Chapter Text

Whisper

17th June 1813

The gate creaked open with a whine as Colin entered the east garden of the Featherington estate a few minutes before his requested meeting time. There was no way for him to know if Penelope had received his letter, or if she had whether she would grant him an audience. But finding the gate unlocked seemed a promising sign.

It was strange to be back in this garden again when only a month prior he'd explained marital relations to Penelope in this very spot. A soft flush creeped up his cheeks at the memory. If she chose to meet with him tonight they would engage in another challenging conversation, although for very different reasons than the last.

The whisper of fabric rustling behind him caught his ear, and Colin turned around to see Penelope padding softly across the grass. He stood from the stone bench at her approach and gave her a polite bow in greeting. Normally he would be too distracted by her appearance (pale pink dressing gown fluttering in the breeze, matching pink satin slippers that brought to mind images of ballerinas, and long flaming curls brushed out into soft, silken waves) to be able to focus on much else, but the furious expression on her face disarmed him. It was rare enough to see Penelope in an agitated state, but Colin had never once been on the receiving end of such a withering glare from her. Despite his anxiety, he managed to choke out some semblance of a greeting.

"Pen, you came."

"What is it you want, Colin?"

He flinched at the aggressive tone in her usually soft-spoken voice. "Um…how are you?"

"You tell me. It appears you know significantly more about my life than I do, so why don't you tell me how I am, Colin." The way she said his name was like a physical blow to his abdomen. There was so much contempt and bitterness there. It was agonizing.

"Penelope, please listen to me. I will explain, but I need to know precisely what you overheard."

"I overheard everything!" she shouted, far too loudly for a clandestine meeting.

Colin was certain she hadn't heard everything, for if she had, she would understand without his need for explanation. If she heard everything, she would have heard Lord Thompson state, rather plainly, that Colin was in love with Penelope, and surely she'd demand to know if such a declaration was true. Hazarding his best guess, Colin suspected that the noise he'd been alerted to outside the library door was in fact Penelope's arrival. If his intuition was correct, then all she had heard was the plan he and Lord Thompson had discussed, but not the reason for needing a plan in the first place; hence her ire.

"I heard you and Martin deciding my future without me present. I heard you talking about a secret you both kept from me. I heard you plan to ruin my reputation by breaking our engagement and causing a scandal!"

"Pen, no! It is not you who will be ruined—"

"No, it will just be my father, the head of our household, and you honestly believe that none of his shame will fall upon his wife and daughters?"

"I…"

"How could you do this to me, Colin? I thought we were friends!"

"We are friends! Penelope, I know it's difficult to understand, but I'm doing this for you."

"For me? That's not difficult to understand. It's impossible."

"Pen, please sit down and let me explain. I'll answer all your questions to the best of my ability, and afterward, if you wish for me to hold my tongue so that you may continue forward with your engagement, I shall step aside." Colin's stomach churned miserably at the thought.

She continued to glare at him, but agreed to listen and sat down on the stone bench. Colin sat beside her while he tried to arrange his thoughts and sort out where to begin his tale.

"A fortnight ago, I went to White's with Anthony, and much like you, I unexpectedly overheard a conversation I was not meant to hear between your father and Lord Thompson's father. They spoke of an arrangement between them to satisfy a debt your father owed. A secret was mentioned that your father agreed to keep in exchange for considering the debt paid in full. I could not make head nor tail of what kind of arrangement they'd agreed upon, but when I learned of the secret in question everything else became clear."

"And what, pray tell, was this shocking revelation that compelled you to ruin my betrothal?" Penelope asked with a sneer.

"It is not my place, nor my secret to reveal—"

Penelope opened her mouth to continue scolding him, but he didn't give her the chance.

"However, it is crucial that you should know it in order to understand the rest of this convoluted mess."

She snapped her mouth shut and waited. Colin sighed and ran a hand through his hair before continuing. He figured the best way to deal with this was to approach it with her as Benedict had with him, by emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

"Pen, I received permission from the secret-keeper in question to share this with you, despite his fear of what you might do with the information. I assured him that no matter how hurt or betrayed you may feel, that you would not use this knowledge to harm him. This secret is a matter of life and death. I understand that it affects you a great deal, but please promise me that my trust in you was not misplaced—that you will keep this between us, and only us."

For the first time that evening, Penelope looked surprised rather than enraged. She paused to consider his words carefully and then nodded. "I promise."

"Very well. The secret I learned…the secret Lord Thompson kept from you, is that he is a molly."

Penelope's eyes grew wide, and she let out a gasp even as her hand came up to cover her mouth.

"Your engagement was the arrangement I'd overheard your fathers discussing that night. The Earl of Clifton would forgive your father's debt if one of his daughters married his son. This would ensure an heir, and that the Clifton title would endure."

