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myfairstarlight · 21 days ago

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A Polite Affair of the Heart

AO3 Link.

Rated: T

Length: 16k

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Canon Divergence

Part 2 of my Lord Remington as a rival fic, in Colin's pov

Summary:

It is the 1812 season. Colin Bridgerton, a third son, neither the heir nor the spare, is determined to venture into the marriage mart with purpose. Emboldened by Marina Thompson's interest, Colin believes he is on the right path. That is until his best friend Penelope Featherington starts to flirt with him with an ease that renders him breathless. And yet, as he endeavours to return such affections, at first in what he believed to be politeness, Penelope turns her back on him and accepts the courtship of another in the youthful and gossip-loving Lord James Remington. He is not quite sure why it bothers him so. Or. A companion piece to The Innocent Game of Flirting, with more flirting, jealousy and an extended epilogue. Can be read as a stand-alone!

*additional notes on ao3

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Colin enters the 1812 ecstatic. With both Daphne and Penelope debuting this year, he is thrilled to know he will have company at balls, considering how Benedict avoids these events like his life depended on it, and Anthony is the opposite of good company.

So he is quite… surprised when, after only one ball, Penelope disappears from any social events, nowhere to be found even when Colin visits the Featherington House when he is there to call on Miss Thompson so he may be allowed inside, but his eyes seeking the familiar smile of his childhood friend. It is impossible to inquire about her whereabouts, however, when Lady Featherington seems too focused on Miss Thompson's line of suitors, and Lord Featherington is as secretive as ever.

So he asks Daphne about it.

“Pen?” Daphne says though she seems rather distracted, looking around the ballroom, searching for someone. “Oh yes, she told me and Eloise that she hated the dresses her mother got her. She is refusing to leave her room until this changes.”

“Really? I thought the yellow dress she had was rather pleasant.” Daphne snorts. “Daff! Do not be mean!”

“No no! I am not being mean it's just— of course you think it was cute, but she does not. That is more important.” She pats his arm in quite a patronising way. “You know, she wishes to take this season seriously and find a husband. And frankly, she has not missed much so far. None of these gentlemen are worth her time. Or mine, for that matter.”

Even so, a pout tugs at her lips as she scans the room once more. At least one gentleman has retained his sister's attention. Colin has an inkling of who she may be searching for, but he is keeping his theories to himself for now.

“Penelope wants to marry?” he asks instead. “I thought she and Eloise were planning on becoming spinsters together.”

“Eloise keeps saying as such indeed, but have you heard Penelope do the same?”

Colin frowns, recalling every instance he heard them speak of their future, indeed Eloise has always been vocal about her marriage-less one, however, Penelope remained silent every time, neither agreeing nor refuting.

“Why do you care anyhow?” Daphne asks, finally looking at him again. “Are you not courting Miss Thompson?”

“I am, but it does not mean I cannot be curious,” he says, suddenly feeling defensive under his sister's gaze. “Speaking of which, my dance with Miss Thompson is approaching, I shall search for her.”

His sister does not need to know it is a lie, as he did not manage to find a spot on Miss Thompson's ever-so-busy card, he doubts Daphne will actually notice, as distracted as she seems herself. Colin spends the rest of his evening trying to get an answer from either of the Featherington girls about Penelope's wellbeing, then swiftly runs away when he sees their mother approaching.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

When he finally sees Penelope again, she seems different.

Not so much in her looks, although the green of her gown, paired with her striking red hair, suits her marvellously, but there is an air about her that screams of silent resolve, one she did not have previously. In her first ball, she appeared meek, intentionally taking advantage of her height to hide despite the loudness of her yellow dress. Now, she stands among the crowd with her head held high, looking around the event with sharp eyes, and barely hidden disdain as well.

For some reason, it renders Colin nervous. He has no reason to be, Penelope's dislike of the Ton does not extend to him, or his family, and yet, he fears that he might inspire disappointment in her. So he gets tongue-tied — asking about Miss Thompson’s whereabouts, though he had not even been looking for her, rather than inquiring about Penelope’s absence from previous events or complimenting her new attire. He sees her smile drop almost instantly and Colin feels the need to slap himself as she politely answers his question.

Nice way to make your friend feel special, Bridgerton, he chastises himself.

But then—

“It is a shame, you look quite dashing tonight.”

Colin's world stops turning for a few instants. He must appear quite idiotic, mouth half-open in shock, and oh, his face feels oddly warm despite the chilly air of the evening. “I—” is all he bloody manages to say.

Truly, what is wrong with him? He has flirted with half of London’s debutantes over the last two years since he has been allowed to attend events, why is one compliment from Penelope making him lose all his wits?

“I am being earnest!” Penelope insists, smiling adorably as she gestures to his attire. “Of course, you always do. This outdoor ball just brings out quite a whimsical atmosphere, do you not think?”

Colin is grateful for the slight divergence. He clears his throat and smiles. “I agree, it is a breath of fresh air compared to the usually stuffy ballrooms.”

“Exactly!” She laughs, her eyes bright.

“And—” Colin inhales, gathering the courage he was not even aware he needed. “You look whimsical as well, Pen, that charming green dress suits you finely, one could mistake you for a mystical wood fairy.”

Penelope gasps softly, the flush on her face piercing through her makeup.

“Colin, you flatter me!”

“I am being earnest,” Colin returns her words with a smile, pride flowing through his heart.

That is the Penelope he is more familiar with, sweet and a little shy, rather than apprehensive and scrutinising. His eyes drift to her wrist, where she keeps fiddling with her dance card, not so subtly leaning forward in his space. He wonders if she realises, or is trying to play coy. It's adorable, truly, Colin wonders why no other gentleman has approached her yet but he supposes he should feel grateful that he can be her first dance, then.

Just as he is about to request a spot on her dance card, Miss Cowper makes an appearance. It takes everything in Colin to remain a gentleman and not outright grimace at the sight of the eccentric blonde woman. Even more so when she, with the subtlety of a running cow, spills her drink on Penelope.

Screw asking, then.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper. I am to escort Miss Featherington to the dance floor,” he announces, unable to suppress the smugness in his tone at the rude debutante’s gobsmacked expression.

He swiftly takes Penelope’s hand in his to indeed bring her to a dance, perhaps in a bit of a forceful grip as she seems too stricken to move on her own. The prideful man in him preens at her flushed cheeks and shy smile.

“Colin, you did not have to do that,” she whispers.

“I needed a reason to not dance with her, frankly,” he says, unable to refrain from grimacing now that he does not need to keep the pretence in front of others. “And I wanted to dance with you, too.”

Penelope regards him with apprehension and Colin’s confidence wavers. She does not seem pleased with him, was this a mistake?

The dance begins before he can let his thoughts spiral.

He tries to catch her eyes as they fall into a familiar pace, but she keeps her eyes lowered as she concentrates on the dance. It brings Colin back to simpler times, to carefree afternoons at Bridgerton house as they were taught how to dance. He had two left feet back then, utterly nervous about messing up and hurting his partner, which is why Daphne was quickly annoyed with him and preferred Benedict or Anthony as a dance partner, despite the older two's reluctance. With Eloise refusing to learn to dance at the time — and still being stubborn to this day — Colin asked if Penelope could join their lessons.

Penelope had always been an effortless dancer, even back then. She danced, uncaring of Colin’s hesitation and sometimes leading when he took too much time deciding which foot to move. In fact, he recalls a few times Eloise and Daphne were jealous and swiftly took Penelope away from him so they could dance with her as well.

During a small respite in the dance as their steps slow, Penelope lets out a soft chuckle as, for the first time since the dance started, she looks up at him, a sparkle in her eyes.

(Or perhaps it is the light show starting?)

“Well, you are my favourite dance partner, after all,” she says then, finally continuing their conversation. “Did you know?” she asks next, prompting Colin to frown in confusion.

“Mm?”

Their hands join as they spin together, never breaking eye contact.

“Your eyes shine the brightest when you are kind. I think I can easily get lost in them.”

Colin’s step suddenly falters, and Penelope, in turn, almost steps on his feet because of him. He promptly catches her, winding an arm around her waist, effectively breaking the dance routine, though, after a quick look around, he is relieved to see that no one has noticed. Swiftly, or at least he hopes it is, he lifts her during a spin before putting her back down once he is certain she will not fall.

As the dance ends and they bow to each other, Colin clears his throat.

“Thank you.” His voice cracks. Great. Smooth. “You’re—” He falters once more, finding himself stricken by Penelope’s piercing eyes and her enchanting smile.

Has she always looked this captivating? Of course she has— Colin has always looked for her, wherever he went if he knew she would be there as well. Her wit, smiles and laughs have always had a way of enticing him.

But then she looks away, a slight pout on her lips, gazing around the party. There is that unfamiliar look in her eyes once more — the calculating and sharp one. Colin follows her line of vision, frowning as he notices that the one who has caught her attention seems to be Lord Remington, who is already looking their way.

“Well! Thank you for this dance Colin,” Penelope says, “I am quite parched now.”

Remington is by the drinks, she is far from subtle, Colin thinks. “Oh, I can fetch you—” he starts to offer, because why shall she need another gentleman when he is available to fulfil any of her requests? But Penelope shakes her head a bit too enthusiastically.

“No, it is alright, I shall take this as an opportunity to scour for suitors, should I not?”

So Daphne was right after all. “Ah yes but—”

“Have a good evening, Colin!” she exclaims as though she did not hear him before she eagerly makes her way towards Remington.

Displeasure shapes around his heart as he watches the gentleman hand his friend a glass of lemonade as they start to converse. Worse of all, truly, is the fact that Penelope seems charmed, smiling from ear to ear and laughing between every other sentence.

