Archive of Our Own

Colin liked a lot of things. He liked to breathe in the crisp morning air when he opened his windows, he liked to turn his face towards the sun and soak in its glorious warmth, he liked autumn with its beautiful red and yellow hues, and he liked his biscuits sweet. Not savoury, not spicy, and certainly not salty. So when he took his first bite and the only thing that crossed his mind was the briny water he’d accidentally tasted in Greece, he knew something was very wrong. 

The curious taste itself, the salty flavour exploding on his taste buds from time to time, appeared on the night of the Feathington ball for the first time. Colin hadn’t given it much thought because too many things happened at once, and a strange taste claiming his mouth was the last thing on his mind. The things that were on his mind left him both ecstatic and confused for days. That night two fundamentally different things happened in close succession. Anthony and Kate finally found each other, and Eloise and Penelope drifted apart. The first occurrence didn’t come as a surprise to the ton nor his family for that matter, especially not after Queen Charlotte had uttered her support so openly for everyone to hear. The latter went mostly unnoticed for it was rather insignificant compared to the Viscount allowing himself the happiness he deserved. 

But it was not insignificant to Colin, and so when two weeks passed by without Eloise so much as mentioning Penelope, he approached his younger sister to find out what exactly happened between the two. The answer was: nothing at all. But if there was one thing Eloise failed at miserably, it was lying. Especially when it came to lying to her siblings. Although Colin was surprisingly unbothered by her evasive replies, there was one thing that concerned him. Whenever he asked about Penelope, he noticed a faint tremble in her voice, and while it took him a few tries, he eventually realised it was anger. Eloise was angry with Penelope. 

And it appeared to be not one-sided at all because Penelope seemed to be just as angry with Eloise, and for whatever reason, her anger extended to him. Whenever he tried to approach her during a family outing or at a ball, she avoided him. Last time she went as far as to call him Mister Bridgerton when she excused herself.

Mister Bridgerton. 

Back then he had been too astonished, too wounded to go after her and by the time he did pursue her, Penelope had already disappeared. It would have been an easy task to find her that evening but Colin had been too amazed to face her one more time. Their quarrel and Penelope’s frigid attitude towards him did not add up. Something was amiss, but whichever way he looked, no one had answers for him. And if they did, they refused to voice them. 

But, and as awful as it might sound, Penelope running off at the mere sight of him was not his most prominent issue – even if he wanted it to be. It was his soulmate. At least that’s who he thought was to blame for the atrocious taste creeping upon him at the most inconvenient times. Every time he sensed the telltale tingle that served as a warning for the incoming salty flavour, he had to ask himself what in God’s name that soulmate of his was consuming to leave this most terrible taste in his mouth. Sometimes, when it became close to unbearable, Colin wondered that maybe he would have been better off without a soulmate at all. 

Because he didn’t want one. 

Because his heart already yearned for someone else. 

He would never be foolish enough to utter that in front of the ton. The concept of soulmates was not only widely accepted by the peerage but also openly supported by the Church of England and the Queen herself. In their eyes, the bond was a godsend, it was holy , and perhaps they were right. Perhaps, he should consider himself fortunate for he had something some people would commit crimes for. 

But when he closed his eyes at night, it was Penelope who filled his dreams, whispering sweet nothings to him, telling him that she loved him, that she wanted him, that she was real. And he wanted to believe her so badly that when he opened his eyes in the morning, he could still hear her sweet voice echoing in his ears.

There was no room, no space left inside his heart to harbour another woman, but the people who swore by the bond claimed that every love faded in comparison to the love one would feel for their destined pair. It unsettled him but at the same time, he wanted to see it for himself, see if it was true and if he could break free from it.

Colin wasn’t certain about the specifics, but while soulmate bonds existed, they didn’t manifest for everybody. Some said they were reactionary, only appearing when two souls formed a unique connection. Others said it was predestined, a connection forged by God himself. Whichever was the case, the side effects, known as amores gustum, only appeared noticeably if both mates crossed paths frequently. So for the bond to affect both parties, it required a certain proximity. 

If his soulmate was indeed close enough for her to put this awful taste in his mouth, it posed the question of who she was and why he hadn’t uncovered her identity yet. Benedict tried to convince him that he would know, that the realisation would hit him with deafening clarity once he crossed paths with her but those were the words of a hopeless romantic and if there was one thing Colin refused to be any longer, it was hopeless. 

Colin shook his head and reached for a handkerchief, purposely avoiding his siblings’ eyes as he emptied his mouth’s content into it. Folding it, he grimaced at the notable warmth that seeped through the fabric and placed it next to the half-eaten biscuit on his plate. 

“You look quite unwell, brother.” Benedict, who sat across from him, one long leg folded over the other, glanced at him, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “Is your dear soulmate causing trouble again?”

From the corner of his eye, Colin noted a visible shift in Anthony’s posture. He placed his plate on the rosewood tea tray table and leaned back, draping one arm over the backrest of the sofa as he flicked his gaze toward his eldest brother. Seated near the window with a clothed table to his right, Anthony held today’s newspaper in his hands, pretending to read it. The lack of motion in his dark eyes gave him away but Colin wasn’t going to point it out. One brother trying to tease him was quite enough.

“I suppose she is.” He reached for his tea, trying to wash down the unpleasant taste with two sips. When the third sip failed to have the desired effect either, he lowered the cup with an audible huff. “But this is no mere trouble anymore. That woman is torturing me.” 

