Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best”

Penelope had been up since the first ray of light. 

It had now been a fortnight of daily visits and suspicion was starting to arise. Even her Mama’s natural inattentive demeanour in all the matters that concerned her was not enough to stop her questioning. There were only so many friendly visits an unmarried eligible bachelor could make to an old single friend of the opposite gender (even if said friend was firmly on the self) before tongues lashed. Even his eccentric traveller ways and charming nature could not stand the rumours.

Colin was of course annoyingly serene about the whole ordeal, making it abundantly clear he had intended to make their courtship official from the very start but content to allow her time to come to terms with his steady intentions. Adapting to this new reality felt a bit bizarre for someone who had lost all hope in a romantic future of any kind, especially one with the man that had always held her heart. Somehow it seemed like the universe had her mistaken with someone else, someone bright and enchanting, someone that could touch her dreams or at least didn’t need to hide to do it. In order to function and not fall into the trap of big expectations that were doomed to failure, the young writer frequently reminded herself that courtships fell flat a lot of the time.

She found herself playing the waiting game until everything inevitably blew over. Every morning upon his arrival her body would freeze locked up in mindless fear, hypervigilant of every insignificant variation in his posture and expression. It had reached a point where she would incessantly look for a change, any change to allow herself a semblance of hope to prepare in time to receive his inevitable rejection with grace. It was virtually suffocating to read a variation of “You thought I would be gone by now didn’t you?” in the jade of his eyes and unwillingly find assurance in the curve of his mouth and comfort in the undivided attention he bestowed upon her.

Doubt took her heart, safely sheltered inside her chest, by storm every time his orbs so much as lowered more than usual, curling in on itself with no hope of return. This foolish emotional tumult was made to feel more and more unfounded by her future betrothed attitude seeing as Colin seemed progressively more attuned to her insecurities having brought attention to it several times in the last few days.

But the rejection never came, not yet at least, and the day before she had finally given in and arrangements had been made between them to inform their families soon.

Truth to be told Penelope was still waiting for some last-minute regret on Colin’s behalf, some sudden change of heart, some profound realization followed by an impromptu trip, anything really, but this situation had reached the point of no return and it was no longer proper to maintain it in its present terms. The redhead had, nevertheless, refused his impetuous wish to do it at once requesting he give her till the end of the week to speak with Eloise. It was only right that her dearest friend should find out first. 

Easy said than done since she had been delaying this conversation for almost two full days, it was now Thursday and her time was running out. There was no simple answer for what reasons motivated her delay but the additional burden of one more half-truth might reign supreme over all other motivations. She was not proud of how many omissions and fully-fledged lies she had fed Eloise in the last decade, keeping her column a secret had demanded more than not telling her best friend she was the infamous Lady Whistledown. There had been a lot of subterfuges and dissimulation and somehow this made it seem like that was all her life was. A polished pile of deceptive concoctions…

El would be happy of course, ecstatic even no matter how crushed their shared spinsterhood plans might be, having her as a sister would win over in the end and wasn’t that the ultimate twisting of the knife?

It wasn’t real! None of this was, from her family’s lack of financial prospects to this very courtship and the truth was, she was scared. Terrified of facing the one infinitely genuine thing in her life, El’s love for her. She wished she could make it right, come clean and be done with it but she couldn’t, not if she wished to retire on her own terms, not if she intended to keep her promise to Colin. Deep-rooted regrets and trembling doubts danced in her mind while her feet took her to Number 5. The butler had let her in with nothing but a nod of acknowledgement and somehow the trust this family offered her had never felt so heavy.

One could only delay the inevitable for so long Penelope kept repeating to herself on her way to Eloise’s chambers. Before she had a chance to knock, her oldest friend pulled her inside and right into her arms.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in an age. Which should be quite impossible seeing as you live next door. Has Colin finally managed to steal you away from me?”

Guilt blossomed in her chest, her fears had caged her and resulted in an unconscious avoidance of her friend. What if she had needed her?

“My apologies I have been a bit busy and-”

“Busy? With my brother I presume.” The movement of the brunette’s eyebrows left no doubts she knew about the visits and had taken her own conclusions. It was to be expected, of course, nothing got past her continuous vigilance. Colin was probably just as clueless as to her awareness of the visits.

Eloise Bridgerton was a force to be reckoned with.

This small fact of life that had had always been known to her, as far as her memory served her and that was most likely going to remain with her forevermore, brought a smile to her lips and peace to her untethered heart. El’s hand stopped her before she could get a word in.

“Now now, do not offend my intellect, we both know it is quite superb. There are no birthdays coming, not that soon anyway and nothing could justify daily visits.”

Her tone was as definitive as her determination to fight for her freedom, as curious as a child learning about the world. It was one of her favourite intonations of the brunette’s voice, it made her believe everything was possible. She had good reason for that too because what El wanted El got, she stopped at nothing and nothing could stand in her way. Once upon a time, when she was young and foolish and her anger at the world was bigger than her faith in herself to work around its rules, Penelope had envied the strength in this very tone. The green feeling, dark and corrupt and indisputably wrong, twisted her gut until shame took in afterwards. Now at four and twenty, she recognized it as what it really was, burning admiration and an inner desire to stick out for herself more. Having it directed at her was quite new though.

This family had a way to turn her world upside down.

Penelope took Eloise’s hands and pulled her towards the bed encouraging her to sit beside her. They needed to be comfortable for the conversation that was about to take place. For all the pointed quips about Eloise’s inability to commit to silence or anything resembling quiet for that matter, her friend had followed her without uttering a word and did something quite unusual, Eloise waited.

Everything from her bright indigo eyes to the squeeze of her freezing hands conveyed nothing but support so Penelope cleared her throat and forced herself to put into words a small portion of what haunted her thoughts recently.

“Colin has expressed his wishes to court me. And I know, I know we made plans to grow old together. Two spinsters side by side defying the ton but I...I”

Words seem to fail her now, how could she express the tightening of her throat or the kaleidoscope of emotion imprisoning her vocal cords? Penelope wished more than anything to believe his intentions, she yearned to be a part of the only real family she had ever had. Selfish as it might be, impossible as it probably was she craved this. After his suggestion, everything inside her had been heightened and longing, unlike anything she had ever felt before, thrummed in her veins taking permanent residence in her soul.

Eloise’s eyes softened crinkling at the edges, her long pale hand gentle in her coppery curls.

“But it’s Colin.” the brunette declared knowingly.

The thing about twin flames such as her and her dear friend was that they didn’t require explanations or justifications, they just knew even when we purposefully withheld information from them. Penelope had suspected Eloise might know, her investigative spirit would have never allowed her the peaceful bliss of ignorance but not a word had ever been uttered. Not one teasing comment had been made and in those watery blue eyes, the young writer found her answers; much the same way Eloise had just done with her. And what she saw there in that familiar source of solace, brought memories of one dark, stiffening night. The night of their first fight, the night she had run into her best friend’s arms adrift and scared and lost to tears. The night the brunette had shushed her and held her because she knew.

She knew someone else seeing her in that state would be the last straw, she knew how embarrassed she would be, she knew Colin was engaged. She just knew even when she knew nothing at all. Not about what she had done at least but it was crystal clear now she knew all about how she felt. The ache in her chest threatened to overflow and it must have shown on her face because Eloise’s semblance turned worried and several questions were fired up all at once.

“How are you Pen? Has he forced himself on you? Has he been improper in any way? I will make his life a living hell I swear it.” Now there she was, the El she knew and loved. 

Shooking her head Pen couldn’t help but giggle, a small gentle curve in her plump lips.

“Nothing but a perfect gentleman I am afraid.”

Unconvinced, she informed her. “If he hurts you in any way shape or form I will have his head on a silver platter.”

If there was such a thing as a fire amidst the ocean that must look exactly like what she had in front of her now. Eloise had feared this outcome, not because she didn’t believe his brother and Pen were a match; quite the contrary she possessed a privileged position in their lives seeing as she was close to both. Knew where one ended and the other began, how they complemented each other bringing out what was amiss or simply lost inside the other. Parts of them she was privy to but weren’t public by any means. Pen’s wit, Colin’s depth, the observant gaze and sharp intuition they shared.

Oh no, compatibility was not the issue, reciprocity might be.

Colin was slow on the uptake regarding his emotions, everything coming from within represented a challenge for him, it always had. He struggled to listen to his own inner voice and find his place in the world. He looked at himself through people’s lenses the third, the charming one, the mischievous one, the traveller.

Travelling might be the only thing he had fully chosen only for himself or so Ben told her at least. Eloise remembered vividly the words of her favourite brother the night before his wedding. She had found him sneaking out, no doubt returning from Sophie’s chambers and his dazed smile prevented her from scolding or teasing him.

They had sat on the swings like they had done a thousand times before, since her debut, nights of sharing and debates and the consolidation of an ever-present connection, and Ben had disclosed the reason for Ant’s change of heart regarding Colin’s travels the week prior.

The firstborn had made it clear that a decade of travelling was quite enough and it was time for Colin to settle down. Tempers had sprung to life and less than kind words had been exchanged, if their mother had been home, apoplexy would have been the tamest of expected reactions. Benedict had intervened, forever the mediator and sent Colin out for a ride while he directed a grumbling Anthony to the study. Upon return, her oldest brother no longer looked annoyed or angry, simply solemn and with something akin to guilt glinting in the depts of his soulful dusky eyes.

Inhaling the smoke of his last cigarette, Sophie found the habit repulsive and Benedict had promised her he would stop when they got married, her brother had told her more or less what he had made clear to the Viscount.

“Travelling is the only thing Colin has ever chosen for himself. Everything else he chooses for someone else. He chooses to be funny because it’s expected of him, he is charming by nature but how easy it is to hide behind that front.``” The almost sigh and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple told El he was speaking from painful concrete experience and her hand flew to his forearm. Ben directed her a soothing smile, the kind that she had seen him offer Sophie when she looked apprehensive about meeting someone new or heading into ton. 

“As much as he thrives in the chaos he only provokes it because he feels validated by the outcome. As much as I love our family I fear he can’t even listen to himself among us and our loud opinions and statements and decisions. Dear sister, our brother is the opposite of me and you, where we look for our inner truths in the depths of our hearts he looks for his reflection in the eyes of others. Seems quite unfair to take away the only thing that gives him any sense of closeness to himself.”

