Idea, Me and You - Y/N was ready to give her entire heart to Anthony Bridgerton. Only for him to shove her aside in favour for Sienna Russo. But, now, Sienna is gone and despite what Y/N keeps telling herself - Anthony truly does own her heart.

Lover - To love a viscount is to be at the mercy of the ton at every ball and gathering - especially one Cressida Cowper. Sometimes, it really does feel like you're going to your execution.

Take My Hand - As much as Y/N appreciates Anthony's matchmaking efforts, it's hard to accept them when he's the only man she wants. Luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

Benedict Bridgerton

City of Stars- Eloise Bridgerton does not know when to keep her nose out of her friends business. Especially when that business involves pining over her brother - one that Eloise knows for a fact loves her back. If only they weren't completely oblivious idiots.

Send It Soaring - A hot air balloon was something quite majestic... but so was Benedict Bridgerton.

She's a Lady - Y/N isn't considered a proper 'lady' by members of the ton yet one Benedict Bridgerton would disagree with them all. Even if she did swoon into his arms.

Show Me Love - Every time Benedict is alone, Y/N appears. Every time Benedict looks away, Y/N disappears. All Benedict wants to do is draw her in person and not from memory.

Sleeping Beauty - Painting the woman of his dreams feels like a fairytale

Colin Bridgerton

Alone Together - He set eyes upon her in the year of 1814 but it wasn't until 1819 that Colin Bridgerton finally got the chance to win over Y/N Y/L/N

But Who Could Stay? - Every time Colin Bridgerton returned from travelling the world, there was always an urge inside him to run away again as soon as he could. There was only one woman who could make him stay.

It's a Love Story- Y/N has loved Colin since they were children but it was one-sided. She was content to stand aside and watch Colin move on without her. Until Marina.

Its My Life - Colin Bridgerton has watched from afar at every ball and soiree as Y/N danced with many a suitor, never having the confidence to make a move himself. But when Y/N ends up in an arranged marriage at the hands of her father, Colin decides to finally make his feelings known. And whilst many marriages in London high society were business deals between husbands and fathers, Y/N is determined hers will not follow the same route. It’s her life, after all.

Oh God, it's You - Y/N has been in love with Colin Bridgerton for years. The year she makes her debut, however, Marina Thompson appears and Y/N has to watch as her one true love is stolen away.

Orion and Pleiades- Colin paused and turned to look at her. “If you turned into a star, dear Y/N/N, I would follow you no matter where you went."

She Could Be the One - Dancing, alone, at night unchaperoned? How scandalous!

So This Is Love - Eloise was not the best matchmaker. Yet, there's just something about Y/N and Colin that means she just has to try.

The One That Got Away - Colin loved her. Yet, she was destined to be the one that got away... until the night of the Dartford ball.

When the Bell Tolls - Grief hits at the most unexpected times in the most unexpected ways. It's all about learning to ride the wave to the other side.

Your Song, part 2 - Being in love with Colin Bridgerton is hard when the man keeps running off to different continents for months at a time. But the letters he writes and the songs he sends keep the romance alive.

Bridgerton!sis

All the Stars - alive for 19 years, without a father for 11. Sometimes it's hard growing older and not knowing what they'd think of you.

Artemis and Apollo - There are days when her brothers drive her absolutely mad. But then there are days where Y/N is incredibly grateful for them.

Artists Sister - Drawing is, apparently, a sibling thing.

Blue Complexion - Anthony's brooding and Y/N demands to know why. The why just happens to involve her and an unwanted marriage proposal.

Brother Knows Best - Anthony has, finally, put lord berbrooke in his place and allowed his sister to control her own life. except, lord Berbrooke is determined to marry a Bridgerton… even if it isn’t Daphne

Defying Death (Apparently) - When it comes to his siblings being ill, Anthony is the worst mother hen of them all.

Did She Have a Cookie?- Don’t drink the tea unless you want to have a trip of a lifetime

Driver's Licence- It's hard to be in love only to be tossed to the side in a instant. Thank God for older brothers and mothers.

Evil in Silver - When Cressida Cowper knocks Y/N down, Benedict is right there to pick his sister back up

Favourite Brother, Part 2 - When one brother knocks you down, another is always there to pick you back up.

Geode - Colin versus Y/N.

Hey, Sister - Y/N’s heart is broken in two but the only person she wants is her eldest brother

I’ll Look After You (But I Won’t Stop Complaining About It)- summary: four times Anthony protected his sister and the one time she protected him (albeit it was from the ton)

It’s a Bugs Life - Gregory and bugs and the antics his older sister somehow manages to get into to support his weird hobby.

Just Keep Breathing, Darling - panic attacks are a bitch but are ever so slightly easier with two older brothers around

Ope There Goes Gravity - Y/N Bridgerton was not in the gardens at the Trowbridge Ball. She had no idea of what transpired. Yet, somehow, she ends up in the middle of a duel, in an empty park, at dawn. And it's all Daphne's fault

Reluctant Caretaker - having three younger siblings often meant Y/N was put in charge of looking after them. But sometimes her older siblings need some help too. Eight times Y/N did Anthony's job for him and one time he became her father

Slipping Through My Fingers - One more child makes their debut into the world and suddenly, all Y/N wants to do is freeze time.

Spinster  - Love isn't for everyone. Sometimes, borrowing your brother's children and being content with becoming a spinster is all anyone needs.

Summer of '16 - the summer of 1816 was one of the best and worst of Y/N Bridgerton’s life

Would I Run Off the World Someday? - the urge to run away sometimes becomes utterly unavoidable

You Owe Me - Three times Eloise owed Y/N and one time she owed her

[hocuspocusbabyy]

Home: Eloise x Cressida. 18+ 🦢🕊️

Warnings: Affairs, outdoor sex, love declarations and cunnilingus.

Description: Eloise and Cressida go hunting.

Parring: Eloise Bridgerton and Cressida Cowper.

'We’re not far from the clearing'' Cressida stated, her riding boots ankle deep in mud. Wading through the woodlands on the outskirts of the estate. Thick branches wove their path blocking the view ahead, allowing no further than three feet of their journey observed. A low hum of creatures leaked through the marsh. Cressida was no stranger to the forest, many of her early years had been spent chasing deer, rabbits and foxes. Her origin.

''Have caution, Cress I beg of you.” Eloise wagered, trolling on behind her friend. She did not ask unnecessary questions, nor provide unwanted aid as so many other hunting companions and for that Cressida had always been grateful.

“Once a hunter, always a hunter.” Cressida mused, cutting away at the vines before her, “however, I will try my best to avoid any close encounters.” The blonde laughed at her own words, her chin flicking back to view her companion. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you Lou.” She winked.

''Always the gentleman.” Eloise complimented, shaking her head slowly as she surveyed their surroundings. A thick smog surged around them, the smell garnered attention. Thick frost encapsulates the ground, snow bunching around their boots as they thimbled through the forest.

The pair walked further into the woods, mud slowly converging into snow.''Whatever possessed you to join me hunting?'' Cressida asked curiously. Her gun flat against her side as she swayed to view the other woman.