“Perhaps, it is intentional.” Eloise who had been engrossed in her novel until now chimed in, briefly looking up to glance at him with an arched brow. “Have you considered that possibility?”

Next to her, Benedict narrowed his eyes curiously. “Oh? Have you been going around breaking hearts, little brother?” 

At that, Anthony finally looked up from his paper. The motion, as small as it was, still caught Colin’s attention and he found himself locking eyes with the eldest Bridgerton sibling. Similar to Eloise, Anthony raised a brow, silently urging him for a reply.

“Don’t be ridiculous.“ Colin waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t recall breaking any hearts since returning from Greece.“ He shifted in his seat, avoiding everyone’s gaze as his thick brows pulled into his face. Then, his eyes settled on Benedict and remained there. “As a matter of fact, I happened to be the one who had his heart broken.” What happened between him and Marina belonged in the past, and while the ton had moved on from the scandal and his family avoided mentioning it in his presence, the incident itself still haunted him. Some days, he woke up feeling sick to his stomach at her betrayal and deception and his own stupidity. She had been desperate and he had been blinded by the desire to find his purpose in life. But his purpose had never been a loveless marriage to Marina. It had been finding his safe haven, the one person that understood him, that adored him despite all his flaws. 

He wanted it to be Penelope but he feared the soul bound wouldn’t allow it. And despite his aversion, he couldn’t deny the curiosity that was amplified by the idea of belonging to someone else. 

Colin exhaled audibly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck to rub his tense muscles. 

“I doubt it is intentional.” Benedict’s features softened, the left corner of his mouth pulling up as he offered his younger brother an apologetic smile. “It would make no sense, after all. Don’t you agree, Eloise?” He cleared his throat. “ Eloise?”

His sister snapped her book shut and straightened her posture, looking at Benedict with a surprisingly disoriented expression before blinking at Colin. It wasn’t the first time her attention had wavered from the topic at hand but Colin couldn’t remember ever being so irritated by it. Since her fight with Penelope, Eloise hadn’t been herself. She lacked attentiveness, more often than not the look in her blue eyes seemed distant and troubled, and on the occasions she did manage to concentrate on something other than her thoughts, it was rather short-lived.

Colin raised a brow at her, mimicking the expression she had given him mere minutes ago.

Eloise shrugged, placing the book between her and Benedict. “Well, yes. I agree. I do. Perhaps she simply enjoys salty food.” She nodded, most likely to reassure herself but Benedict nodded along with her. 

Behind them, Anthony cleared his throat, pulling everyone’s attention toward him. “Eloise may have a point there. It makes little sense to consume an unhealthy amount of salty foods just to spite her soulmate.” Placing the paper on the table, he picked up his teacup to take a sip and possibly hide his smirk behind it. “I highly doubt the poor thing is even aware that you can taste her.”

Benedict turned in his seat, glancing at Anthony over his shoulder. “As much as I hate to disagree with you, that simply does not add up. If Colin is tormented so frequently by her abnormal eating habits, then so must she. I imagine all her teeth must ache from all the sugar our dear brother consumes day and night.”

Anthony made a choking sound but when Colin turned to him with a glare, he was his composed self, dabbing his lips with a handkerchief. 

“Day and night, you say,” Colin replied, rolling his eyes. “Thanks to her, I haven’t had the chance to enjoy a biscuit in weeks. In weeks, you hear me?”

“I can attest to that,” Eloise said with a poorly-hidden smile. “For the past two weeks, our poor Colin has been unable to indulge in his afternoon tea with the family. Like clockwork, that insufferable soulmate of his has assaulted his taste buds. If it were not so amusing, I might have felt sorry for him.”

“Oh my, perhaps it is intentional after all,” Benedict teased.

Colin huffed out a sigh, sounding as exasperated as he felt. “With each passing day, I am reminded more and more of Daphne's missing presence in this household. You three are savages.” He glared at each one of them and upon seeing that none of them looked the slightest bit apologetic, he continued. “You should consider yourself fortunate for not being in my shoes.”

Across from him, Benedict reached out to pat his knee reassuringly. “There, there, little brother. It cannot be that bad now, can it?” 

“It is not just bad, it is unbearable,” Colin said as he swatted the hand away. “I must uncover her identity before she drives me to madness.”

“I refuse to believe that the taste is as awful as you make it out to be,” Anthony said, propping an elbow on the table, the morning paper forgotten next to him as he deemed the conversation with his siblings more interesting.

“I am inclined to agree,” said Eloise as she reached for her novel. “Salty foods simply do not sit well with you. I highly doubt you would be sitting here, complaining to us if she had a preference for sweets.”

Colin looked at her disapprovingly, his brows pulled deep into his face as he mulled over her words. “It is not that it is too salty. That, I can tolerate.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “The taste, it is - it is sour. I cannot say I have tasted anything like it before. It is rather unusual.” Shaking his head, he looked away. “No, not unusual. It is unpleasant.”

“Sour? That is odd,” Benedict said, looking both surprised and confused.

“Quite odd indeed,” Anthony agreed with his brows inched upward.

It was only Eloise who didn’t look the slightest bit puzzled by his choice of words. With her chin held between her thumb and index finger, she offered a stark contrast to his clueless brothers.

“Perhaps, it is not salt you are tasting.” She paused to think. “Well, it is. It certainly is salt because there is a possibility that you have been tasting her tears all along.”

“What?” Colin blurted out, looking at her with wide eyes. “Her tears ? That’s absurd.”

