Chapter Text

five.

Their engagement was not without its challenges. One misty October night, a month away from the wedding, Eloise came into his bedroom and urged him to “Come, quickly!” She directed him past the servant’s quarters, out into the gardens where Penelope stood in her pale night shift under a yellow robe, a crying heaving mess. Colin’s chest broke at the sight.

“Whatever is wrong?” His eyebrows joined on his forehead. He reached out for her cheeks, holding her face in his hand, thumbs swiping at the falling tears wishing to fix for her whatever needed it.

“We cannot-... we can-...not-.... wed.” She said desolate, through hiccups. Her voice soft, her breath laboured.

His stomach sank. Colin could not think of anything but her. The turmoil swirling around inside his ribcage, where once stood his heart and lungs, quickened his breathing. His eyes watered. Her bare hands covered his wrists. “Is it your mama? She was more than agreeable to the-...”

Penelope shook her head, his hands swayed with her movement. “It is awful, Colin. My papa-...” She said before losing herself in sobs.

This all came weeks after the Bridgerton family accidentally discovered Miss Marina Thompson was with child. Anthony dared to say that perhaps Colin and Penelope should wait. 

“Surely Penelope knew! Yet she did not let a word slip about it to you, did she, brother?”

“Do not insinuate ill intentions on my bride’s part if you like your breath, brother.” He clenched his teeth like a rabid dog. Anthony huffed.

He went on to suggest that if the ton were to discover the secret the Featheringtons harboured, it could bring disrepute on the Bridgerton name by extension. His mother practically cursed him out for his suggestion. 

“Penelope and Colin are in love, Anthony! There shall be no postponing of anything. Can you not see the unhappiness you would cause your brother?” Colin heard later through the door to Anthony’s study, along with Gregory and Eloise. 

After that trouble, Colin thought with hopeful certainty there would be nothing else in their way. 

“Would you like to sit?” Colin whispered to Penelope sweetly. He wished to embrace her, caress her hair, put all her worries to rest. He would make it right, whatever it was. Nothing would keep him from his bride and the altar. 

She nodded, her sobs growing louder, more pained and uncontrolled, her face was red and contrived. He worried about her state. They brought her into the deserted kitchens and offered her a wooden chair Eloise found in the corner. 

Colin kissed Penelope’s forehead, her broken breath caught in her throat at the action, and afterwards they heard her first clean inhale. “I shall make you some tea, yes?” He whispered.

She nodded, a sad smile on her shaking lips.

“Do you even know how to light the stove, brother?” Eloise crossed her arms, saying her bit like Colin was ridiculous. 

He looked at the metal monstrosity. He did know how it worked. He was curious as a little boy and sneaked into improper places to watch the house staff at their posts. He was merely afraid he would set fire to the house if he tried to light the burner. 

At his silence, Eloise took over. “A glass of water then?” Penelope nodded. 

She sipped the liquid in silence. Eloise stood beside them, her hip leaning on the counter, while Colin kneeled before Penelope, his hands on her knees, drawing repetitive soothing patterns with his thumbs over the white fabric, patiently waiting for her to catch her breath.

She drank the whole glass and handed it to Eloise. “My papa has spent my dowry. I have no dowry.” Penelope said, her eyes soon returning to puddles of tears, rivulets streamed down her face. She hid her crying eyes behind her palms.

“Oh.” Colin breathed a good calmed breath again, containing the laughter tickling the top of his lungs. His body relaxed, relief overcame him. He placed a soft hand over her forearm. “Pen, look at me.” He said with fondness in his voice. 

She dropped her hands to her lap, defeated and with an adorable pout on her lips. Colin took her hands in his. Their eyes locked in the dark kitchen, lit only by the candle his sister brought in. Colin forgot everything around them so quickly when she looked to him like this. 

“It is a ridiculous requirement anyway.” His lips tugged up to one side, the smirk on him as he saw her light up, it was unavoidable. 

“It is ridiculous!” They heard Eloise confirm. Colin nearly startled, forgetting she was there.

“My family shall pay for the wedding, for the preparations, anything you need. Nothing will keep us apart, Pen. You shall be a Bridgerton in a month.” He wiped one last tear away from her cheek.