''I decided, you were right. I should get out more and explore the world ‘outside of books’, it is an added bonus to have decent company” she admitted, a book stuffed with flower clipping and drawings from their adventures pressed on her chest.

Cressida smirked, ''well, if you are not to curse me, I will be sure to make a habit of telling you things you need to hear.”

‘’Oh how so fond I am of your habits.” The brunette sighed, attempting to strike down a particular stubborn grove of trees with her book.

“Eloise?” Cressida questioned, stepping forward, gently placing an arm in front of the other woman. A hand softly grasping her elbow, travelling along its roots to halt her hand. Eloise’s movements ceased, her chin downcast a strand of hair affecting her eyes.

“I merely wished to spend time with you.” She stated, motioning her head up in an attempt to do away with the irritating sensation. “I do not know what will come of this.” A strong hand coming up to tuck the strand away, found purchase at her face.

To look into those eyes was to teeter on the brink of an abyss.

Cressida strung her thumb against the brunette's flesh, tracing the accent of bone there. Slowly dislodging the book from her companion and striking the mass of foliage down herself with the top of her gun.

“I could have done that.” Eloise argued, her breath slightly laboured.

“I know.” Cressida shrugged, brushing off the book's cover and handing it back, “that does not mean you should have to.”

Eloise shook her head, rolling her eyes in the most unlady-like fashion before stalking ahead knowing full well the blonde would follow.

They walked for what seemed like hours. Finally stumbling upon an groundsman cabin at the edge of the estate. Eloise pushed the old hatch door with surprising force, inviting the blonde in from the cold.

”well hurry up then,” The brunette called out, already making haste towards the fireplace, battling with her corset as she bent down. Small flame whipping up at her hand as she stuck the flint, till a dim light gripped the glass wall of the outhouse.

“I fear I am turning numb” Cressida whispered crouching down beside Eloise, raising her hands up to the other woman. Her fingers stained red by the harsh November air, the slender tips white and frozen to Eloise’s touch as she reached out to squeeze them.

A soft glow cast upon her cheek, the perfectly sharp cheekbones, crescent of her nose… dimples chin.

Something within Cressida seemed to constantly burn, it unnerved her. As incongruous to her true temperature. If Eloise were a moth, she would be her flame.

“Miss Cowper, you’ll freeze surly. How could you withstand such temperatures for so long? Where are your gloves?!” The brunette panicked, rubbing the other woman’s hands firmly between her own. Truly she had been far too occupied with the other parts of Cressida to notice their absence.

“Well my face was already pained by smiling too much, I figured a little frostbite was a small price to pay for a moment longer with you.” Cressida shrugged, her gaze flicking down to watch Eloise cup her hands and blow onto them gently.

“I see.” Eloise mumbled, desperately trying to hide the smirk that threatened to grace her features. Her breath heavy upon the cold winter air, as though smoke, held an oddly comforting sensation for Eloise. Her lips dipping down to kiss the blonde's palms.

“You know if you wanted my attention there are far warmer ways to go about it.

The brunette, hunched down tending the other woman’s hands, gently rolling them between her own as her lips travelled down to her wrists. The smooth flesh resting upon her pulse.

“Eloise.” Cressida gasped as the warm flick of a tongue swept across her veins. “I do crave your attention. However I refuse to humiliate myself by asking for it.”

“Then do not ask.” Eloise whispered, a firm kiss against the blondes palm as she drew back to face her. “Isn’t it about time you did something selfish for once?”

“Eloise.” Cressida whined, her head lulling as the brunette pressed her lips to the tip of her index finger. The rest spread within her firm grip. Flexing beneath her motion.

“Do you feel that?” Eloise mumbled, her mouth working its way across each finger till she reached her thumb.

“A li—little” Cressida gasping as the brunette's teeth sunk into the thenar of her left hand. Tiny indentation littering the web space.

“Just a little?” Eloise teased blowing air upon the space, watching in awe as the skin of the blondes hand lurched beneath. Goosebumps erect and solid as the brunette continued her menstruations upon Cressida’s arm. Cool to the touch and all the more delicious to the tip of her tongue. “And now.”

“It is the strangest sensation.” Cressida breathed, the ability to decipher the sentiment lost. How was one to describe something so pleasant? As though untroubled light, quintessential and affable.

“Would you prefer I stop?” Eloise asked, pulling back to gaze at the other woman. Her fringe muses and feathered against her face, a frame that ought to be ornate as to house such striking features. Her cheeks robust and thick with tint, the blondes hands rose to brush across them. First with the backs of her fingers the cool touch causing the shorter woman to shiver. Her knuckles pulled in lightly at her flesh, a sickening motive of possession gripped Cressida as she turned her palms towards the other woman’s face.

The pads of her thumbs wiping beneath the Bridgerton girl's face, pulling at her burning cheeks till her fingers curled and settled beneath her jaw.

“It should be immoral to look as you do.” The blonde complimented, an awe stuck expression grazing her face. “Every motion, a transgression I cannot help but chase.”

Cressida's face fell forward, the crisp touch of her nose brushing against Eloise’s own. Clouds of cold breath lingering around them as they simply coexisted. The warmth of the others breath hot against their face.

“Do you wish to unknow me?” Eloise asked after a moment, her lips so close to the other woman’s that they touched as she spoke.

“I do not know you.” Her chest was tight, her fingers mapping the contours of Eloise’s back. Counting each notch of spine below her bodice, as water circling a drain. Washing her away.

“You know me better than anyone ever has.” Eloise argued, her mouth pressed upon the underside of Cressida’s jaw.

They did not understand it, this desire to consume another. Be devoured in return. obtain the scars as proof they were paying for the sins committed. If loving Eloise were a sin, Cressida would happily wear her sacrilege.

Eloise bit her. A growing heat upon her neck as the brunette dove into her, sucking until the flesh burst and coloured beneath her tongue.

“My greatest honour.” The blonde promised, extending her neck to the other woman. Her back pressed girly against the frosty glass as Eloise worked to mark her. The conflicting messages of November air upon her neck and Eloise’s tongue etching language into her flesh. Cressida felt as though every word she had ever uttered were meaningless in comparison to the words which she felt when Eloise spoke again.

“You smell of something floral. I could not tell you how many nights I have spent in these very gardens trying to replicate this scent.”

“And what did you find?” Cressida asked her hand raising to grasp the other woman’s neck, fingers tangled, tethered to the soft tissue. Her nails lingered up across the dip in her dress, before slipping beneath. Her palm cold against the burning flesh of Eloise’s shoulders.

“Nothing of interest.” Eloise deadpanned, her kisses becoming lethargic and long upon her neck. Her fingers racing to play with the thrills of Cressida’s dress. “I doubt I’d ever be able to replicate something so purely built of you.”

The blonde couldn’t help but grin at those words, a smooth warmth spreading throughout her body. She knew my story before I even knew how to tell it. As though she’d seen a map Cressida had no hand in making, intended footpaths, passed by and new trails formed for only her.

Whatever it were in this world that binds us all… dust, blood, consciousness, they are of a similar thread. Different species of trees planted side by side… Eloise is the one she’d choose the fruit off.