"I thought…I thought he loved me," Penelope muttered as tears began to form in her eyes. Colin's heart ached seeing the pain he'd caused her.

"I think he did, in his own way, but not in the way you deserve to be loved, Pen."

"P-perhaps I d-do not deserve to be l-loved at all," she choked out as she began to sob, her shoulders shaking.

His heart was no longer merely aching. It had broken clean in half at her words. Colin instinctively reached out for her and pulled her into his embrace. It took everything within his power to hold back his own tears. Now was not the time. "Oh, my darling Penelope. Of course you deserve to be loved, and one day the right man will present himself to you and you shall find your happiness. I am certain of it. My intention was never to hurt you or cause you harm. I only meant to free you, to allow you a choice in your own future because I believe you deserve that. I am so sorry, Penelope. I am so sorry to have caused you pain."

There was a part of Colin that wanted to tell her everything then—to confess how deeply he loved her, how he'd loved her since the moment they first met, that he wanted to court her and marry her, and spend the rest of his life with her. But he knew he couldn't share his feelings tonight. She'd already endured an overwhelming amount of emotional turmoil, and he would not add to it. One day, hopefully one day soon, he'd have the opportunity to profess his feelings when she was in a better position to accept them. Mere moments after learning of her fiancé's deceit would not be proper.

Penelope continued to weep while he held her in his arms for several long minutes. Eventually she sniffled and wiped away the last of her tears.

"It is I who should be sorry, Colin. I should have known you had my best interests at heart. You are a dear friend and you've always looked after me. You've earned my trust a hundred times over, and I apologize for not giving you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps we can forgive each other and move on to what is going to happen next."

Reluctantly, Colin released his hold on her and nodded in agreement. "Did you hear of the plan I made with Lord Thompson?"

"I did. I wish there were another way that didn't place scandal upon my family, but I see no alternative."

"Do you really think that you, your mother, and sisters will be quite affected? I had hoped most of the blame would fall upon your father."

"Oh, Colin. I know you are three years my senior, but sometimes you can be quite naïve. Women are always the ones who bear the burden of the mistakes of men. Of course we will be affected by this scandal; however, I do not believe the repercussions will be so severe that they cannot be overcome with time and fresher gossip."

"I am sorry, Pen. I wish I could spare you from further harm."

"There's nothing to be done, I'm afraid, but we shall survive. And will it be you who spreads the word?"

"Yes, I'll inform a few select members of our staff who are trustworthy with only the information I wish for them to know, and arrange to have them start the rumor."

"Very well." Penelope looked positively crestfallen, and Colin's broken heart throbbed painfully in his chest. While he was thrilled that her engagement would soon be broken, he was incapable of seeing Penelope unhappy without also being unhappy himself.

"Pen?"

"Yes?"

"Lord T—Martin wishes to speak with you. To explain."

"Yes. I heard as much."

"I hope you'll grant him an audience. Despite all that has happened, he is a good man."

Penelope lifted her watery eyes to stare into Colin's. "You're defending him?"

How the devil did he get in this position? Colin ran a hand through his hair. "Not precisely, no, but he is a man with limited options, an abusive father, and no possibility of any future happiness with someone he truly loves. I…well, I pity the man, that is all. Don't you?"

"I suppose so. Though I must admit that most of my pity is reserved for myself at the moment."

"That's understandable, but now you shall have the opportunity to find a true love match. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

Penelope let out a sigh. "Yes. I suppose it is, though I wonder how this will affect my prospects."

"I wouldn't worry yourself. Daphne had a broken engagement, and she had the attentions of a prince, though she and the Duke of Hastings are now engaged."

"What!?" Penelope exclaimed, shocked at the news that had yet to reach the rest of the ton.

"Right, I'd forgotten. It only happened last night, but they are seeking a special license and are to be wed on Saturday. I'm sure it will appear in Lady Whistledown's Friday column. That woman must have eyes and ears everywhere with how quickly she seems to gather the gossip before anyone else."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps she is just conveniently placed and conveniently overlooked by society."

Colin gave Penelope a look of deepest curiosity. "Penelope, do you know who Lady Whistledown is?"

Penelope laughed a bit too loudly. "Of course not! I don't believe a soul knows who she is unless she wishes them to."

"Right…" Colin said skeptically before changing the topic. "Are you sure you will be well, Pen?"

"I will," she said with a sigh. A sad smile rose to her face as she turned her attention back to Colin. "It's humorous, isn't it? All those years we wrote back and forth of scandal; I never expected to find myself at the center of one."

"It's not your fault."

"I know it isn't, but it changes nothing."

"Of course," Colin said, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry."

