Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

London, 1875.

Christmas is over, and a new year has begun.

The Christmas decoration remains intact until the children arrive to remove, as they had done since Penelope established the tradition. They had several traditions. Colin remembered them and of the four children in a moment of mess and relaxation to decorate the first tree, and the many others that came to follow.

He smiled, missing it.

She leafed through the first book that Penelope wrote during Agatha's pregnancy, with a special dedication, the pages were yellowed and a little wrinkled from time and consecutive readings, but it was still in excellent condition. Even decades after it was published.

I loved that book, the first, “An Invisible Girl”, and I remembered how happy she was writing it. Moments when Penelope laughed at the role or had fun with a scene, forgetting that he was watching her from afar.

None of her books had a sad ending, they ended happily with her protagonists finding overwhelming love. When he caught her looking at him, he knew she was writing the last few pages.

Penelope reviewed all of her published travelogues, and all of Colin's dedications were targeted to her.

There was never anyone else. She loved her four children, but if it weren't for that woman, he never it would have had courage or believed. Penelope was everything and more, loving her made him achieve his greatest happiness, the family they formed, and with her every moment became unforgettable.

Between the pages, Colin found a torn part from the last Lady Whistledown's column, and smiled again.

He would always love her, she was his home.

"Okay?"

Colin looked up to find his eldest daughter, Agatha, smiling at him and taking off her gloves, as well as her hat and coat, throwing them all on the living room table.

They returned to the tradition, years after the four of them left home. Penelope called the day “Collect the Ornaments”, it wasn't very creative, her children laughed at the name, but it was fun and got the children to collaborate. To the point of waiting for that day more than the day to decorate the house itself.

The idea of returning belongs to Agatha, after a difficult year, but they were recovering.

"Hi, Aggie." Agatha sat next to him on the couch and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "How are you doing?" Colin asked.

"I'm fine, but I feel like I'm going to freeze. It keeps raining outside," she said, snuggling closer to her father, like she did as a child, with her head on his shoulder and Colin wrapping an arm around his daughter's shoulders. To warm her up. “Ah, Andreas sent you a kiss, he’s coming to thank you for the gift and play the piano for you.”

"He doesn't need to. I'm glad I can still please my grandson."

She laughed into his shoulder.

"Because you're the best father in the world and an even better grandfather. Where's George?"

"With your mother," Colin replied, turning a page of Penelope's book on his thigh.

Agatha was silent for a brief moment, but Colin felt the head on his shoulder move, and he looked at her. She smiled, wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes, and reminding him that Agatha was no longer his little girl. It hadn't been for a while, although the memories of her stepping on his toes to learn to dance were vivid.

Agatha was now a mature woman and as beautiful as she was younger. She still danced poorly, but Hektor, her husband, had no problem having his feet punished by the woman he loved.

"What about you, dad? How are you feeling today?"

For the first time in just over a year, he spoke:

"I am fine." without hesitation, smiling at her daughter.

She looked happy, and Colin got another kiss on the cheek.

"What a surprise," said a voice from the entrance. Thomas taking off his coat with the help of the butler, leaving discreetly as always. Briarly's son inherited his father's discreet and observant attitude. “Agatha arrived on time and not late as usual.”

“And you,” she pointed to her brother, moving away from her father and standing up. “You're late, my dear brother.”

Thomas made a face of disbelief.

"I'm never late."

"Well," Agatha sighed in disappointment. "Dad and I don't believe it either."

Thomas's eyes narrowed, and he looked from his father to his sister more than once, and he couldn't resist reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out his pocket watch to check the time.

He grunted and put away his watch. Agatha let out a laugh.

“Years and she’s still the same.”

“Fun, beautiful and interesting? I take that as a compliment." She replied. “And you, my dear, are still the same. Falling into silly antics.”

Thomas was a gentleman. Fair, generous, an excellent father and a good man, of whom Colin was proud. They maintained the same mannerisms, dressed perfectly and avoided breaking the rules - unless they were strictly necessary.

"At least we both agree that mentally you haven't grown up, Aggie." He approached, receiving a pat on the shoulder from Agatha, and responded with a kiss on the older sister's forehead. Then he looked at his father, who was just happily watching his older children. “Dad, how are you today?”

"I'm fine, Tommy."

Thomas waited for confirmation from his sister, who nodded, and he turned to Colin, happy to hear it.

"I'm going up, George mustn't know we're here. Excuse me."

Agatha retreated to the hallway of the house, going up the stairs.

It was Thomas's turn to sit next to his father.

"This book is Mom's first," he noted.

Colin smiled.

"Your sister didn't notice."

"Agatha only focuses on what she wants, she was never very attentive to details. Starting to read again?"

"Looking… for something, but I can't find it", replied Colin, attentive to the book. "Maybe I really should start over."

If he was looking for a specific passage and Thomas knew more or less which one, give him a direction. He knew his mother's books by heart, he inherited her good memory. But letting him search can be a good distraction.

"And... Mom?" he asked, cautiously.

"Upstairs, in the library. Better not interrupt her, she's writing."

Didn't argue. Thomas just gave a weak smile and lowered his head, then raised it again.

"Anne came into my office yesterday and made a horrible mess," he said, changing the subject. "She was all covered in ink from the inkwell, scribbling on my work papers."

Colin turned to his son with raised eyebrows and asked:

"What did you do?"

"I tried to be hard on her, Dad." But his shoulders slumped. "The problem is that Anne disarms me. She had a huge smile, she was writing me a letter, and it said 'The best father in the world'."

Anne was the first daughter of four brothers and was honored with her grandmother's second name. Thomas had three children before Anne's arrival, and she was the youngest until the birth of her fifth child. Agatha had a son, Andreas. Jane had three children and was pregnant in her forties. George never married.

Colin couldn't help but smile thinking about his own little daughters, he was also completely surrendered to them. But Agatha always knew how to handle him as she wanted.

“Just enjoy it, children grow up. When you least expect it, you’ll be introducing eighteen-year-old Anne.”

“And enduring suitors knocking on the door to woo her.” Thomas shuddered. “I prefer not to think.”

“Like I said, enjoy it. All the time you have left. One day you will see her leave home, and it will be much more difficult.”

Thomas thought of emptiness without the sound of children filling the house. Just Lizzie and him. The day would come, no doubt, but he imagined how it should have been for your parents when they were all gone. Agatha left first, to begin her traveling life, as she always dreamed of, after three unsuccessful seasons and a series of preparations.

She met Hektor in New York, but he was Greek. Thomas married Elizabeth York, or Lizzie, as he affectionately called him. Jane was successful in her first season with Lord Daniel Allendale, they were an intellectual couple, and George had barely left Oxford when he embarked for America.

Maybe it was a little easier because they had each other, and they never imagined the opposite. Not until just over a year.

His father was distracted by the book again.

Someone entered the room accompanied by Marty, the butler. Thomas stood up. It was Jane, pregnant with a seven-month belly, while Marty helped her with her wet cloak and coat.

The storm got worse.

“Jane.” He approaches. Jane thanked Marty for his help, who left discreetly, and accepted his brother's hands with a kiss on the forehead. “I thought possibly I wouldn’t come. We’d understand.”

"I know." Jane also exchanged an affectionate hug. “But George is here, and we have to take advantage of him.”

“We’re all here now.”

“Ah, excellent!” Jane exclaimed, and smiled at Colin, who also smiled when he saw her. “Hi, Daddy.” She bent down to kiss him on the cheek. "How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Lady Jane. And you? Or rather, both of you?"

Jane smiled more, touching her father's hand on her belly.

"We are fine." he replied, stroking his older hand with his thumb, and looked at Thomas. “I believe we are ready.”

This time referring to her, her father and brothers.

Everyone, except the father, sitting on the sofa with the book in his hands, worked and put away the decorations. They were more than Christmas decorations, they were kept memories. Especially since when they were children.

Agatha was looking at an old doll that she wanted to get rid of a few years ago, when she decided it was too old to play with. But Penelope saw in her daughter's eyes that it wasn't true, and said that the doll would be perfect for Christmas decorations.

Thomas put the first ball of Pall Mall he ever threw into the lake into the box, and George grinned as he read an aged sheet of the first text he wrote and his mother revised. It was then that he decided to want to write, not novels or fiction books, but about reality. He was fascinated by Lady Whistledown's writings.

The decorations were not the common, old-fashioned Christmas decorations. Penelope renovated to objects with meanings for each.

The first time, she placed a clipping from Lady Whistledown's last column, where she disowned Cressida Cowper, and the distribution took place during their engagement ball. For her, it was a special date when Colin told her he loved her.

Colin chose a small mirror, among others, that he gifted to his wife every year. They never went into detail, but Colin used to tell the children 'Your mother is even prettier in front of one' and she would always blush instantly.

Everything there has a part of the six.

Jane had one hand on her stomach, placing herself on tiptoe. Stretching in an attempt to reach the top of the tree, the angel that always adorned him, but clearly his stature didn't help.

Until she heard a giggle behind her. And I knew it immediately.

It was George.

Thirty centimeters taller and he could certainly reach the angel without any problem.

“Georgie, stop laughing! Get it for me at once.”

He crossed his arms and continued with a mocking smile on his face.

“Don’t be mad at me. You inherited your height from mom, it’s not my fault.” retorted George.

"I'm Pregnant!" appealed.

“My dear sister, you cannot wear this forever.”

“I’ll use as much as I can!” said Jane, impatiently. He indicated with his head and eyes the angel on the tree. With the same angry face that his mother used to make when he messed up.

George approached his sister, touched her shoulder, gave her a wink and a patient smile.

“Yes, Lady Jane. But you’ve been standing too long, sit down.” he ordered, they were almost ready. "I make."

Jane thanked him silently and walked with her hand on her lower back, sitting next to her father.

She didn't hate being pregnant, she sighed, but she had to admit how uncomfortable pregnancy was. Swollen feet, tiredness, and there was the problem of age, the eldest son was already an adult. However, Daniel and she were happy and hopeful that it was a girl.

But something told Jane, a sixth sense, that it would be.

"Father." She called him.

Waking up from reading the book – whether it was the hundredth or thousandth time – Colin looked at his daughter and smiled. She was happy to see him laugh so often. In the last year... At some point, he came to his senses and was lost between sadness and longing.

“Lady Jane.”

I loved that nickname.

He gave it to her by practicing dance moves at home. Agatha was terrible and preferred to have fun dancing awkwardly, while Jane concentrated as much as possible on learning.

When Thomas and she danced a perfect waltz, without mistakes, Colin said that Jane was born to be a Lady. And he was right.

Jane found her Lord and he loved her.

“Daniel and I believe the baby will be a girl.” He placed his hand on his stomach and sighed contentedly. “Actually, I feel certain.”

He expected his father to question himself, instead he nodded in affirmation and asked:

"I am happy. Did you choose a name?”

That was the part I wanted to get to.

Jane choked, choosing her words carefully in her mind. I didn't want to take him out of his good state today.

"Yes. Like Thomas had Anne, and even though Mom never gave us any of our grandmothers' names…” He lifted his head. “I want to call her Penelope.”

Colin didn't say for a moment. Staring into his daughter's blue eyes. She had Penelope's eyes and Bridgerton hair, but she still looked the most like her mother.

From your calmest and kindest to your determined and sensible way. The features of the face, the height and the beauty. She was beautiful, breathtaking.

And he wasn't saying it because he was a father who loved his daughter. It was just the honest truth.

“Your mother will be honored, and so will I” he said smiling, with a slightly choked voice that he tried to avoid.

Even though she was relieved to see him still smiling, she seemed uncertain.

"He is sure?"

“Lady Jane,” he called her. “You took good sense from your mother. Tell me if it doesn’t feel right.”

Eye to eye like when I was a child. He rarely gave her the answer, he always believed in his decisions.

Jane nodded and smiled.

“Just…” he preferred not to conclude. “It’s going to be a mess. We will have the third Penelope in the family.”

Colin laugh.

“Penelope Bridgerton. Penelope Crane. Penelope Allendale.”

“But she is unique.” he reaffirmed, holding back the urge to cry.

In his father's arms. So calm and serene, without getting lost, without getting shaken. While she would lose control in his arms if Colin continued talking about his mother.

“Incomparable, my dear. Just like you."

He kissed his daughter's forehead and hugged her again.

They stayed like that for two or three minutes.

Suddenly it came to Jane's mind how much she missed that hug. He couldn't stop some tears from falling.

“Jane.”

"Yes father?" matched.

"I love you."

She smiled in tears.

"I love you too."

“Hot chocolate time!” Agatha announced.

They separated and saw Marty, the butler, holding a tray with six mugs, entering the room for another tradition. Right after decorating the house, they got hot chocolate as a reward, and when they unpacked it too.

Gathering together to talk around the fireplace.

Agatha was excited.

“Don’t forget tradition, Marty. Use our nicknames.”

"Agatha." Tomás complained.

"What? It’s tradition!”

She smiled a huge, beautiful smile, waiting for the moment. Just like when she was a little girl, she hasn't changed at all. And Marty, of course, knew the traditions and had no hesitation in following them.

“Princess Agatha,” he said, handing her the hot chocolate with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

“Thanks, Marty.” Agatha thanked him with the mug in her hand, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

“Pirate Thomas”

“It wasn’t necessary, Marty,” Thomas said, accepting his chocolate and smiling contentedly. "But thanks."

Always very discreet and quiet, nodding elegantly with each thank you, Marty walked over to Colin and Jane, serving them as well.

“Captain Bridgerton.” Colin accepted and smiled, once again that day. And it didn't go unnoticed by the children. “Lady Whistledown.”

Marty carefully placed Penelope's cup on the small table next to Colin, near the chandelier.

“She thanks you, Marty,” Colin said.

The butler blinked, sniffed very subtly, and nodded, serving the youngest daughter.

“Lady Jane.”

"Thank you, Mr. Briarly."

And last but not least, George.

George pursed his lips.

"You left me for last, let's see if you remember."

Not all of Marty Briarly's politeness kept him from rolling his eyes. George had once been a very intelligent and somewhat mischievous boy. Expelled from Eton but a brilliant student at Oxford. Currently, an impressive journalist in New York.

“Sir Magnificent, Peerless, Stupendous, Generous, Charming and Phenomenal Lord, George,” declared Marty.

George placed his hand on his chest at heart level.

"How sweet. Thank you, Marty." he replied, accepting the cup. “However,” he paused. "You ruined everything. Forgot about Magnanimous.”

"I won't repeat it. Good night." Marty left George once again having fun at his expense, and without missing the opportunity, greeting everyone before leaving. “Gentlemen. Madam. Milady."

When the butler closed the door and left, the other four focused their attention on the youngest son.

"What?" he shrugged cynically.

Jane turned to her father.

“Three was an excellent number.”

“Do you think I had any control over this?”

"Well, at least we know where half of the family's self-esteem goes." commented Agatha.

And everyone laughed.

George didn't even make a point of denying it, he was never modest, he gave a charming smile and winked at his older sister. Sit closer to the group to spend the next hour talking.

They commented on their lives, jobs, husbands and wives, children, plans. The present, a little of the future, and certainly, the past. Because traditions are made of memories. Good or bad.

"This is not true." Agatha protested. “I don’t remember telling everyone.”

"Agatha, Frederick was a baby and he was babbling the gossip. Lucky, your Aunt Eloise didn't get angry." Thomas said.

“Aunt Eloise loves me!”

“Because you literally have her name,” George retorted. “Agatha Eloise Bridgerton.”

"George got kicked out of Eton!"

“The first and only in the Bridgerton family. And Featherington." George spoke proudly. “I hope to inspire generations to come.”

“Good God, Georgie! You are terrible! " Jane accused, as did everyone else, laughing.

Not even the prestige of the Duchess of Hastings or Viscount Bridgerton could save him. Upon entering Oxford, anyway, the subject went from tense to fun to talk about.

Laughing as if they had made hundreds of jokes before.

Maybe it's due to the influence of alcohol to make them so light and giggly - Jane didn't drink at all - or the influence of, after months and months apart, now finally together.

George took a sip of his drink before blurting out a long-standing piece of gossip:

“Thomas took Edmund's wife's cousin to Aubrey Hall's greenhouse. On Grandma Violet’s birthday.”

Three heads turned to Thomas, who stopped the glass halfway to his mouth.

“Thomas!” Agatha said in shock.

“It’s been years! I was seventeen!” And he squinted at George. "Big mouth! That’s why he was expelled!”

The youngest simply smiled, enjoying the commotion. Silently sipping more of his drink.

“I think I know who she is. She's married to a duke now,” Jane said. “Daughter of a duke! An unpalatable man! Do you know what he could have done to you?”

“Killed me?” he kicked, fidgeting in the seat he had chosen.

“I considered dragging him to a church, but… Well, yes.”

“I can’t believe Thomas Bridgerton did anything wrong,” Agatha exclaimed, and laughed. "Perfect! It wasn’t a big deal, but finally!”

“Two or three kisses, it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing special. And she was the one who took me, and... It's okay, I didn't fight it.”

Colin let out a practiced laugh.

“Like it’s the most outrageous thing Thomas has done.”

Three heads turned between Colin and Thomas, waiting for one of them to tell more about what they didn't know.

"Unlike you." Thomas pointed from Aggie to George. Jane has always been a lady. “I know how to let go of guilt and erase the tracks.”

And he smiled.

Colin spent much of the conversation in silence, deciding that there was no point in continuing to re-read Penelope's book. Looking for something that wasn't there. He took the opportunity to observe his children. Laughing, playing, interacting, being happy.

Everyone suffered a loss, the pain certainly doesn't lessen, it's constant, but they moved on. Living. With the families they built and for having each other. George worried him, but he knew he loved the job he had and life was good too. Even if lonely at times.

Everything was fine. In peace.

And because of that, he felt out of place, because he wasn't at peace. I wasn't moving forward.

Not without her.

Colin got up from the sofa a little sore after hours of sitting – he wasn't young anymore. Carrying Penelope's closed book with her against her chest and the glass of whiskey in her other hand, trying to steady herself. Maybe he drank a little too much. George wanted to help him, but refused, positioning himself in the center of the family meeting.

"Okay. I ask for everyone's attention." And obediently, the four children stopped and focused on him. He took a deep breath, with a pain in his chest. An old pain that will probably never go away. "I love them. Every one. And I always will." He held back the urge to cry, clutching the book. "I love your mother too. Or maybe I did, but... it doesn't matter. She's everything. My wife, my best friend." His children were silent, mute. Jane covered her hand with her mouth and cried. Agatha's big eyes sparkled. Thomas and George just quiet with sad expressions. "My intention was not to ruin the night, you know how your mother doesn't like attention." Some smiled, even through tears. His father loved making loud statements. "But I... I would like to propose a toast to the most extraordinary woman in the world." He raised the glass. "My wife!"