Eloise found herself willing to share that part with her, just as Cressida must share those parts of her. Their last thought at night, she were the first of the day. Left to linger in one another’s personhood. Eloise read Cressida as though she had been blank on every page, just waiting to be deciphered, filled and known.

“Eloise.” Cressida whispered, her hands trailing across the span of her shoulder blade. Gripping harshly as the sensation of teeth ran along her clavicle.

“Forgive me, I forget myself.” Eloise breathed, looking up but never stepping back. Her hands reaching up touch Cressida’s face, “Are you feeling any warmer dear?” She whispered, turning her palms away to graze the blushing with her knuckles.

“Substantially.” The blonde laughed gently, her own hands tracing along the length of Eloise’s arms. Fingernails dragging up towards her jaw line, as though tracing her likeness.

The brunette was turned to blush, a mirror to her companion as they both simply allowed to explore one another. Finger tips to earlobes, thumbs up on knees, lips against chests. Eloise’s hands trailed up the blondes back before tearing down at the garment. Pulling it from her flesh. Eloise, even now staring upon the other woman’s bare chest, she could only yearn for more.

“This space here.” The brunette started pulling the other woman’s attention to her fossa, Eloise’s thumb applying gentle pressure to the notch. “I love this place, I cannot for the life of me rem—what is it called?” She asked her fingers trailing lightly to her sternum in awe, “I claim this.”

“I thought we were against ownership?” Cressida breathed. Baring her teeth to the bridgerton girl in a soft smile, sedated by the bit of her lip. Something cunning to her disposition.

“Sometimes it pays to be selfish.” Eloise whispers against her throat before drawing a line across each notch with her tongue. Breaking out into a smile as the blonde shared her laughter. Her bare chest still pressed into the brunette’s cloak.

“Wait—wait, turn over.” The blonde starts, directing her lover to turn, “I wish to see you.” Cressida offers, her fingers pulling gently at the ties, till Eloise was freed of her confinements. “This.” She demanded pushing the final thread from the other woman’s body and tapping at the birthmark just below her waist. Browned skin no bigger than her thumb. “This is mine.”

Eloise glanced down, the alpine of her skin foreign to her with Cressida’s hands upon it.

“I stand bare before you and you stake claim to measly imperfection.” Eloise laughed, her hands waving lovingly between strangers of Cressida’s hair pushing it back, the blonde lowering to her knees.

Her lips chasing eager kisses with rushed breath. Reaching for any piece of skin available to her. Her teeth bumped along the edge of the brunette's hip, tongue curling across the joining of her ribs.

“There is no part of me that does not worship you.” Cressida declared her eyes flicking up to watch the brunette. Her face suddenly became so much closer as she reached down and grasped the back of her, pulling them each half way.

Their lips are harsh, brazen and lethargic across each other. Cressida’s tongue swirled upon her own as Eloise gasped and shook against her.

“When were you most happy?” Eloise asked between kisses.

“Now.” Cressida grins pecking at the other woman’s

cheek. The brunette fumbled with her own pleasure and she pondered her new question.

“When were you least happy?”

“Now.” The answer came again, thick against her lips.

“What do you love?” Eloise asked again, her lips trailing along the span of Cressida's neck, littering her chest and finally ghosting along her nipple. “Say everything.”

“Let’s see.” The blonde mumbled almost unsure of herself, “grass, fields with horses in them. Swans. I love Swans.”

“What else?” Eloise begged her knees firm against the hard wooden floor.

“Marmalade. I'm addicted. Baths, though not with other people.” The blonde jokes, relishing in the motion of the other woman blushing against her leg. “Shopping.” She continued a shudder as the brunette's tongue licked at the apex of her thigh. A beat of silence “Your handwriting.”

“Cress” She whispered the warm air welcome against Cressida’s heat.

“Christ Eloise, do you not want me?”Before finally the other woman sucked her clit forward. Feverish, febrile and hysterical. Eager to draw out the many sounds of Miss Cowper.

TBC.

[spaceorphan18]

Polin Fic : Twenty-Four Moments

A/N (Summary): Unsurprising to no one, I'm sure, I finally wrote my first Polin fic. A lot happens to Penelope in the infamous 24 hours within Episodes 4 and 5, and I wanted to explore everything she went through. I also wanted to challenge myself by writing some shorter/drabble like moments. (unbeta'd cause I just wanted to get it out into the world) So, here ya go! I hope you guys enjoy it!! :)

Rated: M for some light smut and a whole lot of feelings <3

****

I. 

The warm light of evening stemmed through her window.  Her bedroom remained still and quiet.  For a moment, time felt frozen, as if the entire world was on pause, holding its breath in anticipation for that evening.  

Penelope glanced up from her desk, taking a long moment to observe herself in the mirror.  

Did she even recognize herself anymore?  

The new clothes, the style of hair, the make-up on her face, couldn’t cover the fact that in her heart, she remained that Featherington girl.  That poor Featherington girl whose dreams, whose ambitions, whose life was always deemed too impractical.  

It did not matter anymore.  In twenty-four hours, she would be engaged.  She would be the next Lady Debling.  She would have all that she could realistically ever ask for.  She would retain her privacy.  She could keep writing at her leisure.  She would have house and home and possibly even children.  

And yet….

Penelope’s heart sank as she tore her eyes away from the mirror. 

Lady Penelope Debling.  An esteemed name.  An honorable name.  She hated the sound of it.  

II. 

Her sisters once again squawked about babies.  The subject was always on the tip of the tongue in the Featherington household, and the entire carriage ride to the ball, it was the only topic of conversation.  It was as insufferable as it was horrifying contemplating them as mothers.  

Penelope stared out the window, her anxiousness overcoming any desire to bite back at their stupidity.  

Her mother placed an unusually soft hand over her arm and leaned in towards her ear.  “You’re so lucky that Lord Debling is so dashing, Penelope.  I fear what your children might look like had he been any lesser.”  She let out a satisfied laugh as she patted Penelope’s arm. 

The knot in Penelope’s stomach tightened.  

III. 

She could not escape her mother’s clutches.  Could not hope for a moment for herself.  There was no safety along the wall she so often felt comfortable against.  

Still, the haunting performance allowed her a moment to glance over the room. 

Violet Bridgerton stood on the balcony; radiating out the warm, motherly quality her own mother lacked.  

Benedict Bridgerton was in the far corner, snickering and giggling as he downed a drink with a lady hung on his arm. 

Francesca Bridgerton stood composed and calm, leaning slightly on her side towards Lord Kilmartin. 

Eloise… Well, she wouldn’t dare think of Eloise; even if she knew Eloise was an arms length behind her, too busy confounding her with her friendship with Cressida Cowper.  

She scanned the crowd as she always did -- yet no familiar eyes lit up in her direction… 

Of course he wasn’t there. She did not know what kept Colin away that night.  But of course he would be absent when she met her inevitable fate.  

IV. 

The thing about Lord Debling was that he was secure in his dance.  He held her properly, confidently, and comfortably.  He was noble in stature, yet gentle in approach.  His smile was pleasing and his eyes kind.  A perfect gentleman.  A good match.  

He guided her around the dance floor with ease; even after she began to stumble.  Even after her resolve began to break.  Even after she could no longer truly meet in him the eye. 

