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"I need another round."
Colin stood up and briskly walked up to the bar, desperate to escape the conversation at hand.
Mistresses.
The word itself made his skin crawl and his stomach lurch. Unease and disgust tangled within him and slowly crawled up his throat, and no amount of alcohol could wipe the repulsive taste of it from his mouth.
The feeling certainly hadn't come from over-drinking, as he hadn't imbibed that much anyways. He only had two fingers of brandy that night, and he hadn't planned on having any more.
No, it came from the fact that he was once again feeling like he was on the peripheries of manhood, standing on the outside looking in on something he wasn't sure he wanted to understand anyways.
Colin was not naive. He knew well that the men of the ton often went outside their marriages in search of pleasure. He knew most men married out of convenience or as strategic moves to increase their own power and wealth. They married respectable debutantes and bedded them to sire heirs and spares, and once their lineages were secure, they never laid a finger on them again. In public, they promenaded with their wives and accompanied them to balls, playing the part of the perfect gentlemen they were raised to be. In private, though, they warmed their beds with widows, actresses, or opera singers. They frequented brothels, they seduced maids. All without a single care in the world beyond their own gratification.
The flippant way in which they discussed these clandestine arrangements grated on his nerves. They spoke of these women as if they were accessories, not partners. They called it love, but to Colin, it felt more like possession. They seduced these women with empty promises of luxuries and riches but kept them hidden in the shadows because they would rather die than be seen out in public with them. They paraded them around gentleman's clubs, not out of affection but as a means of displaying their latest conquest, as if to say 'Look at what I have!' to their peers. All this fanfare just to drop their lovers the moment a prettier, younger woman crossed their paths, and the process would begin anew with another woman left scorned and another notch tallied in their bedpost.
It made him sick.
He scanned the room and saw just how many of his peers had women who were definitely not their wives draped over their laps or pressed to their sides.
Lord Hartley, who had married less than a month ago, sat with a blonde opera singer curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder as he spoke to a group of his Oxford friends.
Mr. Highgrove and Mr. Easton chatted casually as the two women in their laps pressed languid kisses along the column of their throats. Mr. Highgrove's wife made her debut alongside Daphne, and she was one of the few debutantes that had shown her kindness during her time on the marriage mart. Mr. Easton's wife liked to promenade in Hyde Park with their two children, and Colin often saw her walking alone with them when he and Penelope took Elliot out to enjoy some fresh air.
Lord Bryer sat in the farthest, darkest corner of the room, kissing and nuzzling noses with a courtesan. To his knowledge, Lady Bryer had given birth to his first son, their third child, just days before.
Christ, was every man in London a depraved knob?
Colin scowled as he returned his attention to the bar. He browsed the available spirits with no interest, knowing damn well that the two bottles they purchased upon arrival were still nearly full. John and Will both only drank a single glass themselves, just as he had, and Benedict had abstained entirely.
Up until a few moments ago, their evening had been going well. It had been Colin's idea to gather for a drink, seeing as Penelope was going to be out at Lady Danbury's that night. It had been ages since he'd gathered with Will, John, and Benedict for drinks, and all three men eagerly accepted the invitation as the women in their lives convened across town.
They played a few spirited rounds of card games and exchanged stories from their rambunctious youths. Colin was in the middle of a discussing an upcoming boxing match involving one of Will's friends when he noticed his brother had fallen into a pensive silence. Penelope had, of course, told him all about Benedict's search for a debutante he met at their mother's masquerade ball, a so-called lady in silver, and suggested that he tone down his own happiness lest he make Benedict feel bad over his own sad state of affairs.
Of all the Bridgerton brothers, Benedict was perhaps the most melodramatic when plagued by matters of the heart, so Colin came into the night prepared to counteract any sulking and brooding with some lighthearted teasing and jokes. He did his best to not let his domestic bliss show and omitted any and all mentions of Penelope and little Elliot in conversation. He certainly had to bite his tongue most of the night to stop himself from waxing poetic about his beautiful wife or bragging about his adorable son, but Colin was nothing if not a gracious, thoughtful brother.
He hadn't prepared for a discussion on keeping mistresses, for God's sake.