For a year he had been suffering from memory lapses and fluctuations. There were times when Colin didn't remember anything or preferred to forget, and others when he couldn't hide from the truth. But every time this happened, he would stop and hang up.

He hadn't smiled like he did today in months.

"For Mom!" Thomas responded by raising the glass, blinking his eyes a few times.

Agatha tried to smile as she said:

“For Mom!”

“For Mom!” said Jane's choked voice.

And lastly, George.

“For Mom.”

Colin smiled happily at his children and swallowed all the remaining liquid, and three of them repeated the gesture. The pain in my chest hadn't gone away yet, it never would.

After dinner, everyone said goodbye.

Thomas hugged his father. Agatha did too, followed by a kiss on the cheek, and her father handed her Penelope's book.

“But it’s yours… Mom gave it to you” said Aggie.

“I know him by heart, darling. What I'm looking for isn't there. It never will be.” He smiled. “Now it’s yours. She’s the oldest.”

Agatha thanked him and was moved, making room for Jane. She lingered a little longer in the hug, squeezing him tightly.

They said goodbye to him. Except for George, who had been staying at the house for the last few weeks until he returned to New York.

His son asked Marty to leave and took charge of helping his father to his room. Colin didn't protest. They went upstairs. Passing by the huge portrait of the six of them together. Penelope and Colin sitting on chairs, Thomas, behind his father, aged nineteen, Agatha, behind her mother, aged twenty-one, Jane, on her father's side, aged seventeen, and George, next to her mother, aged fourteen.

Colin looked fine, but tired at the same time. When he sat on the double bed, dressed in his pajamas, he felt lonely, like every time since…

Since…

She's gone.

"Father?" George called him. Colin listened, but didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Father? What it was?"

"Your mother."

George sighed.

"Yes, she's in the library." reaffirming the speech. Doctors said Colin was finding a way to cope with the loss, and denying it would only return him to a state of mourning.

“She’s not, not anymore, Georgie. And it never will be again.” Colin recognized it without looking at him. George stood still, silent and serious. Not knowing what to say. “Remember… Remember when she died? You were here. Remember how she…”

"I remember." George interrupted, his eyes burning, but he didn't cry. There was no need to remember the last hours of her life, the cold hand he held, he didn't want to.

Not out loud.

Colin nodded.

"I miss her."

"I feel it too, dad."

"She was my home and when she left I was... aimless." Colin looked at him with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry for this."

George came over and sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

“And me, I was more selfish. I boarded a ship a week later, and I didn't return for almost a year. I am really sorry about that."

Since losing him, everyone has failed or lost themselves in pain. Colin wasn't the only one to have his compass break when he lost his north.

The day Penelope Bridgerton died, everything around her went dark. After months of illness, he lived his last days with those he loved. She left during the early hours of the morning, the rain had stopped, the sky was open and the stars were shining.

George and Colin were the only ones in the house, and when they woke up in the morning… they were the first to know.

Lady Whistledown is gone with her.

“I don’t want to be without her anymore, George.” Colin admitted and squeezed his wet eyes with his fingers. “She’s not writing in the library anymore.”

Colin wiped away his tears, receiving a pat on the shoulder from his youngest son, followed by a hug. George inherited Colin's height, and even grew a little taller, or his father shrank with the advancement of time and old age. George could now put his father's head on his chin and he held him as if it were the last time, and he cried.

He was happy in New York. He missed England and his brothers, lived there for years, and took a job on impulse to escape the pain of losing his mother. George hadn't grabbed the love he wanted to spend his life like his parents, but for him, it wasn't the end yet.

Agatha and Thomas married their older spouses in their thirties. They weren't even looking for it when it happened. Agatha preferred to travel and adventure, Thomas was always more responsible, but enjoyed the single life, and neither of them would accept anything less than happiness in marriage. With someone, they couldn't live without. And George, I expected to be surprised.

When the moment is over.

 He helped his father get comfortable on the bed, in silence, and adjusted the blanket before smiling and bending down to kiss Colin's forehead.

"Good night dad." He turned off the lamp and when he was at the door, about to leave, Colin called him. "Yes?" he replied.

“Come back to London often.”

George smiled.

"I promise."

He left, closing the door.

Colin looked up at the ceiling. Feeling the pain that wouldn't go away, closing his eyes and reaching for the side of the bed that belonged to his wife. It was empty, cold, as expected. With the other hand, he pressed his chest, taking a deep, anguished breath and finding his limit.

“I can’t do it anymore, Pen.” He cried. "Please."

For a while, nothing happened.

There was silence.

The night passed like any other. The heavy clouds from before were dispensed with, with many bright stars.

And a voice said:

“Colin?”

In all these years of marriage, he never left her unanswered.

“Pen.”

The next morning, just over a year after losing his loved one. His four children found out that Colin Bridgerton was dead and gone.

What they didn't know was that he wasn't alone.

Chapter Text

London, 1825.

When Agatha was born.

By mid-October 1825, in autumn, cooler weather was beginning to appear in London. Colin preferred summer, the heat, or spring with Hyde Park blooming and green. But that autumn became special, with the best gift he could have received from Penelope besides her love.

A little bundle in your arms that was born, filling the space with more happiness. Inspired by Lady Danbury, who had been to their home to visit Penelope and get to know her, they named her Agatha.

There would be more children in the future, and Penelope and Colin would have to make room for more in their lives. He would love to feel that happiness and love that existed, multiply. Understanding why Violet and Edmund had so many children.

Colin looked at Agatha in his arms, rocking her slowly, she stared back with big green eyes. Full of curiosity and so beautiful that it will certainly leave many mesmerized in the future. But he preferred not to think about it, she was weeks old and was still his little girl, and for several years he wanted to be the only man hypnotized by her eyes.

Agatha was perfect, completely perfect, he was fascinated and nothing else made him more proud.

The window in the Library arrived, close to the desk with scattered pages that Penelope had been using to write a novel. Tried to resume the writing process after giving birth.

“See there, Agatha?” Colin said, pointing toward the window and tilting his elbow, so she could see. And as if the baby could understand him. “It’s the world, you’re still going to get to know it. Sounds scary, doesn’t it?” he asked, and she just stared. "I know, I'll always be here for whatever you need, but there's something fascinating about him too. Maybe I'll find out one day, or not. One day we will find out." Agatha kept all her attention on her father, as if she really understood him. "Be strong, Aggie, and determined. The world will give you several obstacles on the way, making you believe that you will fall, it will also give you hope and that's what you should hold on to. I'm sure you can do it, aren't you?"

Agatha couldn't respond, but Colin took his daughter's attention as understanding and smiled at her, snuggling into his chest. And he continued walking around the house, rocking the little girl to make her go back to sleep and dream.

London, 1845.

Twenty years after Agatha was born.

Agatha was left without reaction, for the fifth time, George, her younger brother, beat her in a move that she couldn't predict.

All her siblings, including Agatha herself, were born beautiful and intelligent. A mix of parents. But George was much more intelligent, a little genius, there was no denying it, he excelled in difficult subjects at Eton, and he would certainly be a handsome man in the future.

His parents recognized his genius with pride and some concern. Agatha, on the other hand, was just too competitive to accept being defeated easily, despite it not being the first time she lost to the youngest in consecutive rounds.

“I'm tired of winning,” said the boy, with a tired sigh, and he wasn't being sarcastic.

George only quit for two reasons, lack of interest or something became more important than winning. In this case, it was the first.

“Georgie, no one gets tired of winning!” Agatha replied, collecting the pieces from the chessboard.

“But I’m tired.”

That is simple. He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, bored.

It was a typical family night.

All together.

Thomas read a book, Jane sewed, and Agatha and George, the busier siblings, found a way to occupy themselves, as the idea of fencing in the living room was not well received.

Colin and Penelope occupied one of the sofas. Both with their eyes closed, snuggled together. His mother slept late, in the early hours of the morning, immersed in the process of writing a novel. And if he stayed up all night, it meant his father stayed up too. As a result, they spent the rest of the day drowsy, unable to sleep at any point.

Colin was sitting, resting his face on Penelope's head and hugging her shoulders, but twirling a strand of her hair with one of his fingers. Still awake. Penelope looked exhausted, perhaps asleep, with her head on her husband's chest.

The Cranes were in town for preparations, Aunt Eloise and she hadn't stopped all day. There was so much to do before a wedding.

Agatha found George quiet, thoughtful, and that didn't happen often for more than two minutes.

“Georgie?” she called.

He looked sad.

“I don’t know what to do when you leave.”

There were still weeks to go before the trips that Agatha and her parents had agreed upon after the end of the season began. She was the third and did not marry, although she had proposals. As part of the agreement, he received permission to travel.

“I'm going away for a few months, but I'll be back,” she clarified, with a smile. “I have no intention of… I don’t know, getting on a pirate ship and disappearing into the Aegean Sea.”

“Colin.” murmured Penelope with her eyes closed.

“Agatha,” said her father, without moving anything but his mouth. “You’re not getting on a pirate ship.”

Agatha turned in her chair, smiling.

In fact, her childhood dream was to be a princess, a pirate princess. Looking for a prince, but if the prince pleases, he would walk the plank.

"I'm just kidding."

"I can?" asked George excitedly.

The couple opened their eyes again, a little terrified, they raised their heads at the same time, and replied:

"No!"

Agatha and her younger brother burst into laughter.

Even Thomas, focused on the book, chuckled and Jane stopped sewing for a moment so as not to pierce herself.

Deep down, everyone knows that George was capable of such a thing.

“May God help us” Colin said, relaxing again.

“Do you know how we know we’re good parents, Colin?”

"As?"

“We are aware that our children are really capable of this.” replied Pen.

His mother smiled, and as she was smiling, he smiled too.

“Don’t worry,” said Thomas, turning the page of the brown-covered book. “He would be kicked off the ship.”

Nobody said anything.

It had been a few months since thirteen-year-old George had been expelled… Or rather, asked to leave Eton.

After the chaos he orchestrated at school. Due to what they called a rumor, but quite true, about an older student. A bully, son of a marquis and grandson of a duke.

The veteran boy had been very rude to his mother, Penelope, and to this day no one has gotten a statement of regret from George.

Penelope has maintained Lady Whistledown's fame even after two decades. Receiving comments ranging from complimentary and amusing, to the most hostile and unpleasant. Most of it happened behind their backs, they rarely had the courage to say anything directly.

The boy found a way to use it against George, he just wasn't prepared for what he would receive.

The whole family was worried, and his parents even more so.

The marquis tried to hush it up by contributing to George's expulsion without much fanfare, but the news of the expulsion spread. Another scandal for so many others starring the Bridgerton family.

Few people really know what happened. Thomas and Jane, for example, had no idea.

Jane broke the silence, letting the sound of her laughter escape her mouth, she released the needle and covered her mouth.

“He would walk the plank for gossip!” he said, unable to stop laughing.

George followed. They laughed so much that soon the full family started laughing together. It's not that they don't take the issue into consideration, however, in all respects, it was nothing more than gossip.

Who would blame a boy for defending his own mother?

And George… Well, he didn't even like Eton.

At certain moments, Agatha's desire to travel was tested, and she thought about how much she would lose away from them, at the same time, she also thought about the loss of an entire world out there.

“Bridgertons.” And they looked at the call at the same time. It was Marty, the butler. “Miss. Crane came to visit them.”

Penelope Crane entered, her nervous hands clutching her hat and a sweet, nervous smile that, from experience, Agatha noticed.

Oh no, she thought.

Penny ran away again.

Penelope—not his mother—was the best friend he could have. They were also cousins. She was the niece and goddaughter of Agatha's parents. Therefore, Penny, as they affectionately called her, was one of the family, she could come in whenever she wanted, but Marty always insisted on formality. And being Eloise's daughter, Lady Crane, her father's sister, knew how to escape like no one else.

Being there at that time of night, two days before the wedding, incriminated her. When Agatha looked at Thomas briefly, and then at her mother, she knew they knew.

Marty withdrew with a measure.

“Good evening, Bridgertons!” Penelope Crane wished, still smiling.

Everyone responded. Except George, who, with a melting boy-in-love face, greeted her with, “Hi, Penny.”

It seems that the men in the house, not counting Colin who kept that silly face only for his mother, for more than twenty years, were in love with Penny. He took Marty out of his impeccable and formal pose to fall in love with her.

Thomas sinks into the armchair with the book covering his face. He didn't mean to be rude, he was just embarrassed, and she was the only one who knew why.

"Hi cousin." Penny replied, smiling. “Sorry to interrupt, but…” He turned to Aggie giving a ‘play along’ look “I need to talk to Agatha about my dress.”

“Is there a problem, Penny? Would you like a cup of tea?” asked his mother calmly.

Penny fiddled with her hat nervously.

“Oh, no, no, that’s not necessary.” She stammered happily, she wasn't helping herself. “I just… I just want to talk to Aggie, if it’s okay.”

"Of course not." Agatha came forward, standing up and linking her arms with her cousin's. "Let's go to my room. If the groom can’t know about the dress, not everyone should.”

They waved to the family and together they hurried up the stairs, entering Agatha's room on the second floor. , andThey almost bump into Marty who asks them not to run, remembering how they were when they were children.

Closed door.

Agatha turned to Penny with her hands on her hips and was direct:

“Why did you run away this time?”

Penny made a noise and threw herself onto her cousin's bed.

“I’m so obvious, aren’t I?” Penny groaned. Agatha laughed at her. "I went into despair."

“Don’t you want to get married anymore?”

She immediately sat down.

"What? No!" he stated. "That's not it."

"Then…?"

“It’s going to be a big… change. I will miss my parents and brothers, who will one day also get married and leave home. I know, but…” Penny paused, looking from her hands in her lap to Agatha. “I'm being foolish. I’m just really, really nervous.”

“And when he’s like that, he runs away.”

"That!" he agreed, picking up the pillow, throwing himself back again and pressing it against his face. "I'm the fake version of my mother." he said in a muffled voice.

Agatha laughed.

The story of how Penny's parents met was somewhat comical, considering that even Phillip didn't even know Eloise would arrive.

She sat next to Penny on the edge of the bed, she had her legs out and the hem of her blue dress went up showing her shoes of the same color.

“You're lucky, cousin. Lord Blackwell built a greenhouse just so you'd have somewhere to escape, didn't he?

She took the pillow off her face, staring at the ceiling and a smile spread across her face, one of those melting and passionate, abandoning whatever anguish was in her heart.

He had never felt anything like this and he envied her a little, not in a malicious way, but in a hopeful way. Of one day being next. When that hunger for knowing the world ended, perhaps I could give in or make more space.

When Penny got nervous, she tended to run away, not the carriage-to-the-other-side-of-England kind of escape, but to her father Phillip's greenhouse. She loved flowers, botany enchanted her, they brought her familiarity and peace.

One hour and she would put all the confusion in its place. This, at his parents' house, in Romney Hall, in the countryside. But in London, if it wasn't Amanda's house, his next option was obvious: Agatha.

"Yes." She smiled. “He built it on the condition that I would never run away from him.”

“That's lovely. He loves her. In a marriage, running away from misfortunes is not the best option, solving them together is.”

She let out a sigh and became serious again.

“I’m not you, Agatha. Well resolved. Safe. Brave to the point of dreaming of taking ships to explore the world, I… Just thinking about it scares me!” Penelope trembles, pretending to have chills. “The world is too big, and I’m too tiny.”

That sentence came out of Penny's mouth like something terrible, and for Agatha it only excited her more. She never showed hesitation in her choices, she followed through to the end and preferred not to question herself in fear of her own fear that could leave her paralyzed.

Furthermore, I didn't want to disappoint the people I loved, like Penny, brothers, parents and the entire Bridgerton family that I thought was so brave, to see her immersed in doubts.

“Which makes it exciting for me.” he spoke full of confidence.

Penny sat down.

“It’s terrifying!”

Agatha held her hands and made her face her.

“Penelope Crane, you are beautiful, brilliant, and incredible. I appreciate the compliments, but in two days, you will be Lady Blackwell, an honorable young viscountess, not me. That poor guy fought for your heart, and you will be happy next to him, because that's exactly what he deserves.”

Her cousin turned her face and stared in the direction of the bedroom carpet, brow furrowed with thoughts that no one could identify. Hearing her sniffle, controlling herself not to cry with her lower lip trembling, Agatha understood that it was Penny's insecurities speaking and squeezed her hands tighter to let her know she was there.

“He was my choice.” Penny remembered, waving, blinking several times and wiping away traces of tears with one hand to grab her best friend's hands again. "Thanks. It was like a slap in the face.”

“I’ll always be here to slap you in the face.”

And so, with so little, Agatha managed to make her laugh.

“I should get married, I think that would even be better.”

“I think I need something before he , whoever you are, show up.” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Someone who fills my whole heart, nothing half of it.”

Agatha liked the idea of love, but unfortunately, or fortunately, she never found anyone who left her enraptured and as excited as the idea of her trips. She didn't want a lukewarm love, if nothing could captivate her as much or much, much more, then it wasn't right.

He saw one of the corners of Penny's lips falter in the tiny smile she gave as she nodded in agreement, when someone knocked on the door.

If only it wasn't George bringing Penny a rose like last time.

"In between." he requested.

The latch was turned and Thomas, who was following his father's height, appeared at the door somewhat shyly. He could barely face Penny.

“Aunt Eloise sent a message, asked Penny to come home. It's late. Or send a reply if you wish to stay tonight.”

She looked at Penny and let her decide, if she wanted to stay, she would always be welcome. But her escapes only lasted until page two, she was stronger than she imagined.

“I'll come home, Thomas. Thanks."

“George will take you and return with the carriage.”

He only opened the door enough to let half his body through and left without saying anything else.

"He hates me." This is what Penelope sees with each new meeting with him, and their relationship has changed since that fateful day. The day of the order. “I didn’t want to break your brother’s heart, Agatha.”

“Thomas is nineteen years old. He made a late marriage proposal and was rejected. He’s embarrassed, but he’ll be fine.” he assured a worried Penny, with a reassuring smile. They grew up together, she loved him, but not in the same way. "He is strong."

The two said goodbye in the entrance hall, George was waiting for her beaming. Thomas opened the door, George came out first, Penny followed, curtsying to him before walking through the door.

Their behavior became formal. Before, they felt more comfortable with each other, they joked, laughed and danced together happily, looking like two idiots.

That one day they would realize that family was more important. Regardless of what happened.

Weeks later.

Penny, now Penelope Blackwell's, wedding was enchanting. All the work of the small team made up of Penny, Ela, Eloise, Penelope, and the Dowager Viscountess Blackwell, Penny's husband's mother, was spectacular.