Colin hates the sight.

“Young man,” someone says and he jumps.

“Lord Featherington!” he exclaims. “Good evening.”

The man narrows his eyes at him before he looks towards Penelope and Lord Remington, his frown deepening. Colin wonders what this means — he knew Remington from his Eton days, and by all means, if a man such as Lord Featherington looks at him with such disdain, it should be a good omen, but Colin also knows the man to have a tender heart for his youngest daughter. Colin has been a victim of his protective nature more than once over their years of friendship.

The man is less intimidating now that Colin has grown taller than him, but a part of him still falters under his stern gaze.

“You were dancing with her,” the baron says, his attention back on Colin. “I thought you were courting Miss Thompson. Have I been chaperoning the wrong pair, boy?”

“I— I have no ill intention with Penelope, you must know that, sir.”

Lord Featherington hums. “Mm. I would rather you than any of these old croaks I suppose,” the man admits. Something catches his eyes in the crowd. “Ah, it seems my other daughter needs me. Excuse me.”

As he walks away, Colin finds pride warming his heart — it feels like approval, though he is not quite sure of what.

The next dance should start soon, he realises, when people start moving around him. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Daphne appearing seemingly out of nowhere, the Duke of Hastings by her side as he leads her towards the dance floor. When he turns, he sees his mother smile brightly at the sight, while Anthony is frowning at the pair, in much the same way Lord Featherington was looking disapprovingly at his daughter and Remington speaking.

Ugh, that is sure to be a headache soon, Colin reckons, but he would rather not think about it just yet. Instead, he searches for Penelope again and finds her still by the drinks, though her hands are now free.

“Pen, shall we dance again?” he asks, or rather demands, as he swiftly slides by her side, grabbing her hand and leading her away while ignoring Remington’s intrigued look.

“Colin!” Penelope protests, though she does not try to pry his hand away. “Surely you could have found another lady eager to share a dance with you!”

“Perhaps, but it is you I wish to spend this evening with.”

She flushes prettily under his gaze before something flashes in her eyes. In an instant, her face seems to morph into one of confidence and amusement.

“Careful with your words, Mr Bridgerton, it would make anyone else swoon and disrupt the event.”

“But not you, Pen?” Colin inquires teasingly, an arm wrapping around her waist. This time, the dance is a waltz, and he tries to ignore how such proximity, one he is familiar with, renders him breathless nonetheless.

“I have grown used to your charm and kindness, Colin,” she says, her left hand gently poised on his elbow, and the other grabbing his free hand. “Though I never tire of admiring it.”

“Then I must do something wrong if I cannot elicit more than mere indifference.”

Penelope chuckles. “Indifference? Colin, I believe you are perfect.”

He swears his heart skips a beat. Perfect? She believes him to be perfect?

“Though you do not need your ego stroked,” she continues, oblivious to his inner torment.

His steps falter again at her choice of words and his heartbeat picks up as another image strikes his mind, the hand holding hers tightening its grip ever so slightly. His attempt to recover swiftly is vain, judging by Penelope’s bemused smile.

“Colin, do you need dancing lessons again?”

In an instant, he feels like he can breathe again as he laughs at Penelope’s genuine concern.

“Only if you are the one giving them to me, Miss Featherington.”

“Ah, I fear I do have a busy schedule… It would be a tight fit.”

Colin swallows. Is she doing this on purpose? Surely not, well-bred ladies such as Penelope should know nothing of the… sexual natures of relations, and in truth, Colin is no better though he at least has a vague idea of it.

However, the emphasis she keeps giving the words makes him doubt his earlier convictions. Is she repeating what she has been hearing? That must be it.

But dear God, now he is imagining it. Holding Penelope even closer than he already is, being able to feel her touch, smell her scent, hear her voice whisper sweet nothings to his ears, much the same way she has been flirting and praising him all evening.

“I do not get special treatment as a long-time friend?” he asks, once he finds his voice again.

Penelope purses her lips, a slight frown creasing her brow, somehow making Colin feel like he said the wrong words.

Before she can reply, the dance ends, but as she pulls away, Colin keeps her hand in his, a silent demand in his eyes. She must have understood because she does not try to leave again and instead smiles at him with all the sweetness in the world.

The spectacle of the night is then announced — the light show is about to commence shortly. As everyone gathers on the dance floor, Penelope tugs at his hand, motioning towards a corner of the garden with little people to be crowded by. Colin smiles, following her.

“These balls are rather overwhelming,” Penelope says as they settle beneath the flower arches and wait for the show to begin. “I know it is what one must bear to find a match but between the dances and the talks and this need to remain pleasant...”

“You are always pleasant, Pen,” he responds.

“That is kind of you, but we both know that is not true.”

“I do not agree.”

She dares to roll her eyes at him. So perhaps she has a point, he thinks annoyingly as he nudges her side.

“So… It is true that you wish to secure a match in your first season. There is surely no need for such haste,” he says, in what he hopes to be a light tone, though he cannot completely hide his surprise.

“You speak of it with such ease, not everyone can be as… careless about such things as your family,” Penelope sighs. “Though it is surprising to hear such counsel from you. Is it not your intention to marry this season?”

“Well— I am not so sure anymore.”

“What of Miss Thompson?”

In truth, though it may be rude, he has not spared a single thought to Miss Thompson the whole evening ever since conversing with Penelope. But Miss Thompson has many suitors, and he doubts he ever was amongst her favoured ones as they have barely exchanged proper conversations. Surely she would not take offence that Colin may have realised he has been looking the wrong way for the past few weeks.

He is about to share such thoughts when a loud sound shatters through the quietness of the evening — the light show has finally begun.

As explosions of light brighten the night sky, Colin’s eyes fall on the small woman beside him instead when she gasps, full of excitement and awe, their previous conversion seemingly forgotten in favour of admiring the spectacle before them.

“Colin! It’s a magnificent sight, isn’t it?” Penelope whispers in wonder.

He smiles. His gaze traces the delicate shape of her nose, of her smile, notes the freckles on her flushed cheeks and the way her wide crystal blue eyes sparkle with such glee and marvel.

“It is,” Colin responds softly as resolve settles into his heart. “It truly is.”

(He is quite disappointed, again, when Penelope simply thanks him for the dance and the moment shared together only to return to Remington’s side as soon as Colin lets go of her hand.)

(He manages to steal one more dance, and nothing more, for he could feel Anthony’s and Lord Featheringon’s gazes on him afterwards. Colin is not a coward, but he does hold his life dear.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

That night, he dreams the first of many dreams haunted by wild red curls and brilliant blue eyes.

And, perhaps surprisingly enough, it is rather tame.

It is nothing particular, all things considered, it is a familiar setting, even— he and Penelope on the edges of a garden party, as the sun begins to set. She is delicately holding a glass of champagne, the liquid sparkling under the twinkling light, but most importantly, there is a ring on her finger— one adorned with a familiar bee.

The sight makes his breath catch in his throat yet it feels all too… natural. Penelope stands next to him, no dance card at her wrist waiting to be signed, wearing his family’s symbol on her.

Then she turns, head tilted with a smile as if waiting for him. And so Colin, uncaring of the eyes of the other guests at the party, leans down and places a chaste kiss on her lips.

His heart thrums when she teasingly licks his lower lip before pulling away. She puts her glass down on the table and then takes his hand, leading him towards the dance floor where the rest of the guests become a blur in his eyes, only able to look at his… friend? Lover? Wife?

Wife.

They dance, to their hearts’ content, with no rehearsed steps, not even a melody to accompany them. Penelope is laughing in his arms, eyes bright and lips carved into a careless smile. They dance, and they spin, and they laugh.

An idyllic night that turns into a quiet morning.

Colin wakes to the first rays of sun peaking through his window. Slowly, he comes to himself, noting the emptiness in his arms. He sits up, sighing to himself as he massages his temple.

Penelope’s smile the night before flashes through his mind, a reminiscence of the one he had just dreamed about, waiting for him to kiss her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

A part of him almost would have preferred to wake from a salacious dream he could then excuse for a lack of action on his part for the past few months, because how the hell was he supposed to react to that?

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Hearing Anthony yell becomes a regular occurrence over the next week as he systematically refuses any invitation the family gets, and so despite Daphne’s and their mother’s protests. At the same time, Colin tries to call on Penelope but the Featheringtons are not accepting any callers at the moment, though he knows from hearsay that they have been attending several of the events Anthony declined.

Somehow, the most frustrating part of this current predicament is Benedict avoiding it all, fleeing to someplace unknown to the rest of the family as he leaves Colin to deal with the growing tension in the house.

“Colin,” Eloise calls him that day as he was trying, and failing, to read in his study to clear his head.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Anthony is being annoying and refusing to listen to any of the women in this house. Believe me, I hate to ask you this, but it is either that or I throw a teapot his way and Mrs Wilson would not like that.”

Colin groans.

“It is not like he listens to me either, you know,” he says even as he stands up. “Why he is so determined to marry our sister off to a questionable man is beyond me.”

“Do not ask me, you know what I think of this whole circus in the first place,” Eloise huffs. “I am off to the market with Penelope, good luck!”

“Wait!” The sound of Penelope’s name has him all alert. “You… have seen Pen, this past week?”

Eloise sends him a bemused look. “Of course, like usual at the market.”

“It is just— I tried calling on her, but they were not accepting any caller. And she has not been here for tea for a while…”

His sister shrugs. “She didn't tell me anything about that, and she has refused any invention to focus on this whole… marriage mart thing. Frankly, she avoids any talk about courtship with me, she knows how uninterested I am in all this.”