He was stunned at how defensive Benedict had gotten over the matter, even more so at how casually he spoke of Anthony having kept a mistress at some point before Kate had come along. He knew his brothers were rakes (a capital R rake, in Anthony's case), that they loved their nights in the brothels, and that they never turned down the widows and working women that propositioned them. He knew they approached it all with an air of nonchalance, as if it were as casual a hobby as horseback riding or fencing. It was all good and well for them to sow their wild oats, for it was what was expected of them, but it was another thing entirely to take that kind of ownership over a woman's life outside of the sacred bond of marriage.
Colin never paid much attention to Anthony's salacious stories on the rare occasions he joined them for drinks in his study or for nights out, having learned to tune them out since he was six and ten, but he was positive that he would have remembered something as serious as that. He recalled mentions of a certain opera singer he'd taken a liking to, but even then, he hadn't expected their relationship (if one could even call it that) to become that serious. He felt his lips twist into a grimace at the thought of his own brother putting a young woman into such a precarious position, for he was certain that their little arrangement had ended quite badly given how suddenly Anthony had pivoted towards finding himself a wife two years ago.
The bartender slid a glass of brandy in his direction and Colin tossed it back without a second thought, hoping the burn of the liquor would settle his flared temper.
The thought of infidelity alone made him feel nothing but disdain, but to throw in maintaining a relationship with another woman while married made him unfathomably furious. To disrespect one's wife, the mother of one's children, was unconscionable to him. Even if they were not wed out of love, men still made sacred vows in front of God to honor and respect their wives. How anyone could even think of betraying those vows in such an egregious manner was beyond him.
That wasn't because Colin was a particularly religious man, but because he worshiped his wife.
Colin knew for certain that he would rather end his own life than in any way disrespect Penelope or their marriage. He couldn't (and wouldn't) think about other women, much less find the energy or desire to bed them. Why would he, when Penelope was everything he could ever want or need? Penelope was his closest friend, his confidant, the love of his life, the mother of his darling boy, and perhaps the most beautiful woman in all of England, if not the entire world.
(Seeing as he was a seasoned traveler, he could say with authority that Penelope was, in fact, the most beautiful woman in the world.)
He had traveled the world searching aimlessly for his purpose in life all for it to have been across the square from his childhood home the entire time. She had been his most steadfast supporter as he edited his travel journals, a diligent editor, and his most outspoken fan when he became a published author. She made him a husband and a father, had given him a family to cherish and care for, and through their son, she'd given him an estate to manage. Penelope had been the missing piece that made everything in his life fall into place.
As Colin continued to observe the room around him, he felt a pang of sympathy for his peers. These men would never understand what it was like to love and be loved by an extraordinary woman, to be made a better man each and every day simply by being around his wife. Not every man was lucky enough to marry for love. Not every man had the privilege of coming home to the person they cherished most in the world. His circumstances, the ones he thanked the heavens for every single day, were not the norm. They were the exception.
A high pitched moan coming from Lord Bryer's general direction pulled him out of his musings. The courtesan on his lap was rocking back and forth none too subtly, and it was obvious the cad was tupping her where anyone could see or hear them. He felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.
Sod his peers. Colin desperately missed his wife and son, and he wanted to go home.
He turned his head and watched as Benedict continued to stare off into the distance, the look of melancholy on his face an all too familiar sight even despite the fact that he hadn't seen much of his brother in the last few months. John and Will sat across from him, caught up in their own conversation.
That was that, then. He could leave without them making a fuss over it.
He caught John's eye and tilted his head in the direction of the exit. John gave him a sympathetic half-smile in return, and Will raised his glass in his direction. He nodded back at them before turning on his heel and heading to the doors.
The cool night air was a welcome distraction to the whirlwind in his mind. He gestured for his carriage to be brought around and leaned against the cool brick wall as he waited.
It was not unusual for him to be confused by the logic his fellow males used to move through life, but it had been so long since he last felt that way that it was jarring. It wasn't that it made him feel insecure the same way it had when he hung around Fife and his cronies, but it did make him feel odd knowing he was surrounded by people he simply could not understand. It was a slight comfort to know that Will and John shared his sentiments in being against taking a mistress, especially considering one's wife was a dear friend and another his own sister, but it did little to settle the unease he felt.
Colin found himself dearly missing Albion Finch and Harry Dankworth's company, for he knew that neither of them would ever taint the sanctity of their get-togethers with talks of extramarital affairs. Instead, the three would eat and talk about their wives and children, share notes on how to handle their mother in law, and bask in the joy that came with marrying into the Featherington family. They were refreshingly earnest and unapologetically smitten with their wives, and for that alone he was thankful for their friendship.