The bride couldn't stop smiling, the groom only had eyes for her. The entire Bridgerton family occupied one side of the church and it was an absolute party. Thomas was absent, as expected, he preferred not to go.

Penny was still with her husband in Scotland. In three days Agatha would begin her travels and they couldn't say goodbye, so they did it just before she got into the carriage and left for her honeymoon. He promised to write it during his months away.

I had everything under control.

You mapped out your destiny. Colin ensured that she was welcomed by the friends she made abroad, and remained firm in meeting the conditions imposed by her parents. A lady-in-waiting, Celia, who would be a nanny, and in fact, she was once his nanny. He also promised several times that he would not disappear and would maintain direct contact. They feared, in their excitement, that Agatha would forget them.

More than that, they were afraid. The world has dangers and for a single woman traveling alone, they multiplied. They were risks that made Agatha hear her mother cry in fear of what could happen. Celia at his side relieved him by bringing the feeling of not being completely helpless if he needed someone.

Hearing Penelope cry was one of the few times that made her want to backtrack. But Agatha didn't, holding back her own tears, she walked away from the library door and returned to her room.

I was determined. There were three unsuccessful seasons. There were proposals, all of which were rejected. Three attempts was the final condition for obtaining permission.

She felt restless, filled with an atypical nervousness.

Emotion? Excitement? The fear?

Since the previous morning she had been having trouble sleeping, so she spent time analyzing maps full of scribbles in the library, including her father's with places she shouldn't go, or she would be disinherited, but they weren't enough to calm her nerves.

Agatha leaned back in the desk chair, analyzing the dark room around her, only the chandelier on the table gave light.

Suddenly, she noticed a shadow at the door and jumped in her seat in fright, calming down when she saw it was Colin.

"Father? God, what a scare!”

Colin laughed, walking over to the desk.

“I’ve been here for several minutes, and you haven’t seen me.”

“Admiring me?” she asked, jokingly. His father dragged a chair across from the table and sat down. “Or were you attracted to the wine?”

“Wine, huh? He noticed the vase with more than one cup present. “I used to like a glass of milk to go to sleep.”

“I’m not eight years old anymore.”

Agatha made sure to serve him a glass, returning to her seat.

The room fell silent again. Colin didn't touch the glass, he continued watching Agatha. You've seen him like this before, you were being patient and waiting for him to speak. It was that fatherly instinct that knew when there was a problem.

“I don’t know what my difficulty is.” uttered.

"But there is a problem?"

She didn't want to admit it so as not to worry him, but as father and daughter, they built such a sincere relationship that they didn't lie to each other.

As much as the truth hurts sometimes.

"He has. And I don’t like it.” Agatha sighed thoughtfully. “Why are you letting me go?”

He knew that Penelope was convinced by him, but he never questioned him before so as not to encourage him to rethink. Colin did not demand strict conditions that could prevent his beloved firstborn from venturing into the world alone. He was just letting her go.

"Because I love you." he replied, with a smile. Agatha couldn't hide her disbelief. Not to his father's love, but to that having been the only criterion. “Don’t look at me like that, my brothers are already questioning whether I’m brave or crazy.”

She let an amused sound escape through her nose.

"What's the answer?"

“The same one I just answered you. And I think that’s somewhere between courage and madness.” Colin spoke, leaning his body forward. “To be quite honest, years ago, I wouldn’t have allowed it. I've been scared since you were born. Every time you walk out the door, there's a risk of not coming back. When you look at me, I see the little girl I promised to protect with my life. But Agatha…” He stopped to look into his daughter’s eyes. “England is not your captivity and I will not be your jailer. The reasons that encouraged me to travel differ from yours. I wanted to run away, you want to fly. And if I don’t allow you to be happy, then I have failed.”

And that brought a huge smile from her, Agatha knew exactly what it was like to feel loved. But it withered away as the corners of her lips trembled and the tears in her eyes gathered, and she cried.

“Aggie.”

"I am fine." he said, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his linen robe. “I'm sorry, dad. I didn’t want to cry.” She finally saw Colin's outstretched hand and accepted it. “I don’t want you to feel distressed or for mom to cry. I'm very sorry."

“These concerns should not be yours. Only three days left now. Focus." Colin squeezed her hand and stroked the back of it. “Remember to ask yourself: What would Lady Danbury do?”

Agatha smiled again, through her tears.

I missed the duchess.

“I certainly wouldn’t cry.”

“Threats with the cane, yes. No crying.

And they laughed.

After that, they toasted Lady Danbury. Without her Agatha would not have gathered the courage to make the request to her parents, without her she would not have had a defender at her side at the beginning. She was an extraordinary woman.

That it's gone too soon.

“I almost forgot, I have a travel gift for you,” said her father, at the door of his daughter's room, after kissing her on the forehead.

Agatha got excited.

"What is it?"

Colin took what he recognized to be a closed compass from his pocket, handing it into her hands. Agatha opened the lid of the object, realizing what it was, her father has a collection, some in perfect condition and others broken, relics. She, however, has no compass.

I was presenting you with the first one.

On the inside of the lid there was something written, coordinates, she understood, and looked at it in confusion.

"It's perfect. What coordinates are these?”

“Our location,” he replied. “For you to come home.”

Doesn't he realize he wasn't making it easy? That desire to stay was even more present.

Agatha blinked several times, excited.

“It’s going to make me cry.”

His father smiled, stroking his face.

"No problem."

She couldn't hold back from hugging him around the waist, burying her face in the chest of the man she loved most her entire life.

“I'm relieved to know you'll always be here for me when I get back."

“It’s always too long, darling.”

Three days later.

Three days later, he looked at the ship that was about to embark on the River Thames.

He covered one hand with the other while holding his hat, to contain his shaking. She'd seen a ship before, boarded one, but suddenly it was too big and Agatha felt… tiny.

Nervous, worried and scared.

Terrified.

But it was normal, wasn't it? Because giving up now was not an option.

"Look, I know I was your main opposition to this idea."

Thomas appeared at his side, arms crossed, staring at the horizon. His parents were nearby, talking to a couple and introducing their youngest children, and Celia, his lady-in-waiting, was guarding his suitcases in the middle of the port.

They were waiting for boarding to begin.

"Not now, Thomas."

"My intention is not to argue. It is to say that I will miss you." he said, and the two brothers looked at each other. "And I swear that if I don't hear from you, I'll leave Cambridge and hunt you across the continent, just to make sure you're okay."

When his parents decided to give that idea a try, Thomas considered it crazy and opposed it. It's okay that his mother wasn't very in favor either, but she restrained herself from expressing her annoyance as vehemently as Thomas did.

He was protective. A year separated them in age, and sometimes it seemed like Thomas was the oldest, not her.

Agatha immediately stretched out her arms and hugged him, Thomas reciprocated by hugging her tightly.

"I'll miss you too." she murmured. "Don't worry, Tommy, I won't make you waste your year at Cambridge."

"You're more important, don't forget. I'm just not going with you because Dad said you need to do it alone."

And they walked away.

"He said?"

"I said. You've never been the common type. Agatha Eloise Bridgerton, too strong a name to be common."

“Tommy, I'm so sorry. For you and Penny…”

He shook his head, letting go of her.

“Forget it, Agatha…”

“Think what you want, I’m still your sister more and I will take care of you, fight with you and disturb you always.”

“You don't know everything. Let time forget,” he added. “Penny is… the sun. She has to shine, be happy. I’ll deal with my gray clouds myself, don’t worry about me, sister.”

Thomas smiled, and so did she, but she wasn't sure if it was what she wanted to do. At that moment the ship whistled, it was the first warning to board.

The whole family got together and Agatha started hugging them, one by one.

First George, the two were already almost the same height, when they meet again he will have grown and surpassed her. Would the first beard hairs appear?

Thomas proudly showed it off when it happened and shaved for the first time, but he didn't think George would follow the same path.

Then came Jane. Next season it would be her presentation, I didn't want to miss it, not be with her at that important moment,although, Penny reassured her in the last letter assuring her that she would be. Agatha only expected to arrive from her trip two weeks later.

Jane was much shorter, she took after her mother's height. She was delicate, beautiful, loved writing, her father used to call her Lady. He would be a model to be followed by young women in high society next season, there was no doubt about it.

Lastly, your parents.

The hardest goodbye.

Penelope Bridgerton was the owner of the perfect hug, the one you never wanted to let go of. She squeezed her so tight that she seemed to want to take her daughter with her, but Agatha didn't feel crushed, the feeling was good, comforting and exquisite.

With your eyes closed, you could call that hug home.

"What are the rules?" Penelope asked, holding her by the shoulders.

"Mommy." complained.

"Tell me, I want to be sure."

Agatha rolled her eyes, took Penelope's hands off her shoulders and grabbed them, pulling them towards her.

"I know the rules, my lady-in-waiting knows the rules. Yesterday I recited it five times for you. One of the times the whole family was together when they went to say goodbye to me."

Nothing big, a family reunion, and not everyone could be there, but her uncles tried hard to change her mind. Anthony even wanted to bribe her.

"There's one more rule." announced his mother.

Agatha sighed, waiting for the twentieth rule.

"Which?"

"Come back to me." It was more than a rule, it was a request. Penelope blinked several times to keep from crying. "I need you to remember that. I'll always be here."

"Always? Promise?"

His mother nodded with a sweet smile.

"Always."

He kissed her on the cheek and winked before heading towards Colin. Agatha practically threw herself into his arms and pressed the side of her face against his chest. Did you also tell him he had an incredible hug? The best of the world?

"Afraid?" He asked softly, his lips on her hair.

"Yes." he confessed, in the same tone of voice that was muffled by their embrace. And he wondered what Lady Danbury would do. "But i wont give up."

"My girl."

Upon boarding, Agatha looked back one last time. Seeing them with their arms outstretched bidding him farewell along with other families who were seeing friends and family leave.

She smiled thinking how much she loved them, turned her back and left because it was her destiny, and she was the only one capable of doing it.

But it wasn't goodbye.

It was a start.

English Channel, 1855.

Thirty years after Agatha was born.

Leaving France for England, Agatha sailed through the strait, feeling the sea breeze known for years.

Upon seeing the line of land on the horizon, the first glimpses of England from the ship, Agatha's husband took the opportunity to touch the tip of his nose to her ear, pulling her by the waist and whispering:

"Welcome back, my love,"

Agatha looked at him and smiled.

“You better not be so happy. You're a dead man,” she warned him, once again, shaking her head. Hektor knew the risks from the beginning. “You managed to convince me to marry you without my father present to walk me down the aisle.”

“And I would do it all again,” he stated, with his thick accent, stealing a kiss. “The most he can do is force us to get married again. And, my God, what terrible news.” He placed his hand over his chest dramatically. “Let’s have a second honeymoon.”

Hektor was Greek. They met in the United States, while she was visiting George, who had finished Oxford and embarked for New York. Agatha was approached on the street by an armed robber, he pulled her into an alley and instead of obeying him, she fought with him. Knocking the man to the ground.

When the robber dropped the gun, she picked it up and threatened him back. He spent years at Romney Hall training in marksmanship with his aunt Eloise, Penny and Georgiana, he obviously knew how to handle a gun very well.

Hektor caught the moment. But instead of seeing her as the damsel in distress, Hektor thought she was the criminal threatening a poor citizen. He tried to take the gun out of her hands and Agatha pointed it at his chest. The two fought, the thief took the opportunity to escape. Agatha ran after the thief, Hektor ran after her. In the end, they laughed at everything while trapped in the police station.

Agatha, Hektor and the thief.

Since then, they haven't been separated from each other traveling - the thief remained in prison and was wanted. Just like her, Hektor was also a traveler. Going from friends to lovers to engaged and finally married.

He was hard to resist. She would be a fool if she hadn't given in, even just a little, to his charms.

And I loved him desperately.

“There’s no second honeymoon at all.” Agatha warned. She wanted to take time to travel. “We’re going to spend a few months with them. Maybe a year or two.”

Hektor frowned, finding it strange how long it took.

"Why?"

"I want a child," she told him.

Last year, Agatha became pregnant and lost him.

I didn't even know until the bleeding happened. Before, babies hadn't crossed her mind, she had taken some time to reconsider, and now, married, she wanted to include them in planning their lives.

"Are you sure?"

He asked why he watched the pain he went through.

Agatha nodded, blinking several times to hold back the tears, caught in the kindness and love in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied.

With all my heart.

"Want to steal my heart a second time, Miss Bridgerton?"

"I prefer Mrs. Stefanos."

He smiled.

"Excellent choice."

London, 1875 .

Fifty years after Agatha was born.

March 2nd.

They had several traditions and celebrated special dates together.

Full of joy and happiness.

But Colin died almost two months ago. Jane had recently had her daughter, Penelope. Thomas was at home taking care of his sick son, who had a cold, but it had left him worried. George isolated himself, in no mood for that kind of birthday celebration.

With her fingers over her mouth, Agatha stared at the first compass her father gave her as a gift over her mother's first book, which he also gifted to her shortly before he died.

Colin's first birthday, without him, as if her mother's first birthday without her hadn't been hard enough last year.

"Mommy?"

Agatha came out of her reverie and looked at Andreas at the office door of the house where she lived with her family. Her husband, Hektor, and their only son, Andreas.

"Try?"

"Can you make my dad stop tormenting me with this college thing?" he asked, entering the office and dropping his body onto the chair on the other side of the table. In front of you. "He still hasn't accepted that I don't want to."

She let out a giggle through her nose.

"I think he's more worried about you not knowing what you want."

"I'm too." Andreas was lost after Eton, he didn't want to go to college because nothing interested him there. I didn't know what to do either. "I thought about the suggestion of traveling."

"It's an excellent idea. You can try, if you don't want it, just come back." She said, shrugging her shoulders. "Let's figure something out."

"I want a purpose, you know? Not to feel so worthless. At my age you already had a plan."

Andreas sighed. That was really bothering me.

"You're not me, honey. And that's okay." He tried to calm him down. "My brothers at your age were all over London chasing skirts. George's phase was the worst."

He grimaced.

"I don't want that," he said. "I want to find something I'm good at."

"You are excellent at the piano."

Not just with the piano, using any instrument. Colin loved hearing him play. It reminded her of Jane as a teenager playing the piano and the two of them singing duets to help her practice.

His son lowered his eyes, moving his head from side to side, unsure. He didn't recognize his own talent.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Andreas stared at the compass on the book. "I forgot today is Grandpa's birthday."

She raised her hand, saying:

"Okay. There's not much to celebrate, right?"

"Can I?" asked his son, about the compass.

He nodded.

The boy studied the object in his hand.

Attentive and careful. Agatha told him the back story before. When Andreas was about eight years old, they were talking, watching the sea, leaning against the side of a ship, returning home.

She and Hektor decided to settle in England because Andreas was growing up and deserved stability.

The funny thing was that, only now, contemplating his son's face with much more attention, his father's face came to mind.

She didn't know much about what Colin was like as a teenager, but it reminded her of his younger face when she was a child. When Agatha couldn't sleep at night, afraid of the dark, Colin would hold her hand and sing to her, while watching his face until he fell asleep.

"You look like him." said.

Andreas looked up and smiled, identical to Colin.

"Is it because I'm not redheaded? I think I suffer prejudice because I'm not redheaded. People get disappointed when they look from you to me.”

Agatha smiled, for the first time that day. As it should have been. With laughter and laughter, because Colin had become an elder.

“It’s the eyes, the mouth and the nose. I would say identical if it weren’t for the eyebrows.”

“I wish he had more time,” Andreas said with a sigh.

Just as she lost her parents, he also lost his favorite grandparents. They wouldn't stop wearing mourning clothes for a while.

“Me too, honestly, but he was suffering if his grandmother. I don’t want to be selfish and want my father to stay alive and suffer because of her lack.” Tears welled up in Agatha's eyes as she spoke. “It was already hurting me to see him in that state anyway.”

“When will it stop hurting, Mom?”

She used to suppress the tears from falling, but this time, without looking at her son, and swallowing a sob. Quickly, the pain began to envelop my entire body, having lost them both, one after the other, I would no longer hear their laughter or feel their embrace, and tears were rolling down their face.

“Never,” she whispered.

There would be other sorrows and various joys. Agatha still wished she was alive to see her son in full joy for the things he would achieve.

Penelope was gone, Colin was gone, and she was going too at some point, and the pain would finally end because she would be there for them.

Chapter Text

London, 1875.

The novel written by his mother years ago seemed quite familiar.

About star-crossed lovers in circumstances that prevented them from being together. With the protagonist divided over whom she should love more and give her heart to. In that novel, unlike reality, there was a happy ending.

Thomas placed the copy with others in a brown trunk he intended to keep. The various other belongings accumulated over the years occupied the room, left in his hands as to what to do.

His father died more than two months ago. Now, the parental home, where he was born and raised, belonged to Thomas, the eldest son. He didn't have the courage to move with his wife, Lizzie, and five children, and was making the move gradually. Separating what you wanted to keep, what you could donate or get rid of, even though you didn't like the latter option.

Every object was a keepsake, and every keepsake was precious, a way to keep memories of her parents present.

He exchanged one box for another, one with a dustier lid, brushed the dust away before opening it, and immediately recognized who it belonged to.

To himself.

"I see you're determined to move."

Agatha was at the door of the room where she had gathered various objects, trinkets, and many memories kept by her parents. She dressed in black like most of the family mourning Colin's death.

"I am trying." he said, his hands fidgeting with the box. "Marty opened the door for you?"

He smiled when he found the pirate banner from back in the day that said he wanted to find the most precious treasure in the world.

"Yes, and guess what? He keeps calling me Agatha, and it's still very, very strange." His sister laughed, entering the room. Since his father died, Marty the butler has stopped the formalities. Although he was now the lord of the house, he was no longer 'Mr. Bridgerton’, it was just Thomas. "Oh, look, my favorite doll."

She walked over to her old toy box, looking at the doll, to which time had not been kind. It was the Christmas tree ornament for years.

The arm was unseen, had tears and needed to be scrubbed until all the dirt came off. The truth was that it wouldn't get any better, the doll had always been weird, even though her sister saw beauty in it, while others would have nightmares if she stared at it for too long.

"And it's still horrible."

"Thomas!" complained Agatha, pulling the doll to her chest. "Don't say that about her, Lili might be offended."

Suddenly they were eight years old again.

Thomas rolled his eyes and continued evaluating the belongings in the box. Deep down, lost among books, toys and old objects, he found something that stuck his finger and hadn't seen in a long time.

It was a gold earring that certainly wasn't his, but he remembered it.

"Is that your mother's earring?"

