Chapter Text
The Night Before The Wedding
The streets of Mayfair were nearly deserted. Only a handful of lamps still burned against the darkness as Penelope Featherington left the modiste’s shop the night before her wedding to Colin Bridgerton. Just as she is walking out, wearing a hooded cloak that almost hides her face, Colin rounds the corner and runs into her.
He is standing there, surprised, staring at the woman he is supposed to marry in less than twelve hours, and asks, “What are you doing out here?” Penelope tries to respond, but is tongue-tied, when he retorts, “Do not answer that. It is clear I found you in the midst of some secret…” he pauses as he looks around “...dealings. I do not wish to know.” He finished as he walked right past her.
Penelope watches as he walks away, angry. “And what secret dealings have I found you in the midst of…all alone the night before our wedding.”
Colin turns around, offended, which causes her to step up on the sidewalk. The hurt that had been simmering inside him for days suddenly surged to the surface. “What right do you have to ask me that? After all the secrets you have kept. All the things you have written over the years. All of the damage you have done,” He angrily questions her as he walks closer to her, now eye to eye due to her standing on the sidewalk.
Penelope flinched. “You’re right.” She bites her lip to try not to cry. “I realize all of the damage I have done, and I am so…so sorry for it.”
Colin lowers his tone a bit, seeing her watery eyes. “What were you thinking when you wrote about Eloise?”
“I was trying to protect her.” Penelope is remorseful: “I realize now how misguided I was.”
“And when you wrote about Miss Thompson,” he interrupts abruptly, “exposing her as you did, ruining her.” The accusation came out harsher than he intended.
“I thought I was protecting you.” She tries to tell him before he interrupts her again.
“Then you should have told me to my face.” He says with pain in his tone and teary-eyed.
“I know,” Penelope responds, frustrated, shaking her head.
Colin takes a step back. “Or do you not respect me enough?” He says incredulously. “It is clear you do not, after what you have written about me this year.” He looks away from her, “That I…hardly know myself.” Then he looks back at her intently, “What were you thinking then?”
“I was thinking…that I simply wanted the Colin I know back. Not this stoic man you return as, acting as if you cared for no one and need nothing.” She paused, looked at him softly. “It's you, kind and feeling, occasionally excitable, good-hearted man that I love.” Her heart hurts, but she continues. “I should have told you myself. There are so many things I should have done myself, but now with the confidence you’ve helped me find this year, I am finally able to.”
“So then you do not need Whistledown anymore?” His voice cracked. His chest feels tight. The words hung heavily between them.
Penelope's eyes shone with unshed tears. Her shoulders sagged. “I do not need to hide behind Whistledown anymore, but I am not saying there is no value in it.” The words struck him like a slap.
Colin shook his head. “Do you know what is most humiliating? I let you talk so much about my journal as if I were to be this…great writer, when all this time you have been a published writer, renowned across Mayfair.” And somehow that only made the betrayal cut deeper.
“Colin, I meant everything I said about your writing.” The reaction should have satisfied him. Instead, it only made him feel worse.
He stepped up onto the sidewalk, towering over her, anger rising, stepping closer to her. “You’re putting yourself in danger being out here tonight, and you have been putting yourself in danger living this double life all along.”
For the first time that evening, anger flashed through her expression. “I have been careful.”
“You have been foolish.” He says as he steps closer to her.
Penelope's head snapped up. “Colin, I can take care of myself.”
“Then what good am I to you?” He shouts, feeling useless. His heart aches.
“Colin…I love you.” Penelope shouts as her heart also breaks. He takes a step back in utter surprise. Her voice trembled.”I love you.”
He looks at her as the anger drained from him almost immediately. Because he loved her. God help him, he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone. He hesitated for a second and then stepped forward. Penelope stepped forward at the same time. Neither seemed entirely certain who moved first. One moment, they stood apart. His hands were framing her face. Their mouths crashed together. The kiss was desperate. Emotional. Painful.
Weeks of longing, anger, love, frustration, fear, and heartbreak poured into it. For several blissful seconds, nothing else existed. No Whistledown. No secrets. No scandal. Only them.
They are breathing heavily through the kiss. He walks her backwards against the shop’s door. She wraps her leg around his waist. He runs his fingers up her leg, under her dress, finds her core, and pushes his fingers into her. Penelope gasped at the intrusion. She is moaning. Colin finds relief in having her in his arms again when a horse passes by and startles them. Colin shields her with his large frame.
When they finally separated, both were breathing hard. Foreheads pressed together. Eyes closed. Neither wanted the moment to end. But it had to. Tomorrow awaited them. Their wedding awaited them. Their future awaited them.