“I, uh- Alright.” She nodded, her once gloomy eyes now just amazed. “I feel silly.” She whispered leaning into him. 

“No. If something prevented me from making you my wife, I would have reacted in the same manner. Perhaps even worse.” He admitted. 

Penelope rested her forehead on Colin’s. “Oh, Colin.” She mumbled. He closed his eyes, breathing her in, taking her hands to his chest.

“You two are pathetic, you know that?” Eloise sneered from her corner.

“Shut up!”

“Be spiteful elsewhere, Eloise!” 

They yelled over one another. 

The matter solved the next day. He explained it to Anthony, who did not say much likely because their mother sat next to them, just a listening party in the conversation. She had come in for she certainly smelled trouble and walked in in silence, none of her children addressing her presence, for Violet Bridgerton knew how to signal she merely wanted to listen. She had already berated Anthony at length on the Marina issue. He certainly wanted no more sessions of reprimanding from her and it showed in his answer to Colin.

With all preparation on their way, Colin and Penelope saw each other less and less. There was always something to decide, and Colin wished his mama let them have a simpler ceremony. 

In Penelope’s absence and with the wedding so close, his restless nights were given to contemplating their wedding night. He wondered if Penelope was even aware of the marital act, given the shielding the young ladies of the ton undergo. His sisters certainly did not know, how was Penelope to know.

Colin knew simply because his friends and his older brothers knew. He had heard and seen some things in his short lifetime, yet he had never done anything. He was quickly aware, around the age of six and ten, that the fountain of his desire resided with Penelope. Little else drove him, sexually speaking. He dreamed of large silky thighs and full breasts and getting his fingers entangled in fiery red hair. It was both a privilege and a torment. 

More so now, for he wished to speak to Penelope of these contemplations and he could not. He wished to ask of her expectations, of her desires, her limits, all of it. Still, how was he to do that before the wedding?

He was not. For the wedding was grand, grander than he expected. Although Penelope walked into the room, the sun walked in as she did, for she was the sun, luminous dressed in white, bringing life and joy to his face. He forgot all about their surroundings. He teared up like a school boy and their kiss while chaste, a simple slide of lips before they stared into each other's eyes dreamily, woke fire in him. 

Colin ushered Pen into his bedchambers back at the Bridgerton house during their wedding reception the second he found an opportunity. “Colin,...” She uttered breathless. 

“I have been longing to set my eyes upon you without interruptions for too long now. Might we sit and talk? I already sent for food to be brought up here. If you do not mind ignoring our guests.” He explained closing the door behind him. Penelope shook her head, looking to the floor. She timidly walked, step by step, further into the room.

“I have never been in your bedchambers before.” Penelope said, her back turned to him, her face turned up to the ceiling adornishes. 

“Yes, I suppose you have not.” He gulped. “We shall be moved into our own house now that we are married though.” He said, looking at her back with an adoring gaze.

She stepped further in, eyed the bed, sat on the border of it, the tall frame made her feet dangle over the wood floor. She rested her weight on her arms pressed back over the mattress. “I have also never been alone with you, in a room with a bed.” She said.

Colin felt her words on impact, turning hot from head to toe. His skin flushed, and the heat burning his cheeks travelled down his neck, his shoulders in a shiver. “Yes.” He leaned his back on the closed door and looked at her from a safe distance. “Have you ever... pondered on that?”

Penelope smiled, looking down to the carpet next to the bed, and nodded. “Have you?”

“Yes, I have.” He admitted. 

“Oh.” Pen glanced up to where he stood, chewing on her bottom lip. She patted the patch of mattress beside her. “Sit next to me.” Her voice sweet and pure, spelled desire.

Colin wiped his suddenly sweating hands on his breeches. He straightened his shoulders and made his way over to where Penelope directed him, sitting right beside her.

“What did you ponder over when you thought of us like this?” Penelope was still in her wedding dress. It was a puffy, slightly frilly thing that fitted her form way too nicely and Colin gasped when he first saw her walking down the aisle. He had imagined Penelope in a wedding gown before. It was only that his imagination did not do her justice. 