Colin frowns, wanting to berate his sister for such… selfish behaviour, but he holds back the reprimand. It is not the time to fight with another sibling, and if Penelope would rather not confide in Eloise for the Bridgerton girl’s comfort, he supposes that is her choice.

“Alright. Please let her know I hope she's well and I wish to speak with her soon.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow with scrutinising eyes, but ultimately she only nods before she walks away. Sighing to himself, Colin now makes his way towards the drawing room, from which he can already hear Anthony’s loud voice arguing, and to his surprise, he hears his name mixed in there just as he reaches the doors.

“They’ve danced a couple of times at a ball, Colin has done the same with Penelope Featherington! It does not signify—”

“Actually, it does,” Colin interrupts. Daphne and their mother startle at his sudden appearance. “I want to court Penelope, hence why I have danced with her multiple times,” he clarifies when Anthony stares at him. “Is this about Simon again?”

“This does not concern you, Colin.”

“It is a family matter, of course it concerns me! You have been causing distress for the whole family, even Eloise had to ask for my help!” Colin argues, emboldened when Daphne swiftly makes her way towards him, grabbing his arm for support even as she stands in front of him, glaring at their eldest brother. “Is it such a ludicrous idea that your friend has been charmed by our sister?”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “You and I know Simon is not… suitable. I only aim to protect Daphne.”

“I can protect myself, thank you very much,” Daphne huffs and Colin catches her subtly shaking her right fist. “If the Duke is not suitable, why would Lord Berbooke be?!”

“Brother, what does that man have on you?” Colin asks.

Anthony stiffens, face becoming redder by the second. It seems like he hit a nerve.

“How dare you question my decisions! Basset cannot pursue Daphne, and that is final.”

“Anthony—” their mother tries to interject, but Anthony simply walks away without meeting any of their eyes.

A heavy silence settles in the room before their mother collapses onto the couch with an undignified groan.

“Colin,” she calls as she beckons him and Daphne closer, “I need a distraction for a moment. You said you intend to court Penelope?”

“I—” He did say that, didn’t he? In truth, he was partially motivated by the desire to prove Anthony wrong, though it has allowed him to come to terms with a decision his heart has taken, his mind was still understanding it. “Yes.”

A pause. Daphne is smiling, even as she questions, “Are you sure?” And he swears he hears her mutter “That was fast” under her breath, whatever that is supposed to mean.

He nods, suddenly feeling sheepish when faced with the pure delight on his mother’s and sister’s faces.

(They did not react as such when he shared his desire to court Miss Thompson. Only Benedict seemed supportive.)

“This is not about me, though,” he says after clearing his throat. “Anthony will come around, eventually. If the Duke is truly sincere about this courtship.”

Daphne takes a step back from him, crossing her arms with an offended look in her eyes. “You doubt it as well?”

“He does have a reputation just like our brother, they are friends for a reason,” Colin argues. “However, he has never outwardly courted someone before, has he? That must count for something.”

A strange look crosses his sister’s face, a hint of sadness and doubt that she tries to hide by suddenly looking downward, not meeting his eyes. Colin frowns. “Daphne—”

“Excuse me,” she cuts him off, fleeing the room.

His mother sighs. “This season is turning out to be more complicated than I expected,” she laments, grabbing Colin’s hand. “Promise me you will treat our sweet Penelope right, so I do not have to worry about you as well.”

Colin chuckles, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I promise, Mother.”

His mother has always treated Penelope like family — he supposed he would only make it more official as if that was his destined path all along.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

When the Featheringtons allow callers again, Colin’s first visit goes… incredibly embarrassingly. In truth, his heart led his actions and before he could think, he found himself on his knees, presenting the bouquet, composed of Penelope’s favourite flowers, to the lady in question who was already entertaining a caller — Remington, of course.

Frustration had taken over him at the sight of the man, peeved that he had arrived before him, but unable to truly express such sentiment without outright provoking him into a duel. Which, even in his jealousy-induced state, he knew would be quite an excessive reaction.

So he fell back into familiar grounds — he simply wanted to give his friend a pleasant gift, for he had never done so before, even in his many visits this season, surprisingly enough, and he wanted to slap his past self for such an oversight. Even so, he could see the relief on Penelope’s face at his words and something dimmed a little within his soul.

As he sits by Miss Thompson’s side, trying in vain to entertain a pleasant conversation, his eyes remain on Penelope and Remington as they discuss some more before they make their way towards the garden, Penelope’s maid following diligently. He swears Remington looks back at him, even if only for a split second, an amused and challenging smile on his lips.

Colin stands up abruptly, catching Lady Featherington’s attention.

“Is Lord Featherington here? I must speak with him.”

She narrows her eyes, shifting them between him and Miss Thompson. “He is indeed, in his study. You may attempt to get an audience with him.”

He nods and promptly leaves the room, dismissing a valet offering to show him the way. Colin knows this house well enough to not need a guide, after all, so he climbs upstairs with much eagerness.

He is not quite sure what drives him in that instant. With the failure this visit has been, he could simply walk across the square and be home instead, but the atmosphere there has not been any better lately, a permanent air of gloom surrounding his family. Here— well, there is an austere air in the Featherington household as well, though the garish colours of the decoration can almost be distracting enough. Colin would rather not think of the fact that, at the present moment, Penelope’s house offers a much-needed and better respite in his life than his own home.

To his surprise, he finds the door of Lord Featherington’s study open and when he peeks inside, he sees the man standing by his window with a pensive look in his eyes. Colin knocks.

“Ah, Mr Bridgerton,” the baron says, neither delighted nor displeased, just quiet indifference. “Come in.”

Colin joins his side, gaze falling on the view of the garden the window offers. From here, they can easily see Penelope and Remington conversing in the garden.

“Did you have a request, young man?” Lord Featherington asks though he is not looking at him.

“An inquiry, rather. You have been refusing callers for the past week or so, I was simply curious as to why today was different.”

The older man mumbles something Colin does not catch before he clears his throat and answers, “It seems my daughter has found quite the fervent and insistent suitor.”

There is something else there, Colin can tell, but it will not be with this man that he will get answers, he knows that.

“You seem displeased, sir,” he says instead.

Lord Featherington frowns, finally tearing his eyes away from the window to look at him.

“Who are you here for, kid?”

I’m not a kid. He swallows the petulant protest back. “Penelope.”

Something flashes in the man’s eyes — apprehension. Colin is quite confused.

“Two suitors, then.”

The baron offers him a drink but the conversation ends there.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

That evening, he joins Anthony and Simon at Will Mondrich's bar, which turns out to be quite the mistake as the two men keep using him as a messenger as if they are not all sat around a small table and they can easily hear each other, even if they just whispered. Colin had agreed to come to distract himself after such an afternoon, wherein he was unable to find a moment to speak with Penelope again. It turns out that the distraction is far more annoying, in the end.

So eventually, Colin slams his hands on the table as he stands, claims he will fetch more drinks, and promptly flees.

At least it was his original plan. His feet abruptly stop as he hears a voice that is now becoming irritatingly familiar.

“Bridgerton!” Remington calls, settled near the bar and not far from the entrance. How did Colin not notice him before?

“Remington,” he responds, with much less enthusiasm he does not try to hide.

“Quite a spectacle you made this afternoon. Are you in the habit of falling to your knees and calling ladies by a bastardization of their name?”

“Speak louder, won’t you, make the whole world know,” Colin mocks. “Is this a game to you, Remington? A way to be the subject of the gossip you so cherish?”

Remington’s amused smile does not falter. In fact, it sharpens as he offers him a glass. Colin takes it, only out of habit, not as a friendly gesture.

“Do not insult Miss Penelope with such accusations, Bridgerton,” Remington says. Colin can feel his eyes twitch at hearing her name on his lips. “Why would it become a cause of gossip? I found a captivating lady I may be interested in courting, which is the most mundane thing to do. It is the first time I partake in the marriage mart, that is true, but it is the same for you, is it not?”

Colin looks away as he takes a sip, unable to contradict the other man.

“I am no threat… am I?”

There is amusement and challenge in Remington’s eyes, revelling in this… rivalry, Colin supposes.

“It depends. Are you playing with her heart, Remington?”

The young lord snorts, though there is a hint of disbelief and sadness in his eyes, suddenly. “If anything, Bridgerton, she may be the one playing with mine. You would not think when seeing her shy demeanour, but she is quite the flirt.”

Truth be told, Colin has discovered this only recently as well.

“I can assure you, Penelope is the most careful with one’s heart. As you must be as well.”

Remington raises an eyebrow.

“I called on her once, no need to behave as if I was a proposal away.”

“Lord Featherington seemed… convinced otherwise.”

“Lord Featherington is an odd man who owes me a favour, and he seems to hold Miss Penelope in higher affection than his other daughters, he is simply paranoid.”

Colin narrows his eyes at this new information. Lord Featherington’s reputation at money games is no secret within the gentlemen of the Ton, perhaps one of the reasons so many avoid the Featherington ladies in the first place — Colin cannot imagine why else no one has asked Penelope for a dance before, after all.

“You partake in gambling, Remington?”

The other man snorts. “Spare the judgment, my friend, I am not the exception here. Not everyone can be safe like you with the money in your name, some of us need to take… a little risk.”

“Huh,” is all Colin offers. He finishes his drink and slams it on the bar. “Thanks for the drink.”

Then he promptly leaves.

Remington watches him go with narrowed eyes. He swirls the liquid in his glass while humming an indistinct tune.