He made a mental note to invite them over for tea as he boarded his carriage. Finch had mentioned a massive import of French cheeses expected to arrive this week, and he was eager to get his hands on some of them.
He stared out the window as the carriage rolled down the street, and his mind naturally turned to Penelope (as it often did). He wondered if she was back home from her own night out, if she was asleep in their bed or sat at her desk editing her latest column. He hoped she was still awake, not because he wanted to bed her (he did, he always did, to be fair) but because he wanted to talk to her. She was always his greatest source of comfort, and he hoped that a conversation with her would bring him some clarity, or at the very least soothe his nerves.
Colin quickly made his way inside once the carriage finally came to a stop in front of Featherington House. He smiled gratefully as Dunwoody opened the door for him. He quickly peeled his jacket off and handed it over.
"Is Mrs. Bridgerton home yet?" Colin asked his valet as he began to unbutton his waistcoat.
"Mrs. Bridgerton is in the nursery with Lord Featherington, sir," Dunwoody replied as he took the waistcoat from him. Colin's lips quirked at that.
"Thank you, Dunwoody. That will be all for tonight," he said, nodding to him. Dunwoody bowed his head before turning on his heel to deposit his jacket and waistcoat in the laundry room.
He took the stairs two at a time and made his way down the hall to the nursery. He slowed down once he saw the door was parted and stopped just outside when he heard Penelope's voice. He peeked in and saw Penelope with Elliot in her arms. She was in a nightgown and robe, and her hair was wrapped up, which meant she had already been in bed long before he'd gotten home. Over recent weeks, though, their poor boy was having difficulties sleeping through the night, which meant that Colin and Penelope had to get up at odd hours of the night to get him back to sleep. Though they had a nursemaid to take care of him, they took it upon themselves to tend to him at night because their busy schedules kept them away from him during the day.
"Oh, your Papa will be quite cross if he sees you are still awake," Penelope whispered. He watched as she paced the length of the nursery, bouncing him gently. Elliot let out a small whine at that.
"You're right, Papa could never truly be cross with you," she replied with a laugh, and he grunted in response. "Yes, Papa will be home soon. We must get you back to sleep before he returns, though, because he worked very hard to get you to sleep before we left. We cannot have him thinking his efforts were all in vain."
"Did someone wake up in the middle of the night again?" Colin asked as he pushed the door open with his foot. Penelope and Elliot both turned their heads to look at him, and he swore his heart nearly doubled in size at the sight of their identical looks of surprise.
"Pa! Pa!" Elliot cried, reaching his arms out in his direction. Colin quickly crossed the room and scooped him out of Penelope's arms. Elliot let out another whine as he buried his face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling into him and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.
"I came to check on him when I got home and he was awake, gnawing on his fist as if it were a biscuit," Penelope chuckled.
"Hungry boy," Colin muttered as he began to rub his back. He started to hum Elliot's favorite nursery rhyme, and the deep rumble of his voice lulled him back to sleep after a few minutes. He slowly lowered him back into the bassinet, and the two watched with baited breath as he squirmed around for a moment, his little forehead wrinkled as he found a comfortable position before smoothing out with a content sigh.
"He is perfect," Colin whispered in awe. He had to stop himself from reaching down and running a finger along the curve of his chubby cheek lest he wake him up again.
Watching his angelic little boy sleep certainly helped soothe the anger he felt earlier at the club, but it also reinforced the utter confusion he felt at the men who happily discarded their families in search of empty pleasures with random women. He found himself shaking his head in disbelief at both his own luck and his fellow man's foolishness.
"He is," Penelope whispered back as she looped her arms around his waist. He pulled her to his side and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. The two stood over Elliot for a few moments, watching him sleep.
"Let us go to bed before he wakes once more," Penelope whispered. She pulled away from him for a moment before grabbing his hand and leading him out of the nursery and down the hall to their bedroom.
"How was your evening?" Colin asked as he shut the door behind him.
"It was fine. They mainly spoke of Benedict's mystery woman," Penelope shrugged. She untied her robe and draped it over the chair at her vanity. She was wearing her lavender nightgown, one of his personal favorites, and he eyed her appreciatively as she got into their bed.
"And how was your evening?" Penelope asked.
