Chapter Text
Colin vowed that he would never again ignore a summons from his mother.
He had been bottle weary, it was true, but that was not the reason he had avoided the ball.
It had been these damned, confounding feelings. For her. For Penelope.
And he had not been certain how he would see her without immediately confessing everything. So he had Dunwoody prepare him for bed and instructed the man to inform his mother that he would not be attending the ball that evening. Less than a quarter of an hour later, there was a knock on the door. He’d ignored it. A second knock, more determined that time. Colin had rolled over and waited until he heard light footsteps fading down the hallway.
That was how he woke up in a nightmare.
For that was what it was like, the words echoing in his ears when he joined the family for breakfast the next morning.
Lady Whistledown had announced the astonishing (to everyone else) news: that Penelope Featherington was engaged to Lord Debling.
He felt ill. There was nothing to do but make an excuse and return to his bedchamber, feeling his mother’s concerned eyes on his back as he went.
The only cure for a broken heart he could think of was to pulverise it further. So he read every letter Penelope had ever sent him, remembering how sweet and witty and dear she is, how beautiful and kind. And realising that each phrase of affection, each tender moment of attention that he had treasured in her letters, would now be devoted to her husband.
Colin looked across the street to Featherington House and saw carriages coming and going, likely with callers curious about the news. Penelope deserved better than false friends and gossips coming to fake happiness. She needed a true friend, one who would be genuinely pleased for her. And with Eloise still strangely cold to her, that left him as her only option, so he must rise above his own heartbreak.
With a fortifying breath, he rang for Dunwoody and allowed his appearance to be tidied. His valet was kind enough not to mention the lingering redness around his eyes as he tightened his cravat. Then Colin made his way across the street to see Penelope.
Penelope looked like a soft flower in one of the becoming blue gowns she had taken to wearing this season. Colin was ushered into the drawing room and was pleased to see the fatigue on her face give way to a smile.
“Good day, Miss Featherington,” Colin said, somehow able to smile back. Her delight at seeing him assured him he had done the right thing in coming. “I came to offer my best wishes on your upcoming nuptials.”
Penelope blushed and a little of the worry in her eyes went away. “Thank you, Colin,” she replied, offering him a seat beside her on the settee. “Without our lessons, this would never have come to be.”
Colin looked down to hide his grimace, hoping she would see it as modesty instead. He had brought this upon himself, waited for far too long to see Penelope and how perfectly she would suit as his wife.
“You deserve all the happiness in the world,” he said. “What are your plans?”
“We shall marry in six weeks time. Then I will retire to his estate before Alfred begins his journey.” Penelope spoke the name softly, hesitantly, as if she was trying it out. There was a hint of sadness to it, although he could not imagine why. Perhaps she was already mourning her husband’s absence. Colin could not understand why he would wish to leave a wife as lovely as Penelope as a newlywed.
“I see,” he said carefully. “It must be difficult to part after such a short courtship and betrothal.”
Penelope bit her lip and glanced up to see that her mother was not within earshot. Lady Featherington was watching them rather closely and Colin got the distinct impression that she didn’t care for him calling upon her daughter, though he could not understand why.
“I am grateful to be betrothed.” Penelope looked down at her hands. “It was my hope for the season. And there are… particular ways that we are well suited as a match.”
Colin felt her words like a blow to his gut. Visions of Debling demonstrating all the ways in which they were suited swam through his mind. A woman like Penelope deserved to be thoroughly pleasured but surely it was too soon for that. She barely knew the man. They had been engaged for less than a day and the rake was already corrupting Penelope’s innocence. He felt sick at the thought.
She studiously avoided his eye contact so she didn’t see the anger and jealousy reflected in his own. He had no right to feel this possessive over her, and yet his soul raged against the idea of her belonging to another. She seemed hesitant as if she wished to say more but was holding herself back. When she finally spoke again, Colin couldn’t help but feel that it was not what she had been deliberating over.
“He is a kind man, Colin. I believe he will make a fine husband.” Her face remained downturned as she played with the ill-fitting ring on her left hand. The setting looked cumbersome on her dainty finger but a tentative smile played across her lips. If Penelope was happy with her choice, then as her friend he would learn to be happy as well.
The disapproving gaze of Lady Featherington reminded him that the acceptable time for a social call was almost up and he stood to take his leave. He couldn’t help noticing the flash of disappointment before Penelope schooled her expression. Nor her quick intake of breath as he bent to place a kiss to the back of her hand. She wasn’t wearing gloves and he carried the feeling of her silken skin against his lips for the rest of the day.
______
It had been a tiresome day, Penelope reflected as she lay in bed staring at the silk canopy above her, so why could she not sleep? Lord Debling– Alfred as she must now remember to call him– had arrived early that morning to present her with the betrothal ring which now rested heavily on her finger. It had been his grandmother’s, he had informed her, so she couldn’t bring herself to admit out loud just how ugly she thought it. It felt ill-suited to her but she would grow accustomed to it in time.
Penelope had hoped to be able to spend the morning in conversation with her fiancé, deepening their acquaintance, but he did not stay above half an hour; just long enough to settle on a date for their wedding. He had many arrangements to make for his expedition but he had promised to call again the following day. She felt a twinge of disappointment but fixed her smile firmly in place as he said his farewell. It would not be long until she would bid him adieu for a much lengthier separation.
She was not left alone for long however, the Featherington drawing room hosted a steady stream of well wishers until late into the afternoon. Society matrons and debutants alike came to weigh her up for size, assessing her merits and left Penelope feeling as if she’d been found wanting.
