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The night was calm, the air crisp with autumn’s approach, as Colin returned home from a night out with his brothers. It has been a long time since he has seen Anthony and Benedict. Their outing was a good change. But upon coming back, he was shocked to see the house was dark and quiet, much earlier than he’d expected. There was no glow from the parlor fire, no quiet music drifting through the air. It was an unusual sight, and a strange pang settled in his chest.
“Pen?” he called softly, slipping out of his coat as he stepped deeper into the house. Only silence greeted him.
He’d left Penelope tucked in earlier, rubbing her belly with a soft smile as she reminded him to bring back tales of his brothers’ inevitable antics. She was radiant with her pregnancy, glowing with a joy that seemed to bloom from her heart and spill over into her cheeks.
After a quick scan of the house, Colin stepped outside, searching the street. It wasn’t long before he caught sight of her familiar figure approaching, her steps quick but careful. Why was she not in the carriage?
Better yet, why was she out at this hour?
He recalled tucking her in when she was feeling a bit tired.
His stomach twisted as he imagined the cobbled streets in the dim light, imagining her tripping or some other hazard lurking in the shadows.
“Pen!” he called, striding toward her, relief mingled with frustration.
Penelope looked up, startled but relieved to see him. “Colin! You’re home early.”
“Yes,” he replied, his tone sharper than he intended. “And you’re... you’re walking these streets alone in the middle of the night?”
Penelope looked down, catching her breath, as she reached out a hand to his arm, a soft smile on her face. “I just went to see Genevieve. I thought I would pay her a visit when sleep eluded me. We got carried away talking, I suppose.”
Colin exhaled, trying to keep his voice steady. “Penelope, you could have been hurt. You’re—” He swallowed, softer this time. “You’re carrying our child.”
The softness in her eyes vanished, replaced with a stubborn gleam. “I’m not helpless, Colin. I know these streets as well as you do. I was careful and it's a short walk. I do not like sitting all day."
The tension between them thickened, stirring memories of a time when secrets lay between them, unresolved and raw. He could feel those old emotions flickering back, especially the frustration of learning she was Lady Whistledown, and the weight of their past came back with a bitter taste.
“You... you never seem to think of your safety,” he bit out, the words harsh. “It’s always been a game to you, hasn’t it?”
Penelope’s face fell, her eyes shadowed with hurt. “A game? You think my safety is... a game to me?”
“Sometimes, yes,” he replied, regret seeping in even as he spoke. “It’s as if—”
Her hand flew to her mouth, halting his words. “I knew what I was doing, Colin. I thought you’d stopped doubting me. After everything...”
The silence that followed was thick and painful, and Colin couldn’t bear it any longer. With a rough exhale, he turned and walked away, his mind in turmoil.
Later that night, Penelope sat alone in her room, her cheeks damp with tears as she leaned over the steaming bath. Her maid Rae had helped her undress, and now she sank into the water, her mind replaying Colin’s words, the shadows of doubt that still lingered between them.
She wondered would they ever get past this phase? It felt like the for the entirety of their marriage, it will always seem like she is walking on eggshells.
She emerged, dressed in a simple nightgown, and quietly slipped into the bedroom, wiping her eyes before pausing at the sight before her. There, lying in bed, was Colin. Her breath hitched, and her hesitation wasn’t missed by him.
“Penelope,” he murmured, his voice softer now, regretful. “What’s wrong?”
She bit her lip, looking away, but the words spilled out. “I... I thought you’d punish me again. By...by sleeping on the settee.”
The pain in her voice was like a knife to his heart, a reminder of the loneliness they had both felt in those early days of marriage. Colin sat up, reaching for her hand. “Pen, I—” He pulled her close, enveloping her in an embrace that was warm and steady. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
She stayed silent for a moment, resting her cheek against his shoulder, allowing herself the comfort of his embrace. “I keep disappointing you, Colin. I’m beginning to wonder how you could even love me.”
Colin pulled back, eyes searching hers, his face stricken. “Penelope, don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.” His fingers traced her cheek, a gesture as gentle as his voice. “Marrying you was the best day of my life. If I could go back, I’d do it all again... only, I’d do one thing differently.”
Her brows lifted, curiosity softening her expression. “What would you change?”
“Our wedding night,” he admitted, a soft smile forming as he brushed a stray tear from her cheek. “I’d hold you closer. I’d tell you all the things I couldn’t say. And I’d never, ever let you feel alone.”
Penelope’s hand settled over his, grounding herself in his warmth. “Promise me you’ll hold me like that every night, even when we argue. Even if we’re both too proud to say the words.”
He leaned his forehead against hers, his voice a gentle promise. “I swear to you, Pen. I’ll hold you through every fight, every storm, every night. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
They smiled at each other, "You are so beautiful, Pen. I am a lucky man and I promise to make you the happiest you have ever been."
She looked away shyly before pulling him into a passionate kiss.
.