"Rather odd, unfortunately. One of Benedict's friends brought his mistress into the club, and it inspired conversation that left me feeling unsettled," Colin explained as he undressed. He shed his attire until he was just in his drawers and placed the pile of clothes at the foot of their bed
Penelope grimaced. "I didn't think that men paraded their lovers out in public like that. It goes against the spirit of the arrangement, does it not?"
Colin hummed in agreement as he joined her in their bed. They both leaned against the headboard, and Colin grasped her hand in his. Her tiny thumb began to rub soothingly against his skin.
"I must admit, the whole thing baffles me," Colin huffed out. "I simply cannot understand why a man would want to take on a mistress in the first place. The arrangement is already demeaning enough on its own, and that doesn't even take the disrespect one shows to his wife and children into account!"
Penelope said nothing in return, but her grip on his hand tightened, and she continued to rub soothing patterns into his skin with her thumb.
"It is exhausting to be surrounded by such depravity and being the only one who recognizes it as such," he added with a sigh. "I know I am not wrong, and yet I feel as if I am for not nodding along in agreement."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath after he finished his rant. When he opened his eyes, he saw Penelope staring at him with tender eyes and a soft smile.
"You are a very, very good man, Mr. Bridgerton," Penelope said firmly. She reached up to cup his cheek and he leaned into her touch eagerly. Just like that, all of the unease, the discomfort, the anger he'd felt all night was gone in an instant. Penelope did not care that he did not fit in with the other men, all she cared about was the fact that in her eyes, he was a good man. That was more than enough for him. He turned his head and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand.
"I am sorry your night was spoiled with such a distasteful topic, but you must remember, not every man is lucky enough to marry for love," she reminded him gently.
"I suppose so, but even then, the arrangement itself is still distasteful, isn't it?"
"I agree. The very nature of the relationship places the woman entirely at the mercy of whatever man has taken an interest in her. I have seen many women be left destitute once their lovers find their interests tied up in someone else," she sighed.
Colin made a face at that.
"The nerve some of those men had to parade their mistresses around the club as if they were cattle," he scoffed. "It is shameful. Cads, the whole lot of them."
He saw Penelope perk up at that, and he knew he'd piqued Lady Whistledown's interest.
"I do not think it is a good idea to name these cads in your column to shame them into correcting their behavior," Colin warned. It wasn't that he wanted to protect those men, but rather that he wanted to protect her from their inevitable backlash if she were to publish their sins for all of society to see. He never wanted to silence her or hold her back in any way, but he certainly did not want her putting herself at risk for the sake of her column, especially given how disillusioned she was with it at the moment.
"I wasn't going to name them," she pouted. "But I have been struggling to find something to talk about. It has been difficult to gather good gossip lately…." she trailed off, lost in thought for a moment.
"The topic of mistresses is salacious enough to satisfy the Queen's demands for entertainment, even more so if I do not specifically name anyone. Speculation will encourage conversation amongst the ton, which in turn could perhaps inspire these men to, at the very least, be more covert in their actions," Penelope explained. "It certainly will boost sales, and if it performs well enough, I will not have to publish anything next week."
Colin eyed her warily for a second before he nodded.
"Good. I will rewrite my draft tomorrow morning," she said with a small smile. "Tonight, I simply wish to be held by my husband."
Colin knew that another conversation about the toll that Whistledown was taking on her was long overdue, but he also knew that tonight was not the night for it. Instead, he smiled back at her and nodded.
They adjusted themselves until they settled on their usual sleeping position; Colin flat on his back and Penelope curled to his side with her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him.
They laid in comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again.
"Darling, did you ever hear about Anthony keeping a mistress?" Colin asked. "Before Kate, of course," he quickly added at the horrified expression beginning to bloom on her face.
"I knew he had a rather…passionate relationship with an opera singer during the 1813 season," Penelope explained carefully. "Your brother kept an apartment in the city for her, but their relationship ended shortly before the season did. I assume it is why he became so intent on finding his viscountess."
He nodded slowly. That confirmed his suspicions, at least.
"You wouldn't know if he left her destitute, would you?" Colin asked quietly. The question had been gnawing at him all night, and if he were being honest, he could not say for certain that the man his brother was before Kate had come along wasn't capable of stooping that low. He needed to know for certain, just for his own peace of mind.
"As far as I am aware, she took on another lover shortly after her arrangement with your brother came to an end," Penelope confirmed. "She's done well for herself since then, so no, Anthony did not leave her destitute."
He let out a sigh of relief at that.
"A very good man, indeed," Penelope hummed as she nuzzled into his side.