“I disagree. You said the taste is sour. Emotional tears tend to taste acidic.”

“That may be true but you are implying she has been crying inconsolably for the past three weeks or so.” He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tensing at the mere thought of his soulmate weeping bitterly all this time. How could he not have known? How was it possible that the person who was linked to his very soul cried herself to sleep night after night without him ever so much as sensing her despair? 

Perhaps, the bond was not so holy after all, Colin thought, feeling weirdly relieved by the idea.

“Would it be so absurd for it to be true?” Eloise shrugged.

“Yes. It would be absurd. I refuse to believe she has been crying herself to sleep while I have been completely blind to it.”

“Blind to it for weeks at that.”

“Benedict, you are not helping,” said Anthony, glaring in his direction. 

“None of you are helping.” Colin sighed as he hunched forward, his shoulders caving in as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “If what Eloise said were true, I failed my soulmate. I feel terrible.”

“Find her, then.” Benedict's soft voice reached his ears, soothing him if only briefly. “If you feel as terrible as you say you do, you have to find her and ensure she never cries herself to sleep ever again.”

“I will.” Colin looked up, staring at him with stern yet determined eyes. “I will find her.”

And he would, of that much he was sure. But the certainty and determination didn’t prevent his mind from tormenting him with intrusive thoughts. That night, he laid in bed, tossing and turning, restless for hours, asking himself how he could’ve been so ignorant to her pain. 

It had taken his sister to point out the obvious, and while he was thankful for the clarity, he couldn’t shake the reality that — all this time — it had been her tears coating his mouth, her soul desperately trying to reach out to him, begging for aid. All while he had been blinded by his feelings for another woman. A woman who refused to acknowledge him any longer.

Unable to find rest, Colin sat up in bed, his fingers clenching the yellow sheets as his eyes wandered over the parts of his room that were illuminated by cascades of white. The moon seemed blinding tonight, not only illuminating his room and everything in it, but also lighting the world beyond his window. Somewhere out there, down empty cobblestone roads and slumbering townhouses, she was hiding away from him, hurting all by herself.

Alone.

That thought kept him awake throughout the entirety of the night and the two nights that came after. By the time the next ball rolled around days later, he was so tense with bone-deep distress that he approached every unwed lady of the ton, holding out a hand to whisk her away onto the dance floor. With the head of the Bridgerton household happily married, and the second eldest son mostly out of reach since he only set foot on the dance floor to accompany his sisters or mother, it was Colin — a third son — who became the focal point of all the desperate mothers who tried to marry off their daughters. 

It was something akin to a nightmare, the attention and sheer expectations directed at him closed around his neck like a noose, tightening more and more as the seconds passed by. At times Colin felt as if he was suffocated, as if he couldn’t breathe under all the pressure. Just like now.

Slipping two fingers right behind the knot of his krawat, he pulled in an attempt to loosen the vice-like grip the collar had on his neck. It was indeed a nightmare but he was determined to endure it. He would attend a dozen more balls, dance a hundred more torturous waltzes if the outcome ensured he would find her. 

Though he knew it would be a tedious affair. Of all the ladies he danced with and talked to so he could have her consume something in front of his very eyes, none, not a single soul, elicited the desired effect. He felt nothing. He tasted nothing. 

They were not her. 

And he was trapped in a crowd of people he had no use for. 

“Mister Bridgerton?”

Colin blinked, and then he straightened his back, the unpleasant tension pooling between his shoulder blades causing him to shift his weight from one leg to the other.

He looked down at the slender-framed debutante in front of him, offering her the lopsided smile he was known for. She was a pretty thing. With her blue eyes and golden locks, she was the very definition of England’s contemporary beauty standards. But when Colin looked at her, he didn’t feel a single thing. Neither desire nor want. Nothing. She was simply another face in the crowd, a face whose name he had already forgotten.

“I beg your pardon, Miss…?” 

“Miss Elaine Carter.”

“Yes, Miss Carter. Would you mind repeating that for me? I’m afraid my thoughts were elsewhere when you addressed me.”

Not that he wished to have or continue this conversation, but at least he ought to appear interested in whatever was said to him. However, only a mere five minutes later, he decided it was fruitless and he might as well excuse himself. And that's precisely what he did, escape. With a charming smile stretched across his lips and a polite incline of his head, he strode away, avoiding the yearning gazes of the crowd to flee through the wide-open doors that opened up to the gardens that stretched out behind the green fields of the Pierrepont property. 

Outside, the crisp air of the night allowed him to breathe in deeply for the first time that evening. He stretched his neck, shaking off the suffocating hold the ballroom held over him as he walked along the wooden patio that bordered the maze-like gardens the Pierrepont family had erected decades ago. 

During his journey across Europe, Colin had the honour of strolling through gardens that served as oasis for long-living perennials and short-living annuals. He had seen trees so tall they seemed to touch the skies and bushes so odd in colour and texture, that he believed them to be gigantic clusters of flowers. He had seen flower gardens with such marvellous white marble fountains and fluted columns that he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to the ancient temples in Greece and Rome he had visited. And yet, after having witnessed all that, Colin had to admit that the Pierrepont garden still managed to charm him in its very own way. With ivy-green vines curling artistically from the tall hedges and the ornamental grasses covering the pathway near the estate, Colin felt almost compelled to lose himself inside the maze. 