“She’s playing with his heart as well, and he does not seem to realise,” he muses.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

When Colin finds Penelope again the next day at the Trowbridge Ball, he is determined to make his intentions known.

Only for Penelope to pull her dancing card away from his grasp as if he were a disease. The utter look of confusion with a hint of anger in her eyes makes him falter, his heart dropping to his feet.

Does the idea of him courting her displeases her this much?

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What are you doing?” Colin counters, trying to keep his voice levelled. “I simply wished to secure a dance with you.”

Penelope narrows her eyes. “... Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Well, there is no notion of securing a spot on my card, as it has remained empty, and you know this. I hear Miss Thompson has yet to leave the dance floor, however.”

Colin holds back a groan at the mention of her cousin. He made the mistake once of mentioning her and now Penelope seems convinced Miss Thompson is the only lady he wishes to speak to. She does not seem to realise she is a lady herself in his eyes. “I have already spoken with Miss Thompson, all her dances have been claimed indeed,” he lies. He has not spoken to the young woman at all, he immediately tried to find Penelope.

Yet, silence persists, and his hand remains empty meanwhile Penelope keeps her card close to her chest, as if shielding it from the menace he represents. He sighs then clears his throat.

If he cannot be her suitor… he can be her friend, at least.

“So… you and Lord Remington?” he asks, internally wincing at his failed attempt to sound casual.

Penelope perks up, eyes lighting with interest. He hates the sight. “What about him and I?”

“Are you considering him a proper prospect? He’s… young…”

Penelope blinks, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Colin, he’s your age.”

Colin gapes before quickly snapping his mouth shut. He did forget about that.

“... My point still stands, somewhat.” He crosses his arms, perhaps a bit defensively at the reminder of how similar his and Remington’s situations may be. Young, perhaps a bit naive, and eyes set on the oblivious redhead before him. “He may not be as serious as you about courtship.”

You are damn lying here, his conscience berates him. If anything, his discussion with Remington showed the exact opposite — how seriously the man was contemplating this courtship, and how taken by Penelope he is after only two encounters.

But… the ugly part of himself cannot allow that, cannot accept that the interest truly is mutual, because where did that leave him?

What a selfish thought.

“Colin, thank you for looking out for me, but you do not need to,” Penelope says, voice gone soft with longing. He suddenly feels quite bad.

“Pen that is not…” He pauses. “You love to dance,” he finds himself saying.

She narrows her eyes at the sudden statement. “Careful before you utter a rude remark.”

“What? Oh! No, I did not mean in regards to his… oh this came out wrong,” Colin stumbles on his words, cheeks turning red in shame. “Simply, you love to dance, and I know you and Lord Remington have… started… uh, a courtship.” He struggles to get that last word out as if saying it out loud makes it all too real. Her friend found an interested suitor and soon— “But you do not need to deny dances for his sake. You are not a claimed woman. Should you not entertain other suitors?”

Me, for one.

She stares at him for a moment, mumbling something he does not catch, but he can see conflict in her crystal blues. Then her gaze travels to the dancefloor for a brief moment before it falls on him again. There is determination then, a quiet resignation.

Hope, that treacherous feeling, rises within him.

“Would you do me a favour?” she asks, eventually.

He smiles. “Of course.”

“Miss Thompson seems rather eager for a rescue.”

“Oh.” The statement makes him take a step back, frowning as he looks for the lady in question. He has to admit, she looks rather… displeased to be in the arms of an old duke. “Indeed she does,” he says, though he is not quite sure why Penelope has changed the topic of their conversation so abruptly.

“You’re so cute,” Penelope says, unprompted, as she starts nudging him towards the dance floor even though the dance has barely started. “Now go.”

Colin’s heart skips a beat. Cute? “Pen what did you just say—”

But she ignores his question and pushes him towards Miss Thompson with a force he did not know her capable of. He stumbles on his way, too confused by Penelope’s behaviour. It is a miracle he manages to find his way towards Miss Thompson without bumping into anyone.

“Your Grace, you seem fatigued, allow me—”

The old man barely protests, in fact, he looks relieved as he immediately lets go of Miss Thompson to make his way towards the drinks. Colin blinks at the ease of the interaction, momentarily stunned, before he feels Miss Thompson grab his hand, effortlessly picking up the dance.

“Thank you, Mr Bridgerton,” Miss Thompson says, her shoulders relaxed as she offers him a relieved smile.

“Of course, Miss Thompson. No gentleman shall leave a lady in such distress, after all. And between you and I, the old duke seemed ready to collapse in the middle of the dance floor so perhaps he was the one in need of a rescue.”

She laughs, a bit too loudly, far louder and more exaggerated than she has ever done before during any of their other conversations. Miss Thompson has always treated him with passive interest, surely counting him among her many suitors. Unremarkable, but kind.

There is a sharp glint in her eyes now as she looks at him with interest and he gulps, hoping his nerves do not transpire on his face. Once upon a time, it is all he would have wished for — the interest of one of the incomparables of the season. Yet, now the idea fills him with dread.

Miss Thompson’s hands feel wrong, her steps too rigid, her smile a simple polite display.

Faintly, he can hear the other dancing pairs around them murmur, their gazes on him. Colin has no care for it, truly, but as he keeps craning his neck to look around the ballroom, he is unable to find Penelope among the crowd anymore.

He can always find her. Always. He must have left shortly after she pushed him to “rescue” her cousin. Colin can feel his movements slow as disappointment surrounds his heart. The evening has only just begun and Penelope is already gone.

He supposes she truly does not wish to entertain other suitors if Lord Remington is not there.

As the dance ends, he bows to Miss Thompson but before he can leave she clears his throat, presenting her dance card to him. One last vacant spot is available — for the waltz.

A gentleman never denies a lady a dance.

He keeps disagreeing with his inner self, lately.

“I apologise, Miss Thompson, but I must go. It was a pleasure to dance with you.”

He does not give a proper reason for his abrupt denial before he flees the dance floor, dodges his mother who tries to grab his arm when he passes her and rushes outside, perhaps in the hope that Penelope has not left, and simply needs some air. But there is no one in the garden, and when he makes his way to the entrance instead, he notices that one of the Featherington carriages is gone.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

“I thought you were courting Penelope, why is the Ton only talking about you causing a scandal to claim Miss Thompson’s hand?” Daphne asks him the next day when they find themselves alone in the drawing room for once, though it sounds more like a reproach than a question.

“Believe it or not, Penelope was the one to tell me to do that.”

His sister gives him an unimpressed look. In these moments, you would almost forget who between them is the older sibling.

“And you just listened, I suppose.”

“Do you want us to discuss your idiotic plan of fake courting Simon only to end up having feelings for him?”

Daphne gasps, slapping a hand on his mouth. “Not so loud that Mother or Anthony hears!”

His only response to that is a silent eye roll. Eventually, she pulls away with a sigh.

“Mother is very confused,” she says. “And perhaps a little disappointed as well.”

Colin’s shoulders slump. “She is not the only one.”

His sister gives him a pitying look this time as she reaches forward and lands a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I have something to confess.” He frowns, listening. “Penelope asked me for advice regarding this whole courtship thing. And I may have told her she should practise flirting with you. Or Benedict.”

“Benedict?!”

“Is that truly what you wish to give attention to?”

Colin, petulantly, pouts before shaking his head. “If I understand correctly, what you are saying is that… Penelope… does not have any interest in me, I was only, what? A test subject?”

Daphne looks confused. “Of course not, you are still her friend, which is why I told her to do this with someone she’s comfortable with already. I did not think it would unsettle you! Colin, half of the ladies of the Ton keep flirting with you and you just charm them back with a few words or a wink.”

“Yes, but they’re not Pen.”

“And what does that mean?”

Colin frowns. His sister is right, what does that even mean? Why is the thought of Penelope flirting with him as mere practice such a disappointing thought to him when all the other debutantes have done the same? It is the essence of the marriage mart, a constant dance of flirtation until the right match is found.

“Truth be told, Colin, I did not expect this to confuse you. Having seen how you and Penelope behave, even before debuting in society, you two constantly exchange compliments, though I am aware you were not intentionally flirting. How is it different now? Why is Penelope different?”

Daphne smiles gently, an encouraging and reassuring sight. Colin wonders when his younger sister has matured this much in just a few months.

He ponders over her words. It is true, he reckons, that his and Penelope’s friendship has always been one based on honesty and trust. Colin has never been shy to praise Penelope’s kindness, wit and cleverness and, in turn, Penelope has always made sure to let him know that she finds his equal kindness, charm and passions inspiring. The compliments never touched on their physical appearances, though, now that he thinks about it, even though of course he has always found Penelope pretty — though the word pales compared to the way he sees her.

It was a simple truth of the world, one not needed to be spoken out loud, such as the sky is blue, Mayfair is suffocating; Penelope Featherington is mesmerising.

But now they are both out in society — by all means, they are on their way to adulthood. Every word, every action has now a different meaning, a different intention. Penelope wishes to marry, hastily, Colin still thinks. He is aware he can go on for years, continuing this perpetual dance of flirtation with the ladies of the Ton, but Penelope cannot. Ladies only have a limited time before they are deemed undesirable.

Which is a ludicrous and cruel outcome, Colin still thinks, but a reality nonetheless.

And the thought of Penelope’s words meaning nothing to him because her eyes are already set on someone else, on Remington, it ignites a fire in him that was nonexistent when faced with the many other suitors of Miss Thompson.

It is so blatant, now that he sits and thinks about it. His confusion at Penelope’s flirting, his hurt as she smiles at someone else, his fear at the thought of her leaving his life forever to marry another gentleman.