She was not used to being the centre of so much attention, before she had always clung to the fringes where she was more comfortable. Colin’s lessons had imbibed her with a sort of confidence and made her engagement a reality, but they had not prepared her to become the focus of society’s scrutiny. For hours she had been engaged in stilted chit chat and smiled through false niceties and thinly veiled criticisms.
She had felt rather drained of energy until Colin had been announced, at least in him she had a true friend who wished her real happiness.
The sight of him in the doorway had set her traitorous heart fluttering, his soft smile and kind words reminding her that he was a very dear friend. Only a friend. Still, his presence was enough to soothe away the tightness in her smile and the rigidity in her spine. He had questioned her gently about her engagement, she felt some wariness on his part which she did her best to assuage. She wanted him to know that she was making a wise choice, she was not rushing in like a fool. This was very much a decision she had made with her head and not her heart.
There was the Whistledown of it all, after all.
Part of her had longed to confess to Colin, to reveal her alter ego and bare herself completely to him. She had a foolish fantasy in which he didn’t hate Whistledown, and she wore his ring on her finger instead of another man’s. The sensible part of her had stilled her tongue just in time; she found herself talking about Alfred’s good qualities instead.
Though whether she was convincing herself or Colin of his suitability as her husband, she wasn’t quite sure.
She turned resolutely onto her side and pushed her left hand underneath the pillow. Somehow her disloyal thoughts felt less shameful with her ring buried beneath the feathers.
______
Colin had been trying to distract himself from his heartbreak with his writing. He had seen Penelope from across the square, entering and exiting her family’s carriage. He had even watched as Lord Debling entered the house to call on precisely three occasions. The first time, Colin had returned to his bedchamber, not even emerging for dinner. That concerned his mother so he had not repeated his wallowing. But he needed somewhere to put all of his thoughts of Penelope, and what might have been, so he was sitting in his study trying to understand when his feelings had changed and how he could have avoided losing her forever.
Dunwoody entered the room, which was enough to capture Colin’s attention. His valet rarely interrupted him when he was in a pensive mood, knowing him as well as he did by now.
“Sir, I have a note for you.”
Colin raised his eyebrows as he took it to read. It was in Penelope’s writing, although her usually neat script was shaky as if written in urgency.
He looked up sharply at Dunwoody. “You understand that this must be treated with the utmost discretion?”
“Yes, sir. Just as your other…meetings with Miss Featherington.”
“Very good. Please return this to her maid as soon as you are able.”
Colin quickly scrawled out a note. When Dunwoody had left, his mind was racing. Penelope wanted him to come to the garden gate. Tonight. It was so much like one of his dreams that he could not believe it. Perhaps she had changed her mind. Perhaps she wanted him to kiss her again. He tried to tame his thoughts. It would not do to be so caught up in his own feelings and fantasies that he could not behave as the loyal friend she deserved.
When he arrived that evening, Penelope’s maid was waiting for him, and quickly left to summon her mistress. Penelope looked beautiful, although he was a little disappointed she had not let her hair down this time. He supposed she was expecting this call and wanted to be as proper as she could be under the scandalous circumstances.
With a nod, Rae departed and they were alone.
“Colin, I am so sorry to impose on you like this, but–”
To his alarm, Penelope looked very worried indeed, wringing her hands and seemingly unable to speak. He came closer and reached for her hand, squeezing it.
“What is it, Penelope? You know I would be pleased to help.”
Penelope inhaled sharply, staring at the joining of their hands. She must think him very forward indeed. He let go, regretting the loss of her touch as soon as he did, but it seemed to bring her back to herself. When she looked up at him, however, he felt more lost than ever. Her eyes were vast blue pools, troubled and pleading.
“My engagement…I do not know what to do.”
Colin’s heart began hammering in his chest. Was she ending her betrothal? It was a lady’s prerogative to change her mind after all. And did she share his feelings? Is that why she called him here? He waited for her to continue, nodding reassuringly.
“I know Lord Debling is a man steady in his temperament. But my mother says I am not doing enough to maintain his interest. He calls, but leaves even before the polite visiting time is over. What if he withdraws his proposal?”
Colin was not sure if he would rejoice if such a thing occurred or challenge Debling to a duel at such an insult to Penelope’s honour. But his friend was standing before him, requesting his support, so he attempted to focus.
“Penelope, a man does not propose unless he is very sure of his intentions. You have nothing to fear.”
She bit her lip and Colin was reminded of a time he had stood with her in this very spot, kissing her soft mouth as if she was his. It made him ache to do it again. He dare not but he did allow himself to cup her cheek in his hand and stroke it with his thumb.
“Colin,” she breathed. “I do not know what to do. I am engaged, but I feel so alone. So afraid. I need more of your lessons.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. Her courtship was complete, and she was entirely too charming and desirable now. So much so that she was marrying another.
“How to be betrothed. How to be a wife .”
Colin’s gut churned. Teach her to be a wife to another man? To support Debling, listen to him, make him feel like the most important gentleman in the world? To push her even further away, to make her Alfred’s dearest friend? Colin knew what it felt like to kiss her, yet he would have to imagine her having relations with someone else? Imagine her bearing Debling’s child? He would crumble under the despair of it. It would be teaching her to leave him, it would be admitting that they could never be.
“I…Pen, I know nothing about such things. Surely there is someone better suited…”
Penelope’s eyes filled with tears. “I cannot trust another as I do you. I cannot confide in them as I do you. Please.”
Again, her little plea was his undoing. He could not deny her anything that might take away her sadness and bring the joy back into her countenance. Even if by doing so, he would be filled with pain.
“Very well,” he said. “I will do everything I can to prepare you. You will make the finest wife, Penelope, never doubt that.”