But much to his dismay it appeared that he wasn’t all by himself as previously assumed. Somewhere in the vicinity, behind one of the towering hedges, he heard the faint words of an argument being exchanged between two parties. The moment he registered one of the voices belonged to his sister Eloise, he rushed along the gravel toward the pair, only to discover the other voice belonged to Penelope Featherington—the person Eloise used to call her closest friend.

“What in God’s name is going on here?” Colin asked, his hurried steps slowing down to a halt. His eyes swept over his sister but ultimately settled on Penelope, the girl he hadn’t seen in over a fortnight. Now that he was offered the chance to gaze upon her without her taking off immediately, he did so, quite shamelessly at that. Her, dressed in a dream of soft rose coloured hues set something off inside him, making it surprisingly difficult to look away. He was reminded of a particular moment that occurred months ago.

On his first day back from Greece, inside the four walls of his family’s blue drawing room, Penelope Featherington had bewitched him. 

The mere sight of her had been so mesmerising, so utterly captivating that he found himself unable to take his eyes off of her. It was frightening because no one, not even Marina, had ever made him feel that lost and hopeless.

He was Colin Bridgerton, and she was Penelope Featherington, the girl his little sister had grown up with, and regardless of whether or not they were still friends, he was not supposed to look at her the way he did. He was not supposed to feel this way. Not with her. Not when she was not his soul match.

He could feel the dull throb of a looming headache pool right behind his eye sockets. His gaze dropped down to Penelope’s mouth, watching her luscious lips move, and form words that were directed at him, but he had a hard time concentrating.

“Pardon me?” Colin said in an attempt to hide his inner turmoil.

“Nothing.” Penelope inhaled audibly, looking at him with uneasy eyes. “I said nothing is going on here.”

“ This does not look like nothing to me. You two were arguing.” 

“Even if we were arguing, it is certainly none of your concern.” Eloise stepped forward, glaring at him with flashing blue eyes. 

Taken aback by her display of anger, his brows pulled together to a glare of his own. “It is my concern. You are my sister. And you,” Colin looked at Penelope, stopping briefly to take in her troubled features. “ You have been avoiding me for weeks.” Shaking his head, he forced himself to gaze at Eloise instead. “You two have been hiding things from us. From me . I want to know at this instant what is going on between you two.”

Eloise’s eyes narrowed, her lips parting, ready to snap back at him, but it was Penelope who spoke first, cutting through the tension with unexpected harshness. 

“What you want to know and what you deserve to know are two vastly different things,” she said, eying him with an expression that could only be described as resentment. “My disagreement with Eloise has nothing to do with why – why I cannot bear the sight of you.” The moment the words parted from her lips, his stomach dropped, draining all the colour from his face. What in God’s name could he have done to warrant such treatment?

Before he could utter words of protest, or say anything at all for that matter, Penelope rushed past them with a mumbled ‘ if you will excuse me ’, leaving both him and Eloise shocked and lost for words.

His eyes found his sister’s, and he looked at her, stared at her until his mind found the strength to form words.

“What did she mean by that?” He asked quietly, but still sounding more accusatory than confused.

“You heard her. The reason she is mad with you does not correlate to the argument she and I had.” Eloise crossed her arms, one of her brows raised defiantly as he stared back at him.

“ What did she mean by that, ” Colin repeated, his voice coming out a little louder than before.

“I wouldn’t know!” She replied, just as loud, evidently caught off guard by the urgency in his voice. “Perhaps, you should ask her, and not me what she meant by that.” 

Colin inhaled sharply as he took a step in the opposite direction. “You better go back inside. It’s rather chilly tonight.” With that, he turned away from her and stormed down the same path he believed Penelope to have taken. But when he rounded a corner, he came face to face with none other than Benedict. 

Bringing both hands up, he reached for his brother’s arms to prevent them from running into each other but unlike him, Benedict failed to slow down, so in the end, their knees still collided, causing a displeased sound to fall from Colin's lips.

“Watch your steps!” 

Benedict took a step back, the smile on his face a stark contrast to Colin’s sullen expression. “Oh, what has gotten into you. You have been quite insufferable these past days,” he said, patting his brother’s clothes to straighten the wrinkled fabric. “What ails you this time. Is it that soulmate of yours?”

“Yes. No!” Colin swatted Benedict’s hands away, releasing an exasperated sound. “Have you seen Penelope?”

“I believe so.”

“You believe so?” He stared at Benedict’s grinning face, fighting the urge to put him in a headlock for the audacity to mess with him when he was clearly distraught. “Have you, or have you not seen her.”

“On my way here, I believe to have seen a certain Michael Sterling ask her to dance with him.”

“ Who ?” But he didn’t await a reply. Placing a hand on Benedict’s shoulder, he pushed past him, heading back into the ballroom. Inside, he was met with stale air that, despite the wide-open patio doors, found no escape and threatened to suffocate him with every breath he took. Oh, he had enough of this evening, but he would not leave nor admit defeat before having a word with Penelope. 

Reaching for a glass of lemonade one of the passing servants carried on a silver tray, Colin settled onto the edge of the dance floor, his eyes trained on the moving pairs in front of him. He wanted to glare at the man dancing with Penelope but as always his eyes settled on her instead, following the motions of her body, studying the smile on her lips. Whenever she appeared to be laughing, his ears strained, desperately trying to hear her voice. 

He was supposed to search for his soulmate, his possible future wife, and yet here he stood, gazing longingly at the girl his sister used to call her closest friend. Colin exhaled sharply through his parted lips and turned his face away, closing his eyes in the process. 

