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— Colin… — Her eyes, filled with profound admiration, studied every inch of his face, as though she wanted to memorize every pore on his cheeks, every strand of his curls, every detail of him. With a gentle hand, she caressed his hair. He was still dozy from sleep, and she thought that she could never grow tired of such a feeling, the one of watching him closely by her side in bed. Penelope found it barely believable that this very scene had become her daily routine — awaking each morning to take in the reality that, now, slept and woke up beside her. After so many years of longing and wanting, she could not possibly believe her own fortune, now able to delight in every nuance of the man she loved. She had never known happiness so complete.
— ...hmm. Pen — he murmured, his voice still weak, his eyes still closed, his heart pounding as he felt the delicate touch of her fingers tracing the shape of his ear. He surrendered to her touch like a famished cat. He found himself completely intoxicated by her scent. He sought her palm to kiss it, running his lips along the length of her wrist, her arm, her shoulder, until he reached the tender skin of her neck. Without opening his eyes, he wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her even closer, fully aware that his desperation for her proximity, for her touch, would make her laugh, delighted. It was better than any dream.
— Forgive me for waking you, — she said serenely — it is only that... I have something to tell you. — She paused for a second, thinking carefully before expressing her next words, well aware of the effect it would have on Colin, yet secretly relishing the suspense as the writer within her often did. — Another... secret I have been keeping.
To hear that word, emphasized on her lips, was enough to wake him up entirely. Secret . He was convinced his heart had ceased, or on the contrary, it pounded so much in his chest it could fly out of his mouth at any moment. His blood ran as cold as the frost of a winter's night through his veins. What else could she be withholding?
— What is it? — he inquired, his gaze fixed on hers, every hair on his body standing on end with the concern and fear he felt.
The truth was... she had been so entirely absorbed by stress in recent weeks that there was little room for any other thought. From the sudden betrothal with Colin, to his discovery of her identity as Lady Whistledown, and the tumultuous drama with the Queen that prematurely troubled their marriage, she simply had not noticed the changes in her own body. She believed it was all due to the whirlwind of emotions that had lately overtaken her life.
Before even pressing her hand on his chest, she could feel the agitation spreading through his heart. She placed her palm there, particularly her favorite spot, in an attempt to soothe his spirit. As though her touch alone might communicate to him: all is well, do not worry. She smiled at him gently. In truth, she found herself proud and amused by the stir she invoked. Good heavens, how was it possible to love him even more?
He trusted her deeply. Now, with all barriers between them gone and their defenses laid low, he was assured that nothing could come between their bond anymore. The sudden turmoil within him gave way to calmness. He took his own hand to find hers and responded to her gaze with his own, reassuring her that indeed, all was well.
— Please, tell me what it is — he requested, now with a serene voice.
— It’s something I have only kept to myself because I was not sure. And with all that has transpired in recent weeks... I could not be certain — agitation now overtook her. She struggled to find the appropriate words, her eyes fluttering incessantly, her voice quivering, feelings spilling from her lips uncontrollably. — Honestly, it took me some time to even discern…
— Penelope, — he interrupted, attempting to suppress his laughter, completely captivated by his wife's restlessness — Please, just tell me what it is already. I do not think I can handle the suspense any longer.
Her eyes fixated upon his, reproving him for the interruption. It was remarkable how much they were able to convey without letting out a single sentence. He offered her a regretful smile, apologizing, and a slight nod, granting her permission to proceed. Penelope took a deep breath.
— I simply wished to be certain before telling you — Penelope spoke firmly. — Believe me, it has not been easy to contain such feelings within me. — She looked at him, a mischievous yet knowing smile playing upon her lips. — Or rather, this... someone within me.
— … Oh. Oh. — The realization hit him with sudden clarity. His eyes widened, eyebrows furrowed, as he stared at her with an expression both inquisitive and mildly entertained, yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His gaze shifted between Penelope's belly and her face again, and she could discern from his confused appearance that he silently questioned her: 'Are you serious?’. At that moment, he began to laugh, an unrestrained, genuine, and utterly infectious laugh. He uttered not a single word, he was simply laughing, and she observed the flood of emotions flitting across his eyes within mere seconds, her heart wholly captivated by his reaction. — Are you saying that…?
Words failed to escape her lips, stuck in her throat, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions that accompanied her from finally sharing the news with Colin. Her chin trembled and her eyes brimmed with tears. Without saying a word, she inclined her head towards Colin, nodding to him the assurance he so ardently desired. At long last, she allowed her own laugh to escape, joining him in the purest joy.