Cryptically wise as always, Benedict had elicited in her the desire to initiate a thorough investigation of her brother’s actions. Her discoveries birthed the fear that Colin wouldn’t be able to recognize his affections. He had always liked Pen, found her brilliant and understanding and a sort of shelter among the dull and bland kind of the ton but obliviousness didn’t even begin to cover his unawareness of the moments they shared; from the secret grins to the way too long blazing looks or the almost pathetic way he absentmindedly looked for her in every ballroom as soon as they set foot on it. The Marina situation had muddled everything further, evidently shattering any semblance of confidence in his emotional judgment her chaotic brother had ever been able to gather. For all the substantial changes his tours had elicited in him, there had been little to none in this matter. He had remained blind to their growing closeness.

On the other hand, Penelope had held an intense and selfless and conscious affection for him for as long as Eloise remembered. It was almost uncomfortable the all-encompassing way she loved him, truly all her family had ever wished for Colin and perhaps everything he didn’t know he needed. That duality between them made the brunette promise herself to stay alert at all times and intervene if need be. Her brothers were idiots as proven by Anthony’s escape to Number 5 early on in his marriage, a situation she was very proud to have intervened in. Seeing as Benedict remained her favourite she preferred not to think back on his truly colossal idiocy. Alas, it seemed like this was her mission, making sure they got their happy endings.

But now reassurances were in order. Interlacing her long fingers with Penelope's, the brunette searched for any indication she might be covering up for her brother. It was infuriatingly typical of her to defend him, a recurrent occurrence with the redhead. Her stubborn tendency to see the good in people sometimes at her own advantage and Colin’s impulsive words and actions could prove to be a truly disastrous combination.

“You are my dearest friend Penelope never fear sharing your burdens with me. Whatever they might be. I am aware I can be a bit much but-”

The strong squeeze on her hands signalled Pen’s wish to have her say. She should have known her friend would realize something was amiss, she should be thankful El seemed to think it was something Colin had done and not what he hadn’t, what he didn’t feel for her, what they weren’t, what they could never be.

Before taking advantage of Eloise’s misinterpretation to keep the promise to her betrothed and not spill any other old, heavily guarded secrets the young writer had to offer at least some heartfelt words of completely unadulterated honesty.

“I love you, please know that. Never doubt the place you have in my heart or how important you are to me.” Heart thumping furiously in her chest she was stunned at her ability to get the sentence out at all. Eloise’s piercing blue eyes locked in hers making the effort to fight off tears even more valiant.

“El our relationship is way stronger than any courting, do you truly not mind?” Her quivering lips made the sounds hushed, hesitancy bleeding right into the words. Eloise’s nose scrunched adorably.

“I should like you better with Ben but alas not possible.”

Sounding scandalized, Penelope interrupted her. “Eloise you know he and Sophie are- “

“Adorably in love in a way that makes me consider marriage as an actual possibility? Yes, I am aware.” She shot back.

Recognizing the action as what it was, Penelope pursed her lips and gazed pointedly at her friend, tears forgotten. Huffing Eloise finally gives in.

“We would be a family as we were always meant to be. How could I ever mind that?” shrugging she added “Besides I will prove once again how magnificent I am when the family realizes I was the first to know. That should teach them.”

Throwing her arms around her, Penelope could do nothing but laugh as Eloise babbled on and on about how Colin was gonna pay for stealing her best friend and how she was gonna sneak up on the Cook and put salt in his biscuits first thing in the morning.

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August was usually bothersomely stiffening but tonight a pleasant breeze shepherded the heat. Penelope found herself glued to the velvety midnight blue of the firmament, eyes set on the shining stars above her. The silvery claw of the pale crescent moon shone high in the sky while something in the air seized her attention. Sitting by the window she pondered her next steps. Lady Whistledown’s last column would be printed and distributed at the Hastings Ball. The end of a season, the end of an era, seemed fitting somehow.

Her publisher had not received the news in high spirits and even when she assured him she intended to keep on writing, he still seemed troubled. Expressing her wishes to dedicate herself to the improvement of her draft for a novel had only fanned the flames of his distaste. Mr Dashwood was of the opinion that divulging her identity as the mystery gossip writer would only contribute to the success of her new project. Penelope disagreed and had been strongly advised against it by James, her late father’s solicitor or her Godfather as she had come to refer to him for years now. It was time to shed this layer, to close the chapter, to start anew. 

Whatever readers she conquered she intended to do so as a storyteller and not a news reporter. Transport them into a world all of her own makings, providing the escape books had provided her with since she was a lass. Take them on a journey in the comfort of their love seats.

Abandoning what had become such a huge part of her life led her to expect some kind of emptiness to settle in but only relief had reared its head so far. It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of her accomplishments she was, very much so in fact, but age and experience had drastically rearranged her priorities. Lady Whistledown had become a burden, the isolation and loneliness required to make it flourish were a much too high price to pay. From a financial standpoint, nothing but greed was at stake these days. With a nice sum in the bank and good investments running, courtesy of her Godfather, she would want for nothing for the rest of her days.

And then there was the cornerstone of it all. It no longer brought her pleasure.

The redhead used to draw satisfaction from it and that was no longer a reality. In the beginning, she remembers feeling a sick kind of pleasure over the power she held over the cavilling high society and their snobbish pursuits, Marina had changed all that. The young girl’s predicament and her reaction to it had reminded her she was not some divine entity with unlimited power and knowledge, her presumed righteousness was but an alternative form of arrogance and prejudice; the very things she had always despised.

The world wasn’t black and white and the passing years had tutored well in the shades and overtones of society, especially when it came to women and the ruling class. Later on, she had taken it as a challenge to her observation skills a sort of game to keep her entertained and hold the grief at bay. That hadn’t lasted long…

Recently Penelope had taken it upon herself to attempt to use the column as a resource to aid the less fortunate and expose the abusers with mighty reputations and connections protecting them. 

The redhead had been successful to some degree at least, reporting Sophie’s capture had made the burden a little easier to carry. Be that as it may, before long she had found out certain whispers heard in ball corners and social calls could not be printed, not without risking the safety of the ones endangered by those realities. A violent husband, a perverted father, a negligent aunt or mother could hardly be called to respond publicly without dire consequences, so Penelope had found other ways. The only way to dethrone powerful people was to have all-powerful allies and none was more invaluable than Lady Danbury. No one would dare question her or disobey her which came in handy in such intricate circumstances.

Besides, for all her wallflower tendencies the matrons seemed to enjoy having her around which expedited the process of having the right people hearing the right piece of information. Not much prompting was needed, especially when one was Portia’s daughter and knew how to obtain information without ever being noticed as the catalyst. Without a strong reason to keep on going her once light and swift quill felt heavy and massive in her tired hands. The joy and the purpose had vanished. Her heart, once full and bursting was now hollow.

In light of all this long path of dissatisfaction, dropping her mighty quill willingly was without any doubt the right decision. Eloise’s words of unconditional support when she had offered her nothing but prevarications had only validated this course of action. Perhaps one day Penelope could finally tell her and they could once more hold no secrets between them. How so very nice that would be.

Dropping her head against the warm glass, the young maid catches sight of her favourite novel on her nightstand and it’s impossible to not find it even more special now than it was ever before.

When Henrietta had informed her that Mama wanted to throw out her very first bouquet, arguing about the withering appearance of the flowers, Penelope had to regrettably concede her point but not before saving the shell-pink Peonie placed at the very centre inside her old companion.

The memory causes her thoughts to fair irrevocably back to him. This decision has been in the works for a while and the day Colin had escorted her home before any courtship suggestion had been made, the matter settled in her mind. Still, the redhead knows that if that wasn’t the case she might have offered more resistance to their agreement.

In such a situation she would either be certain there was a future for them and leave the column or not accept at all. Deceiving and disrespecting her husband by going behind his back was never an option.

There is less risk now and if Colin backs down nothing in her life would have changed all that much. She will still have El and her money and her identity will still be intact or at least that is what she makes a point of telling herself every night when her heart thumps traitorously in her chest reminding her he will never fully recover.

No matter what happens, Penelope is glad every decision was solely hers with no external interference but if by some absolutely preposterous twist of fate she comes to be Mrs Colin Bridgerton she would like to share her dreams of writing and publishing a novel with him without any ghosts of the gossip sheet variety.

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Would she ever not become breathless at the mere sight of this man?

Colin’s chestnut hair swivelled in the wind and a broad smile graced his sculpted lips when he spotted her by the lake awaiting his arrival. Knight’s dark chocolate fur shined in the afternoon sun adding to the allure of the entire scene; let it never be said he didn’t know how to make an entrance.

Penelope sent a silent thank you to Henrietta for not only offering to chaperone but for insisting on styling her hair in a fashionable updo with a delicate braid serving as a simple and rather elegant headband while using her natural curls to frame her face. Without her Mama’s constant prodding she had been able to select an aquamarine gown that brought out her eyes, adorned with lace sleeves and discreet dainty flowers matching her ivory gloves perfectly.

All in all, she felt confident enough to face their first-ever promenade. Now that Eloise knew, it was time to be seen in public together so they could then inform their respective families of their courtship. Her lady’s maid directed her an appreciative look when Colin extended his gratitude to the footman and caressed Knight’s mane fondly as one does with a loved one. He extended his pleasantries to both of them armed with his ever-present grin. Once she took his arm he asked cheerfully.

“How soon should I expect my untimely demise?” his emerald eyes sparkled with mirth and in times like these, it was quite simply impossible to pretend he wasn’t one of her favourite people on the planet. That was the issue with loving this man he was not only handsome or kind or charming he was incredibly witty and disarmingly entertaining. 

Penelope pursed her lips and pretended to mull over his question while they headed north at a leisurely pace.

“I am afraid I cannot give you a reliable answer but I would strongly advise you to sleep with an eye open and consider buying a box of candy. The expensive kind too we both know she can tell the difference.” Penelope uttered conspiratorially as if they were sharing war secrets.