"Please stop apologizing. I am grateful to you for caring about me enough to ensure my own autonomy. It is a courtesy not commonly afforded to the young ladies of the ton. We are merely pawns in a long and very complicated game of chess. The queen, our mothers, and apparently even our fathers take turns moving us about the board until we've met our match and are removed from the competition."

Penelope turned toward him and smiled affectionately. "You've acted as my white knight, Colin. You removed Martin's piece before he could take me, and have given me the opportunity to possibly make a few moves of my own. Despite your knighthood, you've never once treated me like a pawn. Thank you for your kindness, and if it's not too much trouble I'd like to ask for one more kindness from you before you take your leave."

Colin felt as tall and distinguished as the impressive dome of St. Paul's Cathedral. This was the most direct compliment of his character that Penelope had ever paid him, and he was savoring the feeling coursing through his body even more than he savored Mrs. Clarke's delicious biscuits. Pride was not an emotion that Colin was particularly familiar with, but it was something he could become accustomed to if it felt as wonderful as this.

"Of course, Pen, anything," he promised.

"Will you wait until after Daphne's wedding to start the rumor? I wish to attend her wedding breakfast to offer my congratulations, but my family will not be allowed at social events for some time after this news reaches the ton."

Colin frowned at that. Not at postponing the end of their betrothal, but at knowing he would not be allowed the pleasure of her company for an indeterminate amount of time.

"Of course. I am certain Daphne would want you there, so I shall wait."

"Thank you. It is quite late. I should make my way to my bedchamber and get some rest, as should you."

They rose from the bench and stared at each other, unsure of what to say to end such an emotionally tumultuous evening.

"Good night, Colin," Penelope said before turning to walk back toward Featherington House.

"Penelope?" he called after her.

"Yes?"

"After the news breaks and you are confined to your home, would… Um…well, would you be amenable to corresponding with me via letter, like we used to? Only I shall miss your company at all the social events I am forced to endure without it."

The softest blush rose to her cheeks, matching the color of her dressing gown.

"Yes. I should like that very much."

Colin beamed at her before offering her a bow.

"Wonderful. Good night, Pen. I shall see you on Saturday."

"See you then."

18th June 1813

Dearest gentle reader,

It brings me great joy (and great smugness) to announce the upcoming nuptials of one Miss Daphne Bridgerton. While many may have expected the diamond of the season to set her gem into a royal crown by becoming a princess, it comes as no surprise to this author that she will be wearing the more humble tiara of a duchess instead.

I am certain that many members of the ton find the young lady's choice questionable, for why settle for a duke when one could have a prince? The answer is quite simple, dear reader—Love. That rare and remarkable joining of hearts and souls. So many members of our beloved ton have never had the pleasure of witnessing a love match, let alone experiencing one for themselves, but this scribe is rather adept at reading the signals.

The Duke of Hastings and Miss Bridgerton are undoubtedly such a match, for I have watched their love story unfold with my keen eye throughout the course of the season. It is for this reason, and this reason alone, that the couple sought a special license to be wed. Yet whenever a special license is requested, rumors undoubtedly follow close behind.

It is the belief of this author that trust must be earned. I do hope that I have earned your trust throughout the course of this season, for I make it my business to report only the truth in my column. With that in mind, I ask that you trust me when I tell you that the rumors surrounding The Duke of Hastings and Miss Bridgerton's engagement are nothing more than hearsay and blatant falsehoods. If you do not wish to believe me, that is, of course, your prerogative. Be mindful, however, that it is not just some anonymous gossip columnist you are ignoring, but also our queen. Our queen, who granted the couple's special license herself after they appealed to her in person.

Love matches are a rarity, and they should be celebrated, not scrutinized. The happy couple will exchange their vows tomorrow morning in an intimate ceremony at St. Mary's Church, followed by a wedding breakfast at Bridgerton House, and then the newlyweds will depart for Clyvedon Castle and their happily ever after. My heartfelt congratulations to the duke and his new duchess. We look forward to your return to London, perhaps even with news of a babe to add to the Bridgerton family's already outrageous numbers.

Yours truly,
Lady Whistledown

19th June 1813

Daphne's wedding was not the grand affair that Colin knew she had imagined since she was a child. She should have been wed in the finest church in all of Mayfair instead of this small, unassuming chapel. The church should have been bedecked in the finest fabrics and flowers. The Bridgerton staff had done well given the time constraints, but they were only able to get white roses on such short notice. It should have been full of members of the ton witnessing the exchanging of vows, but only their families were in attendance, though Francesca was missing from the Bridgerton's numbers. Poor Simon only had three attendees on his side of the pews: Will and Alice Mondrich and Lady Danbury.

