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The start of the new social season has been nothing short of tumultuous for Colin, who had promised himself he would be a new man when he arrived back in Mayfair, but, so far, has failed miserably.
On his travels, there is always a period of getting accustomed to the way the boats rock over the waves as they cross the ocean. The first time Colin set foot on a ship, he got violently ill. For hours, he could do nothing but hold his stomach and empty its contents as the floor below him swayed from side to side. With time, setting sail has become easier, but still, he always needs some time to acclimatise to the feeling of constant movement and the dizziness it induces.
As he watches Penelope walk away from their meeting place, shielded from the ton's view by the branches of the willow tree, he feels, again, as if the ground is shaking beneath his feet.
–
His mother is not an option. She would demand Colin marry Penelope posthaste, though she would probably be happy about it. Anthony would probably be worse; he might even suggest duelling him for ruining Penelope’s honour. Daphne is too far away. Francesca is far too preoccupied with her own marital prospects. Eloise is too stubborn to disclose her own problems with Penelope, and she might duel him for real–and she is a really good shot.
Knowing he is his only choice, Colin paces the corridor in front of the study where Benedict is sketching. The door is ajar, and he can hear the sure strokes of the pencil on the paper as he walks from side to side, gathering the necessary courage for the conversation ahead.
“Brother, what is the matter with you?” Benedict interrupts his musings, observing him from the door. “You are wearing a hole in the carpet; it’s very distracting. And you have been acting strangely for days now…” His brother tells him, brows furrowed with worry.
Colin takes a deep breath, gesturing to the room and stepping inside when Benedict moves to let him pass. He has never been as stern as Anthony, far from it. But still, a good number of years separate him from Colin. And it is a delicate matter. “Can I trust you to be… understanding?” he asks, standing beside an armchair as Benedict closes the door behind him.
Benedict’s brows rise high on his forehead as he cautiously answers, “That depends on what exactly you expect me to understand. If there is a body we have to dispose of, it’s going to take some convincing,” he jokes, but Colin merely grimaces, so Benedict sobers again, moving closer to face him. “Colin, what did you do?”
If Colin wanted to get away from the conversation, now there is no chance in hell Benedict will let him. He has definitely intrigued his older brother now, and he knows that he will keep asking questions until he gets the answers, so there is no point in concealing the truth. “If I had, hypothetically, taken some–liberties with a lady…”
This clearly surprises Benedict, whose brows rise even higher. “Who did you compromise, Colin?”
“No one,” Colin emphatically answers before admitting to himself that he did, in fact, compromise Penelope. “I didn’t compromise–well, I did, but she asked me to.”
“A lady asked you to compromise her?” Benedict questions, incredulously.
“As a favour,” Colin adds.
“A gentle-bred lady asked you to compromise her. As a favour,” Benedict repeats, and Colin nods. His older brother narrows his eyes at him, considering the revelation for a moment. “Was it Penelope? Did you compromise Penelope?”
Colin tries to rein in his surprise, but fails badly and his brother notices. How did Benedict know it was Penelope? “No, I–Benedict, nothing untoward happened,” Colin answers, forgetting to deny it was her.
“Colin, a single man holding hands with an unmarried lady is untoward in the eyes of the ton,” Benedict tells him, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Having a perfectly innocent conversation behind closed doors with a lady alone is untoward. Writing a note to an unmarried lady is untoward.”
Colin splutters. Those rules make absolutely no sense for Penelope and himself. They have been friends since childhood, surely it is not the same for them. “I’ve done those things hundreds of times with Penelope, and it was all perfectly gentlemanly!”
“Hundreds of times?” Benedict asks. If his brows rise any higher, they will be at risk of completely falling from his face.
“Not hundreds,” Colin retracts. “A few times, perhaps.”
Benedict lets his arms fall from Colin’s shoulders and pours some brandy into his glass before drinking the whole thing. “You really did well not talking about this with Anthony, he would be applying for a special marriage licence right this moment,” he says. Then, he takes a deep breath. “So what did you do to Penelope?”
“I only kissed her,” Colin answers, even though the answer falls short. The act of what Colin did was simply that, but the reality of what happened is completely different. Colin touched the delicate skin of Penelope’s face and pressed his lips with hers, and in the process, he turned his whole world upside down.
Never had a kiss felt like that one did. Never had Colin felt so out of control, so tremendously affected that he could not think clearly any longer. That he dreams of her. That he feels ill with the desire to touch her, to feel her body pressed to his. Never had such a simple contact awoken the feelings Penelope’s kiss did.