A part of him believed it to simply be his duty — Penelope had shown interest, and naturally, he thought that courting her was the natural next step.

And it was! He simply did not grasp exactly why. Nor why Penelope’s confusion and constant rejection at his every attempt to court her hurt him so deeply.

What a fool he has been. His body acted before he could reflect and think. He knew, deep within, but for some reason, it is only now that he understands.

“I love her,” he breathes out. And it is beautiful in its simplicity. Another truth of the world that he did not need to voice out loud before. The sea is blue, the world is wide; Colin Bridgerton is in love with Penelope Featherington.

Daphne lets out a disbelieved laugh, but it is not mocking. She brings him in a hug and Colin gladly melts into her arms.

“We Bridgertons truly are slow, are we not?” she says, but her voice trembles a little. Colin rubs her back in a soothing motion.

“Mother would say we simply feel before we think. I still do not think it is a compliment.”

His sister chuckles.

“Do not give up on Penelope, she thinks the world of you, but you need to tell her what you feel because, in her eyes, your behaviour did not change.”

He hums. “And you need to talk to Simon. The way he looks at you, dear sister, is one of a besotted man that no pretence can replicate.”

She hums as well, burying her face in his shoulder.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The next few weeks are frustrating. Whenever he visits the Featherington house to call on Penelope, despite how many times he corrects Briarly, the man keeps announcing him for Miss Thompson, and the latter refuses to leave his side. Yet he has explicitly told her he wished to end their courtship. Every time, with no exception, Remington is already present, keeping Penelope’s attention all to himself, and thus despite his many attempts to interrupt without outright seeming like he wishes to battle the other man on the spot.

Colin loathes to admit Penelope looks happy next to him, but he still cannot help that little seed of hope in his soul as he notices that her smile does not quite reach her eyes either, not the way it does when he makes her laugh. It is perhaps an egotistical thought, but hope is known to render someone helpless and perhaps careless as well.

The one solace in his life, at the very least, is Daphne and Simon finding their way to each other eventually, though perhaps not in the happy outcome he had hoped for.

Because he sure did not expect to have to escort Daphne at the break of dawn towards a duelling ground to stop Anthony and Simon from killing each other.

As a result, Colin’s opinion of Simon changes drastically as well, suddenly not so certain if he was the right match for his sister if he would rather die than marry her after, it seems, compromising her.

(It does not mean he agrees with the way Anthony has been handling this whole thing, however.)

A few days later, as Daphne hands him a handwritten invitation to the engagement party for the Featheringtons, he asks, “Do you wish to talk about it properly?”

“Why are men so insufferably stubborn?” she mumbles in response, which might as well mean no.

“Right.”

So it is with a slightly sour mind that he walks into the Featherington drawing room, unsurprised by now to see Remington there as he hands the invitation as well as his gift to Penelope.

(He annoyed Eloise until she shared what book Penelope had not read yet. His sister answered quickly when he promised to get her one of her feminist pamphlets too she cannot easily get at the market. Fortunately, it was one he had already acquired during the summer, as he searched for books to entertain him during the tour he was originally planning on taking.)

“I heard the wedding is only a week from now, that is rather quick, was your sister not just being courted by the prince?” Lord Remington asks after Colin gives Penelope a copy of Sense and Sensibility.

Colin was hoping to just behave as if he did not exist.

“The Duke has simply come to his senses and secured my sister’s hand before anyone else could,” he responds, glancing again at Penelope, who is admiring the cover of the book before his eyes meet Remington’s in a silent challenge. “I do apologise that you cannot be of attendance, my friend.”

“I will pretend that your words are sincere.” The other gentleman chuckles. “Well, if you are to monopolise Miss Penelope’s time tomorrow, my lady, shall we leave for a promenade this afternoon? The weather has not been quite this nice in a while, after all.”

Colin does not listen to the conversation afterwards, he gets distracted staring at Penelope and the way her fingers curl delicately around the book before she brings it against her chest affectionately as she partakes in the discussion. Pride fills his heart at how carefully she handles the gift.

The petty side of him, again, thinks of the flowers Remington keeps bringing and the way Penelope has kept none of the bouquets for her bed-chamber; instead, they become an addition to the drawing room which appears less personal.

Now that he thinks about it, he has not seen the lilies and lavenders he first brought weeks ago around the house — has she… kept them in her most private haven? Or perhaps she threw them away, but Colin would rather not consider that possibility.

He promptly takes his leave afterwards, giving a poor excuse for it, then spends the rest of his day in a sort of haze, unsure of what to do within the tense atmosphere of the house.

Daphne still refused to talk, Eloise was locked in her room all day, Francesca played sombre tunes on the piano of the drawing room, Gregory and Hyacinth were uncharacteristically calm, their mother was tiredly guiding their staff in the preparations for the party, Benedict had, once again, fled the house for the night and Anthony…

Colin finds him late at night, smoking in the garden, not far from their childhood swings. Anthony seldom smokes, he usually resorts to alcohol or sex for a distraction, but for whatever reason, neither option seems available to him at the moment. Colin himself is not sure what led him there.

“Are you still upset Daphne and I prevented you from killing or being killed by your best friend?” Colin asks when all his brother does when he notices his presence is scoff.

Anthony sneers. “I am upset you put Daphne in danger.”

“She was already hurting, if one of you had wound up dead…”

He trails off, letting the silence speak for itself. Anthony groans, letting go of his cig to crush it beneath his shoe.

“Basset… would rather die than marry Daphne.”

Colin winces. “Granted, not the biggest point in his favour. However, the way he looks at her…”

“Is the same as the way you look at Penelope Featherington, yes I know.” Colin blinks, surprised. “What? I have eyes. Though I have no idea why you let people believe you are courting her cousin.”

“I am not! I have not danced once with Miss Thompson again and at every ball, I remain by Penelope’s side!”

“Mm. Forces are working against you, brother, and I am not one of them this time at least.” Anthony snorts. “Lady Featherington and Miss Thompson have been boasting about the courtship, it confused Lord Featherington and I,” he shares next and Colin is floored for a moment that his brother has apparently talked to the Baron on Colin’s behalf.

The viscount leans against the wall and lifts his head to wistfully gaze upon the night sky. Colin wonders what has gotten him this pensive.

“It seems this is all a big misunderstanding,” Colin says, eventually.

His brother hums. “I was at White’s, earlier. You better hurry, brother, for Remington was rather inebriated and priding himself on securing Penelope’s hand.” Anthony sends him a strange and unfamiliar look, one filled with vulnerability and worry. “Do not make the same mistake as my idiotic friend.”

“Will you provoke me into a duel?” Colin cannot help but jest, uncomfortable by the sudden seriousness of the conversation.

But Anthony does not laugh. “Love is such a pain,” he declares, glaring at the ground.

With that, he walks away.

Colin is left staring at the burned cig now hidden within the grass. He is not looking forward to the next day.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The party is a small gathering, as per, well, the request of everyone involved, in which he is hoping to speak with Penelope and distract himself from the mess that his family is in.

Unfortunately, as soon as she arrives, Eloise is leading her away from everyone else to talk and Colin finds himself stuck between Lady Featherington and Miss Thompson, listening to the eldest Featherington daughter's horrendous singing to Francesca’s playing. He can feel the rest of his family try to keep a polite facade, though some — notably Anthony and Simon — are openly glaring at Daphne who was the one who insisted on inviting the other family, after all.

Daphne simply ignores them, fanning herself with an indulgent smile. Colin figures that, in some way, this must be some sort of revenge for the hassle they all put her through this season.

Once free from that performance, Colin goes to look for Penelope only to get cornered once more by his friend’s mother. And, in truth, he usually would have simply found an excuse to escape but then she said, “Tell me, Mr Bridgerton, when are you planning to propose to Miss Thompson?”

The question stuns him to the point he halts any movement to stare at the woman in disbelief. “What made you think I had the intention to?”

Lady Featherington frowns, eyes flashing dangerously. “It is rather rude to keep a lady waiting. Did you not ask permission from Lord Featherington over a month ago?” she asks, with a faux kind of innocence dripping from her tongue.

Colin blinks. “Do you even speak with your husband?” The question leaves his lips before he can talk himself out of it due to the rudeness of such a statement.

Her eyes narrow. “I would advise you to refrain from uttering such… insults in the future, Mr Bridgerton.”

A part of him is aware that antagonising the mother of the woman he wishes to marry is most likely an ill decision on his part but he could not care less at the moment. “It seems I am right anyhow. Lord Featherington is aware of who I wish to marry.”

“And does Penelope know?” she says, challenging, and thus proving that she has indeed been aware of his true intentions. Colin did have suspicions that the reason the entire staff in that house seemed determined to keep him away from Penelope had to do with the matriarch of the family, and now they are justified.

He just does not understand why. There is a story there, a desperation from Lady Featherington and Miss Thompson, but at the same time, he doesn't care anymore.

“My daughter’s courtship with Lord Remington is going rather swimmingly, as surprising as it seems, and I would rather you not ruin this for her,” Lady Featherington says.

Colin scoffs. “Fortunately, it is not you who shall decide what Penelope wants.” Then, rather rudely once more because he is too exhausted to care, he spins on his heels and leaves, needing a moment of respite. On his way, a maid informs him that Eloise has retired early to her chambers, which makes Colin hopeful that if he turns a corner, he might finally find Penelope waiting for him.

But, because fate has decided to play with his sanity, it is Miss Thompson that he finds by the staircase. He tries to leave before she notices him, with no such luck.