When the street was clear, Colin swallowed. "I should get you home." She nodded. Neither trusted themselves to speak further. He takes her by the hand, escorts her to the waiting carriage, and opens the door. Penelope climbed inside. Then paused. Looking back at him. Hope flickered in her eyes. Hope he desperately wanted to deserve. "I shall see you tomorrow." She nodded. He closed the door and watched as the carriage rolled away. Colin stood in the darkness watching it disappear. Something inside him felt terribly wrong.
Bridgerton House slept peacefully. Colin did not. He sat alone in his room. A single candle burned beside him. Its flame cast long shadows across the room. The house was silent. The city was silent. Yet his mind refused to be still. Every memory returned. Marina. Eloise. The columns. The lies. The humiliation. The betrayal. He remembered discovering the truth. Remembered the devastation. Remembered feeling like a fool. Again. Again. Again.
Most of all, he remembered Penelope standing in the middle of the street looking at him with absolute trust. Trust he was no longer certain he deserved. Or could return. Colin buried his face in his hands. He loved her. That was the problem. If he did not love her, walking away would be easy. Instead, it felt impossible. Yet marrying her tomorrow felt equally impossible.
How could he stand before God and promise forever when his heart remained filled with anger? How could he vow honesty while resentment still poisoned every thought? The hours passed. The candle burned lower. And eventually Colin reached a terrible conclusion. If they married tomorrow, they would destroy each other. He would spend years punishing her for mistakes he claimed to forgive. She would spend years apologizing for sins he could not forget.
No. It would not work. Not like this. His chest tightened painfully. Slowly, he pulled a sheet of paper toward himself. Dipped his pen in ink. And began to write. The letter was short. There was nothing else to say. When he finished, he folded it carefully and left it upon his desk. Then he rose. Packed a small traveling bag. And before dawn arrived, before anyone could stop him, Colin Bridgerton walked out of Bridgerton House and disappeared.
Wedding Day - Bridgerton House
The following morning began with excitement. At least initially. Violet Bridgerton had barely slept. Her third son was finally getting married to Penelope Featherington. A girl whom she has loved like her ninth child since the moment she stepped into Bridgerton house as a young child. The thought filled her with joy.
Footmen rushed throughout the house. Maids hurried through hallways. Flowers arrived. Carriages were prepared. Everything appeared perfect. Until someone noticed Colin was missing.
"He is likely nervous." Benedict sounded unconcerned.
Anthony frowned. "Nervous enough to miss breakfast?"
Eloise rolled her eyes. "It is Colin. He is probably staring dramatically out a window somewhere." Under normal circumstances, she would have been correct.
Unfortunately. An hour passed. Then another. Concern began replacing amusement. A footman was dispatched. Then a second. Then a third. None returned with Colin. Anthony's expression darkened. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
He marched toward his brother's room. The moment he entered, his stomach dropped. The wardrobe stood partially open. Several items of clothing were missing. A traveling case was gone. And on the desk sat a folded letter. Addressed simply: Dear Family. Anthony's blood ran cold.
Moments later, the entire family gathered in the drawing room. Violet's hands shook as Anthony handed her the note. She began reading aloud. By the second sentence, tears filled her eyes. By the final sentence, silence consumed the room. "No."
Eloise stared at the letter. "No."
Benedict looked equally stunned.
Anthony's jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
Violet lowered the note with trembling fingers.
The room felt frozen. Colin was gone. The wedding was only hours away. And Penelope Featherington had absolutely no idea.
Anthony rose abruptly. "We must go to Featherington house at once."
Violet looked up. "Anthony…"
"We must tell them." He said sternly. Nobody argued. Because there was no alternative.
Within minutes, the Bridgertons were racing toward Featherington House. Toward a conversation that would change all of their lives forever.
Wedding Day - Featherington House
The atmosphere inside Featherington House could not have been more different from the one inside Bridgerton House. Servants hurried through the halls carrying flowers. Voices echoed from every direction. Someone laughed upstairs. Someone else shouted instructions about ribbons. The entire house buzzed with anticipation.
Portia Featherington stood proudly in the drawing room, surveying the activity. At long last, one of her daughters snatched a Bridgerton. A son of Violet Bridgerton. A charming son. A handsome son. A very wealthy son. A son who actually loved her daughter. The thought still felt miraculous. Everything had finally worked out.
Then the butler entered. "The Bridgertons have arrived, Lady Featherington."
Portia blinked. "Already?" That was odd. The wedding was not for several more hours. Perhaps Violet wished to share a sentimental moment before the ceremony. The woman had always been rather emotional.
Portia straightened her gown. "Show them in." The butler bowed.
Moments later, Violet Bridgerton entered. Anthony followed. Then Benedict. Then Eloise.
Portia's smile vanished instantly. Every face looked stricken. Violet's eyes were red. Anthony looked furious. Eloise appeared as though she had been crying.
