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All Colin had wanted was to get Penelope's favour back. That was it. That's why he had offered to help her achieve her goal for this season: to get a husband.
Colin had always known that what held Penelope back from having suitors was the way she closed herself off to others, so concerned of what others may think of her that she just didn't give people a chance to see her.
That had been his only advice for her, to stop worrying about how people would perceive her and start just letting people get to know her. She was, after all, a very charming and intelligent person. He had known it the second he met her, having been charmed by her teasing over his muddy clothes.
Their lessons were a success! He ought to be happy for her, truly, things were going more than according to plan.
Then, why wasn't he happy?
It had started at the Full Moon Ball, Pen had been talking to Lord Basilio when she suddenly reached for his arm, comfortingly. Colin had thought it way too improper, to be honest and was about to make his presence known to the Lord when he abruptly left, crying. He then went to Penelope and, well… the man was grieving his dead horse. If he was a better man, he would have felt more sympathy for the grieving lord, but alas, Colin Bridgerton was not a better man, and he ended up joking about galloping with Pen.
He had thought it to be all the husband hunting attempts Pen would try for the night, so he left her for just one moment to get a drink with some other gentlemen. And then he saw her, talking animatedly with Lord Remington. And she looked… like she was having a genuinely good time. Once the Lord left, he once again approached Pen, just to confirm that Pen was actually happy about her conversation with Lord Remington and that said Lord had asked to call on her.
That was the first time that weird sensation took hold of him. He didn't know how to name it, didn't even know how to describe it, all he knew was that it felt wrong.
That night had led Colin to Mondric's, where his pensive state was noticed by the owner of said establishment. At first Colin had dismissed his worries over him, but then, one look at his face, perhaps one sip of his drink too many, he had decided he could trust him, and so, he ended up telling him (and by extension his wife, Alice, he was sure) all about his and Penelope's arrangement. To his surprise, Will had not judged him, he had called him a good man, helping his friend in a time of need.
The next morning, Colin had found himself at Featherington House during calling hours, with the excuse of wanting to see if Penelope was doing alright after leaving the ball early citing a headache.
He had been just in time to see Lord Remington arrive, with a bouquet of - very basic, in Colin's opinion - pink roses. He had been dismissed by Penelope telling him her headache last night was nothing serious and so, he had nothing to worry about. That had been the second time he felt it, that weird thing…
But Colin couldn't exactly call that strange feeling strange anymore, no, that feeling and him had become closely acquainted in the few weeks that followed.
Then came the Stowell soirée, where all night long, all Colin could concentrate on was Pen, his usually shy friend who tended to cling to the wall during balls and soirées people watching. Only this time, she was not alone, by her side, all night long remained Lord Remington, watching with her, gossiping with her. And Colin hated every second.
Such was his staring that it didn't go unnoticed.
“Are you assessing your pupil?” Mrs Mondric asked, with a mischievous smile.
“I see that with good taste and good fortune, gossip has made its way into your home as well,” Colin retorted.
“You cannot blame me, Bridgerton, I do not keep secrets from my wife. One day you will see it…” Mr Mondric said, looking adoringly at his wife.
“Soon, perhaps,” Alice teased, a kind of knowing smile on her face.
Colin could do nothing but offer her a tight smile.
“Do not worry. Unlike what I'm sure most people would think, I do not find your actions shocking but rather considerate.” She made a pause, directing her gaze to where his hadn't yet left, and then spoke. “Gallant even.”
“As I said before, you are a good man, Bridgerton, for helping your friend when she needs it despite what society may say,” Mr Mondric offered.
Before Colin could think of anything to say, Alice spoke again. “I'm sure because of your kind heartedness she will find herself a husband in no time.”
He flinched, just slightly, but enough for Alice to notice and happily smile, he had to say something, and so he did.
“Yes! That is of course, the goal.”
But not even him believed it, not when he had yet to stop watching Penelope interact with Lord Remington, not when all he could think was how that was his thing with Pen. His.