“Mr Bridgerton!” she calls and the loudness of her voice in the emptiness of the room makes Colin all too aware of what a dangerous situation is presented before him. There are no servants around, all busy either in the kitchen or in the drawing room. “May we speak, in private?” she asks next, pointing towards Anthony’s study, its door open and waiting.

She does not wait for an answer though, as she grabs his forearm and promptly drags him to the room.

“Miss Thompson—” he protests, but before he can blink he is inside his brother’s study, with the lady facing him with a small yet hesitant smile. There is an odd determination yet dread stiffening her posture. He sighs. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“It is not so much talk, I suppose…” she says, and she takes a step forward without much prompting, tilting her head up.

Colin takes quite a leap back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, or rather demands, there is no inquiry in his tone. He knows perfectly what was about to occur though he requires confirmation that he is not having a nightmare.

“I was hoping for a kiss,” Miss Thompson answers frankly, now frowning.

Colin takes another few steps back, making himself dizzy at the way he shakes his head as if trying to shake off the very idea.

“You are a lady, and I am a gentleman. I cannot take liberties of the sort with you.”

She scoffs. “You agreed to an unchaperoned moment with a lady, you believe that to be gentlemanly?”

“It did not feel like a choice in the first place when you dragged me here,” Colin responds in kind, sounding just as exasperated as her. He wonders suddenly what is the plan here, when Miss Thompson looks, by all intents, as if she despised him, her mask of politeness now gone. She is not hurt by the rejection, but rather disappointed and frustrated. “I have told you long ago that I wish to end our courting.”

“But you kept calling on me. Lady Featherington said— I thought you simply needed a little push.”

“I have not?” Colin says, confused. He sighs once more. So this has truly been a conscious choice to mislead his every visit. “I was visiting Penelope.”

“Penelope!?”

He gives her a bemused look at her genuine surprise. Miss Thompson is not shallow nor dumb, that much he knows with the way she appraises her suitors. Surely, she would have noticed that during his every visit, Colin has been trying to grab some of Penelope’s attention, rather than spend time with her.

It was rather rude of him and he felt slightly guilty about it, but now he sees he has no reason to. There is no affection in her eyes, but contempt… And despair?

“Miss Thompson—” Knocks on the door interrupt him, causing his heart to sink. Please no—

“You are being rather loud, if you wished to have a private moment,” a lovingly familiar voice says as Penelope walks in, head tilted and feigning innocence but there is a sharpness to her eyes nonetheless.

Colin smiles, letting out a sigh of relief before he stiffens once more as he remembers the current situation.“Pen!” he exclaims as her gaze flits between him and her cousin. “It is not— I assure you nothing—”

He stops when Miss Thompson suddenly huffs, shouldering him on her way out. At once, he feels all his frustration and anger dissipate as he stumbles a few steps back so that he can lean against the desk. As he closes his eyes and rubs his forehead, he faintly hears the door closing shut, and assumes Penelope has simply left as well — so it is a surprise when he hears soft footsteps approaching and his beloved friend’s voice says:

“It is lucky I was the one who found you, and not your brother.”

She says it lightly, probably hoping to ease some of the tension still lingering in his body. He lets out a derisive laugh. “I know. How much did you…?”

“I heard the mention of a kiss.”

Colin stiffens. Oh Lord, what must she think of me now? And then he tenses further for a whole new reason as Penelope reaches forward, a hand on his right arm, in what he is certain she means to be a friendly and reassuring gesture but all Colin can think about is the warmth emanating from her touch and the way his heart is bursting at the seams.

“I know nothing happened, Colin, you are a gentleman, a kind and considerate one,” she says, tilting her head as she leans closer, trying to catch his eyes.

Is she trying to kill him?

“Pen…” he says warningly as their eyes meet for a brief moment before she straightens up.

“In fact, if you wish I can speak with Marina, surely something—” Colin is decidedly not listening. Her lips bear a lighter shade of pink today. “Colin?”

Instead of a response, his hand reaches for her chin, tilting it forward so their eyes may meet. He feels Penelope’s breath hitch at the movement. A part of him, though much quieter than it was with Miss Thompson, is wholly aware he should stop, and let her go. But he cannot.

Faintly, he recalls that this is the second time that his pretence of being a gentleman falls away when Penelope is involved.

“I heard…” Colin starts, voice barely above a whisper. But then his eyes catch on Penelope’s right hand, still resting on his arm, her grip loose. “You are not wearing a ring.”

Penelope frowns, hand twitching before she brings it between their faces, partially hiding behind it. “Indeed, I am not. I doubt I ever will.”

It is Colin’s turn to frown at her derisive tone. “Pen, do not say that.”

“You are sweet, Colin, but the reality is as such — Lord Remington has asked me to wait another year, but he may change his mind, or I may not be able to be here next season anyhow.”

“Why would you not be?” he asks, though he has his suspicions…

“Colin, I have learned I have no dowry.” He gasps, he hopes quietly, though the tired look she gives him tells him he was not successful at that. “My parents are very much trying to hide it, but no sane gentleman shall wish for the third daughter of a Baron with not even a dowry to evaluate her status.”

Colin feels an anger, foreign and intense, light within his heart at her self-deprecating words. Before he can even think, he is holding her face with both hands, gaze piercing into her.

“You are wrong,” he announces, fervently.

She blinks, lips parted in shock. “... About?”

“So many things. Everything you have just said.” He leans closer, eyes never leaving hers. “You have been driving me insane, Pen.”

“I— I apologise?”

“All the flirting, the compliments, and sweet smiles… but then you turn around and entertain another, leaving me to gather dirt in your devastating garden.”

The words flow out of his mouth before he can comprehend them himself. How could Penelope speak so poorly of herself, after all?

“Colin, you are not making any sense.”

“Remington is besotted, enchanted. How can you even think for one second he would not propose even without a dowry when he was oh-so bragging about it at the gentleman’s club last night?” He scoffs and tries to ignore the reproaching voice in his head reminding him that he did not, in fact, witness such a scene and that what Anthony described to him was far tamer than the spectacle he is narrating. “How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake?”

“Do not mock me!”

She is upset, perhaps rightfully so, with the way he is holding her close, refusing to let her slip away once more. Yet, Colin’s mind is distracted, eyes falling once more on her lips, twisted in would-be scorn if she were not so adorable in her indignation.

The question leaves his lips in a whisper, but it may feel like he is shouting it into the dead silence between them, “May I kiss you?”

Penelope’s eyes widen at his abrupt request, and a part of him almost takes the words back — lucidity hits him at once as he remembers them being alone, remembers that Penelope is a gentle-bred lady, that such intimate acts shall only be shared between a married man and woman. If a choice she was to make, it was quite obvious to him that she would not choose him. She has been turning her head away from his affection. And it kills him but it would kill him further to compromise her, to ruin her happiness, even if it is with another. He does not wish her to settle for him, to be her second choice. But he is a selfish, selfish man and—

His thoughts halt as she nods. It would almost go unnoticed, a small movement of her head but her eyes are shining with— he does not dare to hope, but they shine a brilliant blue in front of him, and she takes a small step forward, bringing them even closer together.

So Colin Bridgerton leans in and kisses Penelope Featherington.

And he has no idea what he is doing.

But Penelope sighs against his mouth, body relaxing under her touch and he feels warm, he feels right, as he cradles her preciously, tentatively moving his lips against hers. Every brush, every caress, brightens something deep within his soul, all of his fears vanishing away in this one singular moment of perfect harmony between them.

Or… almost perfect. Colin cannot help but smile a little as Penelope’s lips try to follow his guide, but the movements are too hesitant and shy to truly be perceptible.

“Pen,” Colin whispers as he pulls away. “A kiss is for two people,” he teases.

“I–! I am trying my best.” She is pouting. Colin’s heart melts, smiling fondly.

“Do you trust me?”

She nods eagerly. “Of course— oh!”

Without waiting for further response, Colin wraps his arms around her waist, spinning them around and then lifting her on the desk. She blinks prettily at him before a wide smile graces her lips upon realising they are now on equal feet, allowing her to deftly wind her arms around his neck as he captures her lips again.

That’s his clever girl. His.

She hums pleasantly against him, meeting his enthusiasm in kind, and he feels her fingers carefully thread through his hair before they brush over the exposed skin of his nape, bringing in goosebumps in their wake. He groans, hands sliding from her waist, brushing her breast, fighting the temptation to feel them, afraid it would be too much, too overwhelming for the both of them, so he quickly reaches for her face again instead.

This is all so new to him — there was always some curiosity, of course, but never a desire to act on them. He was set on differentiating himself from his brothers, on denying brothels for only his wife would have his body, his heart, his soul. Only Penelope can have all of him.

And despite the passion and the heat he can feel building inside, he is aware Penelope is a gentle-bred lady. If he is lost, she may be stranded at sea. One step at a time, together.

He cannot mess this up.

His thumb gently caresses her left cheek, revelling in the softness of her skin before it travels to her lower lip, pulling at it before he tentatively licks inside her mouth, claiming it as his own. He feels her shudder beneath his touch as she lets out a moan, openly and eagerly, a heavenly sound to his ears and he hisses when her grip on his hair tightens. He falters, heart skipping a beat at the mix of pain and yet pleasure that shoots right through him at the action, and even more so when Penelope wraps her legs around him, bringing him closer as they continue kissing. One of his hands settles on the wooden desk so he may not fall to his knees, as Penelope seems to grow in confidence, alternating between presses of their lips and tentative licks.