Henrietta seemed to be keeping a respectable distance, just far enough to allow them a bit of privacy without ever risking claims of impropriety; Penelope was once again reminded of how lucky she was to have her.

Following her lead, Colin covered his mouth, lowered his head and murmured solemnly. “Very sensible advice indeed Miss. Sisters really are the most vicious of enemies.”

She faltered mid-step and her fingers went lax on his arm while memories of the last few days assaulted her. Quickly regaining her composure she directed him a half-smile in hopes of getting her wits about her enough to offer some kind of clever retort. Before she can restart their stroll, his large soft hand covers her own stopping her in her tracks. His expressive eyes trap hers pleading for answers and Penelope feels like a willing prisoner in his gentle embrace.

“Pen what seems to be the matter? Did I say something wrong?” Concern echoes in his deep voice.

Shaking her head she lets her eyes linger; across the ancestral trees, along the colourful flowers and the little ripples on the water before answering. 

“No such thing. I was merely reflecting upon the accuracy of your statement.”

The noisy members of the ton were doing a terribly poor job of disguising their surprise at the sight of them together and Penelope tries her hardest to ignore the whispers and side glances. In times like these not being noticed seems by far preferable. Colin directs polite nods and perfectly poised smiles at everyone that matters, seemingly unbothered by it. They resume their walk in silence for a few seconds before he speaks again in a strangely bittersweet tone.

“Sometimes the best we can do about siblings is accept we will always love them even when they are the ones who hold the power to hurt us the most. I should know, I have seven. That being said, never dismiss the importance of sharing your burdens with a trusted friend that can offer a new perspective.”

When she lifts her head only his handsome profile and the sharp curve of his jaw greet her. He is staring right ahead, almost contemplative in his stance.

“Thank you for your advice Colin, but I am not sure your experience bears any resemblance with mine. It is rather silly anyway.” 

Her dismissal seems to snap him out of his reverie and when his orbs find her they are big and bright and sceptical.

“When is it not when siblings are involved? That does not make it any less significant. Quite the contrary I would say.” he states graciously.

“I would certainly bore you,” she argues in hopes of dissuading him from pressing her forward. The truth is, she could use a second opinion and Eloise is far from interested in the marriage mart. She had hoped to join Kate for tea at Number 5 but it has been a very eventful week and she hasn’t had the chance.

“Have you meet me? I love a good sibling spat,” he remarked eyebrows moving suggestively. Penelope smacks his arm playfully but can’t hide the fluttering of her mouth. 

Playful teasing aside, Colin is her friend and he is experienced and a man, perhaps he can shed some light on the matter.

“It’s Philippa,” he nods encouragingly and his support holds the warmth of his gaze and the gentleness of his touch. “she is still rather upset about the broken compromise with Mr Finch and I fear I might have made matters worse with my foolish words,” she explains discouraged. Philippa’s tear-streaked face flashes before her eyes and Penelope flinches involuntarily.

“Or perhaps you were merely telling her something she didn’t wish to hear and she lashed out.” he argued gently.

“Or perhaps I should have been a tad more understanding and minded my own business.” she replied bitterly.

Especially since she held no authority on the matter. Suggesting to someone it was time to move on when you have been in love with your best friend’s brother for half your life is rather hypocritical.

“You are being way too harsh on yourself you want nothing more than her happiness do you not?” Colin awaited her nod before finishing his train of thought. “It has been quite some time now after all.”

Penelope sighs deeply before expressing her confusion over the entire situation.

“Years have gone by, I know, but they still are so very attached. Mr Finch dances with her every chance he gets and they both seem so heartbroken when they have to say their goodbyes. I just don’t understand why he would break things off if he still harbours feelings for her. I mean I cannot be sure of course but the way he behaves-”

Finally noticing Colin’s silence paired with his purposefully wandering eyes she tilts her head suspiciously.

“Colin?” she murmurs inquisitively.

“Yes?” he says in a much too innocent tone looking anywhere but her eyes.

She pulls the sleeve of his very soft and, no doubt, extremely expensive coat shifting his focus back to her and repeats warningly. “Colin.”

Bloody hell why did she have to be so good at reading him? He mustn’t divulge this sort of information especially to a lady such as her. He tells her as much.

“Pen you shouldn’t concern yourself with such matters. The best you can do is advise Philippa to consider other options and put it to rest.”

“Would you if she was your sister?” she asks pointedly cornering him now.

He wouldn’t of course he wouldn’t, but he would have access to information she is not privy to and would probably be able to fix the situation at hand. Sighing deeply he offers her what he deems as a reasonable reply. “I wouldn’t but you should, for all of your sakes.”

“And why should I do that?” she enquires drily.

“Because these matters are unfit for a lady such as yourself. I shouldn’t even be discussing this with you!” his reply carries a tone of finality that displeases the redhead greatly.

“Is that so? Because I was under the impression you regarded me as an equal, clearly, I was wrong. Well, Mr Bridgerton I would like to inform you I am a grown woman who considered you a friend, a friend that would understand her sister is hurting. If you and your collective of omnipotent gentlemen possess the type of information that could provide her with any type of closure oh so help me God I will uncover it.” she declares mutinously, dropping his arm at once.

“Pen please I merely wish to protect you.” he deflates immediately and tries to reason with her but she faces away from him indignantly, her blue pools icy on the path ahead.  The adorable bounce of her loose coppery curls, the pout on her plump pink lips and her unintelligible mumbles only serve as a reminder of how lovely she looks this afternoon. The knowledge sharpens his discomfort with the situation at hand. He despises being at odds with the ones he cares about especially when their disappointment radiates from them in lethal waves that drain his strength and squeeze his heart. She has a point he knows she does. It is unfair to keep the reasons for their heartache from one of the affected parties, even more so when they are only unknown to her and other eligible young girls. Nonetheless, he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t these are private matters, family matters.

On the other hand, most of the gentlemen in ton know and Pen is discreet and bright.  He wishes they were alone so he could hold her round cheeks in his hands, lock their gazes and explain how this is not his secret to tell, whisper how much he worries about her future and the future of the people she holds dear,  reaffirm his trust in her and her judgment; divulge his truths in a sea of warm blushes and doe eyes.

In the end, he caves unable to bear her indifference towards him any longer.

“You didn’t hear this from me but the word at White’s is his older brother is an absolute money hungry fool that almost drove the family to the brink of ruin. Mr Finch has been trying to put them back on their feet and he has been mostly successful. He wasn’t even a regular presence at White’s until recently.  From what I heard they had to sell a lot of assets to keep the family home. His financial prospects are less than ideal.”

Her big baby blues dart to his face and he nods to answer the incredulity written all over her face. Presumably aware of the confidentiality of such a subject she gets closer once again but his arm remains an inch from hers and Colin tries to tell himself the distance it’s only due to the shock and not some lingering resentment his betrothed is still holding against him.

“Colin I…” the little smile he directs her is enough to extinguish her previous anger. She is a little embarrassed at her outburst now. “It is a delicate matter. I see now why you would be reluctant to share this with me.” 

Penelope had noticed the faded waistcoats and out of trend suits but she had thought he wasn’t very attuned to trends. Not everyone can be a stylish Bridgerton with Lady Violet and her excellent taste to guide you. Somehow financial problems never crossed her mind which certainly means some lesson about privilege ought to be addressed, she is just not ready to dive into it now. The wind picks up suddenly and her lacy sleeves and thin shawl are mostly useless against the shiver running through her barely covered arms. Colin realizes her predicament and bends his elbow in her direction, his arched eyebrows mockingly scolding as if she had brought that upon herself when she had dropped it before.

Refusing to give him the satisfaction of a silent remark on her dramatic ways she takes his very warm and muscular (what does he do in those tours to gain so much muscle anyway?) arm with both of hers and rolls her eyes.

Colin seems pleased and completely unaffected by the swishing wind around them, he is probably used to being cold, with all the travelling and whatnot, a bit like she is used to never getting what she wants. They are in one of her favourite parts of the park now the trees are leafy and densely intertwined, it’s so peaceful and quiet that is easy to forget you are not in your own little world. His voice interrupts the lullaby of their steps.

“And Pen?” Penelope rests her temple in his bicep to signal she is listening. His long fingers rearrange her shawl so it covers the shoulder his arm isn’t blanketing. Penelope’s mouth dries and her blood sings in her veins, ever hungry for his touch. “He cares about your sister, he never engages in conversations about other ladies, he does not maintain mistresses or entertain” he clears his throat in search for the right words to explain himself to her, her innocently expectant gaze endearingly curious “other female attention and he has made it very clear Philipa deserves a gentleman. The kind of gentleman that could offer her the life she is accustomed to. To be fair he is very good with his numbers or such a swift financial recovery would not have been possible.”

Colin recalls vividly Albion Finch risking a fight with Lord Hardy, who is a good foot taller than him, over a crude comment regarding Philipa’s innocence a couple of months back. For such a slow-witted individual he sure is honourable. The redhead squeezes his arm in gratitude with her small hands and he finds himself glad he decided to tell her. 

With all those difficulties and the added obstacle of the miserable dowries the Featherington heir had offered them when he married Prudence, Penelope could finally grasp the predicament Mr Finch faced. Now she needed to help him. He was silly and not very bright but quite gifted in his numbers and his heart was in the right place. He was also a family man.

“I could suggest Anthony consider a partnership with him. Would you like me to do that?”

His concern was very considerate. He was a darling really but Penelope rather thought her life had enough ties with the Bridgertons as it were. They were courting and such an arrangement would mean Philipa’s future husband would also be professionally attached to them. What if this courtship blew up? She knew Anthony would never break it and Colin would think nothing of it but she didn’t want another favour. All their interactions have felt like favours lately especially since their agreement.

“I appreciate your concern, but my father’s late friends would like to keep ties with the family. My father might have been a gambler but he was well-liked.”

An outrageous lie, her father had no spine and wasn’t particularly likeable but the solicitor had always had a soft spot for him that had carried over to Pen and she was sure he would like to help. Whatever deal they struck no one needed to be the wiser; they could just deem it a business partnership.

“Penelope, I didn’t mean…” he replied his voice rather alarmed.

Patting his arm and smiling affectionately she reassured him. “I know, I know you have already done enough.”