Later that week, there was a fair, a big balloon on display in the centre of it all. Pen had called him over to the sweet tent. “Pretend you are buying something,” she had said before proceeding to tell him all about her last promenade with Lord Remington. The genuine smile she had on her face while saying it unexplainably and confusingly hurt him.
And there she was, on the other side of the balloon, listening dutifully to Lord Remington go on and on about, he could only assume, the balloon, the way he kept motioning to it. Colin could tell the Lord disapproved of it to some degree, because of his facial expressions, but it looked like Penelope was amused, offering her own commentary.
“What do you know about Lord Remington?” Colin then turned to his companions, Lords Wilding and Stanton.
“He's a baron. And he has good enough money,” Lord Stanton shrugged.
“He also likes gossip way too much. Perhaps you two could be friends,” Lord Wilding took the chance to make fun of him, “you share your love for gossiping with redheads, it seems.”
Colin turned them off at some point. He was just standing near them hearing them talk, but not listening to what the conversation was about nor offering any comments himself until the balloon started moving, too much for his liking.
“Do you think that's normal?” He asked, to which his gentlemen companions merely shrugged again. He had had enough, he was about to excuse his leaving when the balloon started moving towards Penelope.
He saw Lord Remington’s assistant get him away from the scene. He heard the Lord scream for Penelope - annoyingly using her Christian name - to move. But he also saw the way Penelope turned around to see what was the source of such commotion.
He didn't even register when he started moving, he didn't notice when he first got hold of the rope until he was already pulling, asking for someone to help him. And it was an eternity to him, because Penelope still wasn't moving.
In the end, Penelope got away, she did fall to the ground, but it was alright because, thankfully, Colin, with the help of Benedict, Will Mondric and Lords Wilding and Stanton managed to stop the balloon just in time.
Still he had to see Lord Remington rush to Penelope's side before he could. He saw him help her to her feet while a group of débutantes blocked his way. They locked eyes and still he saw her reassuring Lord Remington of her well being, he saw him offering to escort her home, and he saw her accept.
Not enough time after the balloon fiasco, the Innovations ball took place. He and Eloise entered the room arm in arm before he was stopped by a group of débutantes, all swooning at his “valiant efforts” to stop the balloon. He entertained them for a while before he caught sight of her, standing at the edge of the dance floor, looking longingly at the couples dancing.
He was about to go to her, when Lord Remington approached, he said something to her and then they made their way towards the refreshment table.
Some hours later Colin was still watching them, they were exchanging gossip, lemonade in hand. Pen looked free with him, talking, exchanging their opinions on the food, they kept tasting every single appetiser there was and happily conversing.
He couldn't deny it anymore, this thing he was feeling, everything in him was screaming to go to her, it was telling him it should be them, Colin and Pen, gossiping in the corner together, enjoying the food. He had the urge to go and make it right. And it scared him, because he couldn't possibly say what it meant.
Just as he was about to break, his mother came to his side, looking for Francesca. And he couldn't help it.
“Did you not say that the best foundation for great love was friendship?” He asked her at some point in their conversation, his eyes betraying him and looking directly at her. His mother followed his gaze.
“Indeed. That's how your father and I began,” she answered, a knowing smile on her face. “But then it turned into something more. We caught feelings.”
“But how did father know it was reciprocated?” He pressed, because damn him, he couldn't stop himself.
“Because he gathered the courage to ask.” She simply stated.
He then tried to excuse it, saying something about Francesca that he was sure his mother didn't believe, but at that moment he didn't care.
He made his way to Penelope. He pointedly and purposely ignored Lord Remington while he asked for her next dance. He ignored Penelope's perplexed look and Lord Remington’s raised eyebrow.
He led Penelope to the floor trying to forget Lord Remington was there at all.
He had taken a lot from him already. He had taken his place in a corner beside Penelope, he had taken his place at the lemonade and refreshments table near Penelope, he had taken his place as Penelope's gossip partner but damn him he wouldn't take this. He wouldn't take his place as Penelope's favourite dance partner, he could not! Colin was gonna be damned before he would let him take this from him too. Because the way Penelope graciously moved, the way she positioned her arms on his shoulders, the way he could touch her waist and the way she giggled at every twirl, Colin just knew it was meant to be his. No one else's. And just as he was trying to process what the electricity in the air meant, just as he was about to come to what he was sure was a very serious conclusion, the dance ended too. And Penelope thanked him before going back to Lord Remington’s side.
