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“To Sophie!” Benedict exclaims again, clanking his brandy glass against those of the other men in his company.
Colin clinks his glass against his brother’s, beaming at Benedict. He was elated to see his brother so happy after years of searching for his Lady in Silver.
Benedict had gathered his brothers, sans a very upset Gregory, and a few friends at a pub not too far from My Cottage a mere two days before the wedding for a bachelor party.
“It is still hard to believe you of all people are settling down,” Will Mondrich chirps, giving Benedict a hearty slap on the shoulder.
Colin laughs with the rest of the table.
“Ah, only for true love, my dear Will,” Benedict retorts. “Though I have lived a life, haven’t I?”
“I shall miss living vicariously through your stories,” Will replies with a laugh.
“Oh, I still have plenty in the chamber,” Benedict says. “Though not as many as our lovely Viscount!” Benedict shoots Anthony a wink, causing Anthony to roll his eyes.
“I’ve been a retired rake for many years now,” Anthony says with a sniff.
“But before that, you were the capital R rake, as our dear sister Penelope once called you,” Benedict replies. “Certainly you must have some stories to share with us all!”
Colin can’t help but shift uncomfortably. In the years since his marriage to Penelope, Colin has largely been able to avoid sex talk with other men. Most refuse to speak of such matters in front of Lord Whistledown , unwilling to have their liaisons published for the ton to read.
The rest of the time, Colin is able to politely bow out.
But he knows he can’t bow out of Benedict’s bachelor party.
“Have I ever told you about the time I was intimate with my former mistress at your fight, Will?” Anthony asks, a sly grin on his face.
The other men hoot and holler at the table as Anthony begins his retelling to rapt attention but Colin can’t bring himself to listen.
It’s just another reminder about how different he is.
Colin had sexual experience prior to marriage, though his history pales in comparison to his older brothers’, but his feelings concerning the act could not be more different than the rest of the men in his company.
The only woman he has ever truly enjoyed sex with has been his wife.
Hell, Colin is fairly sure the only woman he’s ever been truly attracted to has been his wife. Sure, he’s found many women pretty or beautiful, but it felt more like admiring a painting than true attraction.
Colin knows it’s not normal. Every time he has tried to broach the subject with another man, he has been laughed off. He cannot seem to find the right combination of words to explain his experience. Before Penelope, he was written off as too green, told he had to sample more women in order to truly understand what makes sex so great. After Penelope, they blame his devotion to his wife, they tell him that he got married too young.
It makes Colin feel uncomfortable about his past experiences, like he was doing something wrong. Even when Penelope pries into his past, flirtatiously trying to ease out a story of women in Paris or Naples, Colin cannot help but feel his hackles rise up.
Eventually, shortly after the birth of their son, Colin confided in Penelope.
-
“I suppose I will have to put my journals on hold for now,” Colin said as he traced over the silvery stretch marks on Penelope’s breast. She had just finished feeding their eight week old, passing him off to the night nurse to put him to bed.
Penelope tisked. “And I was so looking forward to editing your passages about the Contessa,” she teased, playfully bopping him on the nose.
Colin’s face twisted before he could control it, causing Penelope’s brows to wrinkle.
“What is it?” She pressed, moving a little closer to Colin.
Colin hesitated. It’s complicated, discussing such matters with a woman who was taught her entire life to guard her virtue.
Colin had the opposite problem. His virtue was treated like a burden, like some sort of magic switch that would take him from boy to man. No one listened to virgin Colin Bridgerton. His friends called him boring, his siblings didn’t care to write to him, Anthony told him that his virtue made him naive.
It was only after he admitted to bedding his fair share of women while on the continent that it seemed like his so-called friends began to like him. They began to listen to him, to follow him. Colin felt like he finally was someone worthy of their attention.
“I do not have the same fond memories of my experiences that the other men seem to,” Colin confessed. “I did not derive the same enjoyment.”
Penelope is silent for a beat, letting his words wash over her.
“You truly did not like bedding those women?” Penelope asked, cocking her head to the side. Colin knew that it may be difficult for Penelope to understand. After all, young ladies did not have the same options that Colin did. Sexuality is a secret that mamas guard closely from young ladies.
“I don’t even know if I could say I did not like it,” Colin huffed. “It’s more that I left feeling worse than I did before. I left feeling lonelier, emptier.”
Colin picks at a loose thread on the duvet. “When you and I first made love, that day on the settee, I felt like I finally understood what my brothers went on and on about. Like everything they had told me finally made sense.”
Penelope hummed before lacing her arm through Colin’s.
“We didn’t make love for quite some time after that,” she pointed out gently.
“I would have,” Colin grumbled. “It is absurd that our families only decided to chaperone us after we got engaged.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Penelope said softly.