Agatha cradled the doll as if she were holding a baby, identical to the age of eight, when she was always holding onto Lili, telling everyone that she was the doll's mother.

Until she was ten, determining that she was too young to be a mother.

She caught him looking at the earring, remembering how the object got there. In a time that I just wanted to get rid of the memories.

"No."

"It's not mine. Jane?" his sister tried again.

"No."

"Ah, Thomas," gasped Agatha, transfixed. "Is this some kind of secret? Did you like wearing earrings?"

He had to laugh at the conclusion.

"By God, Agatha, no." denied Thomas, calmly. He considered lying, instead he decided to tell the truth. "It's Penny's."

"Why is that there?" she asked, but Thomas didn't answer, it was a complicated answer. More complicated than he let her believe years ago. "Thomas, aren't you going to say anything?"

Turning and turning the golden earring in his hand, he left his sister's side to walk around the room.

"It's a complicated story, you know a little about it."

At first, Agatha didn't understand, it was a past story, never spoken aloud again.

The woman's big green eyes lit up when she realized what he was talking about.

"The marriage proposal."

Thomas nodded, calmly.

"Exactly." confirmed and admired Penelope Blackwell's earring again, when it was just Penny Crane. "It's been more than thirty years, I think…" He looked at his sister and raised an eyebrow. "Want to hear it from the beginning?"

FLASHBACK PART 1

Romney Hall, 1844.

Penny wasn't used to getting drunk.

On the contrary, she was very regimented, but the season wasn't exactly to her liking, she received a lot of strays.

Yes, a lot of requests and I didn't see it as something good. While Agatha refused without any weight on her conscience, Penny felt bad because, in two seasons, no one had ever been able to touch her heart, and she felt sad because deep down she knew that was what was expected of her. Finally accept a request.

That's why she was running down the Romney Hall lawn with a bottle of whiskey in her hand and laughing, running away from him. The family gathered inside the house, giving thanks for the end of the season.

Thomas found her on the porch drinking the drink that belonged to her father directly from the crystal bottle. When he tried to take it from her hand, Penny ran away from him, giggling.

I didn't want anyone else to find her in that state.

She was perfect, immaculate, she didn't want that to be tarnished in any way.

“Penelope, you're going to fall,” warned Thomas, for the third time. "Take care."

But she didn't stop. Lifting her dress and jumping in front of him as if he were a naughty child.

They had known each other their whole lives, cousins, they practically grew up together, although they spent more time in London and Penny, in the country. They were only a year apart and they got along very well, they loved each other's company. So close that they made confessions and asked for advice, be it the most absurd.

"Penny!" he shouted, again.

This time, holding her by the waist before falling face first into the grass after tripping over a rock in the path. It's her? He didn't care, the laughter turned into a stomach-aching laugh, the bottle had flown from his hand and landed in a bush.

"It's okay, I'm fine, I'm fine." Penny said, steadying herself, wiping the tears from her face, laughing, and assuring him that he could let her go now. "I won't fall."

Thomas removed his hand from around her waist and pulled away to make sure she had managed to steady herself.

And in that, she didn't lie.

"Very well, I told you to be careful."

"Oh, Thomas, my father is going to be a beast." She said, laughing even harder.

"I doubt it. He'll be mad at me for allowing his beloved little daughter to get drunk."

Penny faced him and placed her gloved hands on her hips, with all her good humor and charisma. I would like to see her happy.

"Like you're a bad example, Thomas Bridgerton. Everyone knows I'd convince you of whatever I want."

He crossed his arms, quite curious.

"Example?"

"Um…" she began, looking down, unable to define r exactly where she was looking. She stopped for a good ten seconds, until she woke up from the trance, and continued: "How terrible the color of that scarf is."

"Hey, I like yellow," Thomas complained, touching his neck. " And the knot is perfectly executed…”

"And how beautiful you look in the moonlight, cousin." she declared.

The sudden compliment was surprising, especially since Penny was looking at him in a way she had seen so many times before. What made so many suitors, or anyone, fall in love with her: her look.

He had already heard Phillip talk about his wife's eyes once and Penny had inherited the same eyes, with the difference that she had the seductive and… incredibly attractive element.

Thomas shuddered and cleared his throat to stop, whatever it was, he laughed, trying his best to hide it.

"That would be truth, not convincing power, Miss Crane."

Laughing, she threw her head back and came back.

"You ridiculous!"

Suddenly, everything fell back into place. They were cousins, they were friends, simply because they enjoyed each other's company and how much fun they had together, not in a thousand years should he feel easily seduced by her gaze.

Or for her, who wouldn't surrender to her?

Penny woke him up from that thought by jumping up and down with joy.

"Let's Dance!"

The music inside the mansion changed to a waltz that they had rehearsed several times. The annual Bridgerton ball with its more than a hundred members took place that night, always at the end of a season, this time at Romney Hall. While they were outside on the lawn under a sky full of stars and a full moon.

That was an excellent indication that they should enter.

"How about dancing inside? It's getting cold." It was true, he was almost taking off his coat to cover her, but his cousin looked so electric that she didn't even feel the cold. "I find a way to not notice how altered you are."

Penny immediately pulled away.

Thomas took another step and she moved away again, and he stopped.

"No!" she exclaimed, decidedly. "I want to dance here, everyone is watching there."

As if it were something new, they made a good dancing duo and the family loved watching them dance. From the slowest waltzes to the most lively square dances, they managed to attract attention. Always surrounded, never alone.

"We dance well, Penny, they like to see us dance."

"No," he refused again and took a step towards him. "I want to dance here." Penny offered him her hand. "Dance with me, Mr. Bridgerton."

London, 1875.

Agatha sat on a padded chair nearby, frowning slightly, placing Lili on her lap.

"Are you telling me what made you ask her to marry you?" asked his sister.

"I am."

"Okay, so you guys danced? You always danced, at least back then. What's the difference?" she asked. "I always envied how good they were, I was never good."

Standing in front of the window, Thomas smiled with his eyes on his earrings, they stood out in dance classes like an impeccable pair.

"It made a difference." He remembered the moment, it was hard to forget when, for some time, both he and Penny had had difficulty. "Much difference."

FLASHBACK PART 1.2

Romney Hall, 1845.

Their dance teacher was a hopeless romantic, telling them that dancing was like a meeting of souls.

Regardless of the type of meeting or how many people were involved, they must connect at that moment and, more than just following the steps, see inside so that the rhythm of their souls does not die.

Penny and he spun around, holding each other's sides, looking at each other and connected to the rhythm. The depth of her eyes electrifies Thomas with that particular shine, if they were the windows to Penny's soul, without a doubt, her soul was beautiful.

Exactly like her.

It wasn't a new thought. Thomas has always admired her. The person who was most anything else. Physically, she was charming, but respectfully limited to the eyes she could never ignore.

After so many dance classes, with a teacher who was always talking about connection, the two always committed to it, perhaps with the hope of finding their eternal connections in the future.

Thomas held her hand and spun her around, putting them both face to face, with their arms linked and rocked by footsteps that swirled around a dance hall of grass, night sky, cold air and two warm bodies. The impeccable pair didn't smile, didn't say a word, they stared at each other without straying for a single moment and so close to each other, they kept their souls linked.

Why didn't you ever notice more details about her eyes?

The obscenely elongated eyelashes, framing the magnificent gray orbs that inspired more than one suitor to wax poetic about them.

The proximity became too close and both she and he made the mistake of making their way to his lips, feeling their mouths dry and their bodies tremble, in synchrony.

The music stopped, the dancing stopped, and what was left was an attractive and risky choice.

If they were willing to face the consequences.

Thomas slid his fingers into Penny's palm over the glove, to slowly pull it over her fingertips and let it fall to the grass, feeling his bare hand. He tilted his head as she lifted hers to reach for him.

Noses touched and breaths mixed, tension exploded.

And right at the conclusion of that choice. They heard someone scream.

"Penelope!" The voice of Georgiana, Penelope's younger sister, echoed.

The two, connected with the shock they received, walked away at the same time. Looking at each other, terrified of what could have happened.

Georgiana didn't see them, luckily, still looking for her sister in the distance, and they, in their messed up thoughts, didn't know what to do, react or say. So, Thomas acted, jumped over the bush and hid.

When sixteen-year-old Georgiana saw her older sister.

"Penny." she said, relieved. "I was worried, no one knew where you were. Charles will sing, we have to laugh about it."

Soon he heard footsteps coming back to the house, but there is no voice from Penny. As speechless as he is.

London, 1875.

Thomas thought he had broken his sister for the minutes she spent paralyzed, mouth open, with the crease between her eyebrows deepening.

I could see the gears of Agatha's mind working as quickly as possible, returning to the memories that could explain what she had lost.

He wouldn't find anything

"It can't be" She shook her head in disbelief. "Penny wouldn't lie to me."

"She didn't lie, Agatha. She hid it. And it wasn't about you. It was about me and her, and we decided to keep it that way."

"But, but." For a moment, he forgot what he was saying. "I thought it was a different story. You've always been in love with her. When you watched Penny being proposed to you, you couldn't stand it and asked her to marry you too, but you were sensible and refused because you never felt anything. Why, you're cousins!" Agatha pointed out, unsatisfied. "But not that you two were in love."

Thomas laugh.

"I did not say that."

"What? Isn't that what it's about?"

"No, I'm telling you a story. The truth, not what you made up."

Even when she was in her fifties, certain reactions from her remained identical, such as the look of indignation in her direction.

"Anyway, you're cousins. I saw you as brothers." Agatha said, pausing and stating the obvious. "That would be…"

"A scandal?" suggested.

"Yes! I can even imagine what Lady Whistledown would say: 'Bridgertons get tired of the members of London's high society and decide to breed among themselves.'"

I definitely would.

Until he was eight years old, Thomas saw Lady Whistledown as a souvenir in his mother's study, to him, it didn't mean much. His mother was just his mother, she was beautiful, brilliant and had the best hug in the world, but people saw something more in her, which he didn't understand.

When he returned from a walk around Hyde Park with his nanny, he sat on his father's lap and asked why a boy laughed in his face because his mother was a gossip girl pathetic, and he explained it, in the best way. And he said, if they say that again, Thomas should say that his mother was the most intelligent woman in London.

If he persisted, warn the boy that Lord Whistledown would pierce his bottom with the sharpest feather in existence.

They laughed, and his father called him "Little Whistledown".

Thomas grimaced.

"It's gone too far. And Lady Whistledown hasn't existed long before us."

"It doesn't matter. It's been over thirty years, and they've never told me anything!" This was the real problem, his dear sister didn't like being the last to know. "And the rest of the story? It didn't end there."

The earring turned and turned in his hand, without stopping, and he denied it.

"We stayed apart for months, making excuses, running away from each other." He remembered this with sadness, they avoided even the simplest greeting. "It was at the Fantasy Ball at Bridgerton House that we faced each other again."

FLASHBACK PART 2

London, 1845.

I was running away, again.

She was inside with the suitor who everyone senses will be her future fiancé, a viscount, even though the new season was still midway through. For now, the viscount hasn't made any promises, and neither has Penny.

He wanted her to be happy, it was the most important thing, but neither of them had the courage to talk after what happened.

It was all very strange.

The transformation from that sudden moment to something intense that I couldn't forget.

He had dreamed of Penny's eyes dilation and the way her tongue passed her lips while focusing on his. It should have been easy to forget, it was so quick, but I couldn't because it came back to him more often than he'd like to admit. Even imagining what her pink lips could taste like.

Above all, the question of what could have been.

"Thomas?"

He glimpsed Penny alone, a safe distance away from Thomas, sitting on the bench behind the Bridgerton house. Wearing the costume of Demeter, the Greek goddess of fertile land, agriculture, and mistress of nature, he identified her by the white dress that imitated a Greek tunic and the golden crown on her dark brown hair that resembled branches of wheat.

She looked magnificent... but he stopped himself from continuing to admire her beauty, she had already crossed limits.

"What are you doing here?" Penny asked, she knew why.

"It's my turn." He shrugged. "Last one, you disappeared and I only saw you leaving with your parents at the end of the party."

Penny didn't even try to deny it, she nodded, and instead of leaving him, she approached him, but kept her distance.

"I'm sorry, Thomas, about what happened. I didn't want things to get awkward out of mere curiosity."

For some reason, he felt a place in his chest tighten, it was crazy, however, the definition wasn't right. And there was no other way to define it, either.

"That's the conclusion, then?" Thomas asked.

She seemed hesitant.

"To blame my change that day wouldn't be right, I wasn't even drunk, just happy. To say that I didn't want to, would be a lie. But the way it happened, so suddenly, I concluded that it was a momentary curiosity."

They looked at each other with the same look full of doubts, the truth was that they weren't sure of anything.

But something happened, and it was too strong to forget.

"I heard about you and Viscount Blackwell. They're talking about an engagement, congratulations, if it's true." He changed the subject, sincerely.

I would wish her nothing more than happiness, I always wanted the best for my cousin, who was dear and loved.

She gave a simple and true smile.

"There are expectations, everyone knows we're close. Robert and I spend a lot of time together, and he's charming me more and more." Penny said, lifting the skirt of her dress and walking to the empty seat on the bench, forgetting the discomfort of being close, they seemed to have returned to before the almost kiss. "And I think he won my father over!"

Thomas had to laugh and she followed him, it was a difficult task. If she called him by his first name so freely, it was because the relationship was advanced.

She felt a new prick in her chest, but if she wanted to move forward, he wouldn't be the one to pull her back.

"Phillip has good judgment. It's half the battle." he said, pretending to be normal.

"Yes." Then, the smile died on her lips, she didn't like that. "Robert hasn't made any request of me yet. For me, I'm putting it off." Penny sighed. "I don't feel the same certainty, I don't know, I think I'm scared. I want a love for life, like my parents, and I don't want to make mistakes."

I understood, they were a huge family surrounded by happy endings and that became something coveted by most.

None of them wanted to make a mistake.

Once again, they faced each other, closer than before, and the memory of the electrifying energy of the moment on the lawn returned, as did the sensations. The attraction to a risky choice.

"Tell me, Penny" Thomas lowered his voice, dragging himself closer on the bench, looking into the depths of her eyes. "What exactly was your curiosity?"

"I, I, I don't know" she whispered, unable to think and almost without sound, she repeated: "I don't know."

"I'll tell you my curiosities." Thomas murmured, without leaving her eye sockets for a single moment, raising his hand and stopping a short space between her fingers and the soft skin of her face, "When I took off the glove I wanted to feel the softness of your skin." And he slid his fingers through the air, imagining touching her. Penny closed her eyes and saw her shudder, as if she felt it. "When your nose brushed mine, I wanted to go down a little further to your neck" He continued, bringing his lips closer to hers, with his fingers resting on her forearm, wanting to finger the goosebump-covered skin and simply touch her. "AND…"

The tension was so strong and the irregular breathing was impossible not to notice.

And it broke, because in a leap off the bench, Penny walked away.

"Stop, Thomas, stop," she said, eyes open, chest moving with difficulty.

"I didn't even touch you, Penny."

"We have to stop. That's enough, stay away from me." he asked, taking steps back. "This is a scandal and it cannot happen!"

He stood, equally, pointed in her direction.

"But I was far away. You showed up!"

"Because I wanted to talk, stop running away, stop what seems like nonsense until… we get too close, and I. CAN'T. THINK." Penny screamed without fear of being heard. With the dance full of side conversations and loud music, it was unlikely to happen. "I don't like it, Thomas. I don't like it at all."

“Maybe that’s your mistake, Penelope, thinking too much.”

By the look of her face, she wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"Is that your advice? That I don't think?" Thomas wasn't afraid to nod. They stared at each other for a long time, until Penny gave up. "Let's keep going. I was fine before this."

"Good to know I don't make a difference to you."

There was no reply, no farewell, her cousin turned her back and went back inside with her future fiancé.

And he was there, alone.

London, 1875.

Thomas stared at Agatha mutely, open-mouthed, and he sighed.

"I didn't even get to the most shocking part."

Her sister held her breath, clutching the doll in her arms.

"Did you dishonor her?" she asked in alarm.

"No!" Thomas and Penny didn't make it that far. And if there were, they would have no choice but to get married. "I am a gentleman."

"It hasn't arrived yet. Why did you propose if you knew you couldn't be together?"

It was an excellent question.

Giving in to each other meant facing a series of complications. Firstly for the family itself, it could raise doubts about the relationship between the cousins, who everyone insisted on treating as if they were brothers. Then the evil tongues of high society.

Lady Whistledown's son finally made a scandal that, in other times, would have made her write an entire pamphlet just talking about the subject.

"I didn't think much when I made the request, to be honest," he replied. "I always admired and respected Penny, she deserved everything I dreamed of. I never really thought it could be enough, but for a moment, I forgot about it."

FLASHBACK PART 3

London, 1845.

Colin and Penelope have four children, all of whom are absolutely loved. None were their favorite, or each other's favorite, however, without a doubt, it was easy to identify who each of the children was most attached to, who immediately sought comfort, security or to tell what they could not tell anyone else. .

Thomas usually went to his father when he needed to understand what he didn't understand, feeling lost with himself, and to his mother, when he wanted comfort, the comfort that only she could offer. However, confused for the first time by his feelings, he looked for his mother.

Penelope Bridgerton, elegantly dressed in a royal blue ball gown, stroked her son's hair as he lay with his head in her lap, curled up to fit on the small sofa in her office.

It was like this since he was a child when he got upset, his mother brought so much lightness and peace, she was his safe haven.

"You might not go," she suggested calmly.

He hadn't intended to tell anyone about Penny, it was supposed to be his secret, but he was more confused than ever and he needed to tell someone, and he chose his mother, who had always been so understanding.

And, certainly, he understood deeper feelings than he did.

Thomas shook his head.

"I don't want anyone to notice anything strange, I thought my father noticed at the last dance."

"He didn't notice, or he would have told me," she said, convinced. "I'll convince your father of whatever I want. If you wish to stay tonight, don't worry."

Today's ball would be at Blackwell House, the entire Bridgerton family and other branches of the family were invited. He got confirmation from Aunt Eloise, through his mother, that Blackwell's proposal to Penny would take place that night.

Agatha didn't tell her anything, of course, Penny must have asked her to keep it quiet and she never broke a pinky promise.

He left his mother's lap to walk around the office with his ball gown incomplete, just a vest.

The dark coat was open on a chair.

"I don't know, I don't know what to do", he massaged his temples, in agony, slightly desperate. "It doesn't make any difference, does it? She made a sensible choice. She's going to be a lady, a viscountess, and I… We're not an option for each other."

He wanted to appear sensible, decisive, as he always was. Still, he looked at his mother, waiting for her opinion.