The headache he believed to have shaken off returned more severely this time, pinching the nerve-endings at his temples. Colin kept his eyes closed for another moment, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of his cheek to prevent himself from groaning, or God forbid – cursing. 

By the time the stabbing pain ebbed away, his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. He brought a hand to his lips and opened his eyes, swallowing once to rid himself of the awful taste. The first thing he caught sight of was Penelope mimicking him, looking at him with an expression so startled that it sent a wave of panic down his spine.

It was enough to plant a seed inside his mind, to make him hope and wonder, and question everything that was and everything that would be.

Colin didn’t wait for Michael to escort her off the dance floor. Placing his untouched lemonade on a nearby tray, he strode toward them, merely greeting Michael with a nod as he spoke to Penelope. “May I have a word with you.” 

She turned to Michael first, offering him a small smile before she excused herself. Then, she indicated that she would walk with him by accepting the hand he held out to her. But the moment Michael was out of earshot, Penelope regarded him with a frown, her voice unusually stern. “You may not have a word with me, Mister Bridgerton.”

Colin swallowed, choosing to ignore the way his chest tightened at the way she addressed him. “For the love of God, please stop calling me that.”

“Stop calling you what precisely?” She huffed, abruptly releasing his hand to walk a little faster and escape him. But it was no use, his long legs caught up to her in no time. “Mister Bridgerton?” 

“ Yes .” he said, feeling surprisingly wounded by her act of letting go of his hand. His fingers flexed and curled to a fist at his side to fight the empty feeling left behind by her hand. 

“Propriety deems it your title, does it not?“ She glanced at him, the frown still evident on her face as she walked past the patio doors into the garden. Colin followed her outside, close on her heels, unwilling to let the conversion end any time soon.

“Pen, I am begging. What is it that I have done?” 

She whirled around so abruptly, looking at him with so much fury, that it stopped him dead in his tracks. He blinked at her, his heartbeat picking up steadily until he heard the rushing blood echo in his ears. 

“That is Miss Featherington to you.” Penelope took a step backwards, attempting to bring some distance between them, but for every step she took back, he took one forward, as if he was unable to bear the space between them. 

“I would appreciate it if you went back inside. You would do both of us a great favour by doing so. After all, you do not want to be seen with me, do you.” She took another step back.

Colin followed her, regarding her with slightly narrowed eyes, head tilting to the left as he threw her a confused look. “I’m afraid I do not follow. I’ve been seen with you plenty of times, why would I, or anyone else for that matter, be perturbed by it now.”

Penelope smiled at him but it was hollow. “ I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. ” Her blue eyes wandered over his face, searching for something. “ Not in your wildest dreams. ”

His jaw went slack as all colour drained from his face. The Featherington ball. He remembered saying those exact words but they were meant as a distraction, as a way to reel in Fife and the other Gentlemen so they would follow him to Mr Mondrich. Those words were never meant for her ears to hear because they couldn’t be any further from the truth.

But regardless of whether he did or did not mean the things he said, she had heard him, and as he gazed into her glistening eyes, he realised the gravity of his actions. 

“Penelope, I had my reasons for saying those things.” He tried to close the distance between them. “You must believe me, I did not mean—”

She shook her head vehemently and raised a hand, stopping him. “I do not care to hear your reasoning. Whether or not you meant those awful things you said does not justify.” She paused to breathe in. “You did say it. You voiced those things in front of other Gentlemen.”

“Pen— Penelope, please.”

“No!” She said forcefully. “You have embarrassed me. And you have hurt me.” Her eyes closed for the briefest moment. Then she looked down, clasping her hands together as she avoided looking at his face. “I wish to be done with this conversation.” 

He opened his mouth, prepared to beg for her to listen to him so he could explain himself. But as he looked at her, trailing over her trembling shoulders, he knew whatever he planned to say could not mend the damage he caused. So in the end, he only said one thing, and he meant it. 

“I am sorry. I truly am. I hope you can forgive me one day.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes for a second before rushing past him without uttering another word. And he let her because he didn’t trust himself. 

For he did not know what he was capable of if he ever saw her cry because of him. 

That night, long after the ball had come to an end, he stood by the window, allowing the moon to cast its radiant light on him. Restlessness found him again kept awake by the steady salty taste coating his tongue. 

She was crying again and his heart broke for his soulmate because while she was shedding bitter tears, all he could think of was Penelope. 

But then he paused, bringing a hand up to brush his fingers over his lips. He remembered the coppery taste filling his mouth and Penelope looking at him in shock, mimicking his posture. As if … she had experienced the very same thing. 

Colin’s head snapped around as he looked out the window and across the square toward the Featherington townhouse. 

What if it was her? What if Penelope was the person he had been looking for all along? His mind started spiralling, whispering to him about hope and destiny, about true love and a future with Penelope, the woman his heart yearned for so desperately.

He turned away from the window and approached his bed, sitting down before his legs gave out from under him. With a hand pressed flat to the spot above his heart, he willed it to slow down so he could take slow and steady breaths. 

If it truly was her, it meant she had been crying herself to sleep for weeks. Because of him. He closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed. Colin knew he would find no rest tonight, nor the remainder of the week for that matter, but he would put an end to what he had started.

The next day, he approached Anthony’s study. Colin had stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning, alone with his thoughts that called for a solution, and while he had come up with something, he wasn’t certain his older brother would approve it.