“I know,” Colin sighed. “After our… disagreements about Whistledown, I did struggle to make love to you. Our connection was severed for some time and though I loved you, I just couldn’t make love to you.”
Colin felt his confession hang in the air as Penelope sat silently.
“You did not feel safe,” Penelope said, moving closer to Colin to rest her head on his chest.
“I just didn’t want to feel lonely again,” Colin confessed softly. “I spent so long trying to be like everyone else. When I was with you, intimately, I felt free. Free to just be myself, to experience love in a way that felt right to me. I was scared to lose that feeling by doing what was expected of me.”
“I completely understand,” Penelope responded, smiling so sweetly up at Colin. Colin cannot help himself but to meet her lips half way, pressing a gentle kiss.
-
Colin half listens as Benedict begins telling his own story, something about two women at a party. Benedict tells the story in a way that only he can, peppering in saucy details of the other party goers. He describes taking two women at the same time, on a settee in front of a disinterested and inebriated crowd of art lovers.
Colin had heard this story before. It was the story that inspired him to try relations with two women at the brothels after not finding the pleasures he was promised with just one woman.
It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t, because nothing Colin was promised ever came so easily. Not like it did for Anthony and Benedict.
His whole life, Colin just wanted to be like his older brothers.
The six and eight year age differences often caused Colin to be the odd man out, especially with three sisters following Colin’s birth.
Anthony, the capital-R rake himself. Once Colin turned six-and-ten, Anthony stopped hiding his gallivanting from Colin. He would pour Colin the tiniest splash of whiskey while trading stories with Benedict. Colin would crack the odd joke here or there just to fit in but in truth, he was intimidated by Anthony’s experience.
Anthony, though stern and intimidating, never had trouble attracting women. Even those he paid were drawn to him. The seemingly perpetual bachelor. The ultimate womanizer.
It was at his first ball that Colin realized the ton expected Colin to follow in Anthony’s footsteps. Benedict had, after all, though in a quieter sort of way. Both rakes, neither shy about shunning marriage.
The matchmaking mamas immediately wrote Colin off as too young, too much of a Bridgerton boy to be serious marriage material. They exchanged looks as Colin signed the dance cards of young ladies, scoffing at his charm as nothing more than a tool to bed their daughters.
They didn’t understand that Colin had no such designs. Colin never wanted to be a rake.
Colin yearned for love, marriage and family yet no one would take him seriously. It had been a common theme in Colin’s life.
Even his father was a rake once, despite marrying even younger than Colin. His mother would often giggle with the other ladies of the ton , sharing her belief that reformed rakes make the best husbands.
Sometimes Colin wonders if failed rakes could make good husbands too.
As he got older, Colin felt the gentlemen he knew grow more and more wary of his company. His jokes fell flat as his lack of experience became evident. His stories of seeing the Parthenon or of dipping his toes in the Mediterranean for the first time did not hold the salacious details the gentlemen yearned for. His brothers wrote to him, early in his first tour, asking about the women in Colin’s company. Once they realized that the only women Colin spoke about were grandmothers who cooked him keftedes and told him of the Gods, the letters petered off to nothing.
On his second tour, when not even his mother deigned to write to him, Colin began to believe that he was the one who needed to change.
“And what of you, Colin?” Will’s voice cut through Colin’s thoughts, startling him back to the party. “You’re a young Bridgerton man, surely you have had your fair share of adventures.”
Colin feels his palms begin to sweat. It is not untrue but it is not true either. Since his marriage, Colin feels like he lost the ability to spin tales of his previous misadventures. He had once been able to talk of his time with the Contessa or the women in Paris with some element of humour but he cannot find it in himself to lie anymore.
“Perhaps,” Colin says with a faux air of modesty. “But I must have another drink first.”
Colin stands to the protests of the other men before walking slowly to the bar, careful to not show his nerves.
Why is he like this? Why can’t he be like everyone else?
Colin heaves a sigh as he waits for the bartender to fill his glass.
“Do you want to talk?” Benedict says from behind him, causing Colin to spin to face his older brother.
“Should I not be the one imparting husbandly advice onto you?” Colin asks, cocking an eyebrow.
Benedict studies Colin over the rim of his glass.
“It is not marital advice that I seek at the moment, though I’m sure I will be coming to you for that in due time,” Benedict begins. “I just wanted to check on you.”
Colin fidgets slightly. He long abandoned the mask he once wore for society but times like these, he wished he could shove it back on. To push down the parts of him that feel vulnerable, the parts of him that feel different.
“I notice you do not care to participate in our more carnal conversations. Knowing our dear Penelope as I do, I believe she would be the last person who would begrudge you sharing stories of your past encounters,” Benedict points out.