Her life was about to be full.  And yet her chest felt hollow.

V. 

There were a lot of emotions she had felt for Colin Bridgerton over the years. 

Anger was new.  

How was it that he continued to find new ways to break her heart? 

VI. 

“I did not ask if it was a possibility, I asked if you’d like it to be.” 

Words, sentences, thoughts, ideas, things she was so good expressing once again stalled in her chest.  If only she could get out the correct answer.  Yet, her body betrayed her. Her ever aching heart betrayed her.  The feeling deep in her soul that knew the shackles of that unrequited love would forever weigh her down reflected on her face.  She deflated in resignation.  

If there was any silver lining to the humiliation - it was the fact that at least she no longer needed to keep up the facade.  The only way Lord Debling could have been a reality was if she hardened her heart.  

Maybe this was the push her heart needed.

VII. 

She didn’t make it to the carriage before breaking down.  

The ironic thing, she thought as the door closed, fully allowing her to sob privately, was that even though she would be forced to write about her foolishness yet again, at least she still had Lady Whistledown.  

At least she still had an escape.  At least she could still create her own refuge and retreat back into the shadows where she belonged.

VIII.

She had, perhaps, looked into Colin’s eyes a thousand times before.  She had seen his kindness, his humility, his empathy.  She had seen laughter, she had seen sympathy, she had even dared to see fondness.  She had seen sadness and boredom and distraction and irritation.  She had seen his protectiveness and, on occasion, even his passion.  And on one particular afternoon long ago an amusing sort of humiliation.  

Colin’s eyes were comforting and familiar, in the way one grows fond of looking into the depths of the ocean after a storm has passed and feels safe and calm.  

But in his eyes tonight? There were things she had never seen before. 

Hunger, desire, longing, lust… love? 

It was as if she saw herself reflected in his eyes, and it shook her to her core.  

Her own eyes fluttered shut.  She was done looking.  She wanted more.  

IX. 

Her body felt aflame.  

She felt him everywhere; his breath hot on her skin, his mouth hungry at her breast, his hand stroking fervently in places she never dreamed would feel so good.  They were connected in the most intimate of ways and yet even that didn’t feel enough.  She wanted to melt into him, like snow on spring grass.  

It was all overwhelming, all too much, and yet her body ached for more. 

She pulled him closer, nudging his cheek so that their lips could meet once again.  A groan escaped into his mouth as their tongues met.    

She wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever. 

X. 

The carriage may have stopped, but her world continued to spin.  

There was a burst of laughter between the two of them and even with the tangle of emotions, she felt grounded again.  He was still her Colin.  She would always be his Pen.  He was still her dearest friend.  

And yet now, as he tenderly put her back together again, something more.  

With a soft, mischievous look, he was out of the carriage, his hand held high - waiting for her.  She didn’t  know what it meant, but she would follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked.  But what came out of his mouth next was something in a thousand years she would have never expected. 

“For god’s sake Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me or not?” 

XI. 

Walking into Bridgerton house felt like a hazy dream.  She felt as though she were floating, as if at any moment, she would wake up, and be in her own bed.  

Colin’s hand felt solid and firm in her own, the only tether to reality.  

She walked into the drawing room, terrified.  This house was once the home she wished had been her own.  And now she would officially be a part of it.  It did not feel real.  

She didn’t fully hear Colin’s announcement, nor Francesca’s kind words.  She could barely register Hyacinth’s embrace.  But it was Lady Violet that did her in.  Her acceptance meant more than the world.  She was finally home. 

XII.

It was Eloise who brought her world shattering back to reality.  Her words were like cold water thrown into her face, the iciness of which stung her very soul. 

She was not fully herself without Lady Whistledown.  She was also not fully herself without Eloise.  

She didn’t know how to reconcile being torn into so many pieces.  

XIII. 

He offered to walk her home.  She didn’t need an escort, not when she lived just across the way.  She had been alone in much more frightening places, but his insistence was endearing.  And, truth be told, she didn’t want to leave his side.  

She held his arm as they slowly made their way.  No words passed between them, only giddy looks and shared giggles.  

A long moment passed between them as they stood at her door.  He gently brushed the hair off her forehead, traced one delicate finger down her cheek.  

“I will see you in the morning?” How odd of a question, as if he was unsure of her answer.  

She nodded.  “Yes, of course.”  

He grinned proudly, taking a moment to look around to secure that they were alone before drawing in for a sweet kiss.  

It took her breath away.  He always took her breath away. 

XIV. 

Even home and settled, her mind remained abuzz.  She couldn’t sleep but she could write, and write she did, scribbling away as the evening slipped into early morning.  

Her quill scratched across the parchment, writing such delectable words.  

She only paused once, staring in somewhat disbelief at the words she had written on the page.  

…it may come to a surprise to all that Mr. Bridgerton’s rumored assistance in helping Miss Featherington find a husband has, instead, led to the two of them finding each other… 

She bit her lip, not helping the wide grin as she replayed Colin’s proposal in her mind.  

She wished she could see the looks on the ton’s faces when they read her column in the morning.  

XV. 

It was the birds that awoke her, their happy songs in the golden sunlight bringing her from sleep.  In truth, she could have stayed in bed much longer, but for the first time in forever, she truly wished to be in reality more than the fantasies that often occupied her dreams. 

She cuddled into her pillow, thinking about how on this bright new morning, she was indeed about to become a wife.  But not just anyone’s wife.  Colin’s wife.  Colin Bridgerton would be her husband.  

An electric shiver ran throughout her body at the thought. 

She closed her eyes and once again traveled back to the previous night.  She once again could hear all of Colin’s honeyed words, feel his desperate lips on her skin, the sureness of his hand between her legs…

She let out a tiny moan.  How ever would she be able to function that day?

XVI. 

Her sisters were easy enough to avoid -- they were loud as they left, their doting husbands dutifully trailing behind them.  Her mother, on the other hand, would be a force she had to meet head on.  

Would it be too much to ask for her to be happy with the news? Could she not, for a moment, give out the same warmth, the same kindness, the same joy that Lady Bridgerton bestowed upon her just hours earlier?  Could she just for once accept Penelope for who she was?  Why was it - even when she was feeling on top of the world - there was always the fear that her own mother would be the one who toppled her over? 

She braced herself, taking a deep breath in and holding her head high as she entered the drawing room. 

XVII. 

She once again remained dazed as Colin escorted her into the small home.  Was there a limit to how much he could surprise her? Would there be an end to the utter shock she felt? Would she ever stop falling more and more in love? 

He defended her against her mother, a moment that would remain seared in her brain forever.  And now, he casually brought her into his home.  Into their home.  Into the house they would live in.  Together.  

She could have easily dismissed everything she had felt last night as a one-time fantasy.  Some dream she conjured up by her imagination only to be dashed away when she retained her sensible mind.  But that would not be the case.  

Because today, because now in the brightness of the early afternoon, it all felt real.  Too real.  Too raw.  So unbelievable that she could barely process it.  

What else more could he possibly give her? 

XVIII. 

“Pen…”

“...yes?...” 

“I would like…I…”

“Anything, Colin.” 

“I am ready for you to touch me… Here, let me guide your hand.” 