“Because she asked you to?” Benedict asks, waking him up from his reverie.
“Yes.”
“Awww,” Benedict coos and moves to grab another glass for Colin, filling it before handing it to him. Colin knew the danger of going for advice to Benedict would be him not taking things seriously, and he really needs advice. He takes a drink and pleads.
“Benedict, I do not know what to do,” he says in a rush. “I’m very confused. She told me today that we cannot see each other anymore, that if she secures a proposal, it will be thanks to me and I–” Colin swallows thickly, the thought tastes like vile. “I do not think I want her to marry another man,” he confesses.
“Because you want her to marry you,” Benedict states.
Colin shakes his head, if it were only so easy… “I–I have been having–dreams. About her,” he says, only to receive a wicked smile from his older brother. “I do not understand what it means,” he adds with a tinge of desperation colouring his voice. “I do not know what I want.”
“Mmm…” Benedict sits on an armchair, putting his legs up on the desk. If Anthony saw him, he would scold him. “You did say you would never court her.”
“How do you know about that?”
“The only thing bigger than Fife’s ego is his mouth, and when he drinks, he tends to blabber. And he does drink a lot.” Benedict simply answers.
Damn his own big mouth, Colin will regret those words forever. “She overheard me saying that,” he says. Benedict grimaces. “And as a result, she didn’t answer any of my letters when I was away, and she did not want us to be friends any longer. I have only now recovered her friendship…”
“How many letters, exactly, did you send her?”
Colin ignores Benedict’s question. “Saying that I’d never court her was a mistake. I should have never done it.”
“Because you do wish to court her?”
“Because it was unkind of me,” Colin explains. “Because it could appear as if I thought her unfit to be a wife, when that is very far from reality.”
“So you do see Penelope as your potential wife.”
“I do not know!” Colin answers, raking his hand through his own hair in desperation. “Perhaps! I–How do you know if you are in love?”
“Brother, do you think I have ever been in love?” Benedict asks him, looking at him as if he had grown two heads.
“Have you not?”
“If I had, I would not be a bachelor any longer.” Colin stops pacing and lets himself fall into an armchair. “Can I ask you something?” He makes a gesture with his hand for Benedict to go ahead. “How did it make you feel that she did not answer your letters?”
“Off-balance. As if I could not find my footing anywhere I went. Like I couldn’t fully enjoy my experiences abroad because something was missing.”
Benedict smiles softly and continues. “And when you think about Penelope getting married to another man, how does that make you feel?” He questions, his voice as gentle as his expression. “When you think about another man holding her hand, kissing her, being the one to make her laugh?”
Colin ponders Benedict’s words, and the answer is easy and complicated at the same time. “Like I would rather face death than allow that.”
“Then you have your answer, Colin. You do wish to court her, because you do want to marry her,” Benedict states as if it is the simplest truth in the universe. “And if I’m honest, I think that would be an excellent decision.” His older brother raises his glass in a toasting gesture before taking a sip.
“It is not what I expected,” Colin mutters.
“What?”
“I thought love would be like a thunderbolt falling from the sky, and, in an instant, the answer would be clear. Like nothing else would make sense. Like I would not be able to think of any other options.”
“Is it not?”
After weeks of dreaming of her and not being able to think about anything else, Colin’s own feelings for Penelope seem decidedly clear, but. “There are things to consider."
“Such as…"
“Penelope is clever and funny and… She is so beautiful. Kissing her felt like nothing I have ever experienced before.” Colin licks his lips and sips his drink before continuing. “I have not been able to stop thinking about her. I think she is… I think she is perfect for me.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“She could find a more advantageous match. I do not think I am perfect for her,” Colin confesses in a low voice. Shame washes over him, making him flush.
“That is ridiculous, Colin.”
“It is not,” he answers, swallowing thickly. “I have nothing but a good name to provide. I have no title, no great purpose. I have no estate or lands–”
“Stop it,” Benedict interrupts him, looking stern. “You have a big heart, and you are willing to give it to her. You have love for her. You will be a great husband to her and a great father to your children. Penelope is not looking for a lord with a title; she wants someone who loves her.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because she asked you to kiss her. Can you imagine what it was for her, an unmarried lady who has been ruined in the eyes of the ton, to let herself be so vulnerable as to ask you for that?” Benedict asks. His conviction is reassuring, and Colin wants nothing more than to believe him. Still, he cannot help but be plagued by doubts. “She trusts you. And that kind of trust… I cannot imagine it coming from a place that isn’t love.”