"To be quite honest, I noticed something strange between you. When you told me, I was very surprised, I didn't really know what to say. It's confusing, you're both confused, and scared, you'll never find out what it is."

"Do you think…" Thomas interrupted himself with fear, confused by imagining that all the people he imagined, his person, would be the one he couldn't have. "Do you think I'm in love?"

His mother was thoughtful, and stated.

"Yes, probably." That was terrible, that I would have to deal with, overcome and bury. "But it's not love."

He frowned without understanding. Wouldn't they be almost synonymous? He was sure he saw it in the dictionary.

"What's the difference?"

"A gigantic difference, Tommy. Crushes are common, fleeting, maddening, sure, but they're not special. Love, on the other hand, is… Extraordinary, persistent, lasting, maddening, they both have that in common," she laughed, looking for the gloves, and sighed. "And it changes you in a way that gives you the courage to fight. Passion becomes love, but it's a mutual choice. Both hearts have to choose."

Would he choose Penny? And if he did, would she decide him? What if, if they decided, would they have the strength to face it?

It was so… Uncertain, so confusing.

Perhaps he should follow the advice of George St. Clair, his cousin and best friend, son of Hyacinth and Gareth. They were born in the same year. He said he should find an opera singer, so they could have a mutual pleasure agreement. Confused feelings should be nothing more than the lack of someone in your bed.

He shook his head so rudely.

"I don't know either," said Thomas, lifting his shoulders, feeling his despair increase. "What do you think?"

He looked at her hoping for some good advice, a solution.

"I don't know," his mother replied simply. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Penelope stood up, stopping in front of her son and grabbed his face with both hands, and pulled him down, kissing his left cheek. "Your decisions are yours, Thomas. I love you so much, I'm your mother, I'll always be by your side, I'll give you a lap, love, and everything I can. But I can't solve this for you."

She was right, he knew she was right. He received his support instead of judgment, it helped, and knowing that he would always be with him was comforting.

"Thank you mom."

He held her hands and his mother smiled. At least he knew he could always have her by his side.

"So? What do you think?" Jane appeared at the door with a new dress, the mysterious dress. For the first time, she was the dressmaker alone, without Penelope, and she was elated about it. "Oh. Am I in the way? I'm really sorry, I'm going to take my leave."

Jane walked away to leave, but Thomas stopped her.

"Wait, is this the dress?"

She nodded, smiling a huge smile, just like Penelope's.

"Jane, what a wonderful dress," Mom put her hands to her chest, admiring. "Pink suits you so much!"

In the next season, sweet and gentle Jane would debut. She was a confusion, between excitement and fear. It would still take a good few months, some time after Agatha began her travels. Which Thomas didn't particularly approve of, thinking about Agatha away from home, away from England, made him apprehensive. But it was Agatha, and no one dictated what she did.

"What did you think, Thomas?" Jane lessened her smile, looking at him with anxiety in her eyes. "Agatha said I looked beautiful, but ever since she played that trick on me, I never quite believe it."

Penelope laugh.

"Your sister was 10, Jane."

Thomas put his hands in his pockets and admired his sister proudly.

"Flawless, Lady Jane."

So, she smiled again.

"Thanks, Tommy."

"My God, is this the dress you made me wait at the dress shop for two hours?" It was her father, Colin, coming down the stairs looking at his daughter, full of love in his eyes. Jane stated. "Forget about debuting next season, darling. None of the men in this society deserve you. You're perfect, Lady Jane, perfect."

Jane ran to him, in a very unladylike way of her, and hugged him tightly.

"You should be ashamed, Colin Bridgerton, you tried the same thing to convince Agatha!"

"You should thank me, she wanted to go to her first ball after her debut dressed as a pirate," he said to his wife, hugging his youngest daughter. "We could have swapped Agatha for Penny when we had the chance. They're a month apart, no one would have noticed."

It seemed serious, but it was a joke, told by Agatha herself.

He imagined Penny as his sister, feeling what he felt for her now gave him chills.

Penelope shook her head, thinking it was complete nonsense, and turned to her son.

"Are you coming, Thomas?"

"Of course he's coming, he's taking his sisters," Colin reminded him.

George was 14, tall for his age, but too young, never quiet, and Thomas was the eldest son. I had to accompany Agatha, a debutante, and Jane, who was still about to debut, but I heard that some gentlemen were keeping an eye on her.

He directly promised his father that he would take care of both of them.

"Of course I do, I'll keep busy taking care of my sisters."

He said that directly, looking into his mother's eyes, so that she wouldn't be worried. It was his strategy, to take care of Agatha and Jane, when the whole proposal thing happened, he would be busy and maybe that would help.

London, 1875.

"Did you tell Mom? Why didn't you tell me?" Agatha wanted to know.

Sometimes I felt like I was the older brother, wanting to take care of everyone. After the age of 8, Thomas began to imitate his father. Read the newspaper in the armchair like him, wear a hat, arrange the scarf around your neck, stay with it in the office pretending to organize the household bills on blank papers. A little man.

But before that, he was the brat and made Agatha, his older sister, hold him by the ear, so he wouldn't do something stupid. She didn't even look her age. Too smart for most children, she associated George's speech difficulties, at age 3, with those of Uncle Simon, even before Colin and Penelope, and that she should visit them to find out what to do.

She was a good big sister.

"She told Dad years later." He shrugged, fiddling with the earring in his hand. "And Penny told you about the proposal."

Agatha assessed him for a moment before narrowing her eyes, looking slightly annoyed.

"You two were one of the most important people in the world to me. She didn't tell you half of it. You didn't tell me anything. I know practically nothing. I thought it was sudden. You fell in love, and she didn't respond."

"We don't need to tell you everything, Agatha."

"Of course they do!" she stated. "I allowed no other option."

Thomas laugh.

"You're the only one who knows about the proposal. I never told anyone about it, not even mom, for a while I thought I was stupid for going that far."

Agatha didn't seem entirely convinced, but she didn't persist, for which Thomas was very grateful.

“You must have been very careful.”

“Or not thinking about anything properly. I think it was luck.”

FLASHBACK PART 3.2

London, 1845.

Thomas was the silliest of them all. Put behind by the sisters themselves.

The two teamed up to deceive him by asking him to go get refreshments, and when he returned, they disappeared. The three of them entered together, each of his sisters holding one of his arms. Agatha called him her watchdog, and Jane wanted to explore the hall without Thomas on her heels.

Now, he was rotating among the guests to find them.

"Sorry, my lady," he said to the person he bumped into. It was Lady Eloise Crane, his aunt and Penny's mother. "Aunt Eloise, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Tommy," she smiled patiently. His parents, brothers, and her were the only people who still called him Tommy. "I spoke to Penelope, Colin, and George a little while ago, I didn't see you and the girls."

"We were taking a walk around the room. But…" Thomas was unable to say anything. "They tricked me and ran away."

Aunt Eloise laughed, making the expression lines more evident.

"Agatha's idea, no doubt. It must be whoever Penny is with, she's gone too."

I still hadn't come up with a good plan to face Penny and remain as natural as possible, without running away. He didn't come to the dance for Penny, he came to take care of his sisters.

And he didn't even do that right.

"Well, I'll look for them, if I find them, please tell them to come to me." Thomas realized an elegant bow to the baroness. "Lady Crane."

I intended to take the opposite path, but Eloise interrupted.

"Thomas." He froze and waited for whatever he wanted to say, his aunt seemed to ponder, looking around. Motioning with her head for Thomas to approach the wall with her, she followed. "Penny told me about you guys. I found it all confusing, but shemade a decision. I honestly thought you wouldn’t come today.”

He opened his mouth in the hope that some sound would emerge that would be an intelligible argument, and nothing came out, just the sound of his breathing. Penny did the same as him, looked for her mother to understand the mess they were in.

Thomas cleared his throat.

"I came to take care of my sisters," he assured. A little embarrassed, perhaps. "Just."

He was silent, waiting for her to continue. Eloise analyzed him wisely, looking for sincerity.

Finally, he smiled again.

"That's good. I wish Oliver was like that, but he only has eyes for his fiancée, and Frederick prefers to laugh with Georgie about silly things."

Georgie was her brother, George Bridgerton. In the family, there is George St. Clair, eldest son of Aunt Hyacinth and Uncle Gareth, but his brother, being the youngest, received the nickname.

"I think Uncle Phillip does a great job."

She laughed.

"Don't even tell me, Georgiana hasn't even debuted yet and he's already surrounding her."

The ball was calm and monotonous, with chatter and classical music playing, the perfect ball for a big announcement.

Then, Thomas spotted Penny among the guests alongside her future husband, and she saw him too. Suddenly, he felt his heart palpitate, anxiously thinking about everything that would happen. He was not prepared and was mistaken in thinking so.

"Aunt Eloise… Lady Crane, excuse me." Thomas repeated the bow, somewhat awkwardly, and only spoke before walking away: "I'm sorry. I have to go."

He walked quickly, passing between people to reach… He couldn't say, the furthest place. Furthermore, he left the party, part of the mansion's gardens was brightly lit with carriages parked and coachmen and footmen were taking care of the vehicles, and Thomas continued in the opposite direction, walking away. To the darker side.

He heard the sound of soft, quick footsteps following him. He looked back and saw her, Penny, running as best she could with her skirts up and shoes that weren't suitable for that.

Furthermore, he continued walking.

"Thomas!" Penny called out to him, and he ignored her. "Thomas!"

Thomas stood still, taking a deep breath, before turning around.

"What is it?" he asked, in a tone of voice that was not receptive.

Penny also stopped, steps away, her strategy to not slip into desires they shouldn't feel. Even in the dark, I could see her sad expression and her bright, watery eyes.

Thomas's heart hurt, and then some more, when she asked:

"Don't hate me. Please don't hate me."

He gathered all the common sense and stickers to not walk towards Penny and show her that, everything about him may be a mess, but hating her would be the last thing he could do.

"It's impossible to hate you."

"But…" He tried to say something back, he couldn't, he opened his mouth and nothing came out. Not in a thousand years could he hate her, Thomas thought, or consider her deserving of less than what the world could offer. "I don't know, I don't know what to do with you. Robert is perfect, he's a dream, he understands me, he loves me, he kissed me and I reached the clouds."

Thomas' heart sank knowing that, suffocating. I should have invented the worst headache he felt, so he wouldn't come.

Increasingly regretting bitterly.

“I go although. Go inside, Penny. Go back to the sky with its clouds."

She did not go.

He advanced a step.

"You know what I asked myself hours later? When did he leave? What the hell would be like with you. And that's crazy."

Thomas's chest rose and fell rapidly in anguish because he could do nothing to pull her to the heavens with him.

Or you shouldn't disagree. There could be one or three sinful things he would do to her in that garden. With or without any clothes.

"I am the devil?" Thomas walked slowly towards her. "Am I tempting you? Wanting to make them commit sins?" he continued, asking question after question. She didn't respond, tension crawling through her body, in anticipation of what that undue closeness meant. "Do you want to sin, Penny?"

This time, Thomas touched her, running the folds of his fingers along the softness of her skin. Penny closed her eyes, feeling, breathing faster and reopened them, looking deep into his soul. Licking his lips, salivating as much as he did for hers.

But she still didn't say anything, she didn't know what she wanted.

Thomas walked away.

Penny grabbed his coat sleeve.

"Kiss me," he asked.

"Gone mad."

"No, kiss me. I have to accept a marriage proposal and I want to be sure, kiss me now. Come on, go ahead!" she screamed, insisting, while Thomas couldn't believe it. "You're a coward, Thomas."

Without thinking, he grabbed the back of Penny's head and pulled her to collide her lips with his, and kissed her desperately. She slid her hands down his chest and he wrapped them around her waist to hold her tighter to him.

Without separating, without being able to breathe.

Blackwell must have really been perfect in teaching her how to kiss, because Penny took the initiative by sliding her tongue into Thomas' mouth and he reciprocated intensely so that the kiss was complete.

In the only moment they broke apart for air, Thomas buried his face in Penny's neck. Passing your nose, smelling the perfume, running your tongue slowly to feel the salty taste closer to what would be her entire body. Forming a trail of kisses down your neck, nibbling on your earlobe.

Penny grabbed his shoulder tightly and buried a hand in Thomas' hair, he returned to his full lips to repeat everything again.

They heard a noise and separated completely. Guilty, looking for whoever caught them in the act.

A squirrel snuck by to hide in a bush.

The two sighed in relief, still breathing heavily after all the effort from the kiss given.

Wondering how lost they were.

She shook her head over and over, refusing to believe it, pacing back and forth with her hand over her mouth.

"No, no, no, no. We shouldn't have done that," he repeated.

"You were the one who suggested it."

He stopped walking and turned to Thomas with open arms.

"I know!" she shouted, her voice breaking, blinking constantly. "It would be our solution. It should go wrong, it should give me certainty in every way. I can love Robert, I do, but I feel like a traitor when you approach and bring me doubts!"

"And what do you want me to do? For me to disappear? Better for me to ask you to marry me? Fight for you and make your doubts a certainty?" Thomas shouted back, close to her again. She shakes her head, looking at him with those huge, adorable, scared eyes. "Marry me."

Penny held her breath in shock. Even he couldn't say why that came out of his mouth.

"Don't ever say that again," she tried to pull away.

He held one of her hands, placing it on his chest, and repeated, without any fear:

"Marry me."

She licked her lip, shaking her head over and over.

"You've gone crazy."

Thomas seemed to have no control over his own desires, he seemed to be unable to do anything other than look deep into her eyes.

"You didn't say no," he leaned closer, touching her lip with his thumb, the words now practically a whisper. "Imagine what sins we could commit. I could present them all to you."

Slowly, his thumb slid across Penny's bottom lip. Leaving both him and her, paralyzed, breathing heavily.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Marry me."

Penny continued with her eyes closed, tightly. She was torn, but on impulse, she pulled her hand away and backed away from him.

"No," he replied, firmly. "No."

"Penny…"

"The answer is no!" she roared this time, tears still stuck in her eyes. "This is my choice, my response to you. I marry Robert Blackwell. I will be happy with him. And I wish the same for you, Thomas. May you find someone you can love, without confusion and impediments, but that person is not me ." Penny sniffed and quickly ran the back of her gloved hands under her eyes. "Please, just… Don't hate me."

It would be foolish to blame her for everything. If he used her rejection with hatred against her. From the beginning I knew that Penny deserved the best, the world at her feet.

But he wasn't enough.

Thomas didn't know what to say back. He just nodded slightly, taking steps back, feeling the impact of a punch on his chest.

"You're right," he agreed. "You're amazing, Penny, you deserve an amazing life. You're the sun. You deserve the sky full of white clouds where you can shine."

"To where you go?" she worried.

"Away from you."

London, 1875

Thomas, his brothers and all the Bridgerton brothers' cousins grew up hearing stories of passionate lovers.

Stories that, even with a tragic ending, like that of her aunt Francesca and her first husband, were still lived, with a beginning, a middle, and an end, and were beautiful to remember.

But they were never told stories that didn't work out. For a reason. They shouldn't be remembered.

There are stories that remain incomplete, and this was the best solution.

"Be safe, sister."

"Be well, Thomas," replied Agatha, getting into her carriage.

After leaving his parents' house, Thomas helped his sister into the carriage and stood on the sidewalk watching the vehicle turn the corner, and then walked in the opposite direction.

Back home. For Lizzie and her five children.

By coincidence, he saw Lady Penelope Blackwell talking arm in arm with her third daughter, Alysson. Just like Thomas, dressed in mourning for Colin's death two months ago.

When she saw him, she smiled, and he smiled back.

They stayed away for years after what happened, only being cordial when they met. Now, however, they were nothing more than good friends.

Penny married and had two older sons, Vincent and Phillip, and three younger daughters, Eloise, Amanda and Alysson. Aunt Eloise still lived at Romney Hall with Oliver, his wife and seven grandchildren.

"Lady Blackwell. Miss Blackwell."

He greeted the two by bowing.

"I hate it when you're so formal with me, Thomas. I think you like to irritate me," Penny warned playfully.

"Uncle Thomas respects you so much, Mom," Alysson said, smiling.

She has identical eyes to her mother, but was much more like her father, Lord Blackwell.

Thomas laugh.

"How are you, Thomas?" Penny asked.

"Well, thank you. In the process of moving. I can't go in and call the house my own, feel like I own it, every room still belongs to my father."

She looked at him with emotion, and nodded.

"I understand. I can still call my brother Sir Oliver Crane."

They exchanged minimal smiles of sadness and understanding.

The years pass, everything that believes to be eternal has an end. Just like the people you love.

Time aged Penny, and he, too, the lines of expression showed that the events of the past occurred as they should.

Thomas has no regrets. He thought a life without Lizzie, his wife, was unlikely. She didn't fix it. He loved all the broken pieces the way they were, and that's how he restored himself.

"I don't want to disturb you. Have a good afternoon, Penny. Aly."

This time using her nickname. With the birth of Jane's daughter, her younger sister, Penny was no longer the only Penelope in the family.

They greeted each other one last time and went one to each side.

Thomas kept her earring in the box, like everything else, and didn't intend to look through it again.

He wanted his family, to kiss his wife, to hug his children. Y our most precious treasure in the world.

Little Anne, her youngest daughter, believed it could be a firefly, because her older brother, Edgard, pointed to the sky, where the stars were, and told her that two of them were her grandparents. And she was convinced, that if she shined like them, they could find them again.

Dinner tonight would be special, a celebration. Keeping one of Penelope and Colin's traditions.

It was April 6th, the day she fell in love.

Chapter Text

Gloucestershire, 1838.

At eight years old.

Jane cried.

She didn't want to, but she cried, holding onto Eclipse's reins as if her life depended on it.

“Jane, there’s no need to cry. The horse didn’t even move!” said Agatha, impatiently.

His older sister was thirteen, she had been riding since she was eight. Jane, on the other hand, had just turned eight. The second oldest, Thomas, was twelve and trotted around the enclosure, and the youngest, George, five years old, watched from the top of the enclosure, tapping his feet calmly.

Jane looked at her father, Colin, with sad eyes, pouting and begging him to get her out of there.

"Fabulous."

Her little voice hurt so much, he immediately went forward to take her off the horse's saddle.

"Hey, Jane. It's okay, your dad is here."

He went into his father's arms, clinging to his neck. Still fearing having to return to the horse, when he accepted it he had no idea it would be so tall.

Agatha remained impatient.

"I don't understand. Eclipse is excellent," said the girl, referring to the mare. "Meek, careful and doesn't scare easily. She's perfect for her."

"I don't think Jane likes horses, dear." He stroked Jane's back to calm her. "Take Eclipse. You and Thomas can get out of the siege, but without going too far."