“What…why are you laughing?” 

“It’s just that, you are so delicate in your touch.  You can be rougher if you like.” 

“Won’t I hurt you?” 

“You could never hurt me.” 

“Like this…is this good? I don’t quite know what I’m doing.” 

“It’s wonderful, Pen, just keep…yeah….” 

XIX. 

They continued to trade slow kisses, no longer hurried or heated, but calm and anchoring.  She relaxed into his embrace, feeling safer and more connected in his arms.  She had thought she had known what love was.  Thought she had known all its depths and all its intricacies.  But this new kind of love was surreal, as if it existed outside her plane of existence.  

His hand trailed over her skin sending a spark to her heart with each touch.  His fingers danced over her breast, stopping for a moment to be playful with a nipple.  She arched into him with a groan, raking one hand through his hair as she hiked one leg over his, lamenting the fact that he no longer was buried deep inside her.  His kiss deepened, and it was remarkable that she did not combust with ecstasy yet again…

XX.

“Penelope Featherington, you should not look at me like that.” 

She couldn’t help but stare as he rushed to clothe himself.  He had never seemed so handsome to her in that odd state of half undress.  If only she could be that fabric that clung so needily against his skin.  

“Isn’t a wife allowed to look at her husband?” 

A charming grin spread across his face.  “You are not yet my wife,” he gently teased.  

“No, but I long to look at you all the same.” 

His smile faltered as he looked at her with bewilderment.  

She was his.  She had always been his.  But it began to dawn on her that maybe he had always been hers as well.  They did not need to exchange marriage vows to belong to each other.  

XXI.

The Queen’s notice was heavy in her hand.  Even as Colin snuck a tiny nibble to her neck, she could not stave off the sense of dread growing in her stomach.  

XXII.

“It has been quite the day, has it not?” 

Colin helped her out of the carriage, ever the gentleman as he took her hand. It felt almost too simple a gesture for all that had happened between them, yet she took it willingly.  He kissed her hand and yet she couldn’t help but look up at him, wishing they weren’t bound by the rules of society.  How much she longed to kiss his lips once again.  

“Quite the day, indeed,” she managed to say.  

Colin moved in, whispering close into her ear.  “I love you, Pen.” 

She felt too dumbstruck to say it back.  But she felt it.  She radiated it.  He had to know, right? She was a writer of words, and yet she would never fully be able to express the depth of her love to him.  

“We’ll be together again soon.”  He dared sneak a gentle kiss to the top of her head.  

Somehow, the air around her grew colder as he left.  

XXIII.

The house she left was not the same house she came back to.  Something had shifted in the air.  Something had changed.  She had changed.  But she wasn’t the only one.  

Her sisters were one thing, with their pregnancies and their husbands and their uncomfortable commentary about Lady Whistledown.  They remained ignorant and occupied and could not sense that she was not the same person she had been just hours earlier.  

But her mother was different, too.  Her attempt at kindness felt troubling.  She did not trust it.  What scheme could she possibly be up to? It was doubtful that Portia Featherington could have actually found her heart.  But other improbabilities becoming realities had surprised her.  

XXIV.

The darkness of the evening light dimmed the room.  Penelope hardly noticed as she was too lost in thought to consider it.  She wrote away in her journal, wanting to document everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.  What a whirlwind it had been, and she wasn’t quite sure all of it had happened.  

She happened to glance up and catch herself in the mirror.  She didn’t look any different.  She was still her.  Still Penelope.  Still Lady Whistledown, though she tried her best to ignore the unsettling feeling brought about by that title.  Still the girl who had hopes and dreams even if she now better understood how love can reverberate through your world and change it so fundamentally.  

She was still Penelope Featherington. And even if she was still, maybe, unsure of who that was, even if she was learning that a sense of self was no longer a stable thing, she no longer scorned that name.  

Besides, soon she would become Penelope Bridgerton.  And with that, a sense of hope stayed firm within her, even if she sensed a growing shadow in her world.  Yes, she would be Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton. A comforting warmth spread in her heart at the thought.  

[the-mini-muse]

Polin Drabble - Quibble

Quibble aka The one that's inspired by BtVS - Dark Colin.

He was behind her. So close but not quite touching her. 

Yet. 

His lips tickled her ear and a shiver ran through Penelope. 

“I can hear your heart beating so fast, Pen,” Colin his fingers ran down the side of her arms - from shoulder to wrists. 

Her heart was breaking all over again,”Colin, don’t do this. Let me save you.”

“Save me? I’ve never felt better in my life Penelope,”His arms now hugged her from behind, his body folding unto himself due to their height difference. Almost like a lovers embrace,” and I want you to feel good too. Don’t deny it. Pen-El-O-Pe…”

——

Penelope had moved to Mayfair a year ago. She had met her now best friend Eloise and her odd family. 

She didn’t know yet about vampires, witches, and demons. 

She didn’t know anything yet of the Slayer. 

Daphne was a year older than her and Eloise and already burdened with the task of fighting supernatural creatures that dare to harm humans. 

She had been a Slayer for two years now. 

Her whole family had rallied behind her - one by one learning of her secret. 

Anthony had wanted to move somewhere else - safe. Her watcher - Kate Sharma- disabused him of the idea of Daphne ever being safe. 

Mayfair was where the Hellmouth resided. It is where Daphne was most needed. 

Most of the time she patrolled with Kate, Anthony, Benedict, Colin, and Eloise - never alone. 

Now with the addition of Simon, a Dukes graduate and friend of Anthony’s, and Penelope. 

Then Anthony had got bitten by a werewolf this past year.

They had to adjust. 

Especially Kate who he was engaged to be married. 

Wanting to help, Eloise and Penelope started to dabble in witchcraft and found that they both have the affinity for it. They didn’t know that they would be using their powers for this though. 

——

Staring straight at those beautiful green eyes, Penelope watched him draw near and give her lips soft kisses. His arms wrapping around her once more, possessively. 

She felt dizzy with want. He always had that affect on her. 

But this wasn’t her Colin. Not really. 

She raised a hand to his chest and whimpered due to the lack of heartbeat upon her palm. Lips on her neck, nuzzling her skin but missing the warmth of his breath. 

Colin. 

From the very first time she met him, her heart was forever stolen. 

Cressida Cowper had pushed her in the stairs of the outside courtyard of her new school. 

She would’ve fallen and been hurt grievously if Colin wasn’t right behind her. His arms shot out and enveloped her in a tight hug, never letting her spin as she fell. 

It was the day she fell on and for Colin Bridgerton. 

She was in tears at the thought of hurting her savior but he just laughed and laughed and asked her if she was ok. He became her best friend. Her charming, kind, handsome unrequited love. Her only quibble with him is how unfairly good looking he was since all the other girls noticed it too.

His face now showed a mockery of Colin’s charming smile as he flashed her his fangs before going back down to kissing her neck. 

“I can give you back your soul!” 

With the quickness of a predator, Colin brought his face up so that they were almost nose to nose. His green eyes looking at her with anger and desire. 

Always desire. 

Her mind going to all the instances that he had been stalking her. 

Leaving love letters. 

No.

Letters of his desire for her. 

His ownership of her. 

His Pen. 