Colin was left feeling lost. He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know what exactly he was feeling. All he knew was that he wanted his Pen back. He wanted to be the one to spot Penelope in a crowd and go to her side; he wanted to go to her at every social gathering without being dismissed; he wanted her to share all the gossip and her little jabs with him. And so, he found himself once again at Featherington House during calling hours, no excuse this time, just the truth.
“I wanted to see you,” he offered as a matter of explanation when she asked what he was doing at her house.
“Is something amiss?” She worriedly eyed him, up and down.
“Not at all.” He said, taking a seat on one of her sofas.
“Do you want some tea?” She asked, unsure, clearly confused by his odd behaviour.
“I think that would be perfection,” he replied. Pen made eye contact with Rae, her maid, who was tasked with the role of chaperone, both confused by his antics.
The two of them had a few peaceful minutes of camaraderie, they talked about the books they were reading, about some of Colin's adventures, about the weird things that had been displayed at the innovations ball, and it was as if he was back in time, back to when they were children and not young, unmarried people, back to when they were allowed to be friends in public and not an eligible gentleman and a marriageable young lady. And it felt right.
That was until Lord Remington arrived.
“Lord Remington, for Missing Featherington,” Briarly announced.
The man walked in, a bouquet of yellow and orange lilies in one hand, a book in the other.
“Lewis!” Pen said, rushing to greet him and receive his gifts. “Oh these are beautiful,” she said, taking the bouquet in hand.
He couldn't stop himself, he just bursted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Pen hates citrus colours.”
Penelope looked at him, wide eyed, as if she couldn't believe he had just said what he did.
“Bridgerton,” Lord Remington acknowledged him, but didn't say anything further.
“Do not pay it any mind. I find these flowers lovely, truly,” Pen tried to dissolve the tension that was now clinging in the air.
“But you do hate yellows and oranges,” Colin pointed out, “isn't that why you changed your wardrobe?”
“I -” Penelope hesitated, unsure how to respond, she hadn't, after all, told him anything of the sort.
“In any case, I should be glad then, that I can present you with another gift,” Lord Remington said, excitedly.
He then presented Penelope with the book he had entered with. A copy of Emma, the novel Eloise had been reading.
“It may not be real life gossip, but I promise it is just as juicy,” Lord Remington said, a cheeky smile on his face.
Colin was about to interrupt, he was about to inform him Pen had already read that book, because he knew Penelope, she had just told him all about that novel while they were conversing, before Lord Remington arrived. And he thought it a great offence that Lord Remington didn't yet know considering how much time he had been spending with his Pen. Did he really just never ask?
“I love it, Lewis,” Penelope said before Colin could interfere, though.
“I remember you said how much you had enjoyed the Pride and Prejudice novel, so I thought it was just fitting.” Lord Remington responded, “and after trying reading it myself I just had to buy the newest novel by the unknown author.”
“Have you already finished it, then?” Pen asked him, still doing nothing to inform him she had already done so.
“Not yet. I thought we could read it together,” Remington said, smiling, ignoring completely Colin's presence and the way his jaw tensed at the notion.
Pen liked discussing the novels she read with him. It was their thing. Sure, she told Eloise all about them, but seeing how Eloise, before this season, wasn't at all interested in reading what she thought silly romances, it had been Colin Pen always discussed them with, it had always been Colin who she asked for his opinion on characters or who she excitedly told her thoughts about certain situations to.
He still remembered the day they had finished reading Pride and Prejudice. He remembered Pen told him how she cried after finding out Lydia had eloped with Mr Wickham, because she thought Elizabeth and Jane had truly lost their chance at love because their sister was now ruined. Colin argued that he knew it would not, because a man truly in love would not let that retain him from making the object of his affections his wife. Pen had called Mr Darcy a hero.
Colin could not let Lewis fucking Remington take that away from him. He just could not.