"Ahhhh. Thank you!"

The eldest daughter celebrated by wearing her brother Thomas's pants to ride a horse. Climbing onto Eclipse, giving commands with her feet and reins, and the mare left the place.

After George's birth, Penelope and Colin decided to live in the country and raise freer children. Without the positive and negative buzz about Lady Whistledown that began to affect children. Going to London sporadically to visit the city, family or resolve important matters.

They lived on a smaller property near Romney Hall, the Crane residence.

Jane continued to cry.

"It's okay, Jane. You won't get back on the horse, ever again, if you want." Her father patted her back, but began to worry when his daughter wouldn't stop crying. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"You say I'm always perfect." said the girl, moving her face away from his shoulder, looked her father in the eyes and sniffled. "But I tried, and I didn't go."

I didn't like not being good. She knew how to paint, sew, sing, dance beautifully, she was learning the piano, and in the children's theaters that she organized with her cousins she performed at her best.

When for the first time he tried to do something that Agatha was excellent at, because he wanted to be braver like her, he failed miserably.

Colin smiled slightly.

“Horses aren’t your thing, and that’s okay. You are the best at other things, which Agatha, for example, is not.” he explained, wiping away his tears. “Jane Bridgerton, you don’t need to try to be perfect. You are completely perfect for me.”

Jane was doubtful, upset, because even George, who was just five years old, knew how to get on the pony alone.

However, her father's loving eyes expressed so much sincerity that she couldn't help but smile and, without crying, hugged him tightly again.

"Are you feeling alright?" The little girl nodded, and Colin turned his face to receive a kiss on the cheek from his daughter. He returned her to the floor, stood at her level, and said: “You know where to find your mother.”

"At the library."

He knew her so well.

The nanny saw her walking out of the enclosure and opened the wooden door for the girl to pass through. Like Agatha, she wore pants, didn't like them, but didn't want to get her skirts dirty.

“Georgie, come.”

Little Georgie jumped off the fence, happy to be next.

He pushed forward and got on the brown pony, alone. Listening to his father's instructions. Without speaking, but he understood, responding with a gesture he invented to communicate.

Seeing George, with more skill than her, made Jane upset again.

It seemed so simple.

Jane entered the house followed by the nanny complaining about the dirt dirtying the house as they went up the stairs. She needs a bath.

After taking a shower and putting on a dress, one of her favorites, she walked towards the library. Closed, because your mother must be working.

She knocked on the door.

"Jane!" Penelope smiled when she saw her daughter enter, moving away from the papers to welcome her. "Come here."

"Hi mom."

Jane walked over to her mother and sat on her lap, being hugged tightly. However, Penelope noticed something strange, her slumped shoulders and sad look.

“What about the mount?”

“I didn't do well, I think I'm the worst. I was scared, I tried to start with the horse, but I cried.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Penelope kissed his little nose. “I don’t like horses either. Never tried. You were brave.”

“Thank you,” Jane sighed. “But I’m still upset.”

Penelope looked down thoughtfully, trying to decide what to say. He doesn't have extraordinary advice, just the ones he knew.

“Do you know what I do when I’m upset? Or angry?” Jane shook her head. “Or does your father irritate me too much?”

The girl laughed.

"What?"

"I write. Emotions and feelings are fuel for any writer. Especially when you keep it inside.”

He thought about it.

I was upset, so upset. When Agatha felt this way, she grumbled, screamed or locked herself in her room, and everyone knew it. However, Jane couldn't do the same, crying like she did was rare, a sad face was the best, trying to be as peaceful as possible.

“Georgiana said, that Amanda said, that Aunt Eloise told her, that you've said a lot of things about a lot of people."

Waiting for what Penelope would say.

Of course, I knew Lady Whistledown. She was the woman who raised her, she was her mother. He had read old clippings from her columns, had heard about her from some people, but Jane sometimes felt that she had no idea of Lady Whistledown's magnitude.

“That’s true,” he said. “But they irritated me.” Jane held back her laughter, then let it out, and she followed her in. “You have excellent writing, my love, very designed handwriting for a little girl your age. Why don’t you turn it into something?”

She was confused.

“Transforms into what?”

“Whatever you want. A story, a short story, a poem, a diary telling you what you want, but don't want anyone to know. The world in your mind is yours, Jane, do as you wish.” Penelope pulled out a clean sheet of paper, an unused quill, and an inkwell. Placing everything on the table in front of the little girl. "It’s your choice, my love.” He made a point of emphasized air. “And don’t worry about your ink-stained fingers. That’s how you’ll know if you’re doing a good job.”

London, 1846.

At eighteen.

She tried to control herself, pacing back and forth in the back garden of the Allendale mansion. A dance was taking place inside, I didn't want to make a mess of it and end up spotting him, and jumping on his neck like a wild animal. Trying not to curse all his generations with the worst of the words that Agatha learned from around the world and taught her.

I would do anything right now to be home. I could write, I could relieve all the annoyance and frustration I contained with paper and a pen.

How foolish it was.

"Silly Jane, foolish Jane," said she, speaking to herself. Walking from one side to the other. "Why are you like this? Why haven't you noticed?" I couldn't cry, it was a bad time. I had to return to the salon. "Mary, you will have an old flame. That is your secret. He will reappear, he is completely inappropriate, rude and mean, you have been deceived by his beauty, and Richard will punch him. And he will bleed."

Mary was the protagonist of the new novel she was writing, and Richard was her date. She felt a little crazy talking to herself, but she was trying to calm down again.

She was not deluded, she was deceived into believing that Lord Whitewood liked her. Maybe marry her. When he revealed that the secret meetings were nothing more than fun, Jane felt her heart break into little pieces.

She would never be perfect enough for anyone but her father.

I couldn't say if it was love, but if so, was it so easy for love to turn into hate?

Because she hated him, she didn't want to see him anymore, and she explained it well by stepping eagerly on one of his feet.

He must be limping in there now, and he couldn't care less. She could do a lot worse, looking like a fallen angel, but she was a lady, and she wouldn't lose her composure for Whitewood. He wasn't worth it.

Apparently, even though she was the niece of a viscount, a duke, a baron, and an earl, Jane was still too inferior to what he could achieve and marry.

She sat dejectedly on the garden bench. How was it possible to be mistaken like that? There were kisses, he made her promises… She was a fool.

She didn't realize she was shedding tears until a white linen handkerchief appeared in front of her.

"Ah!"

Jane's eyes widened, scared, she jumped off the bench, turned around and found a young man, who appeared from who knows where, with a book under his arm and a handkerchief raised.

"I'm sorry, it wasn't very subtle of me. The man had a sincere look, getting up from the bench together. “I didn't want to scare you,"

As handsome as he was, today was not a good day to deal with men. Except for his father and brothers, he wanted everyone to disappear from the earth.

"You can't arrive without being announced near a lady."

He adjusted the rim of his glasses, raised his eyebrows and responded:

"A lady should not be alone in the garden of an estate at night while talking to herself."

Jane felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

I used to talk to myself, it was true. To pass on ideas, complain about things, or simply because there was no one to talk to in this situation.

Well, Agatha, maybe, but what she would get was an 'I told you so', she didn't like Whitewood and thought he was the worst of the guys.

And she was right.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, shyly.

"I'm afraid I didn't absorb all the words. Possibly because I was enchanted by your beauty, and you started crying, and I couldn't do anything. Offering you a tissue was the least." He walked slowly and placed the scarf on the bench, offering it again, retreating to where he was. Keeping the distance between the two, they shouldn't be alone. "My name is Daniel. I mean…" Daniel shook his head and bowed. "Lord Daniel Allendale, Earl of Allendale. The host of the party, partially."

So, it was him.

Never seen him before.

The former count died in service in the war, his son received the title before he was born. His mother, the Countess, moved to the country after her husband's death and never appeared in London again.

Until this year. When they return home to London, they are giving dances and wanting to regain their prestige and respect. But the count was rarely seen, he disappeared, or did not attend events. Some already knew him, but she hadn't had the opportunity to greet him yet.

The compliment on Jane's beauty did not go unnoticed, and he was embarrassed to say thank you.

So he accepted the handkerchief, and returned to his place on the bench.

"Why partially?"

She had always been curious, probably much more discreet than her brothers.

"The party was organized in my name, the people were invited in my name, but…" The Count shook the book to show her. "I'd rather read in the garden than deal with them."

I couldn't judge him. He wiped his cheeks with the handkerchief and sighed.

"To be honest, I don't want to deal with them at the moment either."

"That's why you cried?" He asked, still standing. "Is the dance that bad? My mother will be devastated."

"No, no. I'm the problem." Jane hurried to explain.

"I highly doubt you would be a problem." The count didn't know her, but he said that with certainty, and with a look of admiration. "By the way, you didn't tell me your name."

She stood up and improved her composure to say her name. He already knew he was a crybaby, he didn't need worse impressions when representing his family's surname.

"Jane Bridgerton, my lord," she introduced herself, returning his bow elegantly.

He looked up at Allendale and a smile began to spread lazily across his face. Looking at him without blinking, you can better appreciate his handsome face, his thick eyebrows, his charming smile, his breathtaking brown eyes.

Jane's heart swayed, but she thought it had swayed before, and he deceived her.

She cut off eye contact. He sat down on the bench again, taking a deep breath.

I couldn't jump from one to another so easily.

"I think it's unlikely, Miss Bridgerton, but hasn't anyone asked you to dance? Is that why you're crying?" The Count guessed.

"Do you secretly watch many ladies crying in the gardens for this reason?"

"Actually, I listen in secret, I'm not the best person to comfort them. But, touch, mademoiselle." He smiled again, and this time Jane smiled too. "See? I'm a problem. I hate balls, nothing is inviting to me. The people are boring, the subjects are boring, and most of the time, I prefer to read in the gardens. That's why I always carry a hidden book." He showed her the book again. "I thought coming back to London as an adult would be easier to socialize with other people. But no, it's not."

Jane was curious.

"You don't want to, and you don't like it, yet you allow them to throw dances at your house, in your name?"

"My mother wouldn't take any. And I enjoy a good read better without her in my ear all the time."

 Lady Allendale was quite outgoing, the perfect type for throwing balls and socializing among high society peers. She couldn't imagine what stopped her from showing up in London for so long.

"I like writing," Jane said.

For noticing what an acid reader he was. As a writer and daughter of writers, I also loved reading.

The count made that face again, the smile slowly spread and his eyes shone.

"And even?" He asked, and she nodded. "Fascinating, Jane."

Why did your name coming out of his lips feel so right?

"Jane?" He turned his head quickly, finding his brother. Thomas, upon seeing her, was relieved, however, upon noticing the presence of the man standing a few steps away from his sister, he frowned. "Allendale," Thomas acknowledged. "What is happening?"

He looked from one to the other, making a suspicious expression and with his arms crossed, meaning he was awaiting explanations.

Jane got up, going towards her brother, wrapping her hands around one of his arms and smiling slightly.

"I felt unwell, I needed air," She hated lying, however, she did it in the last two months to cover up the hidden meetings with Whitewood. "Lord Allendale was thoughtful in wanting to know if I was okay."

The worst person to try to deceive was not George, who never gives up on something that makes him tick in his ear, but Thomas, attentive to details. But he completely trusted Jane's word and relaxed, which made her feel bad.

"Do you want to go home?" asked his brother.

"I'd love to, brother."

I couldn't spill everything I wanted to say in Whitewood's face. I completely understood Whistledown in those moments. Good thing he had his writings to occupy himself and concentrate on the best and worst feelings.

"Great, I'm going too. Allendale, good to see you. Twice in one night, that's rare," Thomas said, he didn't realize how much they could get to know each other. "Apparently, he continues as usual, hiding."

"It's good to see you too, Bridgerton." The earl saluted, calmly, and focused on Jane. "Miss Bridgerton."

Thomas and she turned to leave, towards the carriage they came in, separate from their parents'. Leaving Lord Allendale behind.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the Allendale line ended with him. He doesn't like meeting anyone, I hope he wasn't rude," commented her brother, but it didn't make sense, when with her, Allendale had been extremely kind. “If you keep hiding, you will never know how to woo a lady, and possibly never will.”

Jane discreetly looked back, and he was still there, observing from a distance, in the same place.

The second time, he disappeared.

Two weeks later .

Her mother agreed with her, something was missing.

Mary and Richard's story felt epic, but the reveal scene was missing something. Jane thought about a statement from Richard. Personally, he loved passionate declarations.

She left the office for the stairs, turning around, surprised to see a man in the living room, almost certain that it wasn't her father or any of her brothers.

Jane slowly approached.

It was Lord Allendale. They haven't seen each other since that night.

Thomas said he and Daniel met at Eton, Daniel was three years older, he left a year after Thomas joined. Since then, he was already quiet and reclusive, but he helped his brother face troublesome boys who messed with him.

She was inappropriately dressed.

Brown hair flowed in waves over her shoulders, a simple dress stained with paint, which she called a work dress, dirty fingers and slightly nervous hands.

He used the papers in his hands to hold in front of his body and disguise himself, he took a deep breath and said:

“Lord Allendale.”

The count turned quickly and stopped with his mouth open when he saw her, looking a little dumbfounded, enchanted, with a bouquet of camellias.

“Jane,” he whispered, but noticed the mistake, cleared his throat and backed away, saying, “Miss Bridgerton.” I liked his glasses, but unfortunately he didn't wear them. His clothes were a little crowded and he ran his hand through his dark brown strands. Almost black. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I'm sorry for the mess I'm in, I believe my horse was excited to get out of the house, we came in too much of a hurry.”

Jane smiled.

“Good to see you too. Did you come to see my brother?”

"No. I don't think Thomas and I are even that close. Although it would have been a good excuse for initial contact.” Allendale was thoughtful, but then remembered her there, putting a hand back and straightening his shoulders. “I asked the butler to call her. I came to see her.”

He tried to think about why. She couldn't understand or think what Allendale could want with her.

“I can’t imagine why.”

Waited for the answer. Then, the count had done it again, he was analyzing her with his mouth open and his eyes fixed on her.

This time, looking up and down, it was her dress that was the problem, she thought. Completely inappropriate and the hands are dirty, not at all delicate. She should have gone upstairs and at least changed if she couldn't tie up her long hair.

“I forgot the word.” The count shook his head and laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “I came… What’s the word?” She sighed, and she couldn't help him, because she had no idea what he wanted. “She is not a very common word for me, or something I often do, although it is what men do when they visit girls in their homes, with flowers, chocolates and go out for walks. What’s it really like?”

Allendale stopped thoughtfully. Jane had thought of a response, but was afraid to speak and make a mistake.

She could hear Agatha's voice in her mind say: “Ah, stop nonsense, Jane Bridgerton. Do you want to talk? Speak! It can even sing like a human nightingale, don’t waste time.”

“Milord, do you wish to court me?”

His eyes came to life and lit up.

“Yes,” he said more seriously. “Please, Miss Bridgerton.”

She blinked, surprised to confirm. He has already received courtships before, from other suitors. But Whistewood never came to her house, never brought her flowers, or wanted to walk with her in the park.

Perhaps, after Whitewood, she became insecure, and needed to ask, to hear from him why.

"Why?"

He hesitated for a second.

“Do you want the correct answer or the honest one?”

“Shouldn’t they both be the same?” she replied, confused.

"No, no. Choosing the correct answer, I would say: ‘Your beauty enchanted me that other night, and I beg you to allow me to accompany you on a trip to the park.’”

Begged? She felt stunned, and Allendale's eyes actually seemed to beg for her consent.

And they had only seen each other once.

“And the honest answer?”

Yes, she wanted to hear more.

“Actually, I don’t know anything about courting. I’ve been informing myself over the last few days.” The count laughed awkwardly. “Although your beauty is undeniable, I don’t think that’s the reason I came here,” he added, sure of his words. “I understand we haven't exchanged more than a few words, we've never seen each other before this, but I haven't been able to help thinking about you every day since the ball. Even though I tried, I failed miserably, because otherwise I can think about you, I have dreams about you. Dreams I shouldn't have about a decent, single girl. So, if I want to stop thinking about you, if I want dreams to be real, there is no other alternative, I need to be with you, Jane. I have to marry you.”

This is crazy. A madness that made Jane's heart beat desperately. He lost his breath at the confession and sincerity.

Now, it was his choice.

“I, I,” Jane had lost her speech. He just didn't think so much, and did what he wanted, with all his heart. “I need to change, fix my hair, I need gloves and a hat, and a chaperone. And my mother can grant permission. AND…"

Allendale interrupted.

“Is that a yes?”

Strangely, he seemed insecure, but what else would he do if not to accept his courtship?

“It is a yes, my lord. It’s my choice.”

His smile widened, in that expansive way. Suddenly, Jane discovered that Richard, her protagonist, must have an equal, and Mary must melt at the sight of him.

London, 1848

At twenty years old.

“Jane. Jane. Jane.” Jane's husband repeated and repeated, his face buried in her neck.

It was early. At least seven o'clock in the morning, the mansion's employees began to work on preparing the Count's birthday party, but they remained naked in bed.

“Daniel, you need to let me out.”

She tried to push him away, laughing, and Daniel pressed his lips to hers, completely disarming her. He removed his hand and placed himself between Jane's legs, and she crossed them behind his back.

Daniel interrupted the wet kiss, pressing their foreheads together, and faced his wife.

"No."

“Yes, yes,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“I want your yes, my love,” He smiled, pinning Jane's hips to his. “But for something else.”

The excited member fit, filling Jane, who moaned, digging her nails into her husband's back, with her eyes lost on him. Daniel began to move his hips in a slow, but delicious rhythm. He continued at a faster pace, pushing his hips synchronously.

She couldn't help it and threw her head back, breathing hard. Daniel buried his face in the crook of her neck, slowly licked the salt from her skin between her voluptuous breasts, and they moaned together, hallucinated by the pleasure.

After several minutes.

Jane fell onto the mattress, getting off her husband, and the two lay in bed in silence, breathing. She learned to ride, and knew very well how to master the technique.

“Lady Jane Allendale, would you do me the honor of giving up this damn party…” He continued to resist, really thinking he had a choice. “And spend the rest of the day trapped in this room and me?”

She opened her eyes and turned her face to look her husband in the eyes, sighing because he was beautiful.

“I will be with you, my love, for the rest of our lives,” He grabbed his chin and kissed him. “But about the party,” she whispered, her lips close. "The answer is no."

And she jumped out of bed before he grabbed her. I had been planning that party for a month, and I was still going to give him a gift tonight, it needed to be perfect so that they would remember them for the rest of their lives. I needed to check if everything was going well and inspect the organization of details.

