Chapter Text
A mere week after their mating, Colin and Penelope were married beneath the blooming arches of the Aubrey Hall gardens. The ceremony was quiet and intimate, much to Lady Bridgerton’s gentle distress.
“I had always imagined a grand affair for Penelope,” she sighed dramatically, lace handkerchief in hand. “She’s long been a daughter of mine—and daughters deserve the best.”
Penelope had only smiled, her heart already too full to ask for anything more.
Now, two years later, the Bridgertons had returned once again to Aubrey Hall—though the family was larger by four small feet.
Colin and Penelope’s twins, Jane Louise and Thomas Anthony, would be two in a matter of months. And already, they were unmistakably Bridgerton in spirit and mischief.
Jane, ever composed and observant, possessed her mother’s quiet stillness. Thomas, on the other hand, was an untamed whirlwind of energy—an combination of Colin’s charm, Benedict’s wanderlust, and Gregory’s boundless chaos.
Since arriving, Thomas had managed to escape his nursemaid’s watchful eye more than once, discovered beneath dining tables, behind the drawing room drapes, and most notably in the kitchens, precariously reaching for a jar of lemon biscuits.
“A true son of Colin Bridgerton,” Daphne had laughed.
Now, as a golden afternoon unfolded in the gardens, the children of Simon and Daphne played among the flowerbeds, tumbling and giggling with Jane and Thomas. Their parents lounged nearby, sipping lemonade and sharing fond smiles. Even Anthony, recently wed to Kate, had joined them—his stern expression softened by the sight of little Hyacinth attempting to braid Thomas’s curls.
Penelope sat beside Colin on a quilt, her skirts tucked around her, one hand resting on his knee. The laughter of children, the rustle of summer leaves, the warmth of family—it was the sort of moment she used to dream of from the shadows.
Now it was hers.
“Isn’t this a beautiful scene to look at every day?” she whispered, eyes on the tangle of their children. “Such a happy scene.”
Colin caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Being with you and our children makes me happy every day.”
“Charmer,” she murmured, lips twitching.
“Your charmer,” he returned, smug.
“Oh, do stop,” Eloise groaned from across the blanket. “Some of us are still unmated and unmarried.”
“We could always search for your mate, El,” Penelope offered teasingly.
“No, thank you,” Eloise replied firmly, crossing her arms. “I’m certain I haven’t one. I can feel it. I shall remain a spinster and one day lead the movement for omega’s rights.”
Penelope opened her mouth to reply—but was cut off by the sudden appearance of the butler at the edge of the garden path.
“A Mr. Philip Crane to see Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton,” he announced.
Colin’s brows rose. “Crane? What—?”
“Shush,” Penelope said, rising swiftly. “Sir Philip only wishes to extend his congratulations—for our wedding, and for the children. You know I forgave Marina long ago.” She turned to the butler with a nod. “Please, show him in.”
As Philip Crane stepped into the sunlight, Penelope moved forward with a warm smile.
“Jane, Thomas,” she called, “say hello to Uncle Philip.”
The twins squealed and ran toward her, hiding behind her skirts but peeking shyly at the tall, broad-shouldered man now approaching.
But as Philip neared, something shifted.
The change was subtle—yet unmistakable to an omega’s senses. Penelope straightened, the hairs at the nape of her neck rising. A scent—familiar, but altered—bloomed in the air.
And then she saw it.
Eloise, still seated on the blanket, had gone utterly still. Her wide eyes were fixed on Philip.
And Philip—mid-step—looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, his gaze locked on her.
Penelope’s breath caught.
She had known the signs. She had felt them herself.
“El…” she whispered, voice barely audible. “Mates.”