A cold knot formed in Portia's stomach. Something was terribly wrong. "Lady Bridgerton?"
Violet opened her mouth. No words came out. Anthony stepped forward. "May we speak privately?"
The knot tightened. "Of course." Portia's voice sounded weak even to herself. The drawing room doors closed. Silence descended. No one spoke. No one moved. Finally, Portia whispered, "What has happened?"
Violet's eyes immediately filled with tears. Anthony looked away. And suddenly Portia knew. Not the details. Not the truth. But she knew it involved Colin. It had to. "Where is he?"
Anthony inhaled deeply. "Colin is gone."
The room spun. "What?"
"He left during the night."
Portia stared at him. The words refused to make sense. "Left?"
Anthony handed her a folded piece of paper. His expression hardened. "He left this behind."
Portia's hands shook as she unfolded the letter. The more she read, the paler she became. By the final sentence, she nearly dropped the page. "No."
Violet stepped forward. "We are so sorry."
"No." Portia shook her head violently. "No, there must be some mistake."
"There is no mistake." Anthony's voice was grim. "He packed a traveling bag. He has disappeared."
The room fell silent. Then footsteps sounded from the hallway. Everyone turned. Penelope entered. Her wedding gown was not yet on. Instead, she wore a pale dressing robe while maids fussed over her hair. She smiled when she saw the Bridgertons.
The smile lasted exactly three seconds. Long enough to recognize every expression in the room. Long enough to understand something was wrong. Very wrong. "Mama?" No one answered.
Penelope looked at Violet. Then Anthony. Then Eloise. Fear appeared in her eyes. "What happened?"
Violet immediately began crying. Penelope's face drained of color. "Where is Colin?"
The question hung heavily in the room. No one wanted to answer it. Anthony finally stepped forward. "Penelope."
Her breathing quickened. "Where is he?"
Anthony handed her the letter. Penelope stared at it. Confused. Then she began reading. The silence stretched endlessly. At first, she looked merely puzzled. Then concerned. Then frightened. Then devastated. Her hands began trembling. The paper slipped from her fingers. "No." The whisper barely carried. "No."
Tears flooded her eyes. "He promised." No one spoke. "He promised." The tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked toward the door as though expecting Colin to walk through it at any moment. As though this were some terrible misunderstanding. A mistake. A nightmare. Anything but reality.
"He said he would see me today." The room remained silent. And then Penelope broke. A sob tore from her chest. She doubled over.
Portia rushed forward. Violet followed. Neither woman reached her in time. Penelope collapsed onto a nearby chair. Crying openly. Violently. The sound shattered every heart in the room.
"How could he do this?" No one had an answer. "How could he abandon us like this?" The words echoed through the room.
And suddenly everything stopped. Portia froze. Violet froze. Anthony froze. Even Penelope seemed unaware of what she had said. Violet exchanged a glance with Portia. Then looked back toward Penelope.
"Us?" Penelope's eyes widened. A fresh wave of tears appeared.
Portia sat slowly beside her daughter. "Penelope." Her voice was unusually gentle. "What do you mean by us?"
Penelope immediately began crying harder. "Oh, God." The whisper escaped before she could stop it.
Anthony's stomach dropped. Violet covered her mouth.
Penelope shook her head. "I was going to tell him." The room grew perfectly silent. "I was going to tell him tonight." No one breathed. No one moved. Then Penelope whispered the words that changed everything. "I am with child."
The silence that followed felt deafening. Benedict's eyes widened. Eloise looked stunned. Violet sank into the nearest chair. Portia closed her eyes. Anthony simply stared.
The implications hit instantly. Colin had not merely abandoned his fiancée. He had abandoned the mother of his child.
"My God." Benedict finally broke the silence.
Penelope burst into fresh tears. "I did not know how to tell him. I only recently found out when my lady’s maid pointed out I had missed my courses, and I have not been feeling well."
Violet immediately crossed the room. Gathering Penelope into her arms. "Oh, my darling." The endearment only made Penelope cry harder.
“I was scared.” Her words trembled. “I did not want him to accuse me of entrapment again.” She said so low it was almost a whisper.
Portia was outraged. “He did WHAT?”
Penelope told them about the conversation she and Colin had the day they were at Featherington, going over the wedding breakfast logistics. She did not tell them the Whistledown parts. Portia and Violet now understood the heaviness between their children that day.
Portia was beside herself. “How dare he accuse my daughter of entrapment?” She was pacing furiously. “He interrupts her proposal from Lord Debling, chases down her carriage in front of the entire Ton, proposes to my daughter without courting her, and without asking my permission.” She stops to look at Violet and Anthony. “And he had the nerve to accuse her of entrapment. If there was any entrapment, it was by him.”
"When?" The question came from Anthony. Everyone looked at him. His expression remained calm. But only barely. He was already calculating. Already assessing. Already searching for solutions.