Coming to a halt in front of the open door, he raised a hand, giving the frame two rapid knocks. When his brother placed his fountain pen atop his papers and leaned back, beckoning him inside, Colin approached the heavy mahogany desk.

“Anthony. I have a favour to ask of you.” He said, settling down in one of the two armchairs. 

“I’m listening.”

“I need you to host a country house party at Aubrey Hall a week from now.”

“A week from now,” Anthony shifted in his seat, allowing his brother’s words to sink in. Then, he leaned forward, folding both arms on top of his desk. “Have you asked the Viscountess yet?”

Colin mirrored Anthony’s pose, leaning forward as well. “Not yet, but I am certain she won’t deny me my request.”

“And you believe I would?” 

“Perhaps. One can never be absolutely positive when it comes to you.” Colin offered him a smile that faded the moment he spoke his next words. “It is important that you do this for me.”

Anthony tilted his head, his eyes narrowing for a brief second as he seemed to realise something. “You have found her.”

“I believe so.” Colin nodded, leaning back slowly. “But she keeps slipping through my fingers. I need her in one place.” 

“And you think trapping her at Aubrey Hall for a week will play out in your favour?”

“It has to. It’s time for her to stop running away from me.”

One week later, Colin was in Kent – standing at one of the windows that overviewed the pathway to Aubrey Hall – awaiting the start of the country house party.

He’d seen the guest list, making sure that Kate invited all of the Featherington ladies. The Viscountess knew, and by extension so did the Viscount, but that was quite alright, he thought. By the end of this week-long party, everyone would know. 

That both his heart and soul had chosen Penelope.

Leaning heavily against the window frame, he stared out over the lawn, absent-mindedly noting the carriages that rolled down the drive, until one that carried the gilded crest of the Featherington household caught his eye.

He watched one of their footmen leap forward to open the door and help the women out of the carriage. When it was Penelope‘s turn to step out, Colin realised that he had been holding his breath. 

He stepped closer, his forehead merely an inch away from the glass as he peered down at her. And as if she knew, as if she felt his burning eyes on her, she looked up and met his gaze halfway. 

Colin exhaled, inclining his head in a silent greeting, and watched her return the gesture before being ushered inside by her mother. As much as he wanted to bound down the stairs and rush toward the entrance hall if only to catch a glimpse of her, he suppressed his tingling limbs and remained exactly where he was. He had seven more days to approach her, and this time she wouldn’t be able to escape him. 

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

On the very first day — the exact same day to be precise — he found her strolling through the flower gardens, enjoying the warm sun and occasional cool breeze rustling through the leaves. 

He watched her in silence for the first few seconds, allowing himself the pleasure of watching her delighted expression as she reached down to brush her fingers over velvety petals.

“Careful. They have thorns,” he called out as he made his way toward her.

Caught off guard, she pulled her hand back, clasping it to her chest as she stared at him with wide eyes. “Colin! My goodness, you startled me.” The moment the words left her mouth, realisation settled on her features, which in turn, left him feeling oddly satisfied. 

Colin. Not Mister Bridgerton, but Colin !

“I’ve been looking for you.” He smiled at her, soft and honest, his heart on display, and when she gazed at him, eyes wide with surprise, Colin thought that he had her, that she would let him have this moment. 

But her expression changed and she shook her head, taking a step around him. “I’m afraid I have to go. I promised to spend the rest of the afternoon with Miss Edwina.” 

Then she was gone, and yet again, Colin let her. 

On day two, the sky was dark, covered by wuthering clouds that cast a gloomy shadow over the lands. From inside, the rhythmic pitter-patter of heavy raindrops could be heard, pelting against the windows once every while when the winds picked up. 

Despite being kept inside the walls of Aubrey Hall, the atmosphere among the guests remained rather cheerful for nothing was quite as romantic as the soft pattering of summer rain. 

This time he found her upstairs, next to the open french doors inside one of the many drawing rooms. When he approached her, she had been staring over the unroofed balcony out into the vast landscape of the countryside, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

Colin found his place next to her, with enough space between them to raise no suspicions, but he knew Portia‘s sharp eyes were on him, as were his mother’s. 

“Will you run away from me today too?” He asked softly, keeping his voice low enough so the words exchanged only reached their ears. 

Penelope turned her head, glancing at him briefly before looking straight ahead again. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Mister Bridgerton.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yesterday, I was Colin. Today I’m once again Mister Bridgerton?”

“It was a mistake. It shall not happen again.”

“What a shame. I always loved when you called me Colin.“ He turned his head to look at her, and when he did, he found her already staring, gazing at him with those large blue eyes that made him feel like a drowning man, a poor soul so desperately in love with the sea that he let the deepest, most sublime parts of her swallow him whole. Penelope was beautiful, and she was divine and the cruel thing about all of it was — that she didn’t know.

“You need to stop.” She whispered, her delicate brows pulling together into a frown.

“Do I?” He whispered back, fighting the urge to close the distance between them. If it hadn’t been for their mothers watching them with hawkeyes, he would’ve already given in.

She nodded, her lips pressing to a thin line before she replied with a shaking voice. “Yes. You need to stop tormenting me. You’ve already caused me enough anguish.”

And just like every other time, she walked away. 

When he turned around to follow her, he found her occupying the spot next to her mother on one of the sofas. Portia’s eyes were on him, and as bothersome as the feeling was, it was his mother’s eyes that truly unsettled him, boring into him with such intensity, that he was certain she could read his every thought. 