“I am here if you need me. I will keep an eye out and inform you.”  Even surrounded by the never-ending tones of green of the park the swirling jade of his eyes remains unparalleled, a bit like his owner. She might have been a bit crossed at his overprotection but it was nice to be considered to such an extent. 

“I appreciate that,” she said referring to more than the matter at hand. “Now Mr I believe I was promised ice cream and some exciting tales of your adventures on the Hills in Wales was I not?”

“You most definitely were Miss.” he chuckled.

They headed to Berkeley Square and all the way to Gunther’s he tried to convince her of the merits of unconventional flavours like salted caramel and blackberry but Penelope had her sights set on strawberry and not even his legendary charm could change her mind.

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The Hastings Ball was only two days away and the time had come to put her plan in motion. Penelope had written to her Godfather explaining the situation and requesting information about the Finch family. As per usual he had agreed to help her immediately and had reported back informing her that Lord Finch’s fragile health had been allowing his firstborn control over the family state. Her sister’s suitor had intervened when confronted with his lavish excesses, but there was only so much a second son could do. The patriarch appeared to be slowly recovering from lung fever and taking on his old responsibilities. Allegedly, Mr Finch’s efforts had been recognized and his father had gifted him a respectable piece of land while removing his oldest’s privileges.

Upon further inspection, James had been able to gather some details regarding the annual profit of this gift. It was profitable enough if combined with a respectable downry and some astute financial management to provide a comfortable life for a married couple of their standing.

This situation gave her the perfect opportunity to do something she had been reserving for Felicity’s debut next year, resolve the downry issue once and for all. Everything had already been in motion to forge a letter from a long lost widowed relative with an inheritance for each of the single Featherington girls. The process had merely been expedited. Penelope had to admit it was petty to wait for her little sister’s debut but she had genuinely believed Philipha would have been married by now. Had she known of the issue at hand she would have had intervened way sooner. The letter had arrived three days ago and her mother had been ecstatic. Ecstatic enough to brag about it in all her social calls, including the ones she was performing at the moment. Her sisters had declined to accompany her today and Penelope was thankfully rarely invited to come along.

All that was left now was to reunite the couple allowing them the chance to reconnect and discuss their future. If Mr Finch wasn’t aware of the new development yet he would be soon enough, her penultimate column that had been distributed that morning had made sure to mention it, right before announcing her retirement at the upcoming ball.

Colin however had alerted her regarding an important detail, a gentleman’s honour. 

When questioned about the motives Mr Finch might have had to hide his predicament from her sister instead of looking for a solution together, the brunette had smiled indulgently seemingly endeared with her naivety. She was most thankful for his enlightenment regarding this issue. To know that his sister’s love respected, admired and loved her enough to want the very best for her warmed her heart. His insistence on removing himself to give her the opportunity to choose from a better pool was rather sweet and most inconvenient indeed. No matter how much she related to the sentiment of wanting your beloved to be happy above your own happiness he was making matters more difficult by still deeming himself unworthy of her.

Penelope knew what needed to be done, Philippa had to show her beloved she had never stopped considering him an option, forcing him to respect her choices, which just so happened to align with his own desires. Pacing outside Philipa’s chambers the young writer considered how exactly to go about it. The two sisters had never been very close but Penelope owed her an apology and a sisterly nudge towards her happiness. Taking a deep breath she knocked, announcing her presence.

Her sister was embroidering in her favourite chair by the window but her mind was not in it. Her eyes were empty while her hands worked diligently in a rather colourful flowery design, red tulips and pink gerberas dominated the scene and a rather intricate golden pattern seemed to connect the edges. Penelope had always admired her ability to embroider so skillfully with her mind miles away from the needle, the redhead would most certainly only accomplish a bloodied finger.

“I wish to apologize about what I said the other day. It wasn’t right of me to question your choices.” Her voice, albeit soft, reverberated in the silent room.

She remained expressionless but still offered her a response. “It’s quite alright. You were right.” Her tone was defeated.

Penelope sat beside her in her bed before replying. “On the contrary, I think I was wrong. Do you love him?”

“That hardly matters it has been years, if he felt anything for me he would have proposed by now. Prue said it herself.” Philipa exclaimed crestfallen waving her hand in the direction of her desk.

There laid an open letter seemly abandoned mid reading. Oh no, that couldn’t be good. Prudence had never been much of a big sister to her or Felicity but she and Philipa had always been rather close and no one suffered more with her absence than the dejected young lady embroidering her sorrows away. Prudence would no doubt be aware of the entire situation and she wasn’t known to be soft-spoken in such matters. The eldest Featherington took after their mother too much for that. Penelope supposed that such a feature made her quite practical but not very empathetic. 

No matter how much she wished to remind Philipa of Prudence’s almost cold outlook on life she ought to approach this carefully, they had a bond and her sister was vulnerable.

“I am certain our sister merely wishes to protect you as did I that day. Nonetheless, we must support your choices and assist you in your endeavours. So I will ask again do you love him, sister?”

The cobalt of her eyes turned glassy and Penelope could see the firm way she fisted her skirts to keep the tears at bay.

“I do. More than I should and I do not comprehend what happened all those years ago. What did I do wrong? Why won’t he just tell me? And Mama keeps mentioning my age and Prue thinks I am ridiculous romantic fated to spinsterhood and I do not know what to do.”

It felt right to reach for his sister’s hand and squeeze it. If this had been Felicity she would have enveloped her in her arms immediately but she still didn’t know where the boundaries lied with Philipa, truth to be told she didn’t even remember the last time they had held each other.

Somehow Penelope had never considered how alone Philipa might feel without her allies. Prudence was married and hardly ever visited and their mother had recently turned on her when she refused to consider other suitors. Her sister was alone and hurting and she had been feeling this way for a while. Apparently, they did have some common ground, after all. Well, at least her love wasn’t unrequited she only believed so.

Deciding that outside forces had already wrecked their relationship enough Penelope took a leap of faith.

“I can’t pretend to understand how much you must miss Prudence but I can promise you you are not alone and I do not think you are fated to spinsterhood.” Penelope murmured gently, stroking her hand with her thumb.

“You don’t?” the disbelief in her voice shattered her heart in a thousand pieces.

“I most definitely don’t. Especially considering the way Mr Finch looks at you,” she said beaming.

Their intertwined giggles filled the room and Penelope was transported back to a time where such an occurrence was ordinary.

“Why hasn’t he made his intentions clear then?”  she muttered, doubts creeping back in the lines of her face.

This was it, her opening. 

“Oh, Pippa you know how men are. Prideful creatures the lot of them. He is a second son perhaps he felt like you could do better, especially after Papa’s passing. Just make sure to let him know he is more than enough for you,” the young writer assured, caressing the back of her hand.

Her sister’s eyes widened and it was almost as if she could see the thoughts spinning in her head. Penelope felt bad for using her childhood nickname and the meaning it held to increase the impact of her words, especially considering how simple-minded and fragile Philipa was, but it was necessary. One more strategically placed sentence in a sea of schemes was nothing if it amounted to her sister’s happiness.

“What about Mama?” she asked.

A knock on the door silenced them both at once. They exchanged worried looks.

“Philipa, can I borrow your quill? You barely use it and I need a new one.” Felicity’s whine made the two older sisters chuckle. Penelope’s heart was lighter than it had been in a long time, she didn’t recall the last time she had shared such a nice time with her sister.

The youngest Featherington apparently took their laughter as an invitation. Her expressive eyes turned mischievous as she assessed the scene in front of her.

“I see the Featherington sister’s council has reunited. My invitation must have been lost in the mail. Do tell me what urgent matters must be tended to this afternoon, dear sisters.”

Felicity took her place beside Penelope, her expression curious, her eyes sparkling with delight. They really ought to defeat the isolation and break the strain it had put on their relationship. 

“Poppy is suggesting I ensure Mr Finch is aware my feelings remained unchanged. She has made me realize he might believe otherwise.” Philipa explained with her dimpled smile back in place.

Upon hearing her childhood nickname the young writer had to force her gaze on the duvet to keep the tears threatening to spill out at bay. Those could be the introductory words of a new chapter, their new chapter.

“Splendid! I should like all my sisters to be happily married before my debut.” Her little sister exclaimed excitedly. Penelope shot her a warning look. She had made it very clear Felicity should stop filling her head with fantasies of Colin proposing. That wasn’t going to happen.

“I am still worried about Mama though,” murmured Philipa. Penelope knew how scary their Mama could be with her never-ending pressure, her overbearing ways and her constant criticism.

“You needn’t worry, we shall help you and by the time Mama finds out you will be engaged right, Lissy?”

She turned and watched as Felicity nodded her head enthusiastically.

“You should take Celia and go for walk in the park, it’s still early enough you might just run into him. And if Mama asks you can just say that after the recent news it’s important to be seen in public to ensure the attention of suitors. She will even praise you for it.” 

“Wonderful idea. As Hy always says, one must be fierce in the pursuit of our goals.” Felicity declared solemnly.

Penelope had a feeling the youngest Bridgerton might have just stolen that specific sentence right out of the mouth of another fierce brunette she knew very well. 

“I am most grateful for your support sisters. I must admit I did not expect it.” Pippa confessed self-consciously.

Felicity took her free hand as a sign of support and the three girls exchanged meaningful smiles. The playful glint in Philipa’s eyes interrupted their silent intimacy.  

“Now, before you help me select an exquisite gown for my promenade I would like to ask our dear sister a question,” she locked her eyes with Penelope now, “what is motivating Mr Bridgerton’s daily visits? Should we expect a proposal soon?”

Penelope groaned in misery.“We are friends, we have been friends for a long time.”

A raised eyebrow joined Felicity’s smile. And apparently, Philipa was not done either.

“All I am saying is that perhaps with the news of this sizable downry he could consider a courtship that is all,” she stated patting her hand.

“Or perhaps he will finally realize you two are a great match,” Felicity added all mock innocence.

Penelope’s unimpressed look and sharp elbows were enough to render them both silent. A squeeze on her fingers directed her gaze directly to Philipa, her expression edging into serious and causing her to sigh.

“Poppy you have been there for me today, allow me to be there for you too. Just promise me you will try to embrace whatever this might be ok? Ever since we moved you have spent the majority of your time with the Bridgertons, it wouldn’t surprise me if you ended up marrying into the family.”

