Chapter Text
The day of wedding dawned beautiful. The sun shone. The birds sang. And Penelope Featherington paced.
“Dear heart, you must be still,” chided her mother.
“I do not know what’s come over me, mother,” said Penelope, a note of panic edging her voice.
“You are a bride,” Portia said with a shrug. “All brides feel anxious.”
“What if he does not come to the church? Or worse, what if he comes but changes his mind at the altar in front of everyone,” Penelope was close to tears.
Portia merely laughed. “Even a Bridgerton could not recover from making that mistake twice. I can assure you, even if it were not for the clear regard the Viscount has for you, there would be no other man more adamant about marrying today.”
Her mother crossed the room and gently patted her check. “Now, do not cry and spoil all the work your maid has done. You look quite pretty today.”
Penelope clutched her mother’s hand, “Thank you, mama.”
Portia sniffed and shook her head. “None of that. It is a happy day and we will be happy despite your decidedly uncheerful choice of color for your wedding gown.”
Penelope turned and smooth her hand over the front of her silver gown. “I think I rather like it,” said Penelope.
Before Portia could respond there was a knock at the door. A maid entered and curtsied. “I am sorry to intrude ma'am, but a gift has arrived for Miss Penelope. I believe it is from the Viscount.”
“I will leave you to your package from your amore, but do not be long. You have a groom to meet,” and with an uncharacteristic kiss to her daughter’s cheek, Portia quitted the room.
Penelope fingered the delicate blue ribbon that surrounded the gift box. She lifted the lid and over sheets of gauzy tissue, she found a card emblazoned with the royal seal. Gasping, she quickly broke the seal in order to get to the note’s contents.
Miss Featherington,
Being as you have done exactly as I have asked - both securing a fine husband and ceasing the ghastly business of Whistledown, I began to think that you might grow bored with the tedium of the Ton.
While I cannot approve of your methods or some of your more radical content, I recognize in you a small bit of myself. We are both smart women who history will mostly remember for whom we have married, and not the supreme sacrifices we have made in order to protect those things which we hold dearest.
I hope that you will use this journal as a place to begin a new literary journey. A place to write a new story, and one that you can own for all the world to see your brilliance and your worth. I ask simply that I be allowed to read it before all others having become a patron of sorts to your art.
I will leave you with these words. There are no guarantees in this life. Not even for royals and certainly not for wallflowers. I hope life will treat you and the Viscount kindly, but in the event that troubles come (and they inevitably will), remember that you are much stronger and braver than the rest of the world believes. Your Viscount is lucky to have you.
Your Queen
Peneople’s arm was looped through Benedict as they stood in the narthex of the church. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,” he said with a smile. “There are three more Bridgerton men who would happily sweep you off to Gretna Green.”
Penelope couldn’t help but laugh. “That is a charming offer, Benedict, but I am already dressed for the occasion, it seems a shame to waste such a pretty dress.”
“You do look lovely, and you’re right, everyone should see you in this frock.” He paused for a moment. “He’s lucky to have you, you know. We all are.”
The doors opened but Penelope’s chest swelled with love. She was to be a Bridgerton at last. They were to be her family in name and in devotion and of that she was excessively grateful.
For years, Anthony would claim he did not tear up when he caught sight of Penelope at the end of the aisle, but his bride knew better. She was stunning, and real, and to be his in but a moment's time, so if a few tears were shed, who could deny him this swell of emotion?
After the I dos were said and vows made, the family and guests returned to Bridgerton house to toast the happy couple. For the first time in Pen’s life, she was not uncomfortable being the center of attention, for Anthony was stalwart by her side, and she was surrounded by a passel of smiling Bridgertons and Featheringtons.
“Mrs. Bridgerton, at last,” said a commanding voice.
“Lady Danbury,” said Penelope, “Thank you so much for coming to celebrate with us today!”
“I would not have missed it for anything,” she turned her attention to Anthony, “You have had a quite a fortunate turn of events this season, My Lord. Though I like to think I played my small part in your grand love story.”
“As ever, Lady Danbury, all good things are thanks to you,” said Anthony with no end of cheek in his voice.
“And do not forget that, Anthony Bridgerton. I shall expect you both for tea when you return from your honeymoon tour. I’m sure you will have much to share with me.” said Lady Danbury.
Anthony suppressed a goran, but Penelope simply grinned. “We would be delighted to join you,” she said, “In fact, we will likely need to make it a weekly occurrence.”
Lady Danbury threw her head back and laughed. “We will indeed. I’m sure you thought you would get a doting and docile wife with this one, my Lord, but I am pleased to find that you will be much mistaken,” she said to Anthony.
“I knew exactly who I was marrying, ma’am, and I would not have her any other way,” replied Anthony.
That evening she sat at her vanity brushing out her copper curls. She wore a delicate nightgown that she had found quite scandalous but Genevie assured her was de rigor. While she and Anthony had been affectionate before, he had never seen her in such a state of undress, and when the gentle knock sounded at the door, she felt the urge to flee the house entirely.
“Come in,” she said weakly.