It should have been the happiest day of Daphne's life, and yet… While Colin knew that she loved the duke, and he was convinced Simon loved her in return, he couldn't help but notice that both of them looked rather miserable standing before the altar.

Colin couldn't make head nor tails of their behavior. There was something going on between the two of them that he was not privy to. His curiosity gnawed at him like a dog with a bone, but Daphne was married now. Some things were meant to remain between a husband and a wife. Still, he wanted to let her know that he would always be there for her should she ever need someone to talk to. Which was why he found a few moments before the wedding breakfast began to pull Daphne aside for a more private congratulations.

After he pulled her into the study, he pulled her into an embrace.

"Congratulations, Daph," he whispered, his breath sending one of the ribbons in her hair fluttering behind her.

"Thank you."

Colin knew his worry was written all over his face. "Daphne, are you well? You seem…anxious and not at all the happy, blushing bride you ought to be."

"I am well, I assure you. I think I am simply…overwhelmed by all the duties that await me in Clyvedon. I want to be a good duchess."

"And you will be," he said sincerely. "Daphne, I know you are a Basset now, but you will always be a Bridgerton," Colin lowered his voice to a whisper, "and my favorite sister…" Daphne let out a quiet chuckle. "And I want you to know that I will always be here for you, should you need me."

"The same goes for you, dear brother. I do hate to leave you behind in the midst of your troubles, but if you ever need me, send word and I'll be here as fast as my horse can carry me."

"Thanks, Daph. I shall miss you."

"And I you. I promise I'll be back for a visit before you know it."

Colin snorted. "I sincerely doubt that. I am sure that you and the duke will be much too busy enjoying your honeymoon to even think of us back here in London."

"Whatever do you mean?" Daphne asked.

Oh no. Colin blanched. Explaining sex to Penelope had been bad enough, but explaining it to his sister was…unthinkable. "Mother will explain it to you before you are away, I am certain." Daphne opened her mouth to ask another question, but the study door opened and the woman in question poked her head inside.

"Daphne, darling, guests are beginning to arrive. You must be downstairs to greet them," Violet said.

"Of course," she answered, grabbing her mother's hand and accompanying her out the door.

"Thank God," Colin muttered to himself as he followed the pair to the gathering downstairs.

In Colin's eyes, Penelope was always beautiful, but even he could admit that the gown Portia had forced her into for Daphne's wedding breakfast was rather hideous. And it was clear she felt the same. It was a rare thing for Penelope to feel comfortable, let alone confident wearing the gowns her mother insisted upon, but the few instances when she had a say in her own wardrobe always stood out: her posture was straighter, her chin higher, her smile brighter.

That was not the case today. In her ghastly yellow dress with embroidered pink flowers and matching feather, her shoulders were slumped, her eyes downcast, and her smile nonexistent. As Colin approached, he wondered if it was her ensemble or her situation that had her looking so despondent. In truth it was probably a little of both, but hopefully he'd be able to lift her spirits, as she so often did for him.

"Good afternoon, Pen," he said when he joined her at the edge of the room.

"Good afternoon, Colin."

"Did you have the chance to congratulate Daphne yet?"

"I did, in fact, though it seemed her mind was elsewhere."

Colin frowned. So, Penelope had noticed Daphne's bizarre countenance as well. His curiosity was piqued, but he didn't have time to worry about Daphne at the moment. There was something he needed to speak to Penelope about.

Lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, he asked, "Have you had a chance to speak with Lord Thompson yet?"

"I have not," she said, words clipped. "I had thought he might make an appearance here today, but it seems I am mistaken."

"Please do not be cross with me, but I have corresponded with him since my conversation with you." Penelope’s eyes narrowed in suspicion; her lips pursed in a tight line. "He told me that though he wished to speak with you, he would not inflict his presence upon you unless you first requested it."

"I see."

"Have…um…have you considered his request to speak with you?" Colin asked cautiously.

Penelope let out an aggrieved sigh. "Of course I have considered it! I have simply been too apoplectic with him to grant his request," she said, crossing her arms in indignation. The movement raised her bosom so that her breasts strained against the neckline of her gown.

No. Focus, Colin.

"Penelope…" Colin chastised.

"No! Do not Penelope me, Colin! I am allowed to be upset," she whispered furiously.

It was clear they needed to speak about this, but they could not do so here. There were far too many ears who could overhear, and any one of them could be Lady Whistledown's. Colin gave a quick glance at their surroundings, assuring himself that no one was paying them any attention, before reaching for Penelope's gloved hand and leading her away from the festivities. He pulled her into Anthony's study and closed the door behind them.

Colin had the wildest impulse to shout or do something that would ensure they would be found alone together, thereby giving him the one thing he always wanted, an engagement to Penelope. He shook the thought away. After saving her from one false betrothal, the last thing he wanted was to force her into another one. The whole point of ending her relationship with Lord Thompson was to allow Penelope a choice. He would not allow that choice to be taken away again, and certainly not by him.