Penelope wanted to deny her words, to fight to keep her own safe version of reality but she wasn’t ready to explain everything or risk losing the connection they were starting to rekindle and so she nodded.

“I for one think this is a terrific development and my sisters should enjoy themselves” Felicity exclaimed fondly, “And, just in case you were confused, daily visits transcend any kind of friendly behaviour,”  she added pointedly bumping shoulders with Penelope. Philipa’s booming laughter lighted the room and soon enough they joined her cheerfully.

They might never be as tight as the Bridgertons siblings but they were closer now than they had been in years. Reaffirming their affection for one another and creating new memories together might just result in the sisterhood she had always craved and nothing made her happier. 

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The twinkling blues and violets of twilight had made his study their loyal subject, lending the room their colours in exchange for total ownership of the environment. Colin feels like a mere tenant in his own home at times like this, a mere witness to something grand.

Perhaps home was a bit of an exaggeration but the trinkets and souvenirs he had collected in his tours certainly added some truth to the sentiment.

What was home though?

He had long since found out it wasn’t a place, he had been around the world and not only one space could be deemed as such. He had eventually convinced himself it was his family but that notion was somehow incomplete.

There was certainly a piece of home here in his lodgings among his journals and memoirs, in between the comfort of his favourite waistcoat and the freedom of his own unquestioned choices. Home could also be found in the laughter of his nieces and nephews, in the warmth of his mother’s eyes and the affection hidden behind every teasing comment his siblings imparted.

And now with the texture of brand new leather under his fingertips and eyes locked on the big, old mahogany desk dominating the space Colin realizes that maybe home is a bit of both. What once was and what is. What has always been a part of you and what you build on the way. Home should feel like the old, well-treasured wood right in front of him, comfortable and unchanged sprinkled in with the excitement of a new adventure, spread on brand new crispy white pages enveloped by the softest of leather.

It’s exhilarating to realize he can barely wait until the leather is worn out enough to fold perfectly into the spaces of his fingers. There is something about the intimacy of it that holds a sort of poetic beauty. As if one more piece of home has been conquered and the next chapter is finally allowed to begin. A chapter where he can finally have something that is solely his own, perfectly moulded to the intricacies of his soul, the same way this new journal will soon be perfectly suited for his hands and random ink smudges. As if he finally belongs somewhere, anywhere…

Lost between what had been and what can be Colin can't help but think so many things in life are just metaphors for everything important.

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The dowager viscountess was a master instructor in all the matters concerning event planning and hosting, as proven by the undeniable excellency of every Bridgerton soirée. 

And yet, her oldest daughter still managed to shine every single year by guaranteeing The Hastings Ball remained the most memorable moment of the season. The honour of closing the social season was never wasted or taken for granted by the Duchess. If anything, she made sure her ball remained alive in your mind, like a souvenir, all the way to the start of a new season.

Daphne’s flawless taste and sweet demeanour guaranteed that everyone felt at ease in the thematic paradises she created. Penelope dreamed of ever being that accomplished or creative or loved.

The Duke’s devoted gaze remained fixed on his wife, his customary proud smile in place while they greeted their guests arm in arm. They had been with her and her family just a few moments ago. Daphne never ignored her or dismissed her, she was lovely like that. This year’s theme seemed to embody something of an enchanted forest feel with the majestic flower-covered archways along the garden paths and entryways and the strategically placed candles borrowing a romantic faint glow to the backdrop of the dance floor. The delicate pastel-coloured fabrics covering the refreshment tables added to the illusion of a night in a secret fairytale kingdom, faded to disappear by morning, leaving behind nothing but the ghost of a magical but blurry memory. For an avid fantasy reader such as herself, the ethereal ambience lulled her into a permanent enchanted state that helped dispel the dark clouds of doubt and insecurity ravaging her mind.

Penelope almost expected a sparkly fairy or a skipping nymph to show right before her eyes and steal a biscuit or two.

The first dance of the night was about to start and the redhead was content to have found her favourite spot empty as per usual. She might not need to write down the gossip any longer but she was still very much interested in knowing it. Her gaze was sharp as ever registering every introduction, every gown, every invitation. It would appear that even after abandoning the column the columnist inside of her remained.

The wallflower knew she was overcompensating the lack of pressure on her tonight. To be frank, she felt lost among the crowds, a foreign feeling she thought she had left behind years ago. It was unsettling to attend an event without professional expectations, unnerving to be aimless in such a setting.

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, Penelope considered the surprising reception to her retirement. Seven years in, she is fairly used to the comments regarding her sassy alter ego, nonetheless, she didn’t expect such emotional responses. The redhead had been stunned by the sincere sadness shown by some of the members of her social circles, amazed at Lady Danbury’s high praise to her work and attitude and nonplussed by the critics and bets placed on the unmasking of the mysterious writer before she delivered her very last pamphlet.

Anticipating the witch hunt, Penelope had delivered her very last column early on that day while the moon still lingered in the sky, the sun was timid in the horizon and the world was asleep. Her cold hands had shaken upon entering the centenarian church and some tears had stained the loyal cape that had accompanied her throughout the years in her trip back home.

Right beneath a striking archway covered in purple hyacinths and coral roses, she spots Mr Albion Finch escorting Pippa to the dancefloor, beaming grins on both of their faces. Her sister finds her gaze and a million buried feelings course through them; regret, gratitude, forgiveness, understanding. That says it all.

And at that moment, Penelope understands better than ever before why there is always at least one bouquet of hyacinths in every single one of these balls. Because true love never really dies, it can be battered and bruised and tinted by grief and longing and sorrow and suffering, it can even be buried by hurt and disappointment but it will never be truly vanquished. 

The love this family holds for the late Viscount will live on through every single gesture of remembrance performed by the ones who have loved him, much the same way her love for her sisters will live on through every token of respect and affection they decide to gift to one another.

“Do my eyes deceive me or are they sharing a second dance? They look rather joyful,” an amused voice startles her, disrupting her reflections. Even if she didn’t recognize that mirthful tone or that velvety sound the prickling sensation in the back of her neck would have alerted her.

“He proposed this afternoon,” she says focusing on the dancefloor once more and the rich purple of Philipa’s dress floating around the ballroom grabs her attention immediately. The redhead hadn’t noticed they were already partaking in another dance. A much slower and intimate one too, their gazes locked and loaded with devotion. Reunited at last.

“Did he now? Could that have anything to do with a certain casual encounter that I heard of at the club? Or a gentle reminder of the recent generous increment to Philippa’s dowry?” Colin must notice her distraction because the edges of his soft coat brush against her skirts and his teasing voice sounds dangerously close now. 

Glancing up at him Penelope finds all her senses arrested by the blazing heat in his crinkling emerald eyes. She can’t quite decipher what that gaze holds but her mouth dries and her stomach lurches. She wets her lips instinctively and his eyes darken.

“I wonder whose idea was that,” he whispers into her hair.

Penelope feels a violent blush colour her cheeks and its heat seems to swirl around all the way to her thundering heart.

“Whatever event was responsible for such an outcome it did the trick,” she remarks with a cryptic smile.

His head tilts in her direction, his gaze nothing short of delighted, “Oh I have no doubt there were tricks involved.”

Holding back a smile she makes sure to offer him her very best impression of an innocent and clueless debutant, blue eyes big and virtuous before answering. “I am certain I don’t know what you mean Mr Bridgerton”

Colin chokes out a laugh but plays along.

“I am sure you don’t Mrs Featherington,” he adds chirpily bouncing on the soles of his feet.

Oh, how she amuses him! Penelope has a way of constantly surprising him; a witty jab, a quick remark, a sassy comment or a deliciously sly smile that emphasizes the curve of her peach cheeks. She is a delight his Pen. Colin must admit he hasn’t got the slightest clue how she pulled this off but he is clever enough to know that a sharp woman such as herself would find a way. He has four very bright sisters and a scaringly astute mother to attest to it. Perhaps he is better off not knowing, simply enjoying the thrill of the mystery, drowning in the admiration blooming in his chest.

Once again he finds himself by her side, spellbound by the shades of copper in her hair in the pale glow of the candlelight, transfixed by her porcelain skin enveloped by her roseé dress, breathless at the sight of her generous decolletage. He can’t recall the last time they didn’t share a laugh or an interesting exchange in nights just like this one. 

Bloody hell how had he never realized before how much time they spent together at these unbearable events?

Spending another night at her side is hardly unusual but the realization seems momentous nonetheless. Everything is easier with Pen no matter the place or the company he is always safe in the knowledge they will have fun together. Her pretty pink lips are still curved into a secret smile and he has a sudden, barely rational but almost incapacitating urge to rest his palm in her cheek and feel the curve of her mouth with his thumb.

Instead of attempting scandal and condemning them both to a rushed wedding and cruel gossip he takes the socially acceptable route and extends his arm.

“It would seem like celebrations are in order then and what better way to celebrate than getting all the Featherington girls on the dancefloor ?”

Her giggle is a song he wishes to replay forever, “Lead the way, Colin.”

 🦋🦋                                                      🦋🦋

After their dance, they find themselves in the company of a few considerably influential people hanging on Colin’s every word. Penelope is unsurprised by this phenomenon, the love of her life is a wonderful storyteller able to transport even the most distracted or sceptical of individuals to faraway lands and adventurous journeys.

He is in the middle of a funny anecdote involving a handmade pendant made of lapis lazuli he found in Italy and decided to bring home to Hyacinth. The youngest Bridgerton had requested something blue or pink and he wasn’t about to disappoint her. Penelope loved many things about Colin Bridgerton but his heart might be her favourite. Apparently, the trader had driven a hard bargain claiming the pendant held magical properties capable of centring its owner, which justified its price. Colin had then proceeded to explain to the man that no magic in the world could ever centre his fierce sister by telling him of some of her most memorable pranks. 

The laughter of his audience, which had borrowed a new light to his sparkling eyes, had been unfairly interrupted by Lady Williams. 

“The working class grows lazier by the day and now even the servants believe themselves worthy of a minimum wage.” the blond woman hisses, nothing but cruelty and disgust colouring her high pitch tone “The gall of these people.” she spits outs.