Colin swallows. “No, Pen is herself interested in such stories,” Colin admits slowly.
Benedict smirks. “Truly unsurprising, considering her line of business. I do believe no one likes a bit of salacious gossip as much as Penelope.”
Colin’s mouth twitches at that but he cannot bring himself to say more.
“So if it is not out of respect for your wife that causes you hesitation, what is it? I remember you a few years back, before Penelope. You were a frequent visitor to the abbeys,” Benedict points out, leaning against the bar.
Sighing, Colin mirrors his brother’s stance. Imitating his brothers comes so naturally, it’s a hard habit to break even after years of marriage.
“I did not find the same happiness the others seem to in the beds of strangers,” Colin says, not making eye contact with Benedict. Instead, he stares ahead at their party, who are getting increasingly rowdy with every glass of brandy.
Benedict is silent for a beat before finishing his drink, sliding his empty glass across the bar for a refill. “I figured,” he says shortly.
Colin blinks, startled by Benedict’s words. He whirls around to Benedict, gobsmacked. “What do you mean?”
“I see you, Colin, even when you’re so desperate not to be seen,” Benedict says with his crooked smile. “I saw you then, too. Drowning in the weight of expectations you piled on yourself. Desperate to be just like everyone else.”
Benedict accepts his now full glass from the bartender, taking a sip.
“It is a struggle I relate to,” he confesses.
“But you enjoyed your life as a bachelor, bedding women you have no intention of marrying,” Colin points out.
“Not just women,” Benedict sighs softly, his eyes darting to ensure he and Colin are the only ones that can hear.
Colin cannot help the quiet gasp that escapes him. “I had no idea,” Colin says.
“I didn’t realize until after you married and since then, you’ve been rather busy,” Benedict says with a shrug. “And the only reason I figured out who I like was by experimenting. You realized what you do not like by experimenting. We are the same.” Benedict’s hand grips Colin’s shoulder, offering the younger man an anchor in a sea of self-doubt.
Colin’s chest blooms with love for his brother. “I have always wanted to be like you,” Colin confesses.
Benedict is silent as his eyes rake over Colin’s face. After a moment, he smiles, shaking his head.
“You have grown into a remarkable man, Colin,” Benedict replies. “Only five-and-twenty yet you run a barony, you have published a book. You’re an amazing father and a devoted husband. You need not live for the expectations of others. Especially not for the expectations of your brothers. Anthony and I love you because you're you. ”
A weight that Colin has carried around for the better part of a decade lifts off his shoulders. Benedict is correct, as always. Why has Colin worried so much about what others think of him?
He had a beautiful wife. A beautiful child. He had managed to pull the Featherington barony out of ruin and publish a best-selling travel guide. He was a devoted son and brother and a good friend to those who care to embrace the real him.
Maybe Colin would never be like Anthony or Benedict. Maybe he would never be like his father.
Maybe it was time to stop trying.
Benedict slaps Colin on the shoulder.
“Let’s get back to the party, it’s rare that I’m able to drag you from your family’s arms to join us at the pub,” Benedict jokes, dragging Colin towards the table.
Colin meets Anthony’s eyes across the table as he sits. His eldest brother offers him a smile, tinged with pride and nostalgia and Colin feels like he can finally breathe.
“Now you must tell us a story of your exploits on the continent, Colin!” Will says with a jovial laugh.
“Absolutely not,” Colin says with a winning grin, snatching the cigar from between Will’s fingers. “All memories of women before my wife have been erased from my mind!”
It wasn’t true. No matter how much Colin sometimes wished it could be true, that he could forget the months of desperately searching across Europe for something that he would find across the street.
But his friends didn’t need to know that. Colin had no need to live for the approval of others.
“Good man!” Will says with a laugh, slapping Colin on the back. “And that’s something you’ll find out one day too!” Will says, turning his attention back to Benedict.
Colin laughs along with Will, listening as the man talks about how he felt the first time he realized that Alice was the only woman he needed.
-
It’s much later when the trio of brothers stumble into My Cottage, trying desperately to be quiet. Colin hugs his brothers tightly, planting drunken kisses on their cheeks before slipping into the room he was sharing with Penelope.
Penelope was already fast asleep, her crimson hair spread out over her pillow and his. Her gentle sloping curves were covered by a sheet, though she was nude underneath.
It was a dress code Colin was happy to follow.
Colin quickly divested himself of his clothes, leaving them in a crumbled pile on the ground, before slipping into bed beside his wife.
“Did you have fun?” Penelope mumbles sleepily as she shimmies back into Colin’s arms, pressing her back against his chest. It causes Colin’s chest to swell with affection for his wife, knowing he makes her feel as safe as she’s made him feel.
“I did,” Colin replies simply, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder.
For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t a lie.