Every time she turned around, he was there watching. She may not have seen him but he was always in the vicinity of her senses. She always knew when he was near, even before he was turned. 

She had started avoiding Daphne because of this. 

She knew the Slayer had a duty to kill vampires and when Colin was bitten by Marina, everyone was devastated. 

He was able to get away. 

But now he’s back and he’s been stalking Penelope. Only Eloise knew and they’ve been researching how a vampire may gain his soul back. 

“My. Pen,” He licked her lips before diving deep within her mouth. Tasting her. 

“Let her go!” Daphne’s voice rang out. 

He pulled back to turn around just in time to see the rest of the gang go through the church doors. 

He put Penelope in front of him, one arm around her torso, holding her possessively,” Ah. My sister. The Slayer and you brought company. “

Penelope saw Eloise, Francesca, and Kate run off to the side - creating markings for the spell. 

THE spell to return Colin’s soul. 

Daphne, Anthony, Benedict, and Simon standing ready to fight. 

“I said let her go Colin,” Daphne twirled her stake as a show of intimidation. 

“I think not. She belongs to me. She has ALWAYS belonged to me,”His grip tightened.

“Colin, I love you,”Penelope whispered,” and I’m so sorry -Ignis Incende!”

She directed the spell on the cloak he was wearing. It caught on fire immediately and in his haste to take it off, he let go of her. 

She ran towards Daphne. 

“No!!! Penelope!!!” Colin yelled in rage. 

His face now morphing into its Vampire counterpart before leaping towards her. 

Simon grabbed Penelope just as Daphne knocked away the hand that would’ve pulled her back to him. 

“This really wasn’t one of your smartest moves brother.” Anthony backed up his sister, sword in hand. Benedict beside him with an axe.

Penelope had tears in her eyes as Colin fought his siblings. She turned towards Eloise and started to chant with her. 

Quod perditum est, invenietur.

Not dead, nor not of the living.

Spirits of the interregnum, I call.

Gods, bind him. Cast his heart from the evil realm.

Te implor, Doamne; nu ignoră aceasta rugăminte!

Nici mort, nici al fiinţei,

lăsa orbită să fie vasul care-i vă transportă sufletul la el.

Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie!

Acum! Acum!

They all looked up as a bright light enveloped Colin. It was so bright they all had to cover their eyes. 

Then with a loud boom. The room was silent again. 

“Ignis Incende”

“Ignis Incende”

Penelope and Eloise started lighting up nearby candelabras. 

In the middle of the room, crouching on the floor was Colin. 

He was shivering and crying uncontrollably. Anthony and Daphne was the first one there checking to see if there was any wounds on his person. 

Penelope skidded down beside them and wrapped her arms around him, tucked his face under her chin and pressed her face on the top of his head. Colin just continued to cry desperately as he wrapped his arms around Penelope’s middle. 

She looked up at his siblings, all with tears in their eyes. They were glad to have their brother back but it would not be the same.

He was still a vampire.  

Colin is part of the Bridgerton family, the vampire with a soul, brother to the Slayer and Penelope’s beloved. 

They will adjust like always.

A/N incantations not mine. 

[ficninja]

A Beautiful Night Indeed

So I did a thing...

I wrote a Penelope and Colin fic! I haven't written anything in so long that I seriously surprised myself. I just couldn't help it, I've become so obsessed with them. I wanted to post it here for anyone interested in reading. It's an extended scene I guess, a wish fulfillment if you will, of what I wanted to happen after their dance at the Vauxhall Ball in episode 01 "Diamond of the first water."

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Summary: Colin is protective of Penelope after Cressida spills her drink on her. Colin doesn't want to let go of Penelope's hand after their dance. Colin is confused about his feelings and Anthony calls him out on it. Colin wants more than anything for Penelope to trust him

A Beautiful Night Indeed

It was a beautiful night. Penelope had arrived to the Vauxhall ball a half an hour early with her Father and sisters. They were just in time to see the lighting of all the torches surrounding the expansive gardens right as the Sun began to hang low in the ever darkening sky…

Standing near the orchestra dining area, watching the dancing begin, Penelope looked around avoiding being spotted by one of her sisters. She was surprised when she heard Colin say her pet name.

“Pen…” Colin approached Penelope. He never had trouble finding her in a crowd. He was constantly captivated by her stunning red hair. Her hair beckoned him like a glowing fire, his eyes always drawn to the beauty of the permanent sunset. She was standing alone expectantly, he surmised she was looking for someone.

“Colin…” Penelope sighed adorably which made him smile to himself. She had the cutest voice, he had always thought so.

“I did not know you would be here.” Penelope was pleasantly surprised to see him. His height towering as he walked closer, making her feel small and delicate by comparison.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Colin teased, causing her to smile. She was never able to resist this pull he had on her.

“Have you seen Miss Thompson?” He inquired. Miss Thompson had many suitors and Colin supposed he should try to get to know Penelope’s cousin a bit more, lest his interest wane.

“She is ill.” Penelope informed him, a bit dispassionately, her smile faltering. “My mamá had to stay home with her.” She continued. “Papá had to chaperone.”

Colin looked over his shoulder to see Mr. Featherington enjoying a refreshment and in an animated discussion, completely unobservant of his youngest daughter.

Colin turned back to Penelope giving her his complete attention, the inquiry into her cousin’s whereabouts fleeting. He did not like that she was vulnerable without her Father’s gaze on her.

“I’m quite enjoying the fact that he is here.” Penelope’s smile picked back up and Colin recalled that she enjoyed spending time with her father… away from her neglectful mother.

Mrs. Featherington should be there as well, Colin thought to himself. This was Penelope’s debut season. What mother, wouldn’t accompany a daughter as sweet and innocent as Penelope everywhere?

“Mamá would never allow me to wear a dress like this.” Penelope’s smile brightened the darkened garden even more. “Not yellow enough, I think.” She giggled self-deprecatingly.

Colin had taken note of how especially lovely Penelope looked that night. Although it was hard for Penelope to look bad, given her cute face and enchanting hair, her mother seemed to be trying to detract from her looks with every yellow frock she forced on her. He would acknowledge that according to Eloise having a nice face and pleasant hair should not be considered an accomplishment. But given the lack of genteel stock in Penelope’s lineage, it was indeed a glowing accomplishment in contrast to her older sisters, at least according to Colin’s preferences.

Before Colin could genuinely compliment Penelope’s dress, Cressida Cowper appeared and interrupted their conversation. Accompanied by her entourage of ninnies, they pushed between he and Penelope.

“Mr. Bridgerton...” Cressida’s voice really grated on Colin’s nerves. “I believe you owe me a dance this evening. And I only have one more space remaining on my card at present.”

“How convenient.” Penelope observed, her words so softly spoken that Colin almost… almost didn’t hear her. But her tremulous voice carried over to Colin. It was like a melody… a song only for him in contrast to Cressida’s.

Cressida thrust her dance card out to her side and simultaneously spilled her drink on the front of Penelope’s dress. “Penelope, I did not see you there!” Cressida feigned shock.