Lady Williams is a known tyrant, famous for inciting all types of polemic and improper topics when in polite company, aiming to either spread her archaic venomous opinions or belittle and humiliate the ones she considers less. Nothing but a wealthy hypocrite. Penelope detests her and only finds herself in her company on rare occurrences such as these. As a matter of fact, this vicious creature is probably hiding from Lady Danbury at this very moment, fearful of her biting remarks and intimidating glares.

“It’s only right that servants benefit from an established wage to guarantee their needs are met and their attachment and respect to the family never waver. It is our duty to ensure it.” the redhead states confidently, as she normally only is with a quill, causing their audience to finally take notice of her presence.

The short ginger fights the urge to cower into herself and disappear between the cracks of the marble floor but Colin gives her an encouraging nod and the proud smile gracing his handsome features sends a shot of dauntless determination through her veins. She has absolute faith in the legitimacy of what she is saying so why shouldn’t she share her opinions on the matter?

“I wasn’t aware your family still maintained an active staff Mrs Featherington,” she remarks mockingly sweet in her delivery.

Penelope suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. Good Lord it has been years since the Marina debacle and her Papa’s death, years since Daphne had reintroduced them back into society would these people ever stop holding this over their heads?

A sardonic smile draws itself in Penelope’s lips and she is about to put this woman in her place, any sign of her ever-present social anxiety gone. She never gets the chance, her betrothed rises to his full height before her, his sharp jaw locked and his green eyes dangerous. Something about his stance reminds her of a tiger, graceful, elegant and lethal. And then he pounces.

“Any truly distinctive family that wishes to live up to the honour of their title and social standing knows the importance of supporting and caring for their servants. Fair wages are the bare minimum of civility.” The icy arrogance of his tone combined with the cynic quirk of his sculpted lips drives goosebumps all over her bare arms.

People often get swept away in Colin’s charming ways and light-hearted demeanour and fail to remember where his heart truly lies. He is a compassionate, kind man entirely devoted to his family and fiercely protective of his siblings.

Violet had always emphasized the importance of caring for your servants in order to maintain the prosperity of the household and would never admit any form of harassment or disrespect towards them in her home but there is even more at stake now. Benedict’s marriage to Sophie had impacted the perspectives of the entire Bridgerton clan, her story had carved a home in all of their hearts and her experiences have resulted in profound changes of heart and influenced the long-standing opinions of the Viscount himself.

Lady Williams shakes her head condescendingly and adds, “Mr Bridgerton you are much too young to understand the ways of the world.”

There and then Penelope knows that woman has made a colossal mistake. Colin despises this kind of argument where age automatically equals wisdom or experience. He has seen more at nine and twenty than most of the people here tonight their entire lives and if the malicious glint of his orbs and the forceful way he clasps his hands behind his back are any indication he resents the critic.

“Or perhaps you are much too experienced to embrace the changes taking place in our world,” his smile is cynical but no less charming.

For once the Baroness seems taken aback by his words, offended even by the implications they carry. “I wonder about the validity of the opinions of a debonair third born that spends most of the time out of the country and has no fixed residence.” she retorts caustically.

Colin’s jaw goes slack and shock overtakes his features. The redhead’s heart hurts for him. He is so used to being accepted he doesn’t dare fathom any other outcome, so accustomed to accommodation he doesn’t see it as privilege. 

His normally vivid orbs are clouded by self-doubt and shame and Penelope refuses to let this serpent win, especially when Colin interceded for her early on. Armed with the most artificial of smiles and every single one of Lady Danbury’s advice on how to deal with spineless tormentors the young writer intervenes.

“You mustn’t worry about such things Lady Williams. Mr Bridgerton is kind enough to share his cultured opinions with our sheltered lot. We would do well to show him our gratitude, after all, is not every day we see a gentleman of his class show this modicum of decorum and respect towards the working class. Most of them have an inconvenient habit of chasing the staff of the feminine variety around like rabid animals.”

Lady Williams flinches and Penelope is elated to confirm all the rumours are true. What a shame indeed that the Baroness would decide to attempt to demean a Bridgerton in her presence when her deviant husband carries such a questionable reputation. The perks of being a wallflower.

“I for one find his generosity and dignity commendable,”  she adds fondly, locking their gazes once again. Her hands itch to reach for him, caress his locks and smooth the hard lines on his dashing face.

But she needn’t worry, his entire face lights up at her words and he raises an eyebrow questioningly.

The Baroness huffs and makes herself scarce, about time too if you ask Penelope. Colin can barely control his snort, head thrown back and shoulders shaking with laughter he shakes her head at her like he can’t believe she did that. Finding herself infected by his genuine amusement she shrugs in response. 

Much too soon they are interrupted by Lord Northwood and his entourage of married couples; it would appear that their lively discussion about Germany requires Colin’s two cents. Some ladies of the group flank her offering supportive smiles and impressed looks and Penelope feels a little better in her own skin.

The young traveller takes hold of his audience once more and at least two songs pass them by before a very foxed Lord Bolton wrecks the peace.

“Enough with the landscapes and the gastronomy Bridgerton, what other news do you bring from your journeys? Adventures of a more carnal nature perhaps,” he asks with a slimy smile on his rum flushed face.

Colin sighs unamused. “Bolton please, do hold your tongue, we have ladies present.” 

“Married ladies! And Miss Featherington is practically a spinster no need to hold our tongues for her." His reply is followed by the raising of his glass in her direction.

Lord above, he is dipping rather deep.

In moments like this, Penelope is glad she had never held her tongue when writing about these people. In general, she does not mind crossing the lines of propriety while in polite company or better yet listening to others cross the lines of propriety but sitting through a retelling of Colin’s international conquests is where she draws the line. She is surprised they even noticed her. Maybe they didn’t until Colin brought it to their attention.

He seems to have had enough of his drunk shenanigans and convinces the man to head over to the refreshments table promising to be right back sans foxed company and with a glass of lemonade for her.

In the meantime, Penelope engages in conversation with the remainder of the group, spotting a very miserable Eloise on the other side of the ballroom dancing with a tall gentleman. The look she gives her is a clear cry for help. She vows to go save her best friend as soon as Colin returns. Benedict, most likely instructed by the always perceptive Sophie, intercedes right away moving El away from the no doubt dull suitor. Penelope can see them talking animatedly arm in arm heading towards Kate; El directs her a victorious smile now and Penelope reciprocates. Her friend will be safe with the Viscountess. She is an outstanding woman, intimidating enough to keep fools at bay, kind enough to empathize with Eloise’s struggles and by far one of the most entertaining people present.

Lady Campbell approaches their small gathering. She hasn’t seen the widowed Countess in a while; rumour has it she has been spending most of the year in her country residence after her scandalous affair with her butler. An affair the redhead has no doubt keeps thriving in the shadows of her large secluded property.

She extends some pleasantries to the group and, surprisingly, addresses Penelope directly.

“Miss Featherington! I almost didn’t recognize you in that dress. No citric tones this season?”

Penelope swallows down the lump forming in her throat and answers politely.

“Lady Campbell, long time no see. I am afraid I have decided to part with that colour palette, for the time being, we all need a change from time to time.” stammers the redhead offering a timid smile.

The Countess gives her a once-over that borders on scrutiny and agrees,” Indeed we do especially with such an ...exotic hair colour.”

There is no mistaking the narrowness of her eyes at the sight of her copper curls neatly arranged in a simple updo. Penelope tries her best to resist the urge to look at the ground as she has been doing for most of her life, tries to hold her head up high and tell herself these people don’t know her and have no idea of her worth but it stings nonetheless.

Lady Campbell leans against the pillar on her right and beckons her closer, Penelope is not too keen to spend any more time with her but it would be rude to deny her.

“My dear, allow me to give you a piece of advice,” she whispers in the small space between them, “ seize this opportunity, this is all you will ever be able to have after all.”

Penelope’s confusion must be clear as day in her features because the Countess sighs, annoyed, before elaborating.

“Mr Bridgerton seems quite taken with you but we both know a man like him would never marry someone like you.” she waves in her direction as if that illustrates her point to perfection, “This is a temporary lust-driven infatuation. Now, that does not mean you cannot take something out of it, he can still offer you a great deal of protection and a good time. An on the self spinster such as yourself could do much worse.”

Penelope’s eyes widen and her head spins faster than a moving carriage. Does the Countess think Colin is attracted to her? Should she inform her the truth is far more humiliating? 

Penelope suppresses the impulse to laugh bitterly in her face. Not only does she think that but she is encouraging her to enter into a sordid agreement with the man she has always loved. The very same man that just so happens to be courting her in a friendly manner.

Even this woman, who is barely an active member of the ton, believes she could never be more than a short-term distraction for Colin. Well, she supposes that is still an improvement from her own opinion. Realizing she ought to be offended on Colin’s behalf she manages to croak out.

“Mr Bridgerton is a highly honourable gentleman, Lady Campbell.”

The old woman rolls her eyes at her as if she is dim-witted and insists. “I am sure he is, he is also a red-blooded man, a very handsome one at that. Some people are not meant to be wives Mrs Featherington and no new wardrobe can change that. You don’t belong by his side but maybe you might belong in his bed.” Her tone sounds pragmatic as if she is offering an invaluable piece of advice.

Each word is like a sharp dagger slowly but efficiently prying open old wounds, the clear cut intonation makes it all seem so obvious it steals the air right out of her lungs.

Deciding she needs some air urgently before she collapses, Penelope curtsies and excuses herself heading to the garden as fast as she can without raising suspicions. Everything catches up to her all at once; who he is, who she isn't, who she can't be, no matter how hard she tries. Penelope takes the left on the first flower covered path she encounters, red blazing fury vibrating in her veins.

The self-loathing pulses steadily inside her, an ever-present companion, and she wishes to cast it out; blame him and his irresistible smile, their stupid agreement, her weak heart.

The familiar lump in her throat threatens to choke her and her eyes fill with unwanted tears. She fights to keep the red hot fury but resigned sorrow overthrows the anger and her stomach churns with the sharply unpleasant realization. What did she expect? How would anyone ever reach any other conclusion? 