"Of course you are allowed to be upset, Pen. You'll hear no arguments from me in that regard. I'm simply imploring you to appeal to your better angels and grant him an audience. The man merely wants to apologize, and you deserve that, do you not agree?"

Penelope had been spending too much time with Eloise, for her eye roll resembled his sister's far too much for his liking. "Of course, I agree! It's just…how can I explain this? Throughout this entire ordeal, I've held no power. None. My father contracted me to a man who could never love me. That man offered me false promises of a happy and secure future. And when you discovered the truth, you took control of the situation from there. Forcing Martin to squirm and wait for my permission is the only control I've had during this whole damned affair!"

Colin gasped. "Penelope!"

Another roll of her eyes. "Oh, please. Do not act so scandalized. I know you have heard far worse."

"I have, but not from a gently bred lady." He should have held his tongue, but he couldn't help himself. "I must admit, I like seeing you so fiery. It rather suits you."

Penelope's cheeks flushed scarlet. "Yes, well..." was all she was able to manage.

Colin approached her cautiously, and when he stood in front of her he reached out to grasp her hands within his own. He ran his thumbs over the ivory satin of her gloves as he spoke. "Pen. I understand your meaning. It is true that you hold the power now, but do you not think that you are punishing the wrong person? It is true that Lord Thompson had more information about your father's duplicity, but he is as much a victim in this scenario as you are."

Her small hands tensed within his own and her nostrils flared, but Colin could see that she was beginning to see reason.

"Your ire is warranted, and it is cruel and unjust that you cannot direct that anger toward the parties who are actually responsible for this mess, but Lord Thompson feels nearly as badly for deceiving you as you felt at being deceived. He wishes to apologize to you before the rumors force him to the countryside. I do hope you will be the kind, warm-hearted, wonderful person that I know you to be, and allow him that opportunity."

Penelope let out a beleaguered sigh and graced him with one last roll of her eyes before her façade collapsed.

"Has anyone ever told you how irritating it is that you are such an accomplished wordsmith?"

Colin chuckled softly. "I can't say they have."

"Well then, I suppose I shall be the first. You and your sensible words are infuriating when I am desperately trying to be unreasonable, Mr. Bridgerton," she countered, removing her hands from his grip.

"My deepest apologies, Miss Featherington," he said with an exaggerated bow.

"Very well, Colin. I shall speak with Martin."

"Thank you, Penelope." She waved off his thanks, still the tiniest bit cross at being thwarted so swiftly. "If you do not object, I can contact him to make the necessary arrangements. Do you suppose you could unlock the gate and meet him in the east garden at half past midnight tonight?"

Penelope couldn't help herself and let out a giggle. Colin was thrilled to hear the sound of her laughter once again. "Of course. That does seem to be where all my clandestine meetings are held. And will you be present as my chaperone?"

"Considering the situation, I hardly think your reputation is at risk, but yes, if you desire my presence, I should be happy to oversee your discussion."

"I would be most appreciative. Thank you."

"Of course, Pen. I would do anything for you."

There was a silence between them as Colin's words hung in the air. Though he'd been incredibly forthright, she still did not understand the depth of his feelings for her. Colin cleared his throat.

"We should return to the party before we are discovered."

"Yes, of course. We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

Colin frowned at her words as he followed her out the door.

Once the wedding cake had been eaten, the guests departed, and the Hastings carriage packed with Daphne's belongings, it was time for the Bridgertons to bid farewell to their sister and daughter.

Colin was a swirl of emotions as he followed his sister out of Bridgerton House. Naturally he was thrilled for her and despite the tension he sensed between her and Simon, he knew that their marriage would be a happy one. Yet he also felt a deep sadness. Daphne was the sibling he was closest to, not just in age, but in likeness as well. They'd shared everything since they were small—toys, attention, secrets, even a wall between their bedchambers. It was difficult to imagine a life lived separately from her.

Gregory and Hyacinth clung to Daphne's sides as they made their way toward her waiting carriage. The two youngest Bridgertons were doing what they did best and bickering about who would be the first to visit their sister in her new home at Clyvedon Castle. This wouldn't do. Colin had to remind his siblings exactly who Daphne's favorite was.

"You two will be staying right here until our dear sister allows us a visit." Colin drew her into a hug and whispered in her ear, "Though your favorite brother should have the privilege of being your first visitor." Daphne giggled and squeezed him harder in response. They remained locked in their embrace, unwilling to let go of each other, until Benedict cleared his throat.

"The duke and I will be happy to host all of you as soon as our home is prepared to receive guests," Daphne promised.