Anthony stood in the doorway looking like a young prince. He wore only a shirt and breeches, his cravat long removed and his feet bare against the plush rug. It stole Penelope’s breath away.
He smiled at her. A predatory smile like a cat who had finally cornered some small prey and walked toward her. She faced the mirror again. Frozen with both want and fear. She had no idea what to do or how to proceed. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and slowly began wrapping tendrils of her hair around his fingers.
“I like your hair down,” he said. “I like that most people do not get to see it down in this way. You look like a fairy or wood nymph.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at this. “In the morning when it is a tangled mess, you will think me more an ogre.”
He leaned down and kissed her check. “We’ll have none of that,” he said, “here in our chambers, you must only say kind and lovely things about yourself. You may only say about yourself what I would say about you. And I say you are a goddess.”
She turned her head to look up at him, “Any other edicts I should abide by, my lord?” she asked with a sly grin.
He pulled her to standing and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Well, now that you mention it, we will also have none of this ‘my lord’ business in here. It must always be Anthony, or husband, or lover, or darling.” Penelope giggled at this. “Are you nervous, Pen?”
She nuzzled her face into his chest. “I know that we have been,” she paused as if searching for a word, “intimate before, but no one has ever seen me so exposed. What if you do not like me?”
He raised her chin up so he could look into her eyes, “Oh, I like you very much. I have imagined what you would look like laid bare before me so many times, and I imagine none of it will have come close to the absolutely breathtaking sight that awaits me.”
“But what if it's worse? What if I displease you?”
“What if I displease you?” he asked.
A mirthless guffaw escaped her lips. “That does not seem possible.”
“And I have told you that it does not seem possible that you will displease me, so perhaps we should both just take one another at our word.”
Penelope nodded. “I don’t know what to do,” she said feeling rather pathetic.
“What if we begin with what we have already done?” He pulled her with him to the armchair that was placed in front of the fire. Once he had her settled in his lap, he placed a series of gentle kisses on her mouth, her eyes, her neck.
She shifted slightly to run her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and the kiss deepened from gentle pecks to fervent, lustful things that drew the breath from them both.
Penelope pulled away gently. “Is it too bold to ask you to take off your shirt? I think I would like to feel your skin.”
He smiled wolfishly at her. “A new edict,” he said, as he pulled his shirt over his head, “Nothing you say here could ever be too bold, my love.”
He sat back in the chair as she studied the chiseled contours of his chest. Her delicate hands roamed gently over his shoulders and abdomen, scratching lightly at the hair she discovered there. “Do I disappoint?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Not at all,” she whispered, still tracing gentle patterns against his skin. “Does it feel nice when I touch you?” she asked, and the sweetness in her voice and her eyes was nearly his undoing.
“It feels far more than nice. I like how soft and gentle your hands are,” he said but leaned in to whisper in her ear, “but I will also like it when your hands are fierce and demanding later on this evening.”
She looked at him startled. “Do you think I will become fierce during our love making?”
“I think you will absolutely devour me,” he said as he sucked a delicate spot on her neck.
Sometime later, Penelope having lost all sense of time, Anthony stood and carried her to their bed. “As lovely as this nightgown is, dearest, I would like to remove it.”
Her eyes searched his for a long moment. Once this deed was done, there would be no more mystery. She would know for certain what he thought of her body, and in that moment she decided that Anthony was worth that risk. She gave him a confident nod, and he went to work peeling the garment up her body and flinging it behind them.
She laid back on the bed, arms pulled in close and bottom lip drawn between her teeth. Anthony’s eyes became owlish, comically blown wide as he took her in. “Penelope, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
Her skin glowed pink under his praise. “You don’t have to say things like that, Anthony. You’ve already married me.”
“You best get used to it, my love, for I intend to say things like that every day. Now, please be quiet while I attend to the most beautiful pair of breasts in all of creation.”
She laughed as his hand skimmed along her collarbone and then gasped as he brought both hands to cup each of her breasts. He experimentally ran his thumb over one of her nipples and smiled at the startled gasp that sprang from his bride. He took the pebbled peak into his mouth and sucked gentle which elicited the most erotic moan he had heard in his life.
“Anthony,” Penelope gasped as she clutched the back of his head.
He released her nipple with lascivious pop and grinned up at her, “Yes, my darling?”
“I . . .” she stammered, unsure of how to proceed. “I like that,” she said, trying to bury her head in the pillow.
“I thought you might,” he said and he took her other nipple in his mouth to do the same. “You know, Pen, I think I will need to spend at least one hour a day with your breasts in my hands or my mouth in order to be completely satisfied in our marriage. Do you think you could accommodate that?” He laughed as she could only muster a frantic nod with her eyes screwed shut and jaw set.
He skimmed his mouth down her stomach to her belly button and began placing soft kisses on the rounded planes of her. He felt her muscles contract as she tried to move away from him.
“Anthony, you do not need to kiss me there. I know that my figure is not what it ought to be. I know it is not what you are used to,” she said with false bravado to try to cover up her shame.
