Chapter Text
Colin was thanking the Lord that neither Anthony nor Benedict were in attendance. Had they seen his…display, just now, he was not sure he would have survived. Anthony was not too far from fratricide as it was, particularly when it came to Colin, and this would surely have pushed him over the edge. Frankly why his brother deluded himself with the idea that the Bridgerton name was not already wrapped in scandal was beyond him. It was not as if three out of the current four marriages resulted after a decent period of courting, followed by asking of the hand from the lady’s guardian, and a proposal that would make the hearts of mamas nationwide sing. Francesca was truly a saint amongst them…
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The events of the past hour flashed rapidly through her mind as Penelope sat in the carriage. Once again, Colin Bridgerton had managed to upend her world. For the first time in her life, she felt all eyes upon her.
Whispers trailed after her as she made her swift escape from the ballroom. She caught the eyes of Felicity and Eloise as she left, but did not pause. What could she say to them, after all? She scarcely understood what had happened herself.
Colin had been about to kiss her, of that she was certain. All evening, he had been acting strange, scowling at Sir Edwards as though he had personally offended him. She had tried to alleviate the situation by making a joke which seemed to work on Sir Edwards. Then there was that business of how he had secured the dance in the first place; he knew perfectly well she could not refuse him! And what he said - something about her not being a spinster? What had he–
She almost lunged forward as the carriage came to a halt. Barely getting herself re-settled, the door yanked open. Before she could even protest, Colin had already seated himself and rapped twice on the roof of the carriage.
She stared, open-mouthed and eyes widened at the scene that had just unfolded in front of her. Colin sat there, still catching his breath – had he run here?
A minute of awkward silence followed as Colin realised it was up to him to explain himself.
A million words roamed in his mind, all forming varying declarations of the feelings that stormed his heart.
“Why did you leave?” Of all possible options, he picked the one that wasn’t even a choice. He grimaced. Explaining his actions via a question directed at her, not exactly an eloquent move.
“I could hardly have stayed! People were staring.”
“And leaving so abruptly did not create a scene?” He was digging himself deeper into the path of conversation he absolutely did not want to take.
Penelope pointed at him, indignant. “You started it! Besides, no one saw me. A scandal could have been avoided still if you had not run after me!”
Talk of scandal halted Colin immediately. A mirthless chuckle escaped him. “Suddenly Lady Whistledown cares about propriety?”
Her outraged expression was instantly overtaken by an aghast one. “You…how did you…you know?”
“Yes, your letters hardly made it difficult.”
For a while, the sounds of rocks crumbling underneath the carriage wheels were the only ones that filled the silence. Penelope spoke up, nerves evident in her tone. “Are you not going to say anything?”
Colin scrubbed his hand across his face, closing his eyes momentarily as a weak attempt to reign in his temper. “What were you thinking, Penelope?! All this time, you have been writing your own bloody ruin!”
Nerves were wiped from her face as she hastily defended herself. “That-it is not ruin!”
He scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry, you mean to tell me your drivel is sanctimonious?!”
“It is not sanctimonious nor is it just ruinous drivel, it is my life’s work!” In a matter of seconds, Penelope had transformed. There were no other words for it. It was as though something shifted and the whole of Penelope, that he had solely witnessed in her letters, was evident in every way she raised her voice and steeled her face against any reprimand thrown her way.
“My life’s work that people enjoy! It is something that is completely and wholly mine. And I will not cower whilst you act as though you have some moral ground to speak of. So go ahead, chastise me, but do not expect me to simply sit meekly!”
Her rebuttal had thrown him off. Frankly, a part of him was envious of the fact that she had a life’s work to defend; but it reminded him of what truly led him to worry in the first place.
“And what if someone were to find out, Penelope? What then?! If I can piece it together,
someone else with less good intentions can as well!”
“Good intentions? You speak to me in this way with good intentions?!”
“Answer the question, Penelope. Do you plan on carrying this on forever?”
“Of course not! But that is for me to decide.” She cried, pointing at herself. A moment passed as Penelope gathered her breath and Colin stared in raw admiration of the woman in front of him.
“Whistledown has been my only voice in a society that never looked twice at me. Nobody reads my work out of pity, they read it because they want to! That’s more than can be said of Penelope Featherington.”
That ignited something in Colin. “I saw you, Penelope!” He exclaimed.
“I always see you! And I have never spent time with you out of– pity,” spitting out the last word as though it was completely irrelevant.
Her eyebrows furrowed together, an indignant expression overtaking her delicate features. “Oh, spare me! You’ve never given me so much as a second glance! Do not insult me by pretending otherwise.”
Colin faltered. She had him there. “I- I admit that I have not always been the most attentive-”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“But it’s different now! Surely, you know that our relationship is not the same anymore?!” He continued, his eyes desperately searching hers.
Her eyes, that were pointedly looking anywhere but him. “I do not know what you mean…”
Ah, so she chose to feign ignorance. Colin was not having it, he continued looking directly at her. “Our letters, Penelope.”
“I do not see how that changes anything– Plenty of friends write to each other, do they not?” She was rambling, she knew. It was quite an ironic fate that when words failed her, they spewed out of her with increasing incoherence. “In fact, Eloise and I write to each other. Quite regularly! She is much the attentive correspondent, as you well know. Actually, she is the one who told me! About your condition, that is. And even Lady Bridgerton might have- seeing as we are friendly friends– ”
“We are not friends, Penelope.” He cut in. Seeing her face fall, he immediately added.
“I mean to say, that is not all we are. And I know that you are aware of it, because so am I.” His voice was laced with a level of sincerity that was melting the barricade that surrounded her feelings for Colin at an increasing speed. His hands reached to hold hers, rubbing them delicately but with a passion that indicated his vulnerability.