It was Lady Allendale now. A real lady, no longer just the nickname given to her by her father.

Lady Jane was real, and she had tasks to do.

She put the nightgown over her head and put it on, she would call the maid to help her bathe, put it on and go downstairs. Then, she noticed Daniel with his arms crossed behind his head, admiring her.

I did that at any opportunity.

"What are you looking at? Start getting dressed and leave my room. I’m not going to get dressed with you around. It’s impossible.” And he pointed to the connecting door to his room. "Go. Now."

But, of course, it wouldn't be simple.

“I love you,” he declared.

Daniel knew his weaknesses and strengths. I was going to give in this time, because I couldn't resist reciprocating.

"I love you too."

Choosing to give her heart to her lord was the best decision she made in her entire life. It wasn't simple to understand, but when it happened it wasn't sudden. It started little by little, each moment spent by his side led to another greater one.

Who discovered that she loved him.

“You are the woman of my life. You're perfect."

He began to appeal.

"I am flattered. Skirt."

“My Lady Jane.” Daniel got out of bed, and she looked to the side. I couldn't give in, I couldn't give in. “It’s just an order, cancel it,” he asked, very close. “And I promise, my love, I won’t make you regret it.”

The real answer was easy, but he planned everything, all his brothers would be present, his parents, most of his uncles, cousins, he would put up with his insufferable mother, he couldn't cancel.

It was a special day, his birthday.

“Pick up your clothes, Daniel Allendale,” Jane said firmly, lifting her chin and looking into his eyes. “You won’t convince me.”

Ultimately, he understood that it was the final decision.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, Daniel sighed.

He leaned in for one last kiss on her lips, picked up the men's clothes scattered around the room, turned around, completely naked, and headed towards the connecting door.

“Dan,” she called him, and he turned with a small dose of hope in his eyes. "Happy birthday."

The man in his life smiled, winked and entered the room. Jane took a deep breath and let it all out at once, it was a day full of great expectations.

He did his normal daily routine. She bathed, dressed, ate, and let it all out—the last was more recent. And so, a chaotic day before the party finally began. Jane was lucky to have faithfully gained the trust of her servants. He just checked the decoration arrangements, went down to the kitchen to check on the food preparation, and solved any small problems that arose.

When he started to get tired, he received a warning.

His parents were there.

"Mommy Daddy. What a surprise!"

Jane just needs to spend some time without seeing them, and she becomes a girl again. She wanted to skip down the stairs, holding the skirt of her dress, and jump into her father's arms.

“Jane, don't run, you're pregnant,” Colin asked, worried.

"I know." Two servants coming down the steps holding flower arrangements laughed. Everyone knew, except Daniel, he held back as much as possible to give it as a gift today. He wouldn't be upset, he understands her more than anyone in the world. “I was just excited, I didn’t expect you guys before the party.”

She walked down the last few steps elegantly, like a lady, walking straight into the arms of her mother and then her father, who kissed her forehead as always.

“We were passing by, visiting Penny. She went into labor last night. The baby was born beautiful and healthy,” Penelope smiled looking from her husband to her daughter. “Eloise is elated, and soon I will smiled,be too.”

They were proud and Jane was happy to be the one to give them their first grandchild and more in the future.

If it were a girl, and from the heart, she would love it if she had a name in mind.

Jane smiled at her mother.

London, 1875

At 47 years old

After hours of labor, blood smeared across the messy linen sheets, her body exhausted and aching, Lady Jane Allendale gave birth to her first daughter.

She was pregnant three times in her life and with the big boys, she faithfully believed that she would not get pregnant again. However, the surprise came, she was pregnant and almost fifty years old, knocking on the door.

Daniel was very happy, and very worried about Jane's health. All he didn't want was to lose her.

She held her daughter in her arms, she hadn't rested yet, she was breathing and trying to say her name, but she couldn't.

Not without crying. In addition to her tired expression, Jane's face was marked by tears.

Daniel, the Dowager Countess, her eldest son Anderson, and the midwives waited for her to say.

"She went mute?" Daniel's mother questioned, impatiently.

"Mother!" He scolded her. "If you don't shut the fuck up, I'll kick you out of here. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, feel flattered that we're back together and you can enjoy your grandchildren. All thanks to Jane's kindness. For me, we'd only see each other again in hell. "

"Daniel, how dare you?" the matriarch retaliated.

Jane still had a hard time believing that her husband left an insufferable woman like her.

"Dare what I want. I am the lord. This is my home, my wife, my daughter, and my children, and if you don't respect the moment, return to the field or anticipate going to hell."

The woman finally fell silent. Over the years, before Jane, Daniel was very compassionate towards his mother, and she did whatever she wanted. Abusing luxury through his son's money and stealing it without to know.

"Get her out of here," Jane asked, referring to the Dowager Countess, without taking her eyes off her daughter.

Daniel quickly made his wife's wishes his order and sent his mother away under protests. Anderson, her eldest son, tried to keep his crazy grandmother out of the room.

"Jane, my love, it doesn't have to be now," her husband said, kissing her bare shoulders. The nightgown used for the birth was poorly buttoned. "Sleep. I promise neither of us will say her name until you do. I'll call her little milady, like I said."

She laughed, through tears, looked at him grateful for having him in her life, and they put their foreheads together to give each other strength.

He took a deep breath once more. He turned to his newborn daughter. Perfectly perfect. The lips were yours, the eyes were Daniel's and the color of your thinning hair was identical to yours.

"It's okay. I can do it," Jane stated, they were now alone. Daniel, her and the baby. "I waited so long for you, I almost lost hope. I dreamed of watching my mother's face when I asked to name you after her. The most extraordinary woman I've ever met." The tears were spilling anyway, he couldn't help it. "But I can't, I only got your grandfather's blessing, and he's gone too. One day it will be me, but for now, as long as I live, I will take care of you with all my love, soul, and heart. The world in Your mind is yours, do what you wish. If your fingers are dirty with paint…"

Jane couldn't help it, flooded with tears, placing her hand over her mouth to contain the tears.

"Jane…" 

She raised her hand to ask her husband for a moment, she would get it. He took a deep breath and took several deep breaths to continue.

"If your fingers are dirty with paints, don't worry. That's how you'll know if you're doing a good job." The baby's hands moved, Jane rocked her slowly. "Welcome to the world, Penelope."

Chapter Text

London, 1844

Head down, looking at his shoes, sitting on the top step of the stairs, George listened to his parents arguing. The topic of discussion in the office was his expulsion from Eton.

George shouldn't be there, his mother had ordered him to go upstairs and tidy the room he brought back from Eton, but he was driven by curiosity, and feeling guilty that his father had defended him in not apologizing. Colin was explaining to Penelope what happened.

“Colin, he got kicked out of school!” Penelope said, raising her tone.

“I still don’t think he deserves punishment. He was expelled, that's enough. He did nothing wrong.”

“Did nothing wrong? George found out about the senior boy's secret outings and spread it to the entire school in a leaflet. And not enough, he discovered that the boy enters these exits…”

"I know." Colin acknowledged, with a sigh. “That was the most serious part, he was irresponsible, but he’s thirteen, and I don’t think he fully understands the gravity.”

“He also did what he did for the wrong reasons.” She insisted.

“For loving you, for making fun of the boy. Eton will cover everything up, the marquis isn’t exactly mad at his son, but at George finding out and spreading it.” It's true, the marquis' fury was more at him than at his sons sneaking out. Calling him Lady Whistledown's spawn. “Why are we going to punish George? For telling the truth?”

“We have to explain it. About what you wrote in that leaflet.”

Someone poked his head and George looked up. It was Thomas standing on the second step behind him.

"What did you do?" asked his brother.

"I was banned."

“From Eton?” His eyes widened, and his tone was a little louder, as he said: “What do you mean?

Even he thought he didn't know all the facts. The adults in the principal's office and Emmett, the boy who spread the word about what he was doing in secret outside of school, spoke in a way that George didn't understand at all.

Emmett should be punished for sneaking out, not him.

“Shhh” the boy did, placing his index finger over his mouth.

Colin and Penelope, his parents, kept arguing and wanted to hear more of the argument, and couldn't get caught. He wanted to be prepared, because one day they would call him to talk.

His mother was not happy to hear that he had been expelled and could not be at the meeting, which was only attended by men.

He heard light footsteps coming down the stairs, he turned back again and found Agatha behind Thomas, and Jane behind her.

"What happened?"

“George was expelled from Eton,” Thomas whispered.

She had the same first reaction as him earlier.

George did not speak until he was five years old, although he was smart and intelligent, knew how to read, arithmetic and was beginning to learn other languages. Until he spoke, he used hand gestures to communicate that he invented with his mother.

Agatha looked at George and made a gesture that asked “What happened?”, and the boy replied, with another gesture, “I did it”. Jane tugged on the sleeve of Agatha's dress, not understanding.

On a cordless phone, she whispered to Jane.

“George was expelled from Eton.”

Jane's lips dropped open.

"Oh my God."

The four heard a noise and became alert. Someone sat down or stood up from the creaky office chair.

"That's my fault?"

Penelope's tone was surprised.

“No, my love, no. Understand,” said Colin, to reassure her, He called her love, they weren't really fighting, they were discussing the problem and trying to reach a decision. “George is smart and clever, he loves Lady Whistledown and admires you. He has an incredible sense of investigation, I needed to hear him tell me how he discovered everything.” He could hear his father laugh, it was good. “Well, but George is thirteen, he has no idea what he actually spread. Half the school probably doesn't know, only the senior students. He thinks it was just revenge for what the boy did and said about you. He doesn’t even know what the kid really does.”

“Did you have that conversation with him?” his mother questioned.

"Yes of course. But for him, it's not the important part, in his mind it's not the same. I didn’t explain everything.”

What did your father talk about? Of the strange talk about horse breeding? Because George had read about making babies before, in Thomas's anatomy book, and heard about coitus. He gave his father all the answers before he knew the questions.

“Are we going to be able to explain? Thomas can help. He’s young, maybe he has more knowledge,” said Penelope.

George, Agatha, and Jane looked at Thomas. He just raised his hands, equally not understanding anything.

The key in the lock was turned.

The girls quickly lifted their skirts and ran upstairs, Thomas followed them and George last, but he was caught at the top as he was about to run down the hall to hide in his room.

“George Bridgerton.” He froze and slowly turned around to find his mother frowning with her hands on her hips. “You heard everything, didn’t you?”

He considered lying.

It wasn't even that difficult, it just wasn't worth the effort.

“Almost, I reached the end. I don’t want them to fight,”

Penelope narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but George rarely lied, he knew his son to know the concern was genuine. She exchanged looks with Colin, that was how they talked, and he confirmed.

“Do you know why I’m mad, George?”

On good days, she used the nickname, Georgie.

His shoulders slumped, and he sighed, still finding it unfair.

“Because I was punished.”

"Exactly. He was expelled,” she reaffirmed.

And George took an irritated breath. I had already told them during the summer vacation that I didn't want to go back, they persisted, because it was the first year, they would get used to it over time.

“I said I didn’t want to stay! I warned! Several times,” shouted the boy. “I asked not to come back, no one listened to me.”

“Lower your voice, Georgie,” asked Colin calmly, but with a warning look in his eyes, or he would lose his faithful lawyer.

“You didn't give us the real reasons, son,” Penelope said, now affectionate, offering him her hand. “Come down, let’s talk.”

Months ago, he asked not to come back, many times. He couldn't make friends and felt trapped. His parents talked and came to the conclusion that he should try a little harder. However, he was unable to tell them about having chosen him as a favorite target for ridicule, playing humiliating pranks and being knocked down in the corridors. Or that George was stuttering again, unable to speak.

He was very angry. But would he reject her hand?

He glanced at the hidden brothers from the corner of his eye, nodding, encouraging George to go.

I would never reject it.

He went down the stairs, jumping two steps at a time, ran into her arms and hugged her tightly. I missed him most of all, he hated feeling alone, and sometimes I just wanted to go back to the comfort of home. For your mother's hugs.

Penelope was short and George, at thirteen, was taller than most boys his age, and he hugged her by the neck.

“It’s okay,” she assured, stroking his back and placing little kisses on her son’s face. “Let’s talk in the living room, go with your father.”

George looked at Colin, wiping away a tear or two that fell, being supported by his father and receiving a few kisses on the top of his head.

“Come on, Georgie.”

“Agatha, Thomas, Jane. If you go downstairs and eavesdrop on the conversation, I'll tell your Aunt Prudence to release the girls, you'll be spending every afternoon for the next week with Grandma Portia,” Penelope shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “Thomas stay tuned.”

"Yes ma'am." They responded from where they are.

After they sat down in the living room, Colin and Penelope talked to George about why they hadn't listened to him. They apologized, assured him that he would study at home, that he would have private teachers available and that George was too intelligent to learn everything he wanted on his own.

No more boarding schools.

Then they talked about what he did. Revenge against the veteran boy.

“I signed my name because I wanted him to know it was me. Let him know who he messed with.” George said, with anger, sadness, and resentment. “If I were punished, he would be too. It's Eton rules, but he got away with it. Does not make sense."

“A lot of things won’t make sense, son. They are not black and white.” Colin explained it patiently. “He got rid of the prestigious title of his father and grandfather, as I tried to alleviate for you by having Anthony and Simon by my side. You use the weapons you have.” He looked at Penelope with a small smile. “And if you break rules, decide carefully which ones to break.”

She shook her head, having to hide her smile.

“The problem wasn’t that I reported him out, Georgie,” he said, more sweetly. “But where was he going.”

“In a brothel. There are women there, I know that. And?"

Nothing complex to understand. For men to satisfy their desires, apart from what he read — in a forbidden poem.

"Exactly. There really is, but that specific brothel doesn’t just have women.”

George thought for a moment. It wasn't a zoo to have animals, there were men left.

“Are there men?”

“Do you want me to call Thomas?” your mother asked your father.

“It’s not necessary, I think I can do it,” Colin dismissed. “Sometimes, Georgie, men don't like women. Or women don’t like men.”

He immediately thought of his cousin of the same age, Hermione, daughter of Uncle Gregory and Aunt Lucy, she has five younger siblings and thought she was very mature for one of the three older ones.

“I don’t like all of them either. I don't like Hermione sometimes, we're the same age, and she treats me like I'm a baby.”

"It's not like this." insisted his mother. “Yeah… How I like your father.”

It's very confusing to understand people when they avoid, out of fear, getting straight to the point.

“You don’t like him, you love my father. I don't understand."

“It’s physically, intimately.” Ah, he talked about the act of coitus, about carnal relations. “Because they don’t like women, these men like other men.”

George took some more time to think.

I didn't know how it would work between men because I hadn't seen anything like it anywhere. But so what? Did it make a difference?

“Does Emmett like men?” I wanted to confirm, and they nodded, George shrugged. "All good."

“It’s not that simple, George. People don't take it very well, much worse things could happen to Emmett. Do you know what his father will do to him?” At the final moment of the meeting, they asked to leave and thus decided their fate. Emmett stayed with the adults inside because he was a senior and George was a child. “It will take him away from Eton to a boarding school in Switzerland. He will have to leave England after what happened.”

“Is the marquis going to take his son out of an all-boys boarding school because he likes boys and put him in another all-boys boarding school where he can like new Swiss boys? Is this punishment?” He raised an eyebrow. "Does not make sense."

Penelope and Colin frowned, almost in sync, and looked at each other silently.

“Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense,” said his father.

“Georgie, the truth sounds good, but it can also be bad. You need to know what to do with it. Do you know what I learned from Lady Whistledown?” He nodded vehemently, leaning forward, curious. “Not everyone needs to know everything. You did it without knowing, I understand, but you need to be more careful. He will be grounded because he learned that he took a risk in his investigations. He left school to watch them from a distance.”

George was thoughtful for a while, reflecting on that conversation. Emmett not being able to like men must have something to do with the Bible, he read something about it once at his grandmother, Violet's house, but he also read about free will. If Emmett had it, he could like whoever he wanted. Otherwise, it doesn't make sense.

Either way, he understood. He took a breath and let it out, recognizing the mistakes, and what his parents meant.

"I understood. What will I do?”

Penelope thought.

“You will help your father with the household bills,” he ordered.

George shrugged. It was boring, but he did as well with numbers as he did with words.

“I do it faster than him.”

Another conversation with a look. Colin said that the boy is right, they better think of something else.

“Spending afternoons with Grandma Portia,” she backed away confidently.

“I love Grandma Portia,” George smiled broadly. “She says absurd things, I refute them all, and she gets very angry. I like to laugh about it.”

She turned to Colin worriedly, while he held a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

“Our son is going to give my mother a heart attack,” Penelope said.

Colin couldn't help but laugh.

“Georgie, you're going to the dressmaker's shop with your sisters and your mother for two weeks. Hours of seeing them back and forth, without taking anything to distract them, and helping them when they need it.“

George threw his head back and groaned in boredom.

That was indeed a punishment.

London, 1849

Five years later.

"Who is she?" George asked.

It was a masquerade ball at the Bridgerton mansion, orchestrated by Lady Bridgerton, her aunt Kate, and Lord Bridgerton, her uncle Anthony. George didn't like masks, and going against the theme of the party, he didn't wear them.

There was a girl at the edge of the dance space, dressed in white, with a white mask, blonde hair and red lips.

Very vigilant.

"She's fifteen, George. Look for other girls," said fifteen-year-old Edward Basset, Daphne, and Simon's youngest son.

Edward received a pat on the head from George, who recently turned eighteen. Ready to enter Oxford.

"Not in that sense, Edward. And how do you know her age?"

His cousin shrugged.

"I tried my luck. We talked minimally, she was with her eldest brother. I've never seen them in the ballrooms before, but the brother looks like he's an earl from a distant region. Lord Peyton, and she, Miss Peyton, I've never heard talk," he replied. George continued to keep an eye on her, perhaps it was a natural intuition to identify intriguing things. "I've never felt so despised. She looked at me in a way... I felt like throwing myself in the trash, I thought that was where I belonged."

Interesting.

The girl certainly didn't want anyone near her. And at that moment, his brother was not by his side.

She didn't relax, concentrated, like a guard dog. Her eyes suddenly stopped at one place, across the hall. George followed, he was a masked man, giving him a subtle and discreet signal.

Message understood. She held up her skirts and began to walk to the opposite side of the man, passing through the doorway of the house towards the gardens.

And George?

She left Edward and pushed his glass to him to follow her.

George remained cautious so as not to attract his attention, walking lightly and hiding so as not to be seen. The girl looked back a few times, obviously not wanting to be followed, and just walked faster when she reached a dimly lit corridor indicating the direction of the garden.

Lovers meeting?