They should stop, he reckons, before he properly loses his last bits of sanity, before he gets careless — or well, more careless. But Penelope is intoxicatingly sweet, and warm, and everything he has dreamed about and—

“Colin! Are you in there?” a sudden voice calls from outside the room.

They pull apart abruptly. Benedict.

As panic grips him and renders him motionless, Penelope, on the other hand, promptly jumps off the desk and hides beneath it just as the door opens.

Colin barely has the time to readjust his waistcoat.

“There you are!” Benedict says, relief written all over his face. “And you look a mess, have you taken out Anthony’s secret stash of alcohol in here?”

Well, Colin did not even know that was an option. “Wh— no, I just needed a moment,” Colin manages to reply with a somewhat steady voice. “Bracing myself to announce the end of my ‘courtship’ at our sister’s engagement party, like the insensitive brother I am, it seems.”

Scepticism shapes the amused smile on his brother’s lips. “Uh, alright…? Have you seen Penelope? I had asked her to search for you here or at the library, but I could not find her there.”

Ah, this explains why Penelope even ended up here, then.

“No. Perhaps one of our sisters kidnapped her. I heard Eloise retired to her chambers early.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Benedict sounds entirely unconvinced. “Well, Mother is asking about you, we better get back to the party.”

“Right, yes of course.”

Trying not to look back, Colin follows his brother out, and as soon as the door closes behind them, Benedict chuckles.

“I know she was in there, brother. You are still flushed.” Colin is pretty certain his face becomes redder then. “I did not wish to embarrass her, though, the poor girl.”

“I did not—” he splutters.

“I will not tell Anthony, don’t worry, or anyone for that matter.” Benedict pats his shoulder. “But please, once you get engaged, I do not want to go through another tense party such as this one.”

Colin breathes in. “I promise that will not happen.”

“Good. You also will not need to announce anything, for Miss Thompson loudly declared the end of your courtship and promptly left. It will surely reach the rest of Mayfair by the morning.”

Colin groans. “Ben, I’m so tired.”

Benedict ruefully grins. “Love and adulthood suit you.”

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The days that follow make Colin wonder if ruin would be worth it if he could steal Penelope in the night so they may elope, away from London’s frustratingly convoluted ways.

“Son, I know you are eager to claim Penelope’s hand, but in society’s eyes you were just courting her cousin and it could mean ruin for our families. A quick engagement would look rather suspicious, and after what happened with Daphne…” his mother had warily warned him and he had to reluctantly agree.

Even so, the frustration remains. He is partially relieved by the fact he now knows Remington does not intend to propose, that he wishes to wait another year, but Colin would rather not take the chance— another gentleman may finally open his eyes, the season is not quite over yet, after all, and perhaps Penelope only saw their… moment as one fleeting passion, and it aches that he cannot see her and assure her otherwise.

(, Anthony, after hearing Colin say he was ready to elope one evening out of frustration, made sure he could not get his hands on any quill or paper. Perhaps Colin was predictable. Sending a letter to Penelope would be perhaps more inappropriate at the moment than if he called on her.)

So, when a week passes, and he is allowed to join the family at a garden party, Colin is thrilled. Only to be completely blindsided when, as soon as they arrive, a swarm of debutantes flock to his side, with placating and reassuring words regarding his courtship ending so abruptly.

It takes everything in him to not simply push past them, the way he knows his brothers would have no issue doing. But he remains a gentleman.

When it matters anyhow.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees her, however. Reminiscent of a certain dream he once had, she stands on the side, observing the party but conversing pleasantly with the man next to her every once in a while— in this case, Remington. This time, as he watches them, and even as Remington suddenly reaches for Penelope’s hand, resolve settles in his heart, rather than dread.

Oh, the other gentleman is as besotted as they come, Colin still thinks, despite his carefree attitude, there is an edge to his smile, to his eyes as he looks at Penelope, and cradles her hand ever so gently. It is a feeling one Colin is much too familiar with, as if he could not believe that such a clever and witty woman deigned to spare him a moment of her time and attention. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and in Remington’s eyes, he sees empathy and support, oddly enough.

But then, he says something that has Penelope nodding before they both make their way further into the garden, away from the main crowd. Colin bites his lips, that anxiety returning suddenly.

“Ladies.” Anthony suddenly appears by his side. “It is quite unfair that my brother here keeps all of your attention, spare some for us poor fellows!” he laments, which has Colin stare at him with wide eyes.

“Good day!” Benedict joins in, bowing with a charming smile. “I concur, I would also delight in vibrant discussions with you.”

At once, the debutantes surrounding him shift their attention to his older brothers and Colin blinks, partly offended, partly relieved. Anthony, for a brief moment, catches his eyes and subtly points towards where Penelope and Remington had disappeared with a tilt of his head.

Colin smiles, mouths ‘thank you’, fully aware of how unpleasant Anthony and Benedict find this whole flirting and teasing dance, and then basically runs.

It is not difficult to find the pair again, towards the edges of the garden.

But the sight surprises him nonetheless, for they are dancing. Uncaring of the world that surrounds them, uncaring of the few eyes on them, Penelope effortlessly twirls around Remington and the gentleman meets her enthusiasm in kind, spinning her when she stands at the bottom of the few sets of stairs and then tilting his wheelchair as much as he could to match the gentle sway of her steps when she faces him at eye-level.

Colin breathes out. They look… happy. He loathes to admit it, truly, they make quite the pair.

But… He licks his lips, recalling the way Penelope had melted into his arms as if waiting for that moment all her life, and he lets his selfish desires win. He will not pretend to be a better option than Remington, however, he can, and he will prove his worth.

Grabbing a glass of fresh lemonade from a passing servant, he makes his way towards the pair just as it seems their improvised dance is ending. Swiftly, he slides to Penelope’s side, and she gratefully grabs the glass without even a second glance.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, a little out of breath, and taking an immediate sip.

“You’re welcome. That was quite the dance.”

He sees her stiffen and almost choke on the drink.

“Bridgerton!” Remington greets him with a friendly smile. This time, Colin gives him a small smile in return. “Wasn’t it? Penelope is an excellent dancer, despite having me as a partner.”

“James!” Penelope exclaims, and Colin frowns at the familiarity. “Do not speak of yourself as such, this was one of the best dances I ever had.”

Colin gasps softly, a hand on his chest. “Oh. Shall I take offence, Pen?”

“Do not start too,” she huffs. “You kept stepping on my feet during our first lessons.”

“Now, those did not count, we were children!” But he cannot help but smile at the fact she remembers.

“So you are very old friends, are you not?” Remington remarks with a hum.

“Indeed,” Colin says, then he grabs Penelope’s free hand before he can second-guess his actions, kissing its back. “And hopefully we will continue to be for many years, yes?”

“Certainly, I will let you visit when we marry,” Remington says, rather smugly.

“I do not see a ring attesting to such a promise…” Colin muses, inspecting Penelope’s ring-less hand. “Nor was Lady Featherington boasting about it.”

“I have not asked the patriarch's permission yet indeed, although I have the lady’s agreement, which is the most important part, is it not?”

Colin tries not to falter. That, Penelope did not tell him, and when he looks at her, she is sheepishly looking away.

“And yet you wish to wait for next season. For monetary reasons, I hear.”

Remington’s easy smile drops, narrowing his eyes at Penelope. “How— Ah, you told him, didn’t you?”

“I do not like secrets,” Penelope mumbles. “It is not like I will be getting another proposal before the season ends anyhow. Papa would deny it.”

Mm. Then he shall see Lord Featherington right away.

“We will see about that,” he says, rather cryptically.

Screw waiting.

“Colin?” Penelope’s voice sounds small, hopeful, even.

He grins, throwing a challenging look at the other gentleman before he winks at Penelope. He explains nothing and simply leaves after giving Penelope’s hand another kiss.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

He wastes no time and imposes himself into Penelope's father's study later that same day.

All things considered, Lord Featherington gives him his blessing with surprising ease — though Colin still had to almost beg. But the sun is still shining brightly outside, so he gathers it remains a rapid negotiation. Unlike Remington, the man did not owe Colin a favour, and he could not use that as leverage, though he would loathe to resort to such things to secure Penelope’s hand as if she were a mere object.

It turns out, someone did use his favour after all.

“Remington.”

“Bridgerton,” the other man greets, where he is waiting by the Featherington gates. “I assume your meeting with Lord Featherington went as you hoped?”

A pause. He knows Penelope and the rest of the Featherington women, plus Miss Thompson, are out promenading, therefore Remington has no reason to be here. Unless…

“You asked for another favour he owed you,” Colin states, narrowing his eyes. “To help me. Why?”

Remington shrugs. “So you can owe me a favour and allow me to visit once you and Penelope wed.”

Colin huffs out a smile. “And now the real answer?”

“That is my real answer!” the other gentleman insists. “Consider it… a kind gesture for a friend. So technically, you are not the one I am helping.”

Colin ponders over that. “Why give up?” He has no idea why that is his first inquiry — after all, should he not be relieved, thrilled even? Instead, somehow, he feels offended on Penelope’s behalf that her suitor concedes victory, so to speak, so willingly.

“I am not giving up, simply accepting things as they are.” Remington smiles. “Penelope chose you long ago, before this season, from what I gathered, and though I can see myself falling for her deeper, I knew the same could not be said about her, and it would be unfair of me to expect it.”

“I… am not certain what to say,” Colin admits when faced with such a confession. Apologise? Thank him? Both options seem rather insensitive.

Remington laughs. “I neither need your pity nor your gratefulness. Just… we both want her happiness. That is all that matters.”

He nods. “Indeed.”