Penelope gasped in sheer mortification, turning away from them as the blast of cold liquid slid down her chest. She looked down to check her dress, thanking heaven that the drink was clear and would not stain. Penelope felt heat color her cheeks and her eyes began to water. She was so proud of the way she looked that night and to have this happen to her at Cressida’s hands and in the presence of Colin no less, she thought she would pass out from the humiliation.

Colin glared at Cressida. How dare she attempt to injure Penelope’s person with that drink and right in front of him. He thought to himself, if Cressida was not a Lady and barely one at that… His anger peaked at the mental image of what he would do. His nostrils flared at her before he turned his attention back to Penelope.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper.” Colin’s voice barely remained courteous. “I am to escort Miss Featherington, to the floor.” His decided rejection of Cressida caused Penelope to turn around, astonished.

Penelope’s blue eyes, glossy with embarrassment, met his. Colin had a fierce look on his face. Determined he was, not to allow anyone to mistreat her in his presence. He reached for Penelope's gloved hand, slipping her tiny feminine satin-clad fingers through his larger masculine ones, as he glared once again at Cressida before escorting Penelope away and onto the dance floor.

Colin spun Penelope into position just as the spirited dance started. His fingers glided across the brocade material along her upper back. Her soft tresses skimmed across the back of his hand… This was one of Colin’s favorite dances and he smiled down at her excitedly. Penelope was an amazing partner. The embarrassment caused by Cressida eased from her eyes and she matched his enthusiam for the dance. The eager smile on her face as he spun her around caused an ache to invade inside his chest. The protectiveness he felt moments ago seemed to increase ten fold and everything inside of him wanted that smile to remain on her face for the rest of her life.

When the dance ended, Colin found himself irrationally thinking of a reason to keep Penelope's hand in his. An illogical impulse, given it would be improper since he was not officially courting her. The reminder to himself, that he was not in fact courting Penelope Featherington, but had expressed an interest in her distant cousin caused him to be inexplicably confused and annoyed with himself. The annoyance he felt was upsetting to him and he clenched his jaw in vexation. Just as he was about to convince himself to let her go, the announcement began…

“Ladies and Gentleman, a most extraordinary event is about to take place.

Right this way!

Come! Come!”

Colin looked down at Penelope just as she gazed her startled blue eyes up at him. Just looking in her eyes soothed away his baffling aggravation. He smiled at her mischievously as he pulled her along side him continuing to hold her hand. Definitely not letting go of her now.

Penelope was delighted that Colin wanted to continue their time together at the ball. The way he looked at her during their dance… she knew it was just a result of his protective nature. She believed he was genuinely outraged by Cressida’s behavior toward her. But his continued attention made her heart soar, even more than usual, just from being around him. A sort of magic seemed to envelop them, almost as if Colin was finally seeing her as a woman and not like a little sister. Penelope worried that the let down from reality settling around her again would break her heart irreparably.

“Come along, Pen. We must not miss this most extraordinary event!” Colin continued to grin at her as he pulled Penelope along.

Colin spotted an open section near the edge of the crowd and stopped there. It was a bit darker there, secluded away from the torches, and he couldn’t make out everyone around them. He tugged Penelope a bit closer in front of him as more people surrounded them.

He noticed that she trembled a bit, so he leaned down near her ear. “Are you ok, Pen?”

Penelope was looking forward to the show, whatever this would be, but she had never been quite comfortable with the dark or with surprises.

Penelope felt Colin squeeze her hand and she looked up at him. His blue eyes warm with concern. “Yes, I’m ok. It is just a bit scary is all.”

Colin smiled at her then and her heart skipped a beat. “Everything will be ok. I’m right here. I would not let anything bad happen to you.” And she knew, she could feel that Colin meant it.

“Do you trust me, Pen?” He asked, holding her gaze fervently.

Looking into his eyes so close to hers was intoxicating and Penelope began to feel a little unsteady on her feet. She swayed a little as she answered him. “Y- Yes, o-of course I trust you, Colin.”

Colin noticed that she stuttered a bit, but she seemed to get her bearings.

“Good.” Penelope’s assurance that she trusted him, did something to his insides and Colin felt unbalanced.

The announcement picked up again…

“It is with great privilege I present Vauxhall’s newest spectacle of illumination. Feast your eyes above and allow all that is radiant to overwhelm you!”

Penelope squeezed Colin’s hand just as the lights illuminated all at once above them. They were surrounded by the glass bulbs! The brilliance was magnificent. The sudden amazement caused Penelope to step back into Colin. His chest cradled her head and his other hand, that wasn’t holding hers, grabbed her waist to steady her.

The MC continued,

“Wonderful Light! Thank you!”

“Its alright.” Colin murmured softly into her hair. She smelled like orange blossoms. Colin could not keep himself from breathing her in. He wondered if it was just her hair or if she smelled of the fragrant flower all over her body. The hand holding her waist moved unconsciously to the ends of her rosy hair, his fingers delicately caressed the softness of her strawberry locks. Colin’s mind was muddled, he closed his eyes in contentment, memorizing the texture of her hair. He couldn’t think straight. He had to stop himself from dropping a kiss to the top of her head, the need to be a comfort to her began to outweigh his reason.

Penelope thought she imagined Colin’s fingers in her hair. The closeness of his body to hers was heady… She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the warmth of him behind her. She inhaled at the pleasure of her current situation. She’d never been this close to Colin. The electrifying heat of his body pressed against hers was causing her to be incoherent. She began to breathe in shallow pants, her breaths coming quickly. Unsettled by her reaction to him, she moved away from him, letting go of his hand.

Colin felt the immediate loss of the warmth radiating from Penelope’s body pressed along his front. When she dropped his hand and moved away from him, he felt the grimace on his face and heard the growl in his throat. Desperate to have Penelope near again, he grabbed her hand and turned her to face him.

“Pen…” Colin spoke her name, not knowing what else to say, but also needing to stop her retreat from him.

Penelope looked down at her hand grasped in Colin’s, realizing that her glove had slipped off. “Oh…” was all she could say. The moment felt unmistakably intimate, him holding her hand again, this time bare.

“I’m sorry.” Colin apologized when he realized he’d unintentionally removed Penelope’s satin glove. “Allow me…” He bent down and retrieved her glove from the grass, her bare hand remained cradled in his the entire time.

His expression mischievous again, as he rose to his full height. “I guess I’m to keep it as a favour now.” Colin teased Penelope. He needed to take away the self-consciousness he saw in her eyes.

“Are you going off to battle then?” Penelope teased Colin back, unable to resist his ever present charm. She could think of no other time a lady’s favour was given.

“Well, there seems to be a fight for refreshments. And as a Gentleman, I will gladly enter the fray to procure something to drink for you, Pen.” Colin folded Penelope’s glove and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket finally letting her hand go reluctantly.

Colin looked down at Penelope adoringly. He couldn’t help himself, stepping closer to her, he whispered. “Wish me luck in battle?”

Penelope knew Colin was teasing her again, but he made her breathless. “Good luck.” She smiled and then she bit her bottom lip. “Promise me that you will return it me?” She looked pointedly to his chest where her glove rested inside his pocket.

Colin could only focus on the lushness of her mouth as she bit her full bottom lip, he was beginning to feel dizzy like he was spinning… spinning out of control. “You trust me, don’t you, Penelope?”