He smiled his lopsided smile, offered a polite incline of his head, and then he fled the room. 

On day three, it stopped raining but the skies remained dull and grey. Those brave enough to take on the strong winds ventured outside, but of course, Penelope wasn’t one of them. 

After an extensive search, he stumbled upon her inside the family library, trailing her fingers gently over books that caught her attention. On this day, she had decided to wear her hair down, allowing her curls to fall in auburn waves over her shoulders. 

He stopped in the doorframe, holding his breath as he watched her awestruck expression. In the soft, flickering candlelight which cast a warm shadow over her frame, she almost looked ethereal, like a fever dream — a goddess that had stepped out of a Renaissance painting to grace him with her beauty.

If he hadn’t been sure of his love for her before, he was now. 

Oh God, he was so sure, so secure in his feelings for her that it consumed him, burned him from the inside out. 

Soulmates or not, he loved her, he breathed for her, and he would break the bond for her if he had to. 

“What are you doing here?”

Colin blinked once, twice, and then he looked up to meet the startled expression in her eyes. He had never been one to care much for something poets described as the windows to the soul, but as he beheld the blue in her eyes, he believed oceans to be hiding inside them. And he — for all the sharp intellect he prided himself with — drowned in them like a spellbound sailor drowned in the arms of a siren. 

Perhaps, that’s what she was. A siren singing her song to him, luring him in with her beauty. A beauty so otherworldly and beyond his grasp that it would drive him mad eventually.

“I have been looking for you.” He admitted as he moved away from the door and further into the room, giving in to the undeniable pull she had on him. 

She gave him a puzzled look, shaking her head as if he had said something outlandish. “Why?”

Taking slow steps, he steadily diminished the distance between their bodies. She seemed to notice but instead of moving back, she stood her ground.

“What do you mean ‘why?’ I have been looking for you every day this week. Heavens, I have been seeking you out on every occasion that made it possible for me.” He stopped in front of her, leaving a barely appropriate amount of space between them as he gazed down into her eyes. Colin smiled at her knowingly, his voice quiet yet gentle as he spoke. “But you have been aware. You’ve run off every time I came to see you.”

She shook her head again, her lips parting to disagree but he wouldn’t let her.

“You have, Penelope. You have been running away.” His gaze dropped between their bodies as he reached out to take one of her hands into his. “And I understand why. I do, but I also need you to know that I can’t stay away from you.”

“Why are you doing this?” She breathed out, squeezing his hand without pulling away. He took it as a sign that she would not run away this time, that she would listen. 

In hindsight, Colin was certain that he would’ve confessed his love for her then and there, but it seemed fate wouldn’t have it that way. At least not on day three.

Before he could open his mouth to reply, a shrill voice cut through the silence, causing them both to part with a yelp. As Penelope yanked her hand out of his grasp and his back hit the bookshelf, the only thing he could think of was that the day on which he would strangle his little sister had finally arrived. 

“What in God’s name is going on?” He heard Eloise screech, the anger in her voice almost palpable.

When his head snapped around so he could throw an annoyed glare in her direction, his eyes fell on Kate who stood right behind Eloise, mouthing a ‘ I’m so sorry’ in his direction. Somehow, seeing the Viscountess snuffed out the budding anger deep inside the pits of his stomach. 

He stepped away from the bookshelf, straightening his posture before smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes. As he did that, Penelope finally found the courage to flee the room, and because it was the only right thing to do, he let her. Subjecting her to Eloise’s unfounded wrath was the last thing he would allow to happen. 

“I was having a conversation with Penelope,” he said eventually, not caring how ridiculous he sounded.

“That did not look like a conversation to me!” Eloise hissed at him. 

At that, Colin smiled. “I do not care,” he said as he approached the pair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would love to finish my conversation with her.”

But he wouldn’t because Penelope hid away in crowded rooms, silently telling him that she would not let the same thing happen again. 

Day four and five were a complete and utter disaster because Eloise had made it her life’s mission to sabotage every chance of him having a private moment with Penelope. And while Kate tried her best to interfere and keep Eloise away from them, as the hostess of the house party it was impossible for her to hover over his sister at all times. 

So on those two days, Colin settled for gazing at her from afar, hoping she would bestow him with a look or two in his direction. Which she did. When no one else was looking and the moment belonged just to them, she would turn to him, allowing their eyes to meet across rooms and people, taking in each other until she dared to look away.

On day six, he finally managed to shake Eloise off thanks to Kate and Edwina, and his mother. Sometime over the course of the last three days, his dear mother had deciphered his odd behaviour, putting two and two together and aiding her son in what she deemed to be the most important thing in life: love.

“She‘s waiting for Edwina in the fields behind the flower gardens. You will have ten minutes with Penelope before I send Kate after you two. Do not waste this opportunity. ” She had said with a smile as she smoothed over the fabric of his attire. “ Hurry now before your sister finds out you’re both missing .” And he did hurry, but not before pressing a loving kiss to the back of his mother’s hand. 

Eloise would be furious with him, and maybe she had every right to be. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was childish and cruel for trying to deny him the happiness he deserved. Maybe Maybe Maybe. Maybe those were worries for another day. 

As he stepped through the french doors into the gardens, he turned his face toward the sun, thanking God in heaven for the return of summer. And as he strode down the flower gardens, with his heart beating so vigorously inside his chest that he feared it would jump out any second, he thanked his lucky stars for making him fall for the wonderful person that was Penelope Featherington. Penelope who was strong and smart, and beautiful, and oh so desirable in all the right ways. 