Penelope wiped at her eyes. "What?"
Anthony softened his tone slightly. "When were you and Colin…together?"
Penelope immediately blushed. Despite the circumstances. Despite everything. She looked mortified. "The day after he proposed."
Benedict groaned. Eloise covered her face. Portia muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
Anthony closed his eyes briefly. Of course. "The day after?"
Penelope nodded miserably. "He took me to Bloomsbury House."
Violet's eyes widened. "The house?"
Penelope nodded. "He wanted to show me where we would live."
A painful silence followed. No one required further explanation.
Anthony glanced toward Benedict. Benedict was already doing the arithmetic. His eyes widened. "Oh."
Anthony looked toward his mother. Violet reached the same conclusion. "Oh, dear."
Portia stared at all of them. "What?"
Anthony turned back toward Penelope. "How long ago was that exactly?" Penelope gave the date. The room became silent. Again. Anthony calculated. Then recalculated. Just to be certain.
The answer remained the same. Nearly eight weeks. Not days. Not even close. Eight weeks. Which meant they had very little time. A healthy child born at eight months was acceptable, or even seven months after a marriage might be acceptable, although questionable, but not earlier than that without scandal.
Portia realized it at the same moment. Her face turned white. "Oh, dear God. We do not have much time."
"No." Anthony agreed. "If the Ton discovers this…"
"They cannot." Portia's voice rose sharply. They simply cannot."
The panic spread through the room. A cancelled wedding was scandalous. A cancelled wedding involving a pregnant bride was catastrophic. A cancelled wedding involving a pregnant bride carrying a Bridgerton heir. The damage could destroy both families.
Eloise sank into a chair. Benedict rubbed a hand over his face. Violet looked as though she might cry again. Only Anthony remained composed. Outwardly. Inside, he was furious. At Colin. At the situation. At the impossible position they had all been placed in.
Most of all at seeing Penelope reduced to this. The young woman who had spent years loving his brother. The young woman had done nothing today except prepare to become a bride. Now she sat crying in front of them. Ruined through no fault of her own.
The room erupted into arguments. Portia demanded solutions. Violet insisted that Colin be found. Benedict suggested searching every coaching inn in England. Eloise wanted to ride out herself. Voices overlapped. Tension mounted.
Until Anthony finally spoke. "Enough." Silence. Immediate. Absolute. Every eye turned toward him. Anthony looked at Penelope first. Then Violet. Then Portia. Finally, he spoke. "We will find Colin." The statement sounded more like an order than a promise.
"I have already dispatched men to search every major road leaving London." Hope flickered briefly across Penelope's face. Anthony's heart sank. Because hope could be dangerous. Especially when attached to Colin, his wayward brother.
"But." The single word extinguished the hope immediately. "We cannot wait indefinitely."
Portia nodded reluctantly. "No."
Anthony folded his hands behind his back. "We have approximately one week." Everyone stared. Anthony continued. "One week. We will give it one week before circumstances make concealment significantly more difficult."
The reality settled heavily upon the room. One week. Seven days. That was all they had.
"We shall search for Colin during that time." Anthony's gaze hardened. "And if he returns, he will marry Penelope exactly as he should."
Penelope lowered her eyes. Her fingers twisted together nervously.
Anthony continued. "In the meantime, we will make arrangements in case…he does not return..." The room held its breath. Anthony looked directly at Penelope. Then at Violet. Then Portia. And finally spoke the words that stunned everyone.
"Then I shall marry her."
Silence. Utter silence. Benedict nearly choked. Eloise stared. Violet's eyes widened. Portia looked completely speechless.
Penelope's head snapped upward. "Lord Bridgerton? No."
Anthony interrupted gently. "Listen first." His expression softened. Not much. But enough. "This child is a Bridgerton." He glanced toward the abandoned wedding decorations surrounding them. "My brother may have abandoned his responsibilities." The anger beneath the words was unmistakable. "But I shall not abandon mine."
Tears filled Violet's eyes. Portia looked caught between horror and relief. Penelope simply stared. Unable to speak. Unable to think.
Anthony continued quietly. "I pray Colin returns before the week is over." For the first time, his voice carried genuine sadness. "For all our sake." His gaze settled on Penelope. "But if he does not..." He paused. "You will not face this alone."
No one spoke. No one knew what to say. The future they had all expected that morning was gone. Destroyed before it had even begun.
Penelope slowly turned her head. Across the room. Toward the wedding gown hanging near the window. Only hours ago, she had expected to wear it. To walk down the aisle. To become Colin Bridgerton's wife. Now everything has changed.
And she had exactly seven days to discover whether she would marry the man she had always loved or his brother.
The realization settled over the room like a storm cloud. And no one knew which possibility frightened them more.