They laughed as if there were no tomorrow. They simply laughed, as though no greater bliss could ever occupy their hearts. Colin felt tears tracing paths down his cheeks, as he gently placed both his hands upon Penelope's face and kissed her. He murmured incoherently, his thoughts escaping in a rush of sentiment he could barely understand. He was unaware of the words that tumbled from his mouth, but he heard her reply: "I love you too, I love you, I love you, I love you.”
— Since... Since when did you know? — inquired Colin, still with a laugh lingering on his lips, his cheeks bright and damp with tears.
— Hm. I have harbored my suspicions over the past week, ever since the day following my sisters’ ball; remember how I suddenly felt ill? However, it was only yesterday, as Rae was helping me in the morning, that we came to the realization that I have not bled for over a month. I presume, perhaps, that I have been carrying our child since... — She turned her head slightly towards the settee in the corner of their chamber, reminding him of the moment when they first made love.
His entire spine trembled upon hearing those two words: our child. His easy laughter gave way to a more mischievous one, his mind now filled with the memories of the settee. Were it within his power, he would have carried her there at that very moment, so they might both recall the feelings of that afternoon together. Struggling to regain his composure, his hands moved to her belly over her nightgown (the one that always left him in a state of rapture), caressing it with the utmost tenderness, a loving look on his face.
— You, and now our child, make me so happy. I am the happiest man on earth. You shall be the greatest mother, of that I am certain. And I promise you I shall love our child deeply; in fact, I already do. I love you, Mrs. Bridgerton. My Pen. — he said, lowering his gaze to her belly again, observing as her hand found his and entwined their fingers together. — I love you, my child.
Penelope could not be more certain about anything than she was about Colin. Her faith in him. The mere imagination of watching him play with their child, cradling the fruit of their affection in his arms, and tenderly singing lullabies with his sweet and lovely voice — she couldn't bear it. She feared she would lose her senses completely in the face of such boundless love.
— And I am certain you shall be the most splendid father. You make us so happy, Mr. Bridgerton.
Between the laughter and tears that burst from within them, they kissed each other profoundly, completely lost in the sweet symphony of their shared murmurs and moans. Those had been their recent days. Having resolved their conflicts, they now found themselves engulfed in a whirlwind of touches and gazes that seemed to defy the passage of time, incapable of contemplating anything else but each other’s pleasure. They could not bear to part, spending hours in that chamber, upon that bed, which had now become their private universe. At last they were free to indulge their deepest desires and compensate for days of yearning, when they were united only in thought. The sheets, silent witnesses, were the only barrier between their bodies; each caress, each kiss, each tender word whispered, forged yet another link in their already entwined souls.
— What shall we name our child? — Colin asked, still lying in bed with her, their sweaty skins and breathing now finding some soothing — Ought we to adhere to tradition, perhaps beginning with an A... — He perceived her hesitation, noting her uncertain expression, and laughed gently as he comprehended her disapproval. He brought his lips to the corner of her mouth, bestowing a light kiss before speaking: — Very well, let us establish our own traditions.
— I have been thinking, — she began with a thoughtful air, — if it is a boy, I would like to name him Elliot. — She did not need to explain it further, for the way in which she looked at him, her big blue eyes speaking volumes, was sufficient for him to understand that he would surrender to any of her desires. He would bestow upon their child any name, be it saintly or otherwise, if so she wished. Yet, she chose to elucidate, implying that the idea had long been settled in her mind: — For Eloise.
Of course. He nodded to his wife in agreement.
— Very well. I only hope the baby is a little redhead, — he mused, allowing himself to indulge in the thought. — Can you imagine? A little redhead, just like their mother.
Once more, she could not suppress the laughter that bubbled from within her. Yes. For him, always a yes. She decided then to pray every night for a little redheaded babe, for she would also bestow upon him all that his heart desired.
— A little redhead, but with their father’s eyes, — she observed with a knowing smile.
Their joyful spirits reverberated throughout their chamber, echoing down the corridors of the house. It flowed through the windows, which gave way to a gracious light into their room, and through the front door of the home they were now building together. Their laughter seemed to carry on the air, allowing all of Mayfair to witness the happiness they shared. No more secrets would trouble them. From this moment on, until the end of their days, all was well indeed.