"Are you quite sure?" Benedict asked, "I thought you'd rather enjoy the peace and quiet away from all of us."

"Not at all. I shall miss all of you terribly."

"Even me?" Anthony asked. The eldest Bridgerton looked unsure of what her answer would be, and considering everything that had transpired between the two of them this season, Colin thought he was right to be concerned. But Daphne was as kind as she was beautiful, and she forgave him easily.

"Even you."

After their farewell, Anthony made his way over to his friend and new brother-in-law to speak before they departed, while Daphne approached Eloise. Colin heard Daphne promise her younger sister her old bedchamber and groaned. While he was happy the two of them had reconciled, he rather thought that Eloise's gift was a cruel punishment for him. Daphne and Eloise were opposites in nearly every way. Where Daphne was quiet, mindful, and demure, Eloise was loud, impulsive, and brazen. Colin didn't relish the idea of sharing a wall with her.

The last Bridgerton to say goodbye was their mother, drawing Daphne in for an embrace and words of assurance. Daphne took one last look back at Bridgerton House with its red brick walls, white marble columns, and cascading purple wisteria before climbing into the carriage with her new husband.

As Colin stood with the rest of his family watching the carriage depart, he could not help the solitary tear that escaped as he watched them turn the corner toward their future.

20th June 1813

Colin stood in the darkened shadow of a towering oak tree near the gate of the Featherington gardens. Unable to remain still, he tapped his foot in nervous anticipation while he awaited Lord Thompson's arrival. There was no way of knowing how this meeting would go. Despite agreeing to this gathering, he knew Penelope was still cross with both Lord Thompson and himself. That was understandable, of course, but Colin wasn't sure if he was capable of playing the peacemaker between the love of his life and the man who'd nearly stolen her from him. He was a good and decent man, but even he had his limits.

Lord Thompson approached quietly from the north, on foot, as they'd discussed. Arriving in front of Featherington House at this late hour in a carriage or on horseback would have been too noisy and drawn unwanted attention. Thankfully Thompson House was only a short walk away and at this time of night there were very few people around to spot him. Besides, a man walking alone at night would not be considered out of the ordinary, as so many gentlemen returned to their homes at such an hour after a night of frivolity. There was no reason for anyone to suspect him of anything indecorous.

Colin stepped from the shadows, causing Lord Thompson to start at his sudden appearance.

"Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."

With a hand held over his heart he stammered out, "That is quite all right. I am decidedly awake now."

Smiling kindly at the joke, Colin pushed open the nearby gate to lead Lord Thompson to what had unintentionally become his and Penelope's usual place for late night rendezvouses. "Follow me."

They made their way through pale pink rosebushes, periwinkle blue forget-me-nots, and lavender lilac blossoms, until they arrived at the familiar stone bench surrounded by trees in the east garden. Penelope favored the eastern portion of their estate's sprawling gardens because it was where all of her favorite soft, pastel colors were most prominently displayed. Not a citrus color in sight. Colin, Penelope, and Eloise would often lounge about these grounds, whiling away their days reading, conversing, or playing a rousing game of Whist. Colin was quite fond of this garden and the happy memories it had provided over the years; even moreso now with the addition of his private meetings with Penelope taking place here.

It was unfortunate that they would not be alone this time, but Colin was pleased to be invited at all. It was true that he now trusted Lord Thompson, but he would never be truly comfortable with Penelope spending time alone with any man other than himself. When the two of them reached their destination, Penelope was nowhere in sight. They sat down to await her arrival; an uncomfortable silence hung heavy in the air between them.

Lord Thompson was the one who eventually broke it. "You saw Penelope this afternoon, then?"

"I did," Colin confirmed.

"And um…how did she seem?"

Colin saw no reason to lie. "Indignant."

Lord Thompson sighed. "That is…understandable. However did you manage to persuade her to meet with me?"

A lovesick smile crossed his face. "It was not nearly as difficult as you might expect. I simply had to remind her that you are as much a victim of your father's secret dealings as she is. Penelope is unfailingly kind. While it is true that she is rightfully upset, I believe that she is more upset by the situation itself than by you personally."

"That is promising."

"Don't misunderstand. She is still very cross with you, and will more than likely give you a good tongue-lashing before she relents and offers you her mercy."

"It's more than I deserve," he said, hanging his head.

Colin opened his mouth to respond, but that was the moment Penelope stepped into the moonlit garden. He expected to see her in another dressing gown which was what she'd worn in their two previous nighttime encounters, but instead she was much more put together than usual. She was wearing a bright green day dress which Colin would have worried could be too easily spotted if they weren't completely shielded by the surrounding trees. Colin noted that Penelope had re-pinned her hair herself. She'd done a decent job, but lacked the practiced skill of her lady’s maid who had years of experience. However it did appear that she'd forgone her stays as her lovely curves were visible instead of being unceremoniously tucked away. And suddenly Colin understood the change in her attire.