“But I am familiar with Penelope, I am her friend. That’s why she trusts me,” Colin counters. “She was feeling dejected after the Whistledown column. She thought she would never get to experience a kiss because she would never find someone to marry. She said it herself that it wouldn’t mean anything. I don’t think she asked because she loves me, I think she asked because I was her only option.”
Benedict examines Colin for a moment before he shrugs. “She could have asked me.”
Colin glares at his brother at the mere suggestion, but Benedict receives this look with amusement. “Think about it,” he says, smirking.
“I’d rather not.” Colin hisses.
Benedict laughs, shaking his head. “If she had asked me, it really wouldn’t have meant anything. Penelope and I are acquaintances, there is no deeper history that connects us besides her being a dear friend of our family.” Begrudgingly, Colin considers Benedict’s words, and he has to admit they make sense. He nods to his brother to continue. “But she asked you, her friend, knowing that it risked ruining the friendship. The only friendship she still maintains now that she and Eloise are at odds. Put yourself in her shoes for a moment, Colin. Would you be willing to risk losing such an important friendship for a kiss that meant nothing?”
“Do you really believe that?” Colin asks, hating the uncertainty in his own voice.
“I don’t think you understand how rare it is for a man and a woman of our standing to have the kind of relationship you have with Penelope. You should not take that for granted,” Benedict tells him. “Do not wait to tell her, go buy her flowers and call on her right now–”
“Calling hours are over.”
Benedict shrugs again. “Then bribe her maid to let you see her. Throw rocks at her window. Do whatever you need to do, but do not let that feeling go.”
With a nod, Colin stands, finally determined to act on his feelings. It is not easy to get rid of every fear, but Benedict is right. He cannot let Penelope go without fighting for her. He would never forgive himself for that.
–
Bribing Rae is easier the second time. She greets him with a knowing smile and asks him to wait for her to come back with Penelope in the same spot Colin kissed her for the first time.
His palms are sweaty, but, much like in his dreams, Penelope soon appears in his field of vision, looking ethereal and concerned for him, and something settles inside of Colin. The resolve to open his heart to Penelope regardless of the outcome.
“Colin? What are you doing here? Are you well?” She asks.
Colin hands her an improvised bouquet of flowers he retrieved from his garden. It’s not much, but he couldn’t come empty-handed. “I brought these for you.”
Penelope takes the flowers, regarding them, and Colin, with caution. “Why?”
Colin takes a deep breath. Penelope looks even prettier than she did in the morning, if that is even possible. His hands still feel clammy, and his heart is beating wildly, but she was brave enough to ask for something she wanted when she asked for his kiss. It’s Colin’s turn to be brave now.
“You said this morning that nothing would ever happen between us again, and I have not been able to stop thinking about it. You said we should keep our distance and I’ve realised how much I don’t want that to happen,” he tells her.
“I don’t understand…” Penelope trails off, looking insecure and small. Colin longs to erase the uncertainty from her beautiful face.
“I have not been able to stop thinking about you, Pen. Not since we kissed,” he tells her with determination. “Much earlier, if I’m completely honest. The absence of your letters weighed heavily on me while abroad. I knew something was wrong, and I meant what I said that day. I missed you, Penelope. Everyday.”
A gasp escapes Penelope’s mouth. Colin sees her swallow. He sees her chest rising quickly with each intake of breath. She looks as anxious as Colin feels. Her voice is barely a whisper when she asks, “What?”
“I do not want you to marry another man. You are my friend, and I thought having your friendship was the biggest gift life could offer, but I do not want to be only your friend.”
“Colin, do not say things you don’t mean,” Penelope tells him, looking almost angry at him. Her lower lip quivers, and she’s frowning, but Colin shakes his head and takes a step closer to her, smiling gently, and her face relaxes slightly.
“I do mean it. I love you,” Colin says, taking the liberty of gently caressing the skin of her cheek. She inhales sharply, and when her eyes turn hopeful, Colin’s heart soars. “I do not want you to find a match. I want you to marry me, Pen.”
Penelope’s eyes travel all over his face, studying him. Looking for a hint of hesitation, but there is none. “Are you sure?”
This time, when Colin kisses Penelope, it is with certainty. It is with joy. The ground beneath his feet stops moving as he feels her lips on his, sweet and warm. The touch of her hand on his waist anchors him. Makes him feel steady. This time, when they part, Penelope does not leave; she only smiles and grabs his coat to ask for more.
Now that Colin finally knows what he wants, he will make sure to give her everything.