Of course now, his ponderings were: how was he to outwit the modiste who crafted this dress like some sort of fabric cage? He could not for the life of him understand how he could dismantle it, unbutton it, unwrap it, unlace it...  

“Colin?” Penelope asked and he caught his eyes stare at her dress up and down.

“Yes, well... I thought of... many different things...” He cleared his throat. “...over the years.” 

“Right.” Penelope gave him a contrived smile that showed she had something to say she was holding back.

“What did you think of?” Colin asked. Their gazes on one another shifted around the room. Mostly, they both admired the carpet in front of them.

“I thought of...” Penelope hid her face, curling away from his gaze, with her forehead resting on his shoulder. Her breathing was heavy. Her hands gripped his wrist that was close to her. “I thought of being touched.”

Colin let his forehead fall over the crown of her head, his breath strong, hot and fanning over her. “Pen...” He mumbled, his hand, shackled by both of hers, made its way to settle over her thigh. Her hips dragged closer to him. 

“I have hum-... dreamed of us, close in a manner I cannot say aloud.” She whispered, her fingers climbing up his arm, pushing his hand closer to her centre. She softly bit the fabric of his coat, covering his shoulder, in a tantalising manner. Colin raised his head from hers, squeezed her thigh.  

“Do you want us-... closer?” Colin said hesitantly. Penelope glanced up, stared at Colin’s mouth and nodded. Her hand came over and tugged at his vest, her knee bumping against his hip as she turned to sit her leg over his thighs. Colin placed his hand over her cheek. Penelope leaned in tentatively to where he led her, straight into him. 

His hand forgotten on her thigh curled behind her knee, all of the fabric of her gown rustling noisily as Colin cautiously tugged on her leg until his Pen straddled his lap. Her bright blue eyes would not leave his, her cheeks pink, and he put her close to him in this manner practically without realising. It was much more contact than they had ever had. 

Colin wished to speak, to say something but nothing came. The feeling of Penelope’s thighs over his, his hands gripping her sides, her skirts bunching up around them. He looked to her inviting mouth and, as it got closer and closer, Colin closed his eyes, only to see stars of red and white exploding behind his closed lids at the way Penelope’s lips pressed softly and wickedly to his. His shoulders involuntarily moved forward, his whole body adjusting to close any gaps between them, her dress getting in the way.

Penelope nipped at his lip with an open mouthed kiss that edged Colin on. And he was the one who was bit but she was the one who moaned, breathily. His hands on her back explored the smooth fabric, his fingers frantic for buttons or strings to pull at as her back arched. “This dress is a maze to unmake and you’ve worn it to vex me.” Colin whispered, before returning right back to the addicting affair that was kissing Penelope Featherington. No, actually... Penelope Bridgerton! 

“You cannot prove that.” She whispered, smiling into the kiss, bucking her hips forward. Colin gripped at her back harder.

“My suspicions are enough to propel me to revengeful actions.” Colin let his fingers draw lines up and down the exposed skin of her arm. He leaned back, desiring to know what other lovely noises he could make her mouth produce, feeling inspired after that first one. His kisses lowered down her chin to her neck and Penelope indulged him, hands gripping his shoulders to keep him steady against her. 

“Your revenge... ah-...” Colin bit her earlobe for it seemed the perfect size to bite. The small golden earring she wore trapped between his teeth, clinking. “It bears the tone of bliss in it.” She whispered.

Colin knew of her wit. He never experienced it in such a setting. He raised his eyes back to look at her darkened ones, perhaps from lust or love or a mix of the two. His meaningful glance caught her attention. “I love you Penelope.” He said, his heart racing in his ribcage.

“Colin, I-...”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Penelope’s legs jumped right off with the rest of her to as far away from Colin as she could. He could not help the fond chuckle sounding low on his throat at her fright. “You may enter.” He said loud enough for whoever stood outside, likely Humboldt with the food.

The lock clicked, the door not an inch open before Penelope hissed in a whisper at him. “Colin! Hide me, this is improper.” She said with frightened wide eyes.. 

“We are married, my dear.” He said watching Penelope blink at the use of the affectionate term. “It does not matter anymore.”

the end.