Clearly a dressing gown was too informal a thing to wear to the ending of one's betrothal. Penelope had gone to great pains to make herself presentable again after her lady's maid had prepared her for bed. In donning this more refined accoutrement, she had in actuality donned her own version of armor. She stood before them, poised, proud, and polished. She did not want to appear in front of Lord Thompson in the soft comfort she allowed herself to wear with Colin. Lord Thompson would receive Miss Penelope Featherington tonight. But with Colin she could just be Pen. He would always be her safe harbor. The person she could relax and be herself with. The thought made his eyes prick, but he forced back the emotion.

At her approach, the two men stood and bowed, a custom ingrained in them since childhood. Penelope waved away their formality and gestured to the bench, indicating they should be seated. They sat, but she remained standing to maintain the higher ground. Her diminutive stature almost made this strategy laughable, as both men were nearly as tall sitting down as Penelope was standing. Colin had to work very hard to quash the smile that was fighting to overtake his expression.

"So…Lord Thompson, you have requested a conference with me, and here I am. What precisely did you wish to say to me?"

Lord Thompson looked as though he wanted to stand, but was held in place by Penelope's stern gaze. Colin noted the returned use of his proper name and title and cringed. Penelope was in rare form tonight, and she would not allow her betrothed to leave this discussion unscathed.

"Pe…Miss Featherington, thank you for granting me an audience. I know I do not deserve such a kindness from you, but I am grateful for it all the same."

Lord Thompson paused as if to give her a chance to speak, but Penelope's face remained stoic.

"The reason I asked to meet with you was to offer you my deepest apologies about my deception. I am a weak-willed man who followed my father's orders out of fear. Please understand that it was never my intention to harm you. I honestly believed that the two of us could find eventual happiness together."

Penelope scoffed skeptically. "And how did you imagine that would come to pass? Did you think me so simple-minded and spineless as to forgive your treachery so easily?"

"No! No, of course not. It is only… If I have learned anything about you over these past two months in your company, it is that you are unspeakably kind."

Colin saw Penelope's angry mask begin to falter.

"I had hoped that when I explained my situation to you in the future that you would find it in your heart to forgive me."

"A bold assumption on your part," she countered.

"Indeed." Lord Thompson finally decided to take the risk and rise from the bench. He reached out for Penelope's hands and after a brief hesitation she offered them for him to grasp. "I want you to know that you are the most extraordinary woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. The man who wins your heart will be exceedingly lucky to have such a clever, humorous, good-natured, and beautiful woman to call his own."

Lord Thompson glanced quickly over at Colin following this declaration and Colin felt his face flush. Penelope remained oblivious of the silent exchange and waited for Lord Thompson's gaze to return to hers.

"Miss Featherington... Penelope. I am genuinely sorry for the pain and suffering I have caused you because of my own cowardice. I hold a deep affection for you, but would never have been able to love you in the way you desire and deserve. I also apologize for the damage this broken engagement will cause you and your family. It was cruel of me to put you in such a position. I hope that in time you will be able to forgive me, but I would understand if that is a gift I am never granted.

"I know it in no way makes up for the suffering I have inflicted upon you, but I do have a parting gift for you before I take my leave." Lord Thompson reached into the satchel he'd brought with him and pulled out a medium-sized package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. He placed the gift into her outstretched hands, and she stared at it curiously.

"Even though we were not a love match, in a way the conclusion of this false betrothal still feels like saying goodbye to a dream. I pray that this gift will help you on your journey to achieving your next dream." Lord Thompson leaned down and whispered something in Penelope's ear that was too quiet for Colin to hear. Whatever he said had a noticeable effect on Penelope, for her eyes widened and her face flushed scarlet.

Colin's eyes narrowed at the exchange. What the devil could he have said to elicit such a reaction from Penelope? He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. And what was in that blasted package? Would she open it now or wait until she returned to her bedchamber? The idea of Lord Thompson and Penelope having secrets that he knew nothing about made him want to rip his hair out, or possibly tear Lord Thompson limb from limb. Penelope was his. If not in truth, in his heart. Not knowing something about her was frustrating enough, but not knowing something about her that another man did know? Unthinkable.

Penelope set the package down on the opposite end of the bench of Colin before turning back toward her fiancé. "I accept your apology, Lord Thompson, though I am not quite ready to forgive you." He cast his eyes downward at this news. "However, I do believe that one day in the future I will be ready to do so."