Colin breathed in, pressing his palm to his chest to feel his heartbeat behind the safety of his ribcage. He had reached the edge of the field and there — amidst an ocean of yellow and white dandelions — there she was, wearing a dress so blue it made her hair look brighter than ever in the afternoon sun. As if it was fire. As if she was the only source of light, and just like a moth, unable to escape the mesmerising pull of the flames, he approached her, ready to let her burn him to ashes. 

So he walked closer, and closer, and by some miracle, she didn’t notice because she was too busy mumbling to herself, picking up white dandelions to blow their seeds into the air. 

“He loves me.” She said, watching the fuzzy-looking parachutes whirl around in front of her eyes. She plucked out another one. “He loves me not.” Another one. “He loves me.”

Colin watched, and wondered, and tried to make sense of what she was doing, but perhaps there was no sense to it. Perhaps she hoped for one of those dandelion seeds to carry her wish right to him. And they did.

“He loves me not.”

He closed the small distance between them and knelt beside her, plucking the dandelion out of her hand to blow the seeds in her direction, watching them get caught and tangle in her fiery hair.

“He loves you.” He whispered to her, meeting her startled expression with soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“He does?” She whispered back, her voice shaking as she looked at him with hopeful eyes.

Colin nodded, reaching down to brush his knuckles over the tender skin of her cheek. “He does.” He whispered once more as he slid his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in to close the space between them.

That summer day, in the dandelion fields hiding somewhere behind Aubrey Hall, Colin Bridgerton kissed the love of his life, and when he did, he knew his journey was over. He knew his soul no longer had to search because it had found its home. 

Benedict had been right after all. It had taken their lips to meet but it was true, and right, and earth-shattering, and magical in the most absurd way. He knew in his heart — in his soul that it was her. That it had been her all along.

“You knew, didn’t you.” He said in between kisses as he laid her down, planting one hand beside her head to keep his weight off of her. But she pulled him down anyway, whimpering and sighing into his mouth, seemingly unable to form a coherent sentence. Colin relished the effect he had on her but he was also aware that it was wrong of him, that he would never forgive himself if he went any further than this. 

So he placed one last kiss on her lips and pried her hands off his face to bring some distance between them. “Not here, my love, my sweet darling, but soon.“ Colin murmured, pressing his lips to her palms. He only paused to look at her and when he did, he found her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“You don’t have to cry any more. I’m here now, and I promise, I swear that— as long as I walk this earth, as long as I breathe — no harm shall come your way.”

“Is this a dream? Have I finally lost my mind?” She said to him, her voice quivering as the tears started to pool in her eyes. When a single droplet ran down her cheek, Colin released her hands to cup her face instead, leaning down to kiss each tear away. 

“Everything about this moment is as real as my love for you.” He said softly as he wiped away tears with his thumbs. “Penelope, I need you to know, I need you to believe me when I say I love you, I love you for the person, the woman you are at this very moment in time. It is not your soul, but your heart and mind that have indulged my senses.” Colin pressed his lips against hers again, longer this time because he couldn’t help himself. Because this was Penelope and no matter how many kisses he stole from her lips, it would never be enough. He would never be satisfied. When he pulled back, he only did so he could gaze into the vast sea of her blue eyes. “I love you, Penelope Featherington. I adore you, I worship you, and there will not come a day in this lifetime where I shall grow weary of uttering these things before you for you have bewitched my heart and soul.” 

At that, she sat up, tears welling up in her ocean-blue eyes. He followed, leaning back to give her the space she asked for silently. “How long have you known?”

Colin reached down between them, getting hold of her hands to hold them in his. “In my heart? I suppose for a while.” He brought her hands to his mouth, brushing his lips along the tender flesh of her knuckles. “But at the Pierrepont ball, a week ago when you danced with a certain Michael Sterling, I think — I think that’s when I truly started believing, hoping that I could have this. That I could have you.”

She nodded, the tears finally spilling from her eyes and running down her cheeks. “You have me. You’ve had me for a long, long time, Colin.” Easing her hands out of his grip, she brought them up to his face, brushing her fingertips over the soft skin of his lips, the slightly curved bridge of his nose, and the thick twin arches that were his brows. Then, she leaned forward, kissing him, whispering sweetly against his lips. 

“I love you, Colin Bridgerton. I adore you, I worship you, and there will not come a day in this lifetime where I shall grow weary of uttering these things before you for you have bewitched my heart and soul.”

He closed his eyes, breathing a laugh against her lips as he cupped her face and kissed her. And then he kissed her some more because she was mesmerising and beautiful, and strong, and a dream come true. And he loved her for everything he was and everything that he would be.

On day seven, he descended the majestic staircase that led down to the heart of Aubrey Hall, the ballroom filled with a crowd of people, who turned to gaze up at him and the woman accompanying him. When his steps came to a slow halt, the room went quiet, and he turned to her, bringing her hand to his mouth. He pressed a firm, reassuring kiss to the back of her hand and smiled at her with love and adoration in his eyes. Then, he turned to the crowd, a charming grin stretched across his lips as he spoke up, his voice both loud and captivating.

“May I introduce to you, the love of my life. The soul that has captured my heart and mind.” He paused to look at her once more. “The woman I want to spend the rest of my days with for she is both my fate and destiny. I present to you, Penelope Featherington, my love, my heart, and my soul .”