“Actually,” he started, but Pen looked at him with pleading eyes. “I think this is my cue to leave.” He decided to say then, because he didn't want to stay and watch Remington remove him from Pen's life.
He found comfort telling himself that Pen had trusted him with this little secret. The thought of knowing Remington would not be privy to her original thoughts and reactions to the book, because those she had shared first with him made his heart feel less heavy.
Not a week had passed when they were invited to Lord Remington’s first ever ball as a host, which had a Shadows in the Night theme. Lady Featherington was bragging to anyone who would listen that this was the day her Penelope would get a proposal. And Colin was miserable about it.
Was he jealous? Probably.
Most likely.
Undeniably.
And he hated himself for it. Pen had found a marvellous match. In theory, he couldn't find anything to object to the match. Lord Remington was a titled, honourable man of good fortune and, according to Penelope, at least, pleasant looks. He was also trying, which got on Colin's nerves more than anything. Because even if it was true that Lord Remington did not know Penelope the way he did, the man was getting to, and it scared Colin so much.
Still, he could not miss this ball, not when, if Portia was to be believed, it could be the very last time he would be permitted to dance with Penelope Featherington. Because no man would allow his wife to dance with an unmarried gentleman as Colin longed to dance with Penelope, and even if Lord Remington turned out to be the most gracious man alive and allowed him to dance with Penelope when he could not, she would no longer be Penelope Featherington, she would forever be Penelope Remington.
He remained, as he had been the past few weeks, quiet, during the ride to the ball, lost in thought.
“What is the matter with you?” Eloise asked him. Concern and exasperation mixed on her face the way only a sibling could find his mood.
“Nothing,” he tried to dissuade her. She huffed.
“I hear Penelope succeeded in her task this season. She is to become Lady Remington soon, according to Cressida.” She tried for conversation, pretending not to care about the topic one way or another but failing at it.
He rolled his eyes. “So I've been told.” He couldn't keep the annoyance out of his tone.
Eloise looked at him, confused, “isn't that what you wanted? To help her find a husband?”
“That was the goal, Eloise,” Colin said, using a condescending tone, not even trying anymore to hide his true feelings on the matter.
Eloise stared at him for a few seconds before true worry crossed her face.
“Do you fear he'll treat her badly?” She sounded to be in pain, worrying over her former best friend.
“It is not that,” now it was Colin's turn to huff.
“Then what is it?”
He took a few seconds to think about it. What was it indeed…
“Let's just face this ball together, shall we?” He offered her his best fake smile.
Eloise could, of course, see right through him, but didn't push any further.
Once they arrived to the ball, having planned to be late, it took them a while to find their mother, seeing as how Lord Remington had took the theme for his ball very seriously, there was only enough light for people to see where they were going, but not enough to see much more, which was why Violet was chaperoning Francesca at such a short distance while she conversed with one Lord or the other.
“Oh, Eloise, dear, why don't you and your brother go find Miss Hallewell, I'm sure she would like to converse with you, and perhaps Colin dear could offer her a dance,” Violet tried.
They both nodded their heads and made their way to look for Miss Hallewell. Once they found her, Colin dutifully offered to dance the next piece with her and patiently waited by Eloise's side while they conversed in the time before the next dance was to begin. He entertained himself by discreetly looking around the room for Penelope.
Once the music was to begin, Eloise offered the miss a polite smile and assured her she would be waiting to continue their conversation. Which Colin was slightly surprised to realise, seemed genuine.
They started following the rhythm of the music, and as they turned and moved, Colin couldn't help but use the moment to look around the room for her.
“She's not here yet,” Miss Hallewell said, suddenly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Miss Featherington hasn't arrived yet. I believe her mother wants her to make an entrance, seeing as how everyone is saying she will get proposed to by our host,” Miss Hallewell explained.
Colin was at a loss of words. He had been trying to take advantage of the scarce light to look for her without being noticed, but he perhaps forgot, perhaps didn't truly care that his dance partner could see it.
“Do not worry, I will not say a thing. I doubt many people have noticed,” Miss Hallewell mistook his silence for worry.
That picked Colin's curiosity.