The pesky waterdrops fall freely now staining her precious dress, a dress that means nothing, a dress that can’t hide her flaws and shortcomings. This is pathetic they haven’t even announced their courtship yet and it’s already painfully undeniable how unsuited they are. Of course, people would never believe they could have a proper attachment. Fairytales weren’t for her. Will she ever learn?

She spots a cosy gazebo nearby and quickly decides to hide there for a while, safe in the knowledge that the blooming ivory and light blue jasmines artistically interwoven in the structure will shield her enough to offer some much-needed privacy.

Shortly after the redhead reaches her destination but her chest heaves with such violence she feels the need to lean against the entryway pillar. The pointy leaves brush against her back and the flowers seem to shelter her in their safe embrace. Pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, she quivers slightly.

It takes her a moment to take stock of herself and realize that what she is feeling is want. She wants him, she wants to be different, she wants to not care about any of it, she just wants…

This unjustly sour feeling claws through her, possessive and eager and demanding, and she blinks in frustration at how all-consuming it is. Their blissful dance that night flashes behind her eyelids, a distantly faded portrait of ethereal happiness, and her heart throbs painfully once again. This too shall pass she reminds herself and tries to breathe through the tears and the hurt and the invisible giant rock placed right above her chest.

The unmistakable rhythmic sound of hurried steps reaches her ears and she stills immediately, trying to not disclose her location and fervently praying her customary invisibility saves her once more.

The brunette had seen her leave the group on his way back from the refreshments table, her fiery tendrils easy to identify in the sea of monochromatic individuals, and assumed Penelope was heading towards his family; most likely bored of all those windsuckers. With that in mind, he started to make his way to her when she had unexpectedly turned towards the garden. Growing worried by her choice of destination, he took the necessary precautions to follow her as discreetly as possible telling himself he just needed to make sure his friend was safe before leaving her to her own devices. It was a pleasant night for a stroll under the stars, which was most likely what had drawn the redhead here but Pen was nowhere to be found. He was nearing the gazebo now and his distress over her whereabouts was reaching new heights.

“Pen? Are you there? I saw you head this way.”

No such luck it would seem. If she were to leave the gazebo she would have to go through him and if he keeps walking, which he will no doubt do if he doesn’t get an answer, he will eventually spot her hidden away, crying like a toddler. There is no escape in sight for her, might as well face him and hope for the best.  Locking her eyes in the flower-covered ceiling Penelope sighs before answering in what she hopes is a convincing tone.

“Yes, it’s me. I was getting dizzy with the heat and needed some air.” she pauses before her voice breaks, “You should go ahead I will join you shortly. It wouldn’t do for someone to find us out here unchaperoned.”

Colin knows she is right but his gut tells him there is something fundamentally wrong here and he is not in the habit of ignoring the one thing that has never led him astray.

“Pen what happened?” he asks softly.

A traitorous sob escapes from her throat and Penelope knows she has done it now.

“Pen?” Colin exclaims alarmed, rushing to her side no doubt guided by the sound of her sobs, “What happened?” he repeats frantically.

Between the lack of candles in sight and her blurry vision, Penelope can barely discern his silhouette but her body recognizes his presence like a tree recognizes sunlight.

He takes a step towards her and she somehow finds the strength to halt his movements with her raised hand. Being in close proximity to Colin is the last thing she needs right now, the desire to seek comfort in his arms is unbearable enough as it is. Taking a deep steadying breath she addresses his question.

“Nothing happened.” she retorts, squeezing her eyes shut to put a stop to the stubborn tears.

“Is that why you are crying? I am merely asking because last time I checked one does not cry for no reason.” he points out.

Penelope opens her eyes and offers him a weak teary smile. “Oh Colin, ignore my dramatics I am merely being silly. I am just so happy with the news of Pippa’s engagement, they really are such a fetching couple wouldn’t you agree?”

His dark green orbs bore into hers and his strong stubbled jaw clenches.

“Don’t do that,” he warns sternly, a hint of hurt peeking through. She shakes her head lightly feigning confusion. “Don’t treat me as if I am someone else, don’t push me away.”

The redhead’s eyes go wide and her heart skips a bit at the emotion flickering in Colin’s eyes. Dropping his head he adds. “Just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong Pen.”

Penelope would never even dream of disclosing what had transpired with the Countess; it was far too humiliating and frankly, she would be too embarrassed to discuss the lascivious nature of the old woman’s opinions with him. To add insult to injury it would put Colin in the uncomfortable position of wishing to offer her his protection and comfort while harbouring no attraction towards her. She would just have to keep it short and vague.

“It has been an emotional night and I loathe to disappoint you but I believe we ought to put an end to our agreement,” Penelope states stoically.

His pupils flare in surprise and he stands at attention. “Have I done anything to upset you?”

Must he always be this nice? It is bloody inconvenient is what it is! Penelope had hoped to avoid having to vocalize her reasons, reasons that should be fairly obvious. Why couldn’t he just take the easy way out and pretend this entire thing never happened? She would go back to pretending not to love him and all would be right as rain once again.

Shaking her head in denial she offers him a faint smile hoping to appease him.” No, nothing of the sort you are wonderful. I just think we must come to grips with how unsuited we are, that’s all.” She shrugs aiming for nonchalance.

The questioning look in his narrowed eyes invites her to elaborate and she wishes more than anything she didn’t have to do this.“We are too different Colin. I mean look at you and look at me.” She waves between them as if that would somehow give some meaning to her words.

“I am.” Colin points out firmly. Penelope gives him the side-eye growing annoyed now, when he doesn’t budge she rolls her eyes as if he is the most insufferable creature to ever grace the earth, “I am.” He insists training those emerald depths on her.”I haven’t stopped looking at you all night.”

Her words sting a thousand times more after everything that transpired tonight. Never in his life had he felt this connected to someone else, it had been as if their souls vibrated in the same frequency. They shared more in a glance than couples did in their marriage bed, she had known he needed help when he was still barely functional, he had known she needed him with a glance at her retreating form. How could she say they were unsuited? Imply they were anything but in perfect symphony?

“Colin please don’t,” Penelope begs, fighting back tears, “Don’t do that,” she repeats averting her eyes.

“What am I doing except being honest?” Inquiries the brunette challengingly shrugging his strong shoulders.

He is growing disoriented, avidly searching through the events of the night to attempt to find the place where he had lost her. They had danced and laughed and talked and come to each other’s rescue and she had even dedicated her full attention to all of his stories, even the ones she had heard before. Colin fared himself a fairly perceptive bloke and he had truly believed he wasn’t alone in the warmth thrumming in his veins. Had he imagined the borderline flirty banter they had been engaging in since their dance?

The redhead has had enough of these feign pleasantries and ridiculous games. If Colin so wishes to know, know he shall!

“You are pretending, rather convincingly I might add, that appearances are a matter of no consequence and-”

“I have never felt the need to pretend with you Pen.” His orbs soften for a moment before he continues “Nonetheless, in such matters, one does not need to pretend. Appearances are a shallow pursuit.”

“Is that so?” inquiries the young writer, voice heavy with sarcasm.” Of course, you would harbour those beliefs,” mumbles Penelope resisting the urge to huff.

Unconditional acceptance really is the quintessential symbol of status, she muses.

“It’s not a matter of what I choose to believe Pen. I have seen the world and I can assure you that beauty is one of the most subjective concepts there is.” he declares firmly, his expression an annoying mask of determination.

Penelope pushes herself away from the pillar supporting her back and crosses her hands in front of herself, adopting the kind of battle stance that looks nothing short of unfamiliar in her tiny frame, before acquiescing “Very well, I will play along. Tell me Colin, have any of your tours brought you to a place where you were not immediately treated as a priority? Were you ever dismissed on sight based on nothing but shallow concepts like perhaps the colour of your hair or your height?”

There is an undertone of irony in her voice but her efforts to make him understand are still mostly genuine.

“I can’t say I did no.” allows Colin, voice laced with deference.

“I rest my case. I know you mean well and I do appreciate your efforts to comfort me but as your friend, I ask of you to not try and spin this with uplifting but hollow speeches and pretty words. It didn’t work when I was five and it won’t work now." her plump bottom lip quivers slightly before she resumes. "Not when we both know that you and I? We are not the same. You are a Bridgerton and I shall never be more than a second choice or a non-option.”

He tilts his head blinking in confusion. “When you were five? I believe you wished to be a bird at that time am I right? What does that have to do with anything?”

Memories of her Mama’s cruel words and Miss Andrews’ comforting but ultimately futile speech invade her mind “I mentioned that in passing ages ago. How do you remember that?” Shock blends with fond bewilderment in her stammering tone.

Colin's forehead creases, offence at her surprise clear in the lines of his handsome face. “How could I not? I remember every single one of our conversations. I listen to you Pen. You are a priority to me. You are my first choice.” 

How she wishes that were true...

Unclenching her hands she gently reminds him “We both know that is not true. You have known me for years, Colin. I was never your first choice and that’s ok, it really is just…” taking a deep breath to steady her hammering heart she concludes,” don’t pretend otherwise to console me. It is unbecoming of a candid man such as yourself.”

“That is not fair!” Colin barks. “That was then and this is now. I might never understand what you have to go through every day, nor would I pretend to, but I refuse to let you face it alone. I might not be able to do much but I will be here for you. If you let me, of course.” He deflates seemingly worn out by the myriad of incessant rejections of his affections, fatigued as if they have stolen his ability to stand straight.

What an onerous task it is to swallow the tears prompted by his unwavering devotion.

Her sweet dashing traveller chooses this very moment to take a step closer to her and this time she allows it. How could she not after the way he has just valiantly endured her thinly veiled insults, unfair quips about the past and frankly vicious attempts to push him away? He has his flaws, she never believed otherwise but his loyalty to her and their friendship is admirable. 

His long fingers encircle her right wrist, thumb drawing circles in the sensitive skin and she glances up taking in the sight of him. The bright green of his eyes swirls in his pupils, the usual chestnut of his hair is mostly concealed by the shadows and he has never looked more handsome or more real. Here in this striking gazebo, at the very end of her seventh season, surrounded by jasmines, doubts and pleading eyes, Penelope feels as if their story has only just begun.