But the man was too old for her, she was just a girl. By God, the guy had obvious gray streaks in his black hair.

Suddenly, Miss Peyton stopped. George looked around, looking for a place where he could hide, where he could throw himself into the bushes.

She's seen him before.

Tilting her head, curious about the boy. The two looked at each other from a distance, not knowing what to say. He remembered the education his mother gave him. It wasn't polite to stare at people, especially when you were chasing her.

George smiled his best smile and raised his hand in greeting.

"Hi. Miss Peyton, sorry. I was worried, a lady coming to the gardens alone…" He shook his head. "Not good. I thought you might like some company…"

Over time, George also learned to lie. Occasions like this, to get rid of, it was necessary.

"I don't want your company," she replied tersely. Full of contempt in his voice, he also noticed his distinctive accent. "I saw you with the boy who came to talk to me. An idiot, you must be no different. Stop following me!"

"Ah, okay. I'll definitely stop following you, but…" He put his hands behind his back and approached slowly. "You caught my attention. Beautiful, perhaps. I don't see much of your face, but I have no doubt. Or, perhaps, seeing you, completely in white, reminded me of an angel. You wouldn't let an angel escape, it is not?"

He stopped in front of her.

Miss Peyton squinted to examine him. No fear, no excitement, she looked angry.

"An angel? Me?" For the first time, he glimpsed her smile. It was a beautiful smile. "You're stopping an angel from doing his job, Mr. Whatever. Be careful, you won't get into heaven."

"I didn't expect it, to be honest. Not when one of my amusements is tormenting my grandmothers with endless questions and being threatened by their canes," said George, trying to be serious. He even managed to make her laugh, and he smiled along with it. "By the way, my name is George. Or Georgie, childhood nickname."

It could have played like a Bridgerton. But it was the name of the owners of the house, whatever she was doing, I didn't want to scare her.

"Georgie." Miss Peyton tried to say, smiling. It looked adorable. "Very kind of you, but I'm fine. The party has reached its breaking point for me. I'm leaving." She curtsied, but without the slightest feminine delicacy. "Excuse me, Georgie."

Miss Peyton turned to go. However, there was a detail.

"What about your brother? Are you going without him, Miss Peyton?"

She stopped walking.

On his back, his shoulders lifted and relaxed, exhaling.

"My brother knows where I'm going, Georgie."

"How do you know about the man who flagged you down in the hall?" He kept asking questions, she didn't turn around. George took gentle steps closer to her. "A secret meeting with an older man. Although I appreciate secrets, Miss Peyton, I must say that that man is too old for you."

The girl turned quickly with her fist raised with her. Good reflexes saved him and kept him from getting punched in the face, which only made the situation that much more interesting.

“Wrong,” he teased.

She stamped her heel on his shoes with all her strength and closed her fist again to hit him square in the face.

George fell to the ground, seeing stars.

"I really must be an angel," she said, while the boy, on the floor, couldn't even open his eyes. Throwing something fuzzy at him. "I could kick you in the balls, but I'll spare your children."

When he managed to open his eyes, standing up, realizing that the fluffy thing was her hair, that is, a blonde wig, and seeing the silhouette of the girl with her black hair blowing in the wind, skirts raised to her knees, and running towards the gate's sides.

He realized he wouldn't have peace if he didn't run after her. A mystery, he loved mysteries.

George ran as fast as he could, still feeling the throbbing from the heavy punch she had. Very grateful to have taken after his father and not his mother, with very long legs.

Miss Peyton, or maybe that's not even his name, got into an open carriage parked right at the gate. She punched the ceiling for the smell to start, about to pull the door open, but George, not one to give up, without thinking much, he jumped holding himself outside, in front of the open carriage entrance.

"You're crazy?" She screamed, pulling the mask down, just enough time to see the scar on the left apple of her cheek.

The horses began to run and the vehicle began to move.

"Bad luck, Miss Peyton. I like mysteries and I never give up."

"What a pity, Mr. George Bridgerton." She knew who he was, and smiled a little. "I'll be the mystery you'll never solve."

Don't you understand? How much did that just fascinate you?

The girl pulled out her fist to give it a boost and, again, threw it right in George's face. He didn't hold on, falling from the moving carriage and rolling, until he finally stopped.

He raised his head slowly, but not much, groaning in pain, squinting his eyes and still being able to see the carriage disappear as it turned at the end of the street. He threw it back again, breathing slowly, placing his hand on his painful rib and looking up at a deserted, dimly lit street.

George started to smile, to laugh. Feeling an incredible and alive sensation.

He would find out who she was.

***

A week later, George was in his home office, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his fingers buried in his auburn hair, a mess, and racking his brains over what he had just confirmed.

Miss Peyton didn't exist. Lord Peyton didn't exist.

He found their names on the Bridgerton guest list, they lived in Sussex. However, after an investigation into the names and addresses of the residence, he was insistent and impertinent. It turned out that the girl at the dance wasn't called Miss Peyton.

He was suspicious at first, but he hoped to find her again. I didn't know why, she was a clear invader, but I still thought it would be a misunderstanding.

Now, there was nothing. Just half a face, a tiny scar, a fake name and her smile.

He sighed, tired. He didn't accept that this ended his investigation, but, for today, he decided to collect the papers and go up to his room. Take a bath in the bathtub and relax your muscles.

"If Agatha were here, she would understand me!" he said, closing the door, which ended up coming out too loudly.

He preferred not to say anything to anyone, not his brothers or his parents. When George decided to dive head first into investigations and unravel mysteries, they were always worried. Last time, George was expelled from a highly regarded, and underrated, Eton school and talked about for a few months.

That he didn't care, it was good to be famous. But his family did, so he had to be modest.

I didn't know how to tell any of them that the bruised face had been the work of a girl. He was a hit with the girls, he was charming, and he didn't take punches from them.

“Wow, you’re nervous.”

He turned around and found his sister, Jane, smiling, a hand on her lower back, with a belly that was almost eight months pregnant. Married for two years to an earl, Lord Daniel Allendale, in his first season.

He must have just arrived to help Penelope, they would meet in the library. In a house of writers, the office was a free place, but the library was a sacred place. If there was a war, and they had to plan. There would be the general headquarters.

“Sorry, are you going up?” he asked, offering her his arm, so they could go up together. “Marty was supposed to help you. I think it’s going to explode.”

Accepting his arm, Jane stopped on the step of the stairs and looked at his amused smile, his impassive expression.

“Is this how you manage to break girls’ hearts?” They went back up. “Marty is busy for Agatha’s party. What’s the matter with you?”

“Besides getting punched in the face?”

To see how he wasn't mad at his favorite fugitive. He even made jokes about her well-aimed punches.

“I still don’t understand why I didn’t want to report it. Daniel was worried about letting me go out on the street alone. He came to leave me.” His sister laughed, her hand massaging her stomach. “You can no longer go out on the street, and suddenly three thieves appear to attack you. If maybe you had some money, they would have left you alone. The boxing classes Dad put you in worked.”

So, to cover up the punches he received from a girl, he had to cover it up with a slightly false story. That he had been attacked when he decided to go out and take some air outside the house. Facing three thieves, getting punched twice in the face and fighting back to the point of scaring them away.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

“I promise absolute secrecy,” she assured, immediately.

He needed Agatha to understand him about his new obsession. Because their crazy neurons aligned, no matter if it didn't make sense, and they understood each other in a way that the rest of the family didn't.

Thomas said that Agatha was once the opposite, but over time she changed. According to him, it was when she fell from her horse in the field. However, George doesn't remember anything, and had difficulty speaking at that time.

“There were no bullies. No attempted robbery.” He and his sister reached the top and walked down the hallway. “It was a girl. She punched me in the face, twice. And I think I liked it, weirdly.”

They stopped near the library door. Nobody went in there with their parents together. Last time, he caught something that secured an eternal position in his nightmares.

Jane looked at George open-mouthed, her huge blue eyes wide, however, the corners of her mouth began to move, she pursed her lips, controlling herself not to laugh.

"Sorry." Jane started laughing without stopping. "How did this happen?"

He didn't mind her laughing at him, it was very funny. If I were there, I would laugh a lot more. He began to tell her the complete story, from the moment he saw the girl, the newly discovered one.

"He understands?" Something about that mystery excited him. “I have to find her and know her name, and say: Ha! I won.”

"Why?" Jane wanted to understand.

Agatha would quickly understand.

For competitiveness.

“Victory, Jane. The triumph of seeing the surprise on her face that I figured it all out.”

“You don’t have an exact idea of her face, from what I understand. And I think they're more than just gatecrashers, it made me worry. I'm not Agatha, but I love you, George. Sometimes I feel insecure about your ideas.” I loved Agatha for her courage, but I loved Jane for her wisdom, her feet firmly on the ground. Without ever discouraging you from dreaming. “Oxford is right there. I promise secrecy, but no fuss now, focus.”

George had many dreams. Objectives, goals to achieve, and Oxford would be the first step. Even without Eton, he managed and wanted to make his parents proud this time with the results.

The library door was unlocked.

His father came out, adjusting his shirt collar, and was startled to see his children standing there. No one needed to say anything, better this way, it was a silent vote of understanding without explanations.

“Lady Jane,” Colin greeted.

George was at home until he started at Oxford. Thomas worked and had a bachelor's house in Bloomsbury, Agatha would return from her trip in a few days full of gifts.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, receiving a kiss on the forehead and a pat on the belly from Colin. “I came to help mom.”

“She’s inside. You may come in."

Jane thanked him, went in and closed the door.

Her parents were so excited about Jane's baby. The first grandchild. Loving the idea of being grandparents.

“George,” Colin said.

"Father."

They stared at each other for a long minute. As well as having an excellent nose for intriguing things, Colin had a good sense of knowing when George was up to no good.

“Why do I think something is wrong, Georgie?”

“I can’t imagine.”

But in the end, his father always had fun. As he said, he completely understood what Penelope meant when she asked him if he had ever been slapped. Maybe George was his improved version, yet he still gave off the same energy.

Colin playfully hit his son on the head with the papers.

"He cares for himself."

Heading towards the double bedroom he shared with his mother.

"Father." he called, Colin heard it and turned around. George felt his heart sink when he saw Colin enter that room. He couldn't understand the feeling, he smiled to hide it. “There’s a purple spot right here.” He pointed to the place on the neck. “And don’t explain to me.”

Minutes ago, it was his mother's lips that must have been there. I definitely didn't want to know.

Made a decision. He would keep his fugitive a secret, but one day he intended to find her.

London, 1876

Almost thirty years later.

George was no longer a boy.

He grew up, lived outside England, made dreams come true, had passing passions, had nephews, lost his parents and, still, after all those years, he never forgot her.

The fourteen-year-old fugitive remained in his mind out of curiosity and was always carried away by her. As a journalist, he tried to write about surprising things, untold stories around the world, even a little forbidden.

When he met her again at the age of twenty-seven, she was beautiful, breathtaking, the scar on her cheekbone in exactly the right place, and he felt like the luckiest man of all, until he lost her again.

The two spent the following years in this way, between encounters and disagreements, trying to overcome each other. George looking for her and her escaping from him.

But they surrendered in each new encounter in nights of lust without him ever being able to moan her name, because he didn't really know her.

I never knew anything about her, who appears and reappears like a ghost. No name, no records, nothing that could incriminate her. And as the years passed, they grew older.

The death of his father Colin last year made George decide to change everything. Tired of wasting time. He would speak her name for the first time, he would embark with her wherever he would allow him to accompany her.

I just couldn't die without loving that woman.

George arrived in the room where he imagined finding her, removing the party mask and throwing it anywhere. A room with sofas, padded chairs and a coffee table made of glass.

The door opened again.

She froze, as did he. Breathing slowly, would it be eternally the feeling of time standing still when seeing her?

George has never wanted to find out so much, waking up next to you every day.

For eternity.

"You. It’s not you I came to see.” said the fugitive, shaking her head and closing the door. “I thought I was going to meet a man seeking business with me.”

“It’s me, sweetie.”

He opened his arms, the nickname irritated her.

The last time they saw each other, she left him at a guesthouse in Paris after spending the night together and disappeared. For the fourth time.

“What is this, Georgie? Have you come to end our eternal little game? I know, he will get married and have a life in London with a house full of puppies and a perfect wife. You are handsome, quite handsome, but you are old, no one can judge you for keeping quiet.”

Her ability to insult, praise and then insult him again is adorable. He was over forty, but if it weren't for his age, he wouldn't even look his age.

She wasn't a young girl, either. Close to forty years old.

“I finally found out who you are,” George said.

I waited for the moment with my heart jumping out of my chest. He had been a fool, he had waited too long, looking in the wrong places. By God, it wasn't Thomas, he had been too straight. If she was illegal, she needed to go to prohibited places. The answer was rubbed in his face all those years.

She crossed her arms in disbelief.

“Take the test,” he encouraged.

“Adele Chang Jones. Daughter of the former Captain of Odessa , Leonard Arthur Jones, and his mother, Chang Liu, whom he married." Adele's lips began to fall open. Proof that he had found the right path. “His brother inherited the ship, but he died. There are twenty years of bad business choices he made. And now, the ship..." George pointed in her direction. "It's yours. But you can't take it over as a woman, without losing prestige. Few know about your brother's death. He lets his traders believe you are his brother, and you show up to negotiate in his name. He kept that up for a long time, and I can't even imagine how." He sighed thinking about how brilliant Adele was, and mentally thanked him for inheriting Colin's persistence and Penelope's intelligence. "At that ball we first met, your brother and you were in a negotiation. Balls are ideal because they involve people getting distracted and not noticing what's in front of them."

Adele was the captain of Odessa . The ship operated by transporting secrets. Valuable objects, important messages from one country to another, to dangerous places. His clients vary, from the crown to powerful men. She was born into that life and never abandoned it, which is why, generally, they always met again near ports in cities around the world.

He even deduced that she was a traveler, he just didn't imagine being the captain of a ship.

The woman released the mask straps from her face and threw it to the ground. Her dark eyes were mesmerizing, her tight black hair came undone, cascading down one shoulder.

George was holding himself back from going forward and repeating what he already did, looking into those eyes while grabbing that hair.

“Surprising, Georgie. Congratulations.“ To this day Adele rarely called him by his name, she used the nickname she introduced. “You’re less stupid than I imagined. But I don't like my secrets getting out, or not being secret anymore.”

She had pulled the hashi hair along with the mask ribbons, now holding it like a weapon, coming towards George.

"Wait. You win, I give up.” He stopped her by raising his hands. "I won't say anything. I came to negotiate too, no lie,” he stated, without lying. “I want to join your crew.”

As much as it seemed, I wasn't going crazy. Adele looked at him with incredulous, almond-shaped eyes.

"Gone mad. Old and stuttering.”

Adele didn't back away when he advanced, her hand flattened and firmly held the side of the woman's face.

"No, I'm not. I want you, Adele.” George declared, enraptured. “Anywhere with you.”

"He noticed her unbalanced breathing. The insecurity she would never admit to having.

"I have a son," Adele revealed.

I hadn't discovered that.

"Are you married?"

He faithfully believed not, but if he hadn't found out about his son, perhaps his father would have escaped.

"No, that's the point."

Still don't understand? Anywhere. At sea, on land, in heaven, I would walk through hell with her. For her.

Your son wouldn't get in the way at all. It would add up, they could be happy together.

"I've waited thirty years to find out your name, Adele. Do you really think you're going to make me give up?" he asked. "I told you, I always see it through."

George stroked his cheeks, near the tiny scar. A reddish streak that one day wanted to discover the story.

"Don't think it's going to be that easy," he warned.

He smiled.

"We both never went."

London, 1878

Two years later.

George kissed Adele's neck to convince her and she rarely gave in easily. In front of their parents' graves side by side, on one headstone was Penelope, and on the other, Colin. Buried in Aubrey Hall cemetery, by permission of his uncle Anthony.

His grandmother Violet was there alongside his grandfather, Edmund.

The day was sunny in summer, the sky was blue, the grass was green, and their children walked among the tombstones.

Nothing scared them.

George didn't consider it disrespectful at all to kiss his wife in front of his parents. He could even say that it was revenge for the nightmare of catching them in the library on the table where George used to study.

“Come on, introduce yourself, they’re incredible,” he asked again.

They were sitting on the floor.

Adele sighed.

“I don’t think they’ll like me. He gave up his dreams for me.”

Made the most beautiful statements that one wife, married her, and still doubted her word from anywhere in the world, together.

So adorably stubborn.

“I gave up old dreams to build new ones by your side, Adele.”

He spent part of his life living around the world and settling in America. After his father's death, he returned to the United States to free himself from everything that held him back, work, apartment, and return to England in order to find out about Adele, find her again and spend the rest of his life.

His mother's death was the first major shock in George's life. She lost her strength, her senses, and he was the one who found her dead in bed. The last person to hold your hand. Then his father died, the pain got worse, but it also gave him strength and changed his life.

As he promised in his last conversation with his father, he would always return to England. To visit family, siblings and show off your family.

Adele surrendered smiling. I would do as he asked.

But not without the boys.

“Tao, bring your brother. Come.”

Tao, before, was just Adele's son. She met him when she was fourteen, now she is sixteen.

The biggest revelation of his life, Tao, was his son.

Adele hid him out of fear, thinking George wouldn't like a bastard child, but he loved him. He was devastated thinking about what Adele went through alone, with a son and without a husband. She accomplished impressive things and would not be praised for her intelligence, courage, or boldness.

It wouldn't be her prince to save her, it would be everything she needed.

Tao still couldn't bring himself to call him father, but one day they would get there.

Her youngest son sat on his mother's lap, Tao crouched down next to George. He showed off his family to everyone, lying about how they lived and survived, except his brothers who knew the truth, but never thought about introducing them to his parents.

As personally as possible.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bridgerton,” Adele began. “These are your grandchildren, and I deflowered your son. Nice to meet them."

Tao and him laughed.

“Deflowered me?” he asked.

“I think that sums it up.”

Oh yes, she deflowered him countless, satisfying times.

Colin would appreciate Adele's good humor if he were alive. Your mother admires your strength and intelligence, she was fascinating.

"Say hi to your grandparents, Tao," asked his wife, not paying attention to their laughter.

"Why do we have to bury people? We throw the bodies into the sea." Tao expressed curiosity, but his mother frowned, and he introduced himself: "Hi, grandma. Hi, grandpa. I'm Tao Jones-Bridgerton."

George took his youngest son's toy to draw attention to his grandparents' graves. The little girl wasn't even two years old, but she was already speaking in single words.

Unlike George, none of his children had speech problems.

“Say hi to your grandparents, Colin,” he said, full of pride.

Staring at his father's tombstone.