“How -” he wasn't sure what he wanted to ask, but it didn't matter, Miss Hallewell seemed to understand.
“It's the way you look at her,” she started, “and the way your sister was looking at you about one minute ago, as if she feared you could break down any second.”
Colin smiled tightly at her, unsure how one thing related to the other but knowing deep down it was true, and he just didn't want to admit it.
“For what it's worth, I think it's mutual.”
Their dance ended without more conversation and Colin found himself thinking she would make much better friends with Eloise than Miss Cowper. He could see her being friends with Penelope as well, which he considered a high compliment.
Not much time passed when absolute silence filled the room followed by immediate whispers, and he knew, even before she crossed the entrance, Penelope was there.
Lord Remington received her and guided her to a secluded area, where all the room could be seen from. Being as dark as it was, Colin doubted they could see more than shadows moving, which was actually in line with the ball's theme. Colin watched them talk for what felt like hours. He could feel Eloise's and Miss Hallewell's eyes on him even as he heard them talk.
He was dreading the moment Lord Remington would ask for attention. He did look like the type to make a public proposal, no matter if his Pen, he was sure, would prefer a more intimate one.
And when he thought enough time had passed not to be outright impolite to his host, he made his way to Penelope and asked her to dance.
“I am not sure I should,” Penelope whispered, softly.
“We totally should, Pen,” he whispered back.
Lord Remington looked curiously at him, before turning his gaze to Penelope, who was now watching the dance floor.
“You should, Penelope,” He said, “you do like dancing, after all, and at least now, I cannot take you to the floor.”
Penelope nodded before letting him guide her to the dance floor.
The dance started just like it always did, with them effortlessly moving to the rhythm of the music, flawlessly moving.
The air was heavy, there was a kind of tension between them that he didn't remember being there ever before.
“Are you happy, Pen?” He asked her, because if she was not, he would stop this farce, he would do anything to prevent the proposal from happening, “with him as a prospect, I mean.”
“He is a very good man,” she said, not answering his question, “and I really enjoy myself with him.”
“That is not what I asked, Pen,” he insisted. He directed his gaze to look her directly in the eyes.
Neither noticed they had slowly gotten closer. They didn't notice everyone staring at them. The darkness in the room allowing them to be bolder than they should, considering people could still watch their silhouettes. Their faces were close. Not close enough for anyone to think they were kissing, but close enough to just do it if they so wanted.
And then the murmurs started. The dance ended and still they didn't part. They were frozen, just looking at each other, barely daring to breathe.
“Colin,” Eloise shouted. “We must go now.”
He looked up, towards where the notice came from. He felt, more than saw Penelope leave, such was his confusion.
He was guided towards their carriage, he didn't even know by whom. But on the way there he could finally hear what everyone was whispering about.
“Who would have thought Miss Featherington could pull someone like him,” someone said.
“They would make the Lord a cuckold, for sure,” said another.
“To dance like that in front of her intended… Has she no shame?” Some other person would comment.
And so Colin was not surprised when Lady Whistledown inevitably commented on the scandal and her disappointment that no proposal had taken place after all.
That night Colin snuck out of his house, where he was being watched at almost all times by some family member. He bribed Rae for a moment alone with Pen and he waited, in fear that she may not come, at her back door.
To his relief and immense gratitude, Penelope showed up and Rae left.
“I wished to see how you were doing,” he explained. “I needed to know you were alright.”
“Lord Remington has put an end to our courtship,” she said, not answering. “My mamma is devastated, and so, she is even more unbearable now.”
“I am so sorry, Pen,” he said, sincerely. “I never intended -” for you to get hurt. He wanted to say, but he was interrupted.
“It is my fault.” She said, crudely. “A sad, stupid girl who believed she had a chance at love.”
“Do not say such things, Pen.” Colin pleaded, pained.
“It is only the truth.” She sounded hollowed.
A silence fell heavy upon them, and they directed their eyes to each other before Penelope looked down again.
“Colin, can I ask you something?” She said, a small voice.
“Anything, Pen,” he reassured her.
“Would you kiss me?” She asked, softly but resolutely.