“Of course, Colin.” Penelope didn’t recognize her own voice. The huskiness of it, she couldn’t control as Colin inched even closer to her.

Colin bent down, next to her ear and whispered. “Good girl. Stay right here for me. I’ll be back.” He leaned in close enough that he smelled her intoxicating hair once more before he pulled himself away from Penelope and then walked toward the refreshments.

As Penelope watched as Colin walked away, his tall regal form a feast for her eyes, she noticed his brother Anthony walk up to him.

Colin was taking deep breaths to regain his composure as he walked away from Penelope. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Anthony with a stern expression on his face. He followed Anthony’s gaze to Penelope.

“She’s so young Colin… you need to try harder to conceal your… baser interests. Stop touching her so much. Don’t forget yourself. Penelope is a proper lady.” Anthony scolded Colin.

“I was not… I did not… for you to imply…” Colin couldn’t even form a sentence in his defense as twisted as his insides felt by his brother’s insinuations.

“Imply?” Anthony continued. “I saw. Your hand on her waist, apart from dancing. Your hand in her hair. The caress of her bare hand… and this could have been in the view of half the Ton. It is a wonder her father did not come looking for her and witness these improprieties or I would be making arrangements for you to court Penelope Featherington properly!" Anthony’s eyebrows raised in admonishment. “… and not expressing interest in her distant cousin.” The distorted expression on Anthony’s face spoke to how he felt about Colin’s fleeting interest in Miss Thompson.

“It will be a miracle if this is not in Whistledown tomorrow and I am not forced to have to make an offer on your behalf myself.” Anthony continued to reprimand Colin.

“Anthony, I would never do anything to scandalize Penelope!” Colin declared passionately. He could not even conceive of hurting her that way. He found that the thought of Anthony having to make an offer for Penelope’s hand on his behalf did not scare him and that lack of apprehension caused him uncertainty.

“I know that you would not, Colin. And I am not suggesting that you are. I am saying that your feelings... unacknowledged... for Penelope are maybe getting in the way of your… sensibilities where she is concerned.” Anthony pointed out.

“My feelings… for Penelope?” Colin was so confused. Penelope was his friend. He had not meant to be improper with her in any way. But he had begun to acknowledge in his mind and body that Penelope was becoming a woman… in every way. His reactions to her may very well be putting her in danger from him.

“Yes, Colin. I have eyes. I see you clear as day. You may not be ready to admit to or are even aware of how you feel about her. You do have feelings for her, not just emotionally, but now physically as well and you need to think about what you really want long term. Penelope has… developed a lush womanly form. Her curves are tempting to you, I see. Miss Thompson may be more mature and more able to handle your… physical interests right now, where as you would have to wait a while for Penelope to be ready for that.”

“Stop! Stop right now, Anthony. Speaking about Penelope in this way is improper and I will not engage with you any further on this.” Colin found his fists were balled up and his anger, at his brother was a tangible thing in his mouth… a vileness that he could taste. Anthony’s criticism of how he had handled Penelope and even more his comments on how her body had developed the curves of a woman, the kind of woman that Colin realized he was irresistibly drawn to, would be his undoing.

“See, you did not even mention Miss Thompson. Your irascible temper with regard to any perceived slight of Penelope…” Anthony spoke to Colin’s unexpressed feelings for Penelope, again. “All of that emotion… that is about Penelope Featherington.”

Colin clenched his jaw tightly and rolled his eyes at the truth of his brother’s perceptions. He balled his fists against his side as well.

“I am not telling you what to do, so do not look at me like that. I am merely pointing out that if you keep carrying on like this over Penelope and you keep finding yourself behaving in the manner in which you have tonight, you will not be in a position to make a decision. It will have been made for you. Does she not deserve for you to truly choose her? And loathe that I am of a match between you and Miss Thompson, I do not want you to have to contend with hurting her either.”

Colin took a deep breath before addressing his brother again. “Penelope is dear to me… so dear that I - I treasure her and our friendship. I would never hurt her intentionally, brother. That is all I’m willing to say on the matter. I do not wish to discuss Penelope with you any further here like she is the topic of some common gossip. I shall escort her back to her father, after the fireworks are over. Colin declared and then walked off, feeling immensely frustrated.

“See that you do, Colin.” Anthony called after him as Colin disappeared.

Colin turned from the refreshment table and spotted Penelope immediately again. His eyes seeking her siren hair. She had remained just as he had asked her to. A good girl for him she was indeed.

When Colin finally returned to her with refreshments, Penelope’s bright expectant blue eyes found his troubled ones.

“Is everything ok, Colin?” Penelope asked softly. “I saw you speaking with your brother…”

Colin smiled at her slightly as she drank her lemonade. He could not help it. She was so sweet, the most kind-hearted person he had ever known aside from his mother. Her concern mollified him. His anxiousness over his conversation with Anthony slipped away easily in her presence.

“Penelope, your dress is lovely tonight. I wanted to tell you that before Cressida showed up.” Colin could not help it, even after being cautioned by Anthony of being improper with her, he inched closer to her and took her bare hand in his again.

“Thank you, Colin.” Penelope sighed. The warmth of his hand surrounding hers made her breathless again. It felt almost as if Colin did not realize what he was doing.

“May I ask, how it came to be this rather fetching shade of pink and not yellow?” Colin teased her again. His eyes sparkling at her. They now looked the exact opposite of when he arrived with their drinks.

“Well, I was allowed to choose the color for myself, rather than mamá.” Penelope admitted. Her cheeks brightened to a beautiful shade of pink.

“You did well, Pen. It looks exquisite against your sun-fire hair and makes your porcelain skin look like the finest silk…” Colin looked down at her feeling inebriated, his voice betraying his ardor. His stomach flipped when he noticed her licking her pink lips before she spoke his name on a melodic sigh, again.

“Colin…” Penelope couldn’t believe he had actually described her that way… passionately… his voice filled with longing.

Colin raised Penelope’s hand to his lips, just as the music started for the next dance. He kissed the back of her fingers of her bare hand and Penelope was startled at the softness of his lips on her. She did not know what to say… She could not form words. All the breath had left her.

“One more dance, Pen? Before the night is over.” Colin requested. His eyes never leaving hers and her hand securely grasped in his. He didn’t have an excuse for his continued behavior with her and he found he didn’t care to continue to contemplate.

“I’ve never danced this one… in public.” Penelope admitted. She was so unnerved by Colin’s continued attention she would have agreed to anything at that point.

Colin smiled down at her, playfully. “Do you trust me, Pen?”

“Of course, Colin.” She assured him again on a sigh. “But this one is… what if I miss a step?” She was doubting herself and her ability to actually move after Colin’s kiss on her fingers.

“Penelope Featherington, you are an amazing dancer. You will be fine. He pulled her closer to the dance floor, but waited for her acquiescence. Colin looked her over as if he couldn’t bear for her to refuse him. "Please do me the honor?”

“Yes, Colin.” She smiled brightly at him. Her smile more luminescent than the globes of artificial light, her eyes sparkled more than the fireworks display. She even rivaled the stars that night as he spun her around and around on the dance floor.

It was a beautiful night indeed.