Lord Thompson lifted his head back up to meet her face, and Colin noted that tears were swimming in the man's brown eyes. "Thank you, Penelope. You really are the most wonderful woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Thank you for all the kindness you have shown me. You have been so gracious and understanding even though I do not deserve it.

"I pray that one day you shall find a love match who will provide you with a lifetime of happiness. You deserve all the joys and pleasures this world has to offer, Penelope." Lord Thompson brought her gloved hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her satin-clad knuckles. "I shall take my leave of you now, but should you need anything, anything at all, you need only ask. You may reach me anytime at Clifton Castle."

"Very well. I shall write to inform you when the rumors have faded from scandal into mere memory so that you may return to London if that is your wish."

"Thank you. Goodbye Miss Featherington. Penelope. And fair fortune."

"Goodbye, Martin. I do hope you find your own happiness as well."

The smile Lord Thompson gave her before taking his leave was pained. A happy future for a man such as him was a fantasy, and he was well aware of that. Despite everything that had happened, Colin hoped he would find contentment in his life, even if joy was unachievable.

Colin and Penelope watched as his figure disappeared into the darkness. When they could no longer make out his form, Penelope let out a choked sob and collapsed onto the bench beside him, clutching her chest and weeping freely. She'd been masking her pain behind her anger, and now that she no longer had to put on a brave face, she unraveled. Colin pulled her into his arms and crushed her to his chest as tightly as he was able.

Unsure of what to say to comfort her, he tried to speak to her through the way he held her close, the way he stroked her hair, the way he wiped her tears. When she looked up at him through glistening, bloodshot eyes and asked, "Is this what a broken heart feels like?" he didn't have the heart to tell her no.

Penelope hadn't loved Lord Thompson. She may have found him charming and agreeable, but she did not love him. Having suffered through a broken heart when he feared he'd lost her, Colin knew the difference. Penelope's heart was not broken, but it was bruised, and he would do whatever it took to help her heal it.

"Yes, but it will not feel like this forever, Pen. I know you are hurting now, and I am sorry for it, but all will be well, I assure you."

"You promise?" she sniffled.

"I promise."

21st June 1813

Dearest gentle reader,

In this life, there are very few things that one could say with confidence are a "sure bet." When the Colonists were creating the foundation of their new government, Benjamin Franklin suggested that "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." It is this author's belief that here in London's high society, the only sure bet is that no social season shall ever pass by without a scandal.

In many ways, our fair marriage mart is as risky as the bets placed over cards, dice, and horses. A gentleman takes a risk when he proposes to a debutante, knowing the outcome may be less than ideal. A young lady takes a risk when choosing to accept a proposal, for she cannot know for certain if her suitor is a good and decent man until she becomes his wife and discovers his true countenance. If a couple sneaks away for a private moment to steal a kiss, or perhaps more, they risk potential ruin if discovered.

Yet we so often forget to consider that such hazards could even be taking place within our own homes. Many men have fallen victim to that most seductive of vices—gambling. While most can participate responsibly, there are always others who enjoy the roll of the dice far beyond the depths of their family's coffers.

I have spoken at length about the disparities between men and women within the ton. It seems that far too often it is women who must suffer for the mistakes of men. When a man gets carried away by his lustful behavior, it is the woman who must bear the child he leaves behind. When a man spends too much time at the bottom of a bottle, it is the woman who must bear the sting of his hand. And when a man gambles away his fortune, it is his wife and children who must bear the consequences of his actions.

Today, I share with you the news of one such man. It has come to this author's attention that the aforementioned engagement between Lord Thompson and Miss Penelope Featherington is not the sweeping story of young love we had all assumed it was. Rather, the pair's betrothal was arranged by their fathers. While it is true that this is often the case within the marriage mart, such arrangements are not usually so nefarious in their conception.

You see, Lord Featherington agreed to wed off one of his daughters to Lord Thompson to satisfy a rather substantial debt he owed to the Earl of Clifton. It seems that the Featherington books are looking rather dire as of late due to the baron's addiction to the betting tables. Naturally, I have not seen the ledgers myself, but after some digging, I have discovered that he has, at the very least, gambled away the dowries of all three of his daughters—and I expect significantly more beyond. It is for this reason that Mr. Albion Finch, who was so enamored by Miss Philippa Featherington, was advised by his parents not to propose, though that is where his heart truly lies.

As for me, I'm not much of a gambler, but I would wager that I know what will happen now that I have shared this information with you. It is unfortunate that the blame cannot rest squarely upon Lord Featherington and the Earl of Clifton's shoulders. Instead, I know that you shall ostracize the victims of these men's actions, namely Lady Featherington and her daughters. There is nothing I can do or say to prevent this from happening, and yet I implore you, gentle reader, to remember who is truly to blame.

Yours truly,
Lady Whistledown