“Penelope,” he instinctively argued against his own deepest wishes.
“It would not have to mean anything and I would never expect anything from you because of it, but I am nearly on the shelf and I have never been kissed and I am not certain I ever will be. I could die tomorrow…”
“You are not going to die tomorrow,” he couldn't help but argue.
“But I could and it would kill me…”
“You would already be dead.”
“I do not wish to die without ever having been kissed,” she finished.
He was holding to his last amount of honour to deny, and then…
“Please,” she whispered, and his resolve broke.
He walked slowly towards her, he took her face onto his hands and softly pressed his lips on hers.
He kissed Penelope Featherington. And it was glorious.
He then deepened the kiss, they came up for air but then he kissed her again. After a minute they came up for air once more and then, she quietly murmured her thanks, leaving him standing there, in a world that was now upside down.
He couldn't quite sleep that night, too caught up in his own head. He kept replaying the kiss on his head, that glorious kiss, he would be happy to keep reliving it were it not for the fact that he also kept replying her words in his head.
“It would not have to mean anything.”
How could it ever not mean anything?
But, what if it truly didn't mean anything to her? After all she had been just about to accept a proposal that very same night, had she not?
In any case, sleep was something Colin Bridgerton wasn't going to achieve no matter how hard he tried to, at least not that night, so, when the sun came up to signal the new day, he rose with it.
He tried to go on his day as usual, without arousing suspicion, he had breakfast, he retired to his study - he couldn't help but stare at nothing while reliving her kiss on and on, but that he didn't have to share with anyone - and then he just, couldn't not at the very least try to see her. So he put his coat on and left for the park with Benedict and Eloise.
The whole “don't be suspicious” act he had cared so much to keep this morning was blown out the window the second he saw her, because he didn't even try to pretend he hadn't come just to see her, talk to her.
Pen made her way under a Willow tree and he, of course, followed, having bribed her maid the night before with enough money to ensure she would give them space to talk today too.
“Pen! I-,” he realised he didn't quite know what to say now.
“Colin! How are you?” She asked, a nervous giggle escaping her lips.
Those glorious lips.
“I am fine, yes,” he soon learnt he was not about nervous giggling either, “h-how are you.”
“I am fine, of course, but you already know that, we saw each other last night,” she said, visibly cringing.
There it was, his chance to talk to her about it, his chance to tell her he didn't want for it to mean nothing. But he didn't know exactly how one was supposed to tell their dear friend from childhood that one enjoyed kissing them so much one would like to do it again.
“Yes! Of course,” he started, nervously.
She quite literally turned around herself in an attempt to do something with her body, both of them unsure what to say.
When it was clear she didn't plan to add anything, he spoke again.
“About last night,” he played with his coat, wanting to do something with his hands in order to control his nerves, but it wasn't working, he didn't know quite what to say. “I apologise for -” He stopped, not knowing why he was apologising, he didn't want to apologise, but then again, she was a gentle bred lady and apologising seemed like the right thing to do.
“There's no need,” she said, nervously playing with her hair and driving him slightly insane both with nerves and a sudden desire to play with her hair himself. “It was I who asked you to -” she moved her hands as if to convey her message, “so I apologise.”
“Please do not apologise,” he said, a nervous laughing tone in his voice even if he felt the need to cry at her apology.
“But you apologised,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but I - yes,” he didn't know how to refute her point because, well, she was right.
There was an uncomfortable silence that felt way too long for his liking, before she said.
“I think it would be best if we keep a bit of a distance for now.”
Oh.
“I have embarrassed myself and my family and if we were to keep being like this I would only embarrass yours as well,” she continued.
He didn't understand a word she was saying, too caught up in his own feelings, but she looked like she was waiting for an answer so he burst out “Yes, of course,” and nodded along.
She smiled painfully, or perhaps self consciously at him.
She then turned to leave, not before looking directly at him and saying “Thank you again for,” she leaned her head to the side, “I assure you nothing of the kind will ever happen again,” she was quick to add, stabbing her heart a little further, “but, I just wanted to say -”
For a second it felt like she was about to say “that it meant a lot to me” but she stopped herself in the process and only finished with a “yeah” before leaving him there, confused.