He leaned back so he could look her directly in the eye. “That is where you are wrong, wife. I must kiss you here,” he placed another kiss on her stomach, he moved up and kissed right above her heart, “and here, and here, and here,” he said as he dotted kisses all along her body. “I made a vow today. ‘With my body, I thee worship,’ and I intend to make good on that vow. I intend to worship every part of you until you love it as much as I do.”
She grabbed his face and pulled him into a fierce kiss. He settled between her legs as they began the slow dance of kisses and caresses that have been played out in happy marital beds since the dawn of time.
In a series of steps that Penelope could not exactly chart, Anthony removed his trousers and his under clothes, and she was graced with the glory that was a completely nude Viscount in her bed. He laid back, hands behind his head like a proud sultan while Penelope explored him.
“It is not like I thought it would be,” she said as she timidly traced a finger along the underside of his cock.
He hissed a breath, “What did you think it would be like?”
“Angrier,” she said with a little laugh. “One time I saw two dogs mating, and it seemed terrible and red. But yours is quite nice,” she said as she wrapped her hand around the base.
“Quite nice?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, I have little to compare it to, so quite nice was the best I can do at the moment,” she smiled as she ran her hand up his shaft and looked quite triumphant when he moaned.
He grabbed her wrist to stop her ministrations. “I will have you know, it is more than quite nice, and soon you will know exactly how nice it can be.” He flipped her suddenly onto her back and she giggled from the surprise and the joy of it all. “Now little wife, I must make sure you are prepared for my quite nice appendage.”
He scooted down the bed and spread her legs open. Her pink slit was slick from the time they had already spent kissing and exploring one another. He ran one finger from her clit to her entrance and gloried in the hiss of pleasure that escaped her mouth.
“Penelope, I am going to kiss you here,” he said, as he circled her nub with his thumb. She looked at him wide eyed. “I did not know that was a thing that could be done!”
Instead of answering with words, he leaned and swiped his tongue up the same path that his finger had followed. Again and again he licked, he sucked, he kissed until Penelope was a writhing mess on the very precipice of release. He gently inserted a finger and then a second as he massaged her inner walls, infinitesimally stretching her opening to prepare her for the marriage act. Finally with a combination of his fingers and mouth he brought her over the edge and she shuddered and cried out his name as she reached her release.
He watched her with such fond tenderness as she came down, her breathing returning to normal and he could not help but grin when she was finally able to open her eyes and look at him. She kissed him hard and insistent. “Make me your wife, Anthony. Make me truly your wife.”
He slid back between her legs. He placed a kiss upon her brow as he aligned his cock with her entrance and sank slowly into her. While there was some pain, more than anything Penelope noticed the burn of fullness she felt. After a moment, he began to move his hips and set a gentle rhythm. She suddenly understood what he meant about fierceness. She could not help but to meet his hips with her own, and with each passing moment, the caresses on his back turned into long scratches of her nails and finally small bite marks along his neck and his shoulders.
“You feel amazing,” he breathed into her ear. His hips snapped harder and harder against her as each of them wound up to their climax. “My Penelope, my love,” he chanted as he snaked his arm between him so he could rub small circles around her clit. She gasped at the contact.
“Anthony, Anthony, I think I am going to peak again,” she cried.
“Come for me, my love, come for me, just me,” he said. A few thrusts later, stars burst behind her eyes and her legs began to shake where she had them clamped behind his back. With her orgasm, he could not help but to spill deep inside of her. His own pleasure quickly followed hers.
They lay in the bed sleepy and sated. In the aftermath of their love making, Penelope’s body began to cool and she shivered slightly.
“Come my love,” said Anthony, as he pulled her close and draped the coverlet on top of them.
Suddenly, Pen felt the overwhelming urge to cry. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and sniffed pathetically.
“What’s wrong, Pen? Was it . . . did I hurt you?” he asked in a panic rubbing the back of his hand along her delicate cheek.
“No, no,” she said quickly, “you didn’t hurt me. I just didn’t know it would feel like this. That I would feel so open to you. Feel so connected.”
He smiled as he brushed the hair back from her forehead. “And does that frighten you?”
“Not frighten. I liked it,” she said with a blush. “It’s just been so forbidden to me until tonight. It felt like . . . like a wonder.”
“You are a wonder, my wife.”
“And you are quite nice, my husband” she smiled cheekily at him. She could feel more than hear the laugh that rumbled through him.
“We will see how nice you feel I am when we do that again, but for now, my little temptress, you have worn me out, and I think we should sleep.” He blew out the beside candle and snuggled down into the covers with her.
“Anthony?” said Penelope.
“Yes, my little slipper?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, wife,” and he kissed her gently on the forehead before succumbing to sleep.
In the depth of the night, as her husband slept soundly in their bed. Penelope sat at the little table, fresh quill, and the beautifully gifted journal in hand. She dipped the nib once, then twice, took a deep breath and began to write.
She had no notion of how one began in love with one brother and in the end married to another. It was all quite a surprising journey. But somehow, in the tiny alcove of a crowded soirée, our two lovers found a way to begin again . . .