In honour of that feeling, the redhead nods in consent prompting a triumphant smile on his lips. “Now, tell me what is really wrong,” he requests lighter than a summer breeze and just as pleasant.

Her throat tightens, terrified of the consequences of bearing this vulnerability to someone who holds so much of her already. Colin’s thumb moves up, now resting in her palm and Penelope wraps her short fingers around it like a frightened child. It’s his turn to nod now.

She sighs deeply looking for courage and admits. “I am just so exhausted, I don’t think I can’t fight anymore Col. I don’t even know if … “ Her sapphire blue eyes finally well up and she nibbles on her lower lip unsure if she should proceed.

He squeezes her fingers tenderly and whispers “If what?”

“If I wish to keep fighting to remain in a world where I mainly feel misplaced, misunderstood. A world that I ultimately don’t belong to,” she says faintly.

If only he knew the number of times she had cried herself to sleep and promised to leave the moment her sisters were settled. Just escape somewhere, anywhere... 

Colin might not know much about feminine struggles or the drawbacks of being a wallflower in a world mainly advanced by social connection, but this particular look he recognizes. He has seen it in the mirror time and time again ever since he was nine and ten, the claustrophobic need to run away, escape somewhere, anywhere. In a spur of the moment decision, he lifts their intertwined hands to his mouth and brushes his lips against the inside of her wrist, her skin silky against his stubbled chin.

“I can’t answer that question for you but I can tell you that you do belong somewhere. You belong with me and El and my family. You belong with us.”

His expressive eyes carry so much sincerity and his words feed into the blooming longing she has been doing her best to squash in the last fortnight. Struggling to breathe and not do something entirely scandalous, like rest her palm against his cheek and pull him in to feel the delicious prickle of his stubbled jaw all over her face and neck, Penelope locks her eyes in his ivory cravat and whispers.

“Is not that easy Colin.”

“Would you let me finish woman?” whines the brunette all feign exasperation. Penelope can't help but giggle at his antics. His bright grin shines through their locked hands.

She offers him a small curtsy and responds. “I believe I will good sir.” 

Colin straightens and clears his throat before declaring pompously. ”Much appreciated. Now, as I was,” his eyes bore into hers and she feels like she might drown in those mossy depths, “Pen I won’t pretend to know the first thing about what you are going through but know this, I will never stop fighting for you.” he adds interlacing their fingers.

Their gazes and fingers remain connected for a while, a moment lost in time until a wayward thought crosses the brunette's mind. Colin has always been rather proficient at reading people, an especially convenient skill to possess when one needs to navigate the oblique interactions the Ton prefers. Understanding others' motivations, wants, needs and insecurities has always came naturally to him, their predictability a source of comfort and boredom, but Penelope has remained mostly an enigma throughout the years. An enigma until this very moment at least and suddenly he feels terribly silly. It is painfully obvious now she feels inadequate in a much higher degree than that of a wallflower and worse of all, alone in that inadequacy which is really the very worst scenario to find ourselves in. Impulsively he blurts out. “I have something to say.” 

Penelope quickly refocuses. “I don’t expect you to reveal all your secrets and be vulnerable if I’m not going to do the same. That being said, I want you to know that where your soul is weary mine is adrift. I have no purpose, no talent, nothing that is solely my own.” he reveals much more sombre than she has ever heard him.

Has he gone mad? Is this some kind of crisis that ambushes the male population nearing thirty? Certainly not, Colin is far too carefree for that.  He must have hit his head too hard in a too-short doorway or overindulged in the sweets again. 

“Colin, whatever are you on about? You are a handsome gentleman of means with a loving family and a way with people.” exclaims the redhead with wide eyes.

His smile is feeble when he answers. “Most of those happened to me. The looks, the wealth they are no less innate than my appetite. Even my acclaimed charm is but a consequence of my large boisterous family. I did not create those things or fought for them for that matter. They are not a consequence of my actions. It’s important to note that, I am by no means complaining but Anthony manages the fortune and the family, Ben has his art and I got nothing.”

“Stop this nonsense at once!” his friend commands louder than he has ever heard her. He ought to feel chastised but she crosses her arms under her generous bosom and he can’t help but notice how adorable she looks at the moment. “First things first, you might not have a hand in managing the fortune but you do help manage the family, all of you do. You are a wonderful brother and son and you ought to be proud of that. I admit to your unfair advantage benefiting from the Bridgerton genes but a wise friend of mine often says beauty is a shallow pursuit anyway.” her big blue pools glint wickedly and she shrugs her shoulders swishing the puffy sleeves of her dress slightly.

He chuckles good-naturedly.

“Now that that is settled,” he startles when she drops his hand abruptly and positions her small ones on her waist assuming a determined posture that bears a striking resemblance to a feisty ginger kitten “how dare you undermine your social prowess in such a way? Large families are a customary occurrence, social competency, on the other hand, is terribly rare. I understand you feel lost and frustrated but it won’t do for you to lose sight of who you are while looking for what you want.”

He bounces nervously on the soles of his feet looking embarrassed. How is it that she ended up comforting him? Wasn't he supposed to be comforting her? This woman will never stop surprising him and he finds himself looking forward to it.

“You are right of course. I always thought I was looking, all those years away I really thought I was and now I am not sure,” he reveals helplessly.

“Your path will present itself when the time is right. You still have plenty of time Colin but you must use it wisely, exhaust all possibilities, be bold now more than ever,” she reassures him tenderly.

“And you are wrong you know?” His puzzled expression amuses her greatly. “You have me and you ought to know that I too, will always fight for you.” Penelope timidly reaches for his hand and he doesn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers again, it feels right somehow. She rewards him by tracing the visible veins on the top of his hand with her thumb.

They exchange secret smiles and his heart, burdened by uncertainty for so long, seems to float in his chest. The silences between them are always comfortable and for someone so used to entertain, that’s a breath of fresh air he values greatly. He lets his mind wander and finds himself pondering over his inadequacies and hoping their reveal has at least served some purpose. Penelope breaks the moment, nose crinkling endearingly and a rather persistently expectant look in his direction. 

Eventually, curiosity wins over appreciation and he gives in “Yes Miss? How can I be of assistance?” he waggles his eyebrows teasingly just to witness her plump lips quirk up.

She rolls her eyes playfully and attempts to bump their shoulders, a fruitless endeavour that makes his smile widen. Their height difference offers many advantages but most of them don’t involve bumping shoulders. 

“There is something else bothering you,” she affirms confidently.

He is taken aback by her perceptiveness. “How can you tell ?” Colin asks genuinely stunned.

She glances back at him and smiles causing a wayward curl to escape from her hairdo and rest against her clavicle. “You have a little crease right there,” she explains pointing right to the middle of his forehead.

He considers distracting her or redirecting the conversation but he quickly determines they are long past that.

“It’s just…”  he sighs deeply leaning against the fence of the gazebo right by her side, their laced hands resting between them “As you know, my family has gathered quite a reputation of perfect love matches and romantic stories of the fairytale variety and sometimes” he drops his head and she squeezes his forearm with her free hand in encouragement “it can be… intimidating. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

He feels way too exposed now and a prickle of terror spreads along his spine. Regret follows suit and he realizes he shouldn’t have said anything. Now she will dim him nothing but a whining ninny, aimlessly gallivanting around the world.  

“You’re not because love is not a competition. Love is convergency, love is connection but most of all, love is a choice. Passion is a happy coincidence, a fortunate encounter but love is a choice. You choose each other every day, fan the flames and whatnot just like you said when you proposed our agreement.” Penelope looks up and he follows her example. The sky is clear enough to see most of the constellations. "I don’t think you truly worry about measuring up, I think you worry about not finding it or not realizing that you found it.” he swallows around the lump in his throat and tries not to think too hard about how well she knows him and how that shakes him right to his core.

“Colin, everyone feels the same emotions in their own unique way but I believe love touches us all. And one day it will touch you and when it does you will know.”

“Your faith in me is commendable but most likely misplaced.” Colin counteracts.

“I will take my chances” Penelope replies teasingly, orbs still glued to the starry sky above them,

Colin studies her long lashes and inviting lips and wonders about her unwavering convictions on this particular subject. “How can you be so gullible? It’s admirable but I just don’t understand, with your Mama and everything. I don’t mean to offend but-”

Penelope turns in his direction and offers him a placid smile. “Do not fret Colin. We both know my parents were the furthest thing from a love match and I understand why my views on love might puzzle you. Allow me to enlighten you, lacking reasons to believe in love is the very reason why I chose to believe in it.”

He has the distinct impression he is missing something here. The redhead’s smile turns reassuring and she adds.

“What other choice do I have? Settle for something like my parents had?” her melodic voice quivers slightly before she concludes “I chose to believe there’s more. That’s all I have Colin.” 

His admiration for her grows exponentially at that moment. Colin knows he hugs his heart close to his chest every day like it is his security blanket against the world, yet Penelope continues to wear hers in her sleeve always welcoming, forever genuine even when the daggers of fate cause it to drip bloodily in her hands. It must be this undying belief in everything good and pure and untouched by darkness that keeps it thumping, somehow still unbroken in her warm chest.

A single silver tear falls from her sapphire eye glinting all the way down her face. Colin follows the little salty diamond until it lands in the bow adorning Pen’s chest.

“Which is why all of this worries me.” Penelope confesses gesturing towards their clasped hands “It seems far more probable to fail than to succeed.”

Colin recognizes an opening when he sees one and this is the moment to quell her reservations about their agreement. He had promised to tackle each and every one of her insecurities and he is going to start right now.

Swinging their hands he announces confidently “We will succeed Pen and you know how I know?” the shake of her head causes her rebellious curls to bounce around her porcelain neck driving him to distraction. “Because we admire and respect one another.”

Her expression grows melancholic before she mumbles “Maybe they did too once upon a time.”

Refusing to be deterred he replies ”I guess we will have to ensure that never changes. That we walk side by side in life, our paths always convergent, our hearts permanently connected.”

“Would you happen to have any idea how to achieve such an exceptional feat Mr Bridgerton?” she asks teasingly.

He throws a mischievous smile in her direction before answering “As a matter of fact Mrs Featherington I do. We are in dire need of a set of rules.”