That's how he had found himself at Mondric's every night for the last week, feeling miserable and trying to pretend he was alright, which should have been easy, after spending the whole season putting on an act, but it was not. Every day he left his tongue slip a bit more about his true feelings. Just the night before he had blurted out “do you not find it lonely?” while talking to Fife and his sidekicks about sex.
That was why, this night, he was decidedly staying at home and not accompanying neither his family to a ball, nor his friends to a brothel.
But then he found Francesca.
She had been a bit weird these past few days, looking for Lord Kilmartin at every social assembly without much luck, but he hadn't quite grasped just how much the matter was getting into her head.
“Are you alright, sister?” He asked her.
He knew Francesca liked sorting herself out without the help of any of their siblings, and most of the time they left her to it, but he also understood, better than anyone in their family, that despite wanting to do something for oneself, sometimes it turned out to be quite lonely.
His own mother had lectured him, but a few moments ago about “not letting the armour he had put on lately to rust”, he didn't want his sister to do the same.
“I am fine,” she said, clearly not meaning it.
“But there's something in your head,” he observed.
She didn't deny it, which he supposed was a win.
“Is it about a certain Lord?” He tried his luck. He knew he was pushing it, perhaps too far, but he also knew Francesca, and she would not tell him herself, always too independent to look for help that was not offered even when she needed it.
Francesca huffed and turned to her piano, which she had been sitting on but not playing, his first cue as to something being wrong.
“He dances with me, he calls on me, but then he just leaves me talking to myself,” she complained. “And then he simply disappears from all social gatherings.”
Colin nods, not sure how to help.
“I thought him calling on me meant he was interested,” she goes on, “I do not know why it is bothering me so much, but even if he found me boring or unsuitable, I would just like to know.”
He can relate to that, at least.
“Why don't you ask him, then?” The solution seemed simple to him, at least then she would know.
“Like you did with Penelope?” She surprises him by asking.
“W-What?”
“You are not exactly subtle about it either,” she shrugged.
“I don't -,” he was about to deny knowing what she meant, but it was pointless, wasn't it? “She doesn't feel the same,” he tells her.
“I find that hard to believe,” she says.
“Well, it is what it is, sister,” he looks down.
“Did you really ask her, in no uncertain terms?” She sounds genuinely curious, as if the idea of the answer being “yes” was truly unthinkable to her.
He was about to confirm it when he realised — he hadn't. He had apologised, then agreed to whatever it was she said and then accepted to keep his distance. He had not, in fact, asked her anything.
He turned to look at his sister, “shall we do it together, then?” He offered his arm for her to take, making a decision, they would go to the dance, talk to their intendeds and, at the very least, get an answer.
He saw her on the other side of the dancefloor, and before he could stop himself he went directly to her, walking through the dancing couples. Once at her side he took her hand and, without asking, took her for a dance.
“Colin, you are causing a scene,” she said, looking around at the already whispering people.
“I do not care,” he said, and he realised it had probably been the wrong thing to say because she suddenly seemed angry.
“You may not care, but I do,” she spat, angrily.
“Pen,” and he couldn't keep the slight annoyance he was starting to feel out of his voice, which only seemed to anger her more.
“No, Colin. It may not be important for you, but I need to marry, and after everything that happened, you may very well be ruining all of my chances at finding a respectable husband,” she chastised him.
“You cannot be serious about this,” he said, incredulous.
“I have been serious about this all along,” she was growing angrier every second.
“You hardly know any of these people,” he argued.
“I do not need to know them,” she argued back.
“Well, then, but I cannot stand by and watch you make a mistake,” he told her, because it was true, even if she didn't want him, he couldn't let her marry just about anyone, she deserved someone she could trust, someone she knew and who knew her too.
“My only mistake was to ever ask for your help in the first place,” she said, as the dance was ending.
It had gone oh, so wrong.
She left in a hurry, and for a second he stood there, unable to move. And then, in a panic, he realised he had once again wasted his chance at asking. And he couldn't stand it, he needed to know.
So he chase after her, after her carriage.