Chapter Text
Colin has always known in the back of his head that Penelope hasn’t always had the best relationship with her family. It hadn’t been hard to figure out as children when Penelope had spent more time at the Bridgerton house than with her own family. But until he had seen what was in front of his eyes the whole time and finally recognized that he was hers and she was his, he hadn’t understood the depth of what her family had put Penelope through.
And Colin might be a man grown now, married with a beautiful wife and a book on the way but in some ways, he is still the petty bitch that used to hide rotten food in secret corners of Daphne’s room to attract bugs as revenge when they were children. Hyacinth had to get her machiavellian tendencies from somewhere.
It starts with Prudence.
Prudence, his least favorite person within the Featherington family, had made an offhand comment about throwing out Penelope’s possessions when she became the mother of the heir and he had become incensed.
“We’ll have to get rid of all of these baby clothes. There’s no chance any of my children shall fit into anything so large – they were Penelope’s when she was younger,” Prudence’s obnoxious voice had cut through the room as she held up some of the most darling dresses Colin had ever seen.
Penelope hadn’t even cared, rolling her eyes at her sister’s histrionics and changing the topic. But Colin cared. And Colin burned. And Colin plotted.
It starts with a quiet comment at one of Benedict’s get-togethers. Benedict had invited some of his old friends from Eton at Colin’s insistence that he get to know more of the men of the ton now that he was a settled, married man. Benedict’s old friend, Marcus Holyrod had been invited to a night of drinks at White’s.
Marcus Holyrod was an interesting fellow to Colin. A lord by his own rights and someone who had much more than Colin could ever want. However, Marcus Holyrod was also an idiot who had not come to terms with the fact that he was head over heels in love with Miss Honoria Smythe-Smith.
Colin waits until the other men are all foxed as he pretends to sip at the drink in his hand. Colin has been able to make it seem like he’s had more than a few with sleight of hand tricks when really he’s barely had a full drink.
“My sister-in-law…may my wife forgive me for saying this but…her singing haunts me,” Colin says, faking a slur to his words. “It’s so…so…off.”
“Indeed,” Benedict replies, laughing. “Miss Prudence’s singing is truly one of a kind.”
“That bad?” Marcus Holyrod asks.
Colin nods, faking a drunken sway, and says, “Absolutely. Why I think she could be in a room with some of the worst musicians in the world and make them seem like Mozart.”
Benedict laughs, nodding along. However, Marcus Holyrod seems contemplative as he sips at his own drink.
Colin resists the urge to cackle.
Two weeks later, Prudence gets an invite to perform at the annual Smythe-Smith musical.
“Oh it’ll be horrible,” Penelope bemoaned, waving Prudence's carriage away. “Prudence will make a terrible fool of herself.”
Colin leaned down to kiss his cherubic wife on the cheek.
“I’m sure it shall not be so bad,” he said.
Penelope shook her head, giving a look as if he were daft.
“It’ll be worse than bad,” she sighed. “But at least the Smythe-Smith girls shall look good in comparison to Prudence. I’ve always felt so horrible for poor Miss Honoria who is so aware of their lack of talent.”
“Yes, she is certainly one of the only ones in that family who seems to realize they’re butchering music more than playing it,” Colin said drily.
“I do wonder what caused Lord Smythe-Smith to invite Prudence to perform?” Penelope questioned.
Colin hid his smirk and replied, “maybe one of his friends told him about our Prudence’s great talents.”
Penelope laughed out loud - a beautiful sound that Colin loved to hear.
“Who would do that? The only friend Lord Smythe-Smith would take any recommendations from would be Lord Holyrod and I daresay Lord Holyrod could not stand even a second of Prudence’s caterwauling.”
Colin responds by pressing a long kiss to his wife’s cherubic lips.
“This is…something,” Benedict croaked out, wiping away the tears that had formed from the laughter that he was holding in.
“I daresay,” Anthony responded, lips twitching.
“Oh she’s terrible,” Gregory muttered, staring at Prudence singing as one would stare at a diseased raccoon.
Behind them, Hyacinth was ducked down beneath the seats so she could laugh heartily into her own hands and not be seen.
“Please, this is my sister-in-law,” Colin said, lip stiff in order to hide his maniacal grin. “Be more considerate.”
Next to him, Penelope sighed and shook her head.
“No, they’re right,” Penelope said. “This is some truly wretched singing.”
“She will be mocked by the ton to no end as a result of this performance,” Eloise muttered from next to Penelope. “She shall never live this down.”
On the stage, Prudence’s voice reached a crescendo, cracking as she tried desperately to hit the high note.
“Poor Prudence,” he whispered to his wife, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “How embarrassing for her.”