“Penelope…I do not know when, I do not know how; frankly, I do not care. All I know, All I have felt since I have realised, is that I love you. By God I…somewhere between all the dances, all the lingering touches, the stares, the conversations….you have captured my heart completely.”
Penelope, who had been struck mute by the sheer force and ardour of his confession, sensed the familiarity in his words. Recognition dawned on her face as she finally spoke.
“You…how did you know? I said that to…”
“To Felicity, I know.” He finished for her. “At this point you should know how reliable Felicity and Hyacinth are at keeping things to themselves.” He chuckled despite himself.
A gasp escaped her. “They– she told you?!”
Colin reached inside his coat to retrieve a folded letter that had seen better days. He held the paper in his hands reverently, unsure of how to proceed.
“Hyacinth wrote to me. I do not think she meant anything by it, though I would not put it past her.” After turning it over in his hands a few times, he held it out to her. Though, he clutched it back into his grasp at the very last moment.
“You were wrong.” He said, softly, staring beyond the letter as though he just remembered something.
Penelope’s incredulous expression elicited a laugh from him.
“You are infinitely the cleverer one between us, and I am sure I will spend a lifetime conceding to that fact. But you missed something.”
She huffed. “I am sorry if my definition was not exact enough for you–”
“You said that love is like a bolt of lightning from the sky, or it blooms gently. You did not speak of how it can creep up on oneself, catching them unawares. How loving someone can become so natural, so innate to oneself that it sets firmly into their being. How it becomes so obvious that I never even questioned it, not until I was forced to examine. Forced to think about why everything I learned about you intrigued me just as much it bothered me. Forced to think about how only one person has ever possessed the ability to madden me and impassion me within the same letter. Forced to think about how I do not care either way, that all I want…is to be with you.” The last part came out as barely above a whisper, his heart racing against his chest as he willed himself to meet her gaze, to not cower when the moment came.
Penelope’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as her lips quivered. She felt compelled to pinch her arm. Was this truly happening?
“I know that I have been a bloody fool when it comes to…us…I have never felt anything truer in my very soul, Penelope. I love you.” At his admission, she jumped directly into his arms. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sobbed (rather indelicately) into his chest.
Colin wasted no time in embracing her fully. His own words came out in pieces as he frantically sought something from her, any sign of hope. “Tell me…is it too late? I must know…have I- have I..?”
Penelope rose from where she had buried her face, gently cupping his face with her hand. “Oh, Colin. I love you too, I have only ever loved you.”
That was confirmation enough for him, to finish what he started in the ballroom. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her in his arms, there was something truly beautiful about seeing the love of life clad in the silvery moonlight. He cradled her face and leaned in, meeting her lips at last with his. It started out gentle enough, but when he felt her sigh against him, he found he could hold back no longer and kissed her with an intensity he did not know he possessed. When she returned his fervour, it was as though electricity was coursing through his veins. He made a mental note to thank the Lord especially that he gained his senses soon enough to see what was in front of him; if tonight was any hint, Colin could not have survived the sight of her being adored by anyone but him.
His wandering hands swept up through her sides, leading him to the wonderful discovery that Penelope was very, very ticklish. She was brought out of her daze through sudden peals of laughter, hers and Colin’s both. As she wiggled and tried to bat his hands away, he felt an overwhelming warmth and joy that threatened to burst from him.
Eventually the carriage would come to a stop, and they would go back to being Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington. But for the first time, he knew it didn’t have to stop there.
So when the carriage did halt, and he did step out, it was not without ensuring that every day of his life would be filled with that same warmth.
And when she decided to play coy, tapping her finger on her chin in mock consideration, he decided his patience had run out, truly.
“For God’s sake, Penelope! Are you going to marry me or not?!”
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“You will not even consider it?”
“No.”
Colin sighed. Somehow he had managed to secure the hand of the single most brilliant, beautiful, and obstinate woman in London.
A week had passed since their fateful tryst in the Featherington carriage. Penelope had come, as per schedule, for tea at his mother’s. If he had bungled up the invite to call her at a time his mother and sisters happened to be due for an appointment, well that was neither here nor there.
“You know, one of the oaths you will have to take next week includes vowing to obey.” He teased. Normal couples may have had to wait the customary four weeks, but he may have alluded to their mothers that it was in their best interest to move up the wedding. He secured that after a clandestine escape with Penelope the eve of their engagement ball.
His fiancé smirked back at him. “You knew well enough who you were asking to marry, Whistledown and all.”
Colin couldn’t help but smile. It did not bode well for him that he could not hold a grudge against his wife even if his life depended upon it. “I suppose it was worth a shot. Seems like I shall have to take the mantle as the Lord to your Lady.” At Penelope’s curious look, he decided to wield his power a little longer.
“Surely you have an idea of how terrible gossips men are? Especially in our exclusive clubs?”
She gasped, clutching his free hand that was not around her shoulder. “I knew it! Tell me, is it true that Mr Wentworth absconded with his brother’s intended?”
“My information comes at a price, my dear lady.”
Penelope glanced around once, sporting a very mischievous smile. “Very well, Lord Whistledown. Would this price happen to make our beloved Viscount have a conniption?” Oh, their married life would certainly be entertaining.
He grinned. “You should expect nothing less.”
“Well then, I suppose I should pay your price whilst we are still unchaperoned.” This woman was indeed, going to be the death of him. His gentlemanly honour had evaporated the moment he had known what it was to kiss her (now, that was a kiss). And now, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, next week could not come soon enough.
Just like nothing was the same as soon as she had sent that letter, nothing was going to be the same now that he had her by his side. It was infinitely better.