“I must leave, I have business to attend to outside London, and I fear that will keep me away for the rest of the season,” Remington says next but he is not looking at him anymore, gaze on his carriage and a tinge of sadness laced in his voice. “I do still expect an invite for the wedding.”

“Then you shall have it.”

Remington hums as he is already instructing his valet to turn him around so they may leave. “Thank you. Goodbye, Colin.”

A smile tugs at his lips at the peace offering, and friendly parting, with the use of his name. “See you around, James. Thank you.”

(The next day, he learns Miss Thompson has accepted the proposal of a surprised suitor from outside of London. Colin tries not to seem too excited when Anthony tells him this — for this means he could soon see Penelope again without everyone fearing a scandal.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A week passes. Colin sends gifts every single day until it is acceptable for him to visit the Featheringtons and call on Penelope again. And, incredible timing as it is, Daphne tasks him to deliver the invitation for her ball to the Featherington himself, so it is what he must do.

Anthony also almost runs away with an opera singer during that time. He tells Penelope as much.

“What!” she exclaims, but her eyes are twinkling with pure entertainment.

“Benedict was panicking.” Which is an understatement. First the duel, and now the near-elopement, the second eldest of the family was on the verge of a nervous breakdown himself. “Mother thankfully does not know… yet. And I am hoping to bring some news that might distract her. Anthony will owe me.”

Penelope laughs. “It seems you had your own eventful week. But why did he think you would try to tempt scandal?”

Colin clears his throat. “I may have hinted, jokingly, of course, er, perhaps not, that I wished to elope. With you.”

The atmosphere shifts. He almost regrets the fact that they are, in all essence, alone at the moment. The constant hovering of Lady Featherington would be distracting, at least, and would prevent him from confessing such things.

“Colin…” Penelope whispers.

“Penelope,” he says, in a much similar tone, breathless and in disbelief. He takes her hands in his, leaning in. “I must apologise for my blindness. And for taking such… liberties with you.”

Her lips curl into a small, satisfied smile. Colin finds himself stricken at the sight. “I was very much consenting, to be fair. We can bribe my maid to look away if you wish,” she teases.

“Pen!”

She laughs. “Sorry… sorry. Go on?”

For some reason, the sound reminds him of the garden party, as he watched her laugh so carelessly when dancing with Remington and the words fly out of his mouth, once again, before he can stop them. “Do not marry him.”

Penelope frowns, visibly taken aback. Her lips form an indignant pout. His gaze drops to them. “Try again.”

“Wh—”

“Colin, try again,” she commands and a shiver runs down his spine.

“I was not done actually.”

“You stopped talking!”

“I— got distracted.” He shakes his head and goes down on one knee, hands never letting go of hers. “Penelope Featherington. Penelope. My Pen.”

She raises an eyebrow and bites her lower lip to stop herself from smiling too widely. “That is my name, indeed.”

“And are you…?”

“Am I what?”

“Mine.” He lets the word slip from his mouth in a breath.

“You still have not asked the question.”

Oh, his stubborn, insufferable but adorable Penelope.

“My Pen, my dearest friend, and perhaps something more if you allow us to be. It seems there has been a misunderstanding, for I thought I had made my intentions clear. Every time I came here after the Vauxhall ball, it was you I was hoping to see. It was you I was wishing to court, and I— I believed you knew. And you preferred Remington anyhow, so I sat by Miss Thompson, waiting for an opportunity to speak. One Remington didn’t leave me.”

“Briarly kept announcing you for Marina…”

“And he is lucky I am a gentleman or I do not know what I would do considering his mistake made all of this more complicated than it needed to be!” For emphasis, he glares at the closed door, behind which the footman should be standing. “You could have been mine… weeks ago.”

“Would I be?” she inquires.

He tenses at her tone — does she… not wish for this? Fortunately, his doubts are quickly squandered as Penelope tugs at his hands, leaning closer.

“Colin. My friend, my life, my love, please ask me properly?”

Penelope's eyes shine, hope, relief, and adoration swirling in their blue depths, as vivid and boundless as a clear summer sky. Colin could stare at them for hours on end.

“Penelope Featherington, I do not remember a world where you weren’t by my side. From childhood to now, I had a pocket of sunshine by my side. And perhaps I took you for granted, I thought you would always be there, even if our paths may stray. But as I saw you with another, and I felt dissatisfied with the path I had willingly walked on at the beginning of the season, I realised how foolish I had been. It is incredible, how a mere compliment and smile from you pierced through the infatuation I had found myself in. Oh, it is you, of course, it is you. And I can only hope you feel even a slither of what I feel for you, for I know you may simply see me as a friend you felt comfortable enough to… practice, as Daphne put it.”

He marks a pause then, collecting his thoughts, and his courage.

“I love you,” Colin continues, an easy smile on his lips. “I wish to see the world with you, so we may spend our past, present, and future together. Penelope Featherington, if a husband is what you seek, then let me be yours. Will you marry me?” Another short pause as he chuckles. “I also already asked your father until he could not take no for an answer, but that is less romantic.”

She laughs, loudly and carefree. Colin’s heart soars at the sound. Like pieces falling into place — he must now go forth with life, with his only goal to make Penelope laugh for the rest of their lives.

“Colin Bridgerton,” she breathes out, a hand reaching for his face. He leans into it. “I have loved you from the moment we met. Yes, I will marry you.”

Colin gasps. “From the moment—”

“We can discuss that later,” she cuts him off, an adorable flush to her cheeks. She who had no issue talking about their inappropriate behaviour just a moment before. “Would you kiss me?” she asks.

And Colin will, rather gladly.

(He does not get to, Lady Featherington and her two other daughters suddenly appear. This woman will continue to test his patience for the rest of his life.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

As rain starts falling on the Hastings Ball, and Lady Danbury ushers everyone away to give the Duke and Duchess their moment, Colin finds himself grabbing Penelope’s hand amidst the hurried crowd and pulling her into an isolated room instead.

“Mr Bridgerton! How inappropriate!” she teases even as she easily meets his open arms, and accepts the kiss he presses to her lips.

“We are to be married next week, Miss Featherington,” he breathes into her mouth. “This hardly makes any difference.”

Penelope chuckles, small hands framing his face as she pulls away. “I thought you to be a gentleman, my love, but the rakish glint in your eyes says otherwise…”

“Only for you, Pen,” he assures, bringing her body closer to his, a hand sprayed across her lower back, twitching to go even lower. “Actually, I never…”

He does not complete his sentence, he does not need to, really, Penelope already knows. Under that innocent gaze, he now knows her to be more aware of… the acts of debauchery many gentlemen of the Ton attend to, of what brothels are and what some pairs do when in a secluded area. She hears people talk, she says, because no one is ever truly quiet nor discreet during balls, it is like an open secret, everyone is aware, yet no one acknowledges it.

“I just… wanted to hold you, for a moment, nothing else,” he confesses, sighing softly as she tilts her head up, allowing their foreheads to rest together despite their height difference.

“I am not going anywhere, Colin.” One of her hands slides to his neck and a shiver shakes his body as he feels the cold metal of her engagement ring against his skin. “You are stuck with me.”

“I am blessed with you,” he corrects, delighting in the slight flush that settles on her freckled cheeks. “You know… my parents married when they were our age. And they had been friends for years as well.”

Penelope hums, tilting her head. “I am aware. Are you insinuating you wish to have as many children?”

She means it in jest, he is fully aware, but he is stricken for a moment at the image of adorable red-head children running around their house and only Penelope lightly slapping his arm snaps him out of it.

“I was not serious!” she exclaims. “I love your family but I would rather have less chaos in our home.”

“Our home,” he repeats dreamily, distracted once more. He truly is unable to focus on anything when Penelope is in his arms, is he?

“We have time to think about all that, don’t we?” Penelope muses as she suddenly turns around, her back pressed to his chest as she guides his arms around her. She rests her head on his shoulder with a pensive sigh. “I mean, as a third son and daughter, there ought to be some advantages.”

He hums. It is true, isn’t it? Neither of them has the pressure of keeping a title to their name. He has two older brothers, whose children will always be the first in line to inherit the viscountcy. Penelope has two older sisters, one of which on her way to be married next season. If an heir is needed, it would not be Penelope who would be expected to give one to the world.

Free from such constrictions, they can choose to pursue their married life as they please.

“I think… I think I wish to travel first,” he shares, tightening his hold around her and burying his face in her hair. “It will be good to get away from Mayfair for a little while.”

Penelope nods. “Where would you go first?”

“I hear Greece is the perfect place for a honeymoon. We can visit Aphrodite’s temple, and renew our vows there.”

She laughs. God, he truly loves that sound. “We are not even married yet!”

“And so? My point still stands.”

She fondly shakes her head, letting all her weight fall against him. Carefully, he does the same, and they find themselves sitting on the floor, curled up around each other.

The rain is still falling outside, a soft rhythm against the window. Colin surmises most of the guests must have left already, hoping to reach their homes before the gentle pour turns into a storm. Their families may be looking for them as well, but Colin is not so sure, in any case, he cannot hear any commotion outside of the room, or voices calling their names.

It is as if they are in their own little world, for now.

“I would like that,” Penelope says eventually. She is absent-mindedly running her fingers up and down his arm. “Anywhere with you is where I belong.”

Colin leans down, kissing the crown of her hair then pulling her ever so closer. “I love you. I cannot wait for the many adventures awaiting us.”

Because they have known each other for half of their lives, growing and changing in an ever-stifling London atmosphere. Now, the rest of the world, as well as their lives, is open to them.

And Colin shall embrace such a future with both his arms.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #polin #